Undead Alchemist Read online

  Undead Alchemist

  Clem Starr: Demon Fighter, Volume 4

  Kat Cotton

  Published by Kat Cotton, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  UNDEAD ALCHEMIST

  First edition. February 22, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Kat Cotton.

  Written by Kat Cotton.

  Also by Kat Cotton

  Clem Starr: Demon Fighter

  Demon Child

  Moonlight Virgin

  Vampire Prince

  Undead Alchemist (Coming Soon)

  Merry Clem-mas

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Kat Cotton

  Chapter 1 Prague

  Chapter 2 Council

  Chapter 3 Vouching

  Chapter 4 Nic

  Chapter 5 Escape

  Chapter 6 Freedom

  Chapter 7 Alchemist

  Chapter 8 Sightseeing

  Chapter 9 Cake

  Chapter 10 Protection

  Chapter 11 Breakfast

  Chapter 12 Alchemy

  Chapter 13 Ghost Tour

  Chapter 14 Pizza

  Chapter 15 Drinking

  Chapter 16 Absinthe

  Chapter 17 Dash of Shame

  Chapter 18 Morning After

  Chapter 19 Tourists

  Chapter 20 Baldy

  Chapter 21 Chemistry

  Chapter 22 Hellhound

  Chapter 23 Ghost Tour

  Chapter 24 Mother

  Chapter 25 Sadness

  Chapter 26 Fern

  Chapter 27 House

  Chapter 28 Slime

  Chapter 29 Jackhammer

  Chapter 30 Magic Shop

  Chapter 31 Ring

  Chapter 32 Necromance

  Chapter 33 Attack

  Chapter 34 Fleur

  Chapter 35 Escape

  Chapter 36 Tunnels

  Chapter 37 Philbert

  Chapter 38 Cuffs

  Chapter 39 Cake

  Chapter 40 Nic

  Chapter 41 Not Human

  Chapter 42 Motivation

  Chapter 43 Council

  Chapter 44 Glass

  Chapter 45 Battle

  Chapter 46 Star

  Chapter 47 Fleeing

  Chapter 48 Mayor

  Chapter 49 Switzerland

  Chapter 1 Prague

  “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” I called. My voice sounded raspy.

  The only light in this horrible basement came from a tiny window high up on the wall opposite my cell. A beam of light shone in, creating stripes on the stone floor. The metal bars of my cell separated me from that window. Stone walls on three sides of me and those bars on the fourth. Not even a nice modern cell with all the mod cons, but an ancient prison where prisoners had rotted and died for centuries.

  I checked the bars for the millionth time. All still firmly attached to the walls, no weaknesses. Even if I got out through the prison bars, I wouldn’t be able to fit through that narrow window to escape. Maybe after a few more weeks of this prison gruel, I’d be able to, though. I couldn’t even remember what cake tasted like.

  The only other way out was the stairs. I couldn’t see them, but I’d heard the guard thudding down them. They’d be heavily guarded and impossible to penetrate, I imagined. I couldn’t even use my phone because these bastards had taken it off me.

  More scurrying. I’d be eaten alive by vermin before I ever got a chance to escape.

  At least trying to escape kept me warm. This was not the warmest place in the world, that’s for sure, and I only had on a short skirt and a t-shirt. Even the beam of light coming through that window was sickly and ineffectual. I had a thin blanket. A very thin blanket. Probably as old as this dungeon. If those damn rats came near me, I’d skin them and use their fur to make a coat to keep me warm. Then I’d eat their meat to stay alive. If it came to a battle of Clem vs. rats, I wouldn’t lose.

  If I could, I’d rattle my mug along the bars holding me in, but the bastards had only given me water in a disposable plastic cup. That was hardly going to create a ruckus. I didn’t even have any of my rings. My hands had been stripped bare.

  The situation was dire.

  I slumped back onto my bed and stared at the water dripping down from the cold stone ceiling. My cell had the world’s most uncomfortable camp bed. Lack of sleep had sapped my energy, and my back ached from discomfort. I could only lie down on it because if I tried to sit, the metal bar on the edge dug into my thighs in the most painful way.

  What had I done in my life to deserve this hell?

  The only food they’d given me the whole time I’d been here was some sloppy stew stuff with a stodgy dumpling. It’d been surprisingly delicious, but one meal to keep me going was a joke. My stomach rumbled. If I’d known it was going to be my only meal, I’d have saved some of that dumpling to nibble on later. But then, the rats would’ve fought me for it.

  I was sure this imprisonment was against every law known to man. I’d scratched lines on the wall to mark the days I’d been in here. Too many days, not enough food. Starvation and torture, that’s what I’d known every single one of those days.

  But I couldn’t let them get to me. I jumped up again, hoping to find some means of escape. Maybe I could use the stupid camp bed to lever the bars. It wasn’t the worst idea I had. Or maybe I’d just yell some more and leave that for a last resort. Although, with nothing to eat, I’d barely have the strength to lift it in a day or two.

  “Let me out.”

  Nothing.

  “At least give me more food. And a toilet.”

  There was a bucket in the cell, but I’d resisted using it. I was probably causing all kinds of problems with my innards, but really, a bucket! I couldn’t do it.

  “Shut up in there,” someone called. They had a heavy European accent.

  A light flooded into the darkness, and I raised my arm to cover my eyes. That light hurt a helluva lot. When I put my arm down, a big shape stood behind the light. My guard. I didn’t know his name, but he was the main guy I’d seen while I’d been here.

  “I’ll shut up if you give me food.”

  “Come with me. You must speak to the Council.”

  He was going to let me out? Oh, joy filled my soul.

  “Seriously, dude, I’ve been in here for…” I checked the marks on the wall. “For six days, and I’ve had one meal.”

  He chuckled. “Six days? Don’t be silly. You have been here for three hours.”

  “No way. Look at these marks. It’s six days. I’ve counted.”

  “You sleep for ten minutes, then make a mark on the wall. I don’t know why.”

  The dude was obviously lying. If I’d only been in this cell for three hours, why was I so exhausted and hungry? It was a mind-control technique to screw with me. I wouldn’t fall for it.

  He turned the key in the giant padlock.

  “Are you ready?” he said.

  Was he really asking me that? What choice did I have?

  “Well, actually, I do have a few projects going on here that I need to finish up. I was thinking of doing a little redecorating. Maybe some decoupage on my bucket.”

  He turned the key again, relocking the door. Grim bastard.

  I ran to the bars. “Hey, I’m just kidding. What the hell are you doing?”

  He grinned. Damn prankster. No one wants a funny guy as their jailer. This was really no joking situation.

  Before he let me out of the cell, he slapped cuffs on my wrists. They weren’t handcuffs. There was nothing joining my hands together. Totally useless. They were just metal bracelets, hardly worthy of
being called cuffs. More like heavy jewelry. I tugged on one. It was solid and not likely to come off anytime soon. Still, they did nothing to restrain me.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  I followed him up some worn stone stairs. Ancient-looking lamps on the walls gave off a flicking light but totally added to the creepiness. At least I could see my jailer. He seemed as solid as those stone walls.

  “These cuffs. What’s the point?”

  We’d reached a landing.

  “They have a purpose,” he said.

  He opened a creaky door to the outside world. A cobblestone lane stretched out in front of me with sunlight flitting between the shadows, and fresh air, and all those things people take for granted. This was obviously a back alley behind the building. Not often used. I couldn’t see where the street led to as it curved around a corner, but I knew one thing: beyond that curve was freedom.

  I shivered. The wind that blew along that street was no joke. It’d be snowing soon.

  I had no idea where I was, but the street looked as quaint as fuck. As soon as it snowed, this would be like something off a Christmas card. But I’d been in Australia. In the middle of summer.

  “Huh?” This looked too easy.

  “Make a run for it,” he said.

  Maybe he wasn’t a jailer. Maybe he’d been sent to help me escape. Sweet. I’d find my way home from wherever this place was. I hesitated for about thirty seconds, then stepped out into the street, preparing to run.

  Before I got more than two steps, a searing pain shot up my arms from my wrists. I tried to move, but that pain had me doubled up. My entire body tingled and my vision blurred. I screamed out, barely able to stand.

  “Back inside now,” he said.

  The pain stopped as I moved back in through the door.

  “What the hell are these things?” I held my wrists up to him. “This is some kind of black magic. The Council will be in deep shit for using that.”

  But I had no idea who they’d be in deep shit with. As far as I knew, there was no Council to control the Council. I guessed there was the government, but who trusted them?

  “It’s not black magic. It’s no magic. It’s modern technology.”

  “No way. Well, it’s evil, no matter how it works.”

  He nodded. “It works on your brain patterns. You think of escape, and zap. Just do what they say, girlie, and you’ll be fine.”

  He’d called me “girlie”. The bastard. I raised my fist, ready to teach him a valuable life lesson on calling people weird names. The pain shot through my arm again. Damn, it worked on wanting to punch people, too.

  He kept on moving up the stairs, and I followed him.

  Today was pretty much up there with the most sucking days in my life. There was the day I’d found out my parents had died, the day I’d gotten my first period, and today. Top three. Well, unless the Council admitted they’d made a big mistake and compensated me with cash and cake, then I might forgive them.

  But still. I’d been walking down the street, going from my office to the gym, minding my own business, when someone jumped me. Next thing I knew, I was tied up in the back of a van. Then some dude told me he was from the Demon Fighters’ Council and I was going to be tried for my transgressions. I blacked out and woke up here, in a cell.

  “Where am I?” I asked the dude.

  “The legal branch of the Council,” he said.

  I had no idea what that meant. The inner workings of the Council were kept under tight wraps. I knew there were offices in Europe, but nothing more. Anyway, I needed more general information.

  “No. I mean, where am I? What town?”

  “Prague.”

  “Muthafucker! You’re joking, right? That’s halfway around the world. How did I get here? I don’t have a passport on me, even.”

  “Not my concern,” he replied. “Ask at the trial.”

  I wondered if that guy had the key to these cuffs. I could offer him sexual favors for my freedom. As soon as I thought that, shocks ran up my arms. Not nearly as strong as before, but enough for my mouth to taste metallic and my arms to tingle. Damn, these cuffs really didn’t like me.

  We got to the top of the steps, and he turned a key in the old wooden door. That door was as solid as fuck. And as soon as I thought that, I got another shock. What the hell was going on, anyway? I was supposed to be part of this Council. They weren’t even a legal body. They couldn’t arrest me and torture me. As soon as I got out of here, I’d have them investigated. There was shit like the Geneva Convention. I had no idea what that was, but I knew it was supposed to stop things like this.

  I followed him out of the dungeon. Wow, this part of the building looked like a normal corporate office building. The florescent lights burned out my retinas after having been locked in the darkness for so long.

  We walked along a corridor with that cheap carpet that never loses its chemical smell, beige walls scuffed with black marks, workers in suits. So normal and bland.

  I hadn’t been expecting that. I guess when you’d been in a dungeon, you’d think the rest of the building was going to be all historical and bleak. But, nope, if you didn’t know about that door, you’d never guess there was a dungeon down there. It’d be just another corporate building. That old wooden door wasn’t a normal part of office décor, but it was hidden at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t like we’d emerged into a shiny lobby or anything.

  The guard took me to the elevator.

  “Don’t talk to anyone,” he said.

  Like I would. I didn’t think any of these people would help me. A couple of women in suits walked past us and averted their eyes, as if to prove me right.

  We went up to the 12th floor. The corridor there looked exactly the same as the one downstairs. We walked along that corridor until we got to another bland, beige door. Weird. I could be going for a job interview or to discuss monthly budget projections instead being on trial for my life.

  This shit was serious. I’d go into that office and be well-behaved. Be all “yes” and “no” while smiling the whole time. This was no time for making trouble. I’d keep my head down and my mouth shut. They’d realize their mistake and send me straight home.

  Chapter 2 Council

  SOMEHOW, I’D BEEN EXPECTING more. A proper courtroom with judge’s bench and witness boxes and the works. Not a meeting room with a couple of suity dudes sitting at a table. The whole room had the same corporate blandness as the rest of the building.

  “Come in, Miss Starr. Take a seat.”

  “It’s Ms. Starr,” I said. “I’m not defined by my marital status.”

  Oops. The first words out of my mouth, and I’d already forgotten that thing about not causing trouble.

  There were three empty chairs at the table. I weighed up which one would be the best seat. I guessed the one in the middle would do. The guard left the room. There wasn’t much chance of escape, not with these cuffs on.

  I sprawled into the chair with my leg tucked under me and my arm over the back. Not being able to sit in comfort in my cell made me appreciate a good chair. Then I adjusted myself. Sitting with my left side facing these dudes wasn’t in my best interests, on account of that was the side that Kisho used. A neck full of vampire feed marks wouldn’t do my cause any favors.

  The suity dude in the middle poured me a glass of water.

  “I guess a coffee is out of the question,” I said. “I’ve heard Prague is good for coffee.”

  He glared at me and handed over the water glass. That was a “no”.

  The guy on the left had no hair at all, just a polished bald head. Middle guy would’ve been a looker in his younger days but had gone to seed badly, and the one on the end was the kind of guy who rode some kind of expensive push bike wearing Lycra shorts. This did not bode well.

  “This is a serious matter, Ms. Starr,” Lycra Shorts said. He really put a lot of emphasis into that “Ms.”.

  “Yeah, I’m sure it is if you kidnap me, drag m
e halfway around the world, and lock me in a dungeon. Not to mention the torture devices on my wrists.” I held my hands up in case he had difficulty comprehending what I meant. “Oh, and starving me, too.”

  Shut up, Clem. Stick to the plan.

  Bald guy coughed, and Gone to Seed guy gave me a sleazy grin. If I could get rid of the other two, I could probably twist Gone to Seed guy around my finger. He looked like he’d be easily swayed.

  “There are numerous charges against you.” Lycra Shorts shuffled through some papers in front of him. “Firstly, you’ve been working with vampires. That contravenes the most basic principles of the Council.”

  “We saved the world. From the Vampire King.”

  I leaned forward to emphasis my point. I hadn’t done all that vampire stuff for fun. I’d had a purpose, one that no one else had bothered helping me with. Damn them.

  Okay, some of it had been for fun. But not all of it.

  “As far as I was aware, the mayor played the pivotal role in saving the world,” Bald Guy said.

  These dudes knew the mayor? That guy got around.

  “Well, you really aren’t aware of much. The mayor was all ready to sell everyone out. He’s not so swell, you know.”

  Why were people sucked in by that guy? Just because he had a charming smile and oozed swellness. Oh, and pleasantly wavy hair. But it was all surface stuff. He was rotten at the core.

  “Really? Really?” Baldy said.

  Then he cracked his knuckles, and I winced but didn’t say anything because I could keep my mouth shut when I needed to. Sometimes.

  “You also continued business after your license was revoked,” said Lycra Shorts.

  These guys weren’t going to listen to a word I said. That much was obvious. Still, not saying things wasn’t my style.

  “You know, since my license was revoked, you really don’t have any authority over me. Ouch.”

  I didn’t know why the cuffs had zapped me. I wasn’t trying to escape. This was oppression at its worst. They were trying to control my thoughts. Bastards. They were all obviously tools of the patriarchy silencing my voice. It’d take more than a few zaps to silence me, though.