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The Last Alchemist: And the Love of His Life

The Last Alchemist is a novel of suspense, wry humor, and the paranormal. It involves a priest who has lost his faith in God, a Hollywood actor on the verge of stardom, a young lady in search of life’s meaning, an old detective (who is both cunning and senile), and an alchemist who has been alive since the ninth century, living in stolen bodies down through the centuries.

The chance meetings of these characters and their subsequent relationships result in mayhem, lust, murder, love, and transcendental magic. You will be shocked over and over again as you try to anticipate what will happen next in this wonderfully twisted story about people trying to hold on to their views of reality.

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Zack Taylor, clutching his stomach, pleaded, “Get me a doctor!”

The ex-priest expected Ebizer Taulb to grab the phone, but he just stood there sipping his drink, as the movie star crashed to the floor.

“This is the hard part in the alchemy.”

“What are you talking about? Call a doctor!” insisted the ex-priest.

“Relax, he’s not dead,” sighed Taulb in his ultra aloof manner. “I gave him a potion that induces a coma. Specifically, it shuts down the endocrine gland system, forcing the soul out of the body. Most of that stuff you penguins learn in seminary about the soul is horse shit. Your church—actually all of the half-assed religious societies that ever were—feared the alchemists because they had balls! It takes balls to experiment with the energies of life and death. Tell me: how many of your research scientists have ever mixed cobra venom with pureed starfish and the urine of a newt, and shot it into their rectums?”

The question left the ex-priest speechless and convinced that Taulb was stark raving mad.

“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” But the greatest alchemist that ever lived, my father, performed that very procedure on himself, and many other dicey procedures on my mother.”

“For what purpose?” asked the ex-priest, feigning interest in the madman’s discourse as he backed slowly toward the door.

“To reverse the aging process, of course,” exulted Taulb.

“Did it work?”

“No, but he found a cure for acne.”

“Acne! Oh God, did you give that young man Cobra venom?”

“If you knew what went into making the potion, you would fear me even more than you do right now. You would fear me the way your predecessors feared and murdered the alchemists down through the ages. The church declared them sorcerers, witches who served the devil and opposed the church’s foolish god. Fact is, your Jesus was an alchemist. My friend, I alone can free you from that wheelchair, so chill out and show me some respect! For I am the last alchemist!”