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Back The Lost Apothecary
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. Map
  6. Ancient Apothecary’s Oath
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. Nella Clavinger’s Apothecary of Poisons
  44. Historical Note
  45. Recipes
  46. Acknowledgments

As I examined the note again, an unread message notification on my email inbox flashed. I ignored it, instead jumping over to Google Maps and quickly typing Bear Alley, London, as mentioned in the first phrase of the note.

In an instant, a single result displayed: there was, indeed, a Bear Alley in London. And to my utter disbelief, it was close—very close—to my hotel. A ten-minute walk, no more. But was it the same Bear Alley referenced in the note? Surely some streets had been renamed in the last two hundred years.

The satellite view of Google Maps indicated the Bear Alley area in London was built up with massive concrete buildings, and the businesses listed on the map consisted mostly of investment banks and accounting firms. Which meant that even if this were the right Bear Alley, I wouldn’t find much beyond crowds of men moving about in suits. Crowds of men like James.

I glanced over at my suitcase, inside of which I’d placed the vial. Gaynor had agreed the image etched on its side was a bear. Could the vial be tied to Bear Alley? The idea of it—unlikely, though not impossible—was like bait on a hook. I couldn’t resist the pull of the mystery—the what if, the unknown.

I checked the time; it was nearly 4:00 a.m. As soon as the sun came up, I’d grab a coffee and venture over to Bear Alley.

Before setting my phone aside, I jumped over to the unread email waiting in my inbox and gasped: the email was from James. My jaw clenched as I began to read.

Tried calling from MSP. I can hardly breathe, Caroline. The other half of my heart is in London. Must see you. I’m about to board for Heathrow. I land at 9 am, your time. Will take a bit to get thru customs. Meet me at the hotel, 11ish?

In stunned silence, I read the email a second time. James was on his way to London. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to see him, nor was he allowing me the solitude and distance I so badly needed. The unknown call a few minutes ago must have been from James at the airport, perhaps from a payphone—he likely knew I wouldn’t pick up if I had seen his caller ID.