The Final Formula (15 page)

“Be with you in a moment,” a muffled voice called. A portly, gray-haired woman bent beside one of her set-ups, adjusting the flame beneath a porcelain dish. She wore a wispy dress of teal blue and her feet were bare. She grumbled when her adjustment caused the flame to wink out.

“Let me help you,” I offered, snatching up a gas lighter. A rasp of steel on flint, a tweak of the temperamental knob, and I had a healthy blue flame. “Boil or simmer?”

“Simmer.” She looked up and her hazel eyes widened. “You’re the alchemist.”

“Addie.” I slipped the flame back into position under the dish.

“Ginny.” She wiped her hand on her floral-print apron before offering it to me. “I’m honored to have you in my lab.”

“I’m honored to be in a lab.” I took her hand. “It looks wonderful.” In truth, it looked a little strange with beaded window dressings and assorted wind chimes hanging from the florescent lights, but all the lab equipment was quality—if a little eclectic.

Ginny smiled at the praise. “Let me show you the tonic recipe you’re here for. I’ve laid out all the ingredients.”

She led me to an open notebook, and I soon lost track of the world around me.

After refining the blood sample
I’d taken from Rowan’s wastebasket, I devised a pair of remedies. One, an antidote for his current symptoms, and the other geared at prevention. I doubted he’d be pleased with the effects of the prevention potion, but it might be handy to have around in an emergency.

When Donovan returned a few hours later, I handed him the antidote.

“It looks different.” He held the vial of deep violet liquid up to the light.

“I tweaked Ginny’s recipe a bit. Well, quite a bit, actually. I’d be glad to give you the formula—”

“I trust you, Addie. You wouldn’t hurt, Rowan.” His simple statement of trust surprised me. What had I done to earn that?

He lowered the vial. “This will cure him?”

I sighed. “Cure, no. That will take a lot more work—and a better understanding of how his power works. But I think I’ve figured out why he’s different.”

Donovan raised his brows, but let me continue.

“Rowan must create his own element. He produces fire by transforming various states of matter to a plasma. None of the rest of you does—or can. Cora can’t turn water to ice. Era can’t turn water vapor to rain. That’s a phase change. Rowan’s talent is nothing but a phase change, and somehow it damages him in the process.”

Donovan dipped his head in agreement.

Good, I was on the right track at least. “Ginny’s tonic helped with the symptoms of the damage, but not the damage itself. What you hold is a formula to accelerate healing. But I had something Ginny didn’t.” I hurried on before I lost my nerve. “I stole a bloody tissue from Rowan’s wastebasket.”

“So, this is specific to him.” Donovan held up the vial.

“Yes.”

He lowered the vial and his hazel eyes met mine. A brow lifted in question.

“That doesn’t upset you?” I asked.

“I assume you refer to your use of blood alchemy?”

He knew the term. I wanted to grip my hands, but forced them to remain loose at my sides. “Yes.”

“Since you didn’t kill anyone to get the blood, I really don’t have a problem with it.” He tucked the vial into an inner pocket of his jacket.

I opened my mouth and closed it. I decided not to describe all the things a talented alchemist could do with a drop of blood. What
I
could do with a drop of blood. Granted, I’d done a good thing here, but the use of blood alchemy was taboo for a reason. It was a slippery slope, and I couldn’t help but wonder how far I’d slid in my forgotten past.

“My goal is to get him back on his feet,” I said, shifting the conversation away from blood alchemy. “Next, I’ll work on prevention.”

“Prevention?”

“His gift is killing him. I need to find a way around that. Prevent the damage in some manner. I’ve got another formula going. Would you like to see my notes?”

“I’ll take your word on it.” He gently patted his jacket over the vial. “We’ll start with this.”

“Thank you for trusting me to help.”

A big hand came to rest on my shoulder. “You’re a good girl, with a caring heart and a kick-ass brain.”

I laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever had any part of me described as kick-ass.”

He grinned and then turned to open the door.

“Do you mind if James and I stay to finish the other formula? Ginny said she’d be here until six.” And if she had the ingredients, I wanted to whip up a self-defense potion. After last night, I didn’t want to be caught without a way to defend myself.

“Then I’ll be back for you at six.”

“Thanks, Donovan.” I followed him out into the hall. “You could loan us a car and then you wouldn’t have to play chauffeur.”

“Rowan wouldn’t want you out on your own.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You’re a valuable commodity, little alchemist.”

“Thanks. I feel the love.”

He laughed, gave me a wink, and headed off down the hall. I watched him go, feeling warm inside. Who knew I’d befriend an Element?

I’d brought the file Neil
had given me and decided to study it closer while waiting for my newest formula to dry. It was so surreal to look at pictures of me I didn’t remember.

The first photo fascinated me. I didn’t look younger than I did now—just heavier. But something in my expression betrayed a different me. I looked like a kid.

My eyes drifted to Neil. The passing of years was much more apparent with him. He looked like a teenager in the picture, so different from the middle-aged man I’d met today.

I dug out the business card he’d given me when he’d handed me the folder. Neil Dunstan, alchemist. And below that, a local phone number.

I glanced up at his picture. He’d been nice to me today, and I felt certain, back then. “What do I have to lose?”

Neil answered on the second ring. “Amelia, how are you?” he said after I’d identified myself. A smile colored his tone. “Did you get a chance to read the file?”

“I did. Thank you.” I hesitated, not sure how to proceed. “You’re an Alchemica alchemist?”

“I was.”

“You…” I didn’t want to say flunked out. “You quit?”

“Not exactly.” He shifted the phone around. “I’m driving. Could I call you back, or better yet, stop by? Your memory problems concern me. Maybe I can help?”

That was exactly what I wanted from him, but should I invite him here? James stood across the room, helping Ginny grind some herbs. Even if Neil’s intentions weren’t so pure, I wasn’t alone.

I agreed and gave him the clinic’s address. Neil must have been in the area because he arrived ten minutes later. He greeted James, smiling like he knew him well, before joining me at the bench.

“Just like old times.” He eyed my setup.

“I’ll take your word on that.”

“Right. Sorry. What are you working on?”

I didn’t think Rowan would appreciate my sharing his weakness, so I shaded the truth. “His Grace suffers from migraines.” Not exactly, but close. “I thought I’d try to brew him something to help.”

“Nice of you.” He took a seat on a nearby stool.

“He’s been good to me.”

“And the boy?” Neil nodded toward James and lowered his voice. “One of his?”

Rowan
had
claimed him. “Yes.” I pulled my notes closer, pretending to need to read them. “What of you? Do you work for the PIA now?”

“On a contractual basis, though it does grant me access to a lab.”

“Nice.”

“It pays the bills.”

We drifted into an awkward silence. “So, um, you weren’t at the Alchemica when it was destroyed?”

“You got me kicked out.”

“What?” I looked up.

To my surprise, he laughed. “Don’t worry about it. In the grand scheme of things, you probably saved my life. I would have been at the Alchemica when it blew.”

“Maybe, but… What did I do?”

“I cheated. Some of the work I was doing for you drew attention to that. The Grand Master isn’t…open-minded.”

“Oh. So, I didn’t rat you out or anything?”

“You were too absorbed in your own work to get involved. I doubt you even noticed I was gone.” He laughed to take the sting out of his words, but it didn’t help.

“That doesn’t paint a very nice picture.”

“You were driven, Amelia. Focused. As was I.” He gave me a wink and rose to his feet. “Slide me your journal, and I’ll write down a couple of the memory potions I know.”

“Off the top of your head?”

“I don’t have your memory for formulas, but I’ve used these recently.” He sighed. “Mother suffers from dementia.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He gestured at my journal.

“Go ahead.” I wasn’t concerned about him seeing any of my notes. Like he said, I had near perfect recall. My notes left out a lot of the details.

He took my journal to the corner table and for the next fifteen minutes, busied himself filling several pages.

“What’s up?” James asked, joining me.

“Neil’s sharing a few memory formulas he knows.” I shrugged. “Something else to try.”

“Cool.” He gazed at Neil, his forehead wrinkling.

“You busy?” I asked him.

James’s attention returned to me. “Not at the moment.”

I set a mortar and pestle in front of him—these considerably smaller than the set he’d manned for Ginny.

His dark brows rose. “I’m just a food processor to you.”

“You’re more than that and you know it.” I patted his arm. “Now get choppin’.”

James laughed and set to work. His strength would create some really fine powders. I’d have to grind for an hour to produce what he could make in minutes.

“A powder?” Neil asked, stopping beside us.

“So it can be portioned out, adjusting the dose accordingly.”

“Mmm. Good idea.” He handed me the journal. “I hope something here helps. Let me know?”

“You’re leaving?” I tried to hide my disappointment. I’d hoped to spend more time discussing the past. He’d known me, and from the sound of things, he’d known me well.

“I got a text.” He sighed. “Mother.”

“I understand.” I walked with him to the door. “Thanks for coming by. Maybe we can get together another time.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” He gripped my shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Amelia.”

“Addie. Call me Addie.”

He studied me. “That might take some getting used to.” He released my shoulder and with a fond smile, left.

I placed the last of
the beakers on the drying rack and stretched to relieve the stiffness in my shoulders. I loved being back in an actual lab, but after six hours on my feet, it was time to call it a day. Rubbing my lower back, I crossed to the table where I’d left my notes.

“Need a massage?” a voice asked from behind me.

I gasped and turned toward the door. Rowan leaned against the jamb watching me.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “It worked.”

He frowned and started toward me. “Don’t say that with such surprise.”

I could only stare. He looked good. Damn good. And the way he moved…

I gave myself a mental shake. “I meant, it worked this fast.” He stopped in front of me and reached for my face. I froze, but he only pulled a pen from behind my ear and offered it to me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No, thank you.” He’d shaved and changed clothes, though he still wore black. This time, a fitted mock-turtleneck with the usual tailored slacks. They fit way too well to be off-the-rack. When he lifted a brow, I realized he’d caught me looking.

The heat rose in my cheeks and I turned back to my notes. “You don’t have to thank me. Just doing what I do.”

“Eliminating pain and saving lives? You sure you’re an alchemist?”

“That’d be the one thing I am sure of.” I kept my attention on my notes.

“Right. The amnesia.” Rowan leaned against the table beside me, tucking his hands in his front pockets. “What name shall I call you?”

“Addie’s fine. I know who she is.”

“A mouthy little alchemist?”

“See, you know her, too.” I sighed and grew serious. “I haven’t a clue who Amelia Daulton is.” I hated admitting that, especially to him. Perhaps I did lack humility, but my intellect was a source of pride. My sole source in all honesty.

“Did Emil really discover the Final Formula?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Was he telling the truth?”

I stopped fiddling with my notes and looked up at him. “You think he’s lying?”

“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I asked you.”

“You don’t like him because he’s an alchemist.”

“That’s not why I don’t like him.”

I hadn’t expected Rowan to admit his dislike. “Then why?”

“I can’t answer that. It’s intuitive.”

Okay. Not an answer I thought I’d hear from the ever decisive and always opinionated Flame Lord.

“Have you considered that perhaps it was you who found the Formula?” Rowan asked.

I smiled at his flattery, but the feeling faded quickly. “Alchemy is the one thing I do remember. I don’t know the Final Formula.” I shook my head and dropped my eyes to my notes. “Guess I’ll have to find another obsession.”

Rowan took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry, Addie.”

His sincerity surprised me. “I’ll survive.”

“Of course you will; otherwise, my life would be too easy.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help myself.

“So.” He hesitated. “You and your Grand Master?”

“That’s what he tells me.”

Rowan snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I’d tell you, too.”

I looked up, not sure how to take that. He raised a brow daring me to ask—

A scream rang out and we both jumped in surprise. Running footsteps echoed in the hall. An instant later the door banged open. Ginny stood on the threshold, her gray hair a mess and the lower part of her dress streaked in dirt.

“Three men in camo,” she gasped. “In the parking lot, with crossbows. They called James by name.”

I gripped Rowan’s arm. “The idiot brothers.”

“And then they shot him.” Ginny pressed her shaking hands to her wet cheeks. “I…I think he’s dead.”

Chapter
15

I
pushed past Ginny and ran
out into the hall, sprinting toward the clinic’s back door and the employee parking lot beyond. Ginny must be mistaken. James’s brothers would never kill him.

I hit the back door at a run and cringed as it clanged against the rear wall of the clinic. The sound rang through the small parking lot, and I skidded to a halt. The sun had set, leaving a deep red smudge on the western horizon. A single streetlight stood near the center of the parking area, its flickering light unable to reach the hedge-lined edges of the lot, but it was bright enough to illuminate James’s prone form. He lay on his side, back toward me, a few feet away from what I presumed was Ginny’s car. The trunk stood open, a crate lay tumbled on the asphalt.

I didn’t notice much else, my attention focused on James. He wasn’t moving.

Arms wrapped around me from behind, and I had an instant to realize it was Rowan before he dropped us both to the ground.

“Are you insane?” Rowan demanded, his mouth near my ear. He raised his head to survey the shadows, his eyes already aglow. He pulled me up so we were both crouching and eased us back toward the door, his flaming eyes sweeping the parking lot.

“You can’t use fire right now,” I whispered. “I don’t know how well that healing formula worked.”

“Get inside,” he said, ignoring my warning.

Why was I not surprised that he didn’t listen? I slipped a finger beneath the sweatband I’d shoved up around my biceps, hidden under my shirtsleeve. Rowan would never forgive me for this, but he wasn’t going to kill himself over me. I pulled out a slim straw—a stir stick I’d taken from the clinic break room—and blew the powder I’d packed inside into his face.

“You’re not going to kill yourself on my watch,” I said. He doubled over with a gasp and I shoved him back through the open door. He stumbled, colliding with the interior wall and dropped to a knee. I slammed the door closed.

A quarrel clanged into the metal door right in front of my face, and I bit back a cry. The Huntsman boys didn’t miss; the shot had been a warning. I whirled to face the parking lot. George leaned against the side of Ginny’s car, a crossbow hanging casually from one hand.

“Stupid move, Addie.” George pulled another quarrel from his quiver and flashed me a grin. The whiteness of his teeth stood out against the patches of black face paint he’d applied in a camo pattern. He continued to smile as he loaded his bow.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” I started toward James.

“You sound pretty confident.”

“You would have shot me already.” I hesitated when he raised his bow.

He studied me across the sights a moment then started to laugh before lowering his weapon. With one booted foot, he nudged James over onto his back.

I covered my mouth with one hand. A quarrel was embedded in James chest, directly over his heart.

I ran the last few steps and dropped to my knees beside him. I heard my knees smack the asphalt rather than felt it. I’d gone numb. I stared at his chest noting the lack of blood—and movement.

“He’s not breathing!” It came out as a startled gasp rather than the accusation I’d intended. I pressed my fingers to his throat and jerked my hand back in surprise. His skin was cold. How could he be that cold when he’d only been shot moments ago? I touched him again, searching for a pulse and found nothing.

I raised my eyes to George, trying to blink my blurring vision into focus. “You killed him?” My voice broke on the last word. I swallowed and tried again. “You killed your own brother?”

George began to laugh, and I came off my knees, going for the bastard’s throat. Not the smartest of moves, but damn it, I wanted the satisfaction of strangling him with my bare hands.

I should have gone for a potion. My outstretched hands didn’t even make contact. He backhanded me and sent me sprawling, face down, not far from James’s still form. I sucked in a breath of tar-scented asphalt and pushed myself up on my hands and knees. I paused, considering the potions on my person.

Aside from the potions I’d designed for Rowan, I hadn’t accomplished much in my few hours in the lab, but I did have a blow tube of alchemically enhanced pepper dust. Before I could reach for it, a hand gripped me by the collar and pulled me to my feet.

“Idiot,” Henry said, his hot breath against my temple.

I tried to pull away, but he pressed something cold and sharp against my throat. I’d guess his favorite bowie knife.

“He never told you, did he?” George gestured at James’s body.

“That he’s a grim, yes.” I swallowed. That he
was
a grim. Oh God. I couldn’t stop the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks. How could he be gone? The one person who’d been there for me when I had no one. My partner in crime. My sidekick. My best friend.

“Brian!” Henry’s shout caused me to jump, and his knife bit into my throat. “You find it?” If Brian heard, he didn’t answer.

“Why do this?” I asked.

George studied me, looking far too amused for a man who’d just killed his brother.

“Did you really think we’d let you take him?” Henry asked. “He is ours. Our family treasure.”

“If you treasure him, why did you kill him?”

Henry and George laughed.

Brian walked around the far end of the building, something clanking in his hand. As he drew closer, I saw that it was a collar. A rusted, metal collar. He dropped to a knee beside James and began to fasten it around his throat, snapping a padlock in place when finished. Why, I hadn’t a clue. Some sick joke on James’s other form?

George braced a foot on James’s shoulder and leaned over to grip the quarrel shaft. His large biceps flexed and he pulled it free with a wet sound. James gasped and his eyes flew open. Blood immediately bloomed around the hole in his gray T-shirt.

“James?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I’d been so certain he was dead.

“Addie?” James turned his head and saw me. “Let her go!” He struggled to rise.

“Lie still.” George leaned an elbow on his knee, his foot still braced on James’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding. You wouldn’t want to get any of that on her. She’s not one of us.” George lifted his eyes to mine then licked the bloody arrowhead. His hazel eyes took on a faint green glow.

“To share the power of his blood, you must be genetically like him—as only full brothers can be,” Henry said. His grip tightened on my shoulder. “You won’t be able to do anything with him, alchemist—except die.”

“Get that knife away from her throat, Henry.” James tried to rise again, the padlock clanking against the iron encircling his throat. Was this their plan? Collar him and treat him like an actual dog?

“I’m not going to let you do this,” I said to George.

“Really? And how will you stop me?” George turned to Brian. “Bring the truck around.”

Brian gave me a grin before he ran off to do George’s bidding.

I clinched my fists.

“You have nothing,” George continued. “The one man who might have stood a chance against us, you took out of the picture.” He gestured toward the back door of the clinic. “What did you blow in his face anyway?”

I didn’t answer, but it did alarm me that Rowan hadn’t tried to come after me. Had my newly designed Extinguishing Dust had a side effect I hadn’t anticipated, or was he that pissed at me for knocking out his power? Maybe it was a dumb move on my part, but if Rowan killed himself because of me, I didn’t think I could live with that. I’d take my chances with the idiot brothers.

“It doesn’t matter,” George continued when I remained silent.

“Let her go,” James said. “I’ll come willingly.”

George grinned, leaning heavily on his knee and forcing a grunt from James. “You won’t put up much of a fight with that iron collar around your throat.” George looked up at me. “Besides, she is a bit of an asset to the business. A real Alchemica alchemist.” He looked down at James again. “She’s the one who invited you to the Alchemica three months ago, isn’t she? No wonder you ran off so quick. Did she mention on the phone that she was a necrophile?”

“What—” I didn’t get to finish my question.

James snarled and lunged at George, managing enough force to dislodge George’s boot and send him stumbling back a few paces. James came up on his knees, but made it no further. He doubled over, a hand to his chest.

George tsked and walked back over to him. He gripped a handful of James’s black hair and jerked his head back. “Careful or I might lock you in the vault.”

The vault? The one in the gun shop basement? Had it survived the blaze? The building had once been a bank and the old steel vault remained. I swallowed. Steel contained iron.

George looked up with a frown. “Where the hell is Brian with the truck?”

“Here,” a familiar voice said. Rowan stepped around the side of the building, a knife to Brian’s throat. I recognized the over-sized hunting knife Brian always favored. Rowan forced him toward us, using Brian’s body as a shield against George’s crossbow.

“Well, him, not the truck,” Rowan amended.

I released a silent breath. No nasty side effect from my formula then. Rowan had been biding his time, waiting for such an opportunity.

“No fire, Your Grace?” George asked. “Did you blow your wad on my shop last Saturday?”

What a dumbass. “Did you miss the guys in the black fatigues?” I asked. “
They
blew up the workshop.”

Something thumped on the other side of Ginny’s car and a moment later, I heard a groan. A similar sound rose from the shadows across the parking lot, quickly followed by another.

“Oh God,” Henry gasped and shoved me so hard I fell to my knees a few paces away. He turned his back to me, his bowie knife glinting in the dim light. Beyond him, a form shuffled our way.

“What the hell?” George turned to face a half-dozen other forms staggering toward us.

I recognized the uneven tread and my skin crawled. “Zombies.” I hurried to my feet.

“George, release me,” James said. “I’ll take care of them.”

George answered by releasing a crossbow bolt into the nearest dead guy. The man staggered, the bolt through his chest, but he didn’t go down. He regained his balance and started to shuffle forward once more.

“You have to decapitate them to stop them,” I said.

“Or incinerate them,” Rowan added. I didn’t miss the frown he gave me. He pushed Brian away.

Brian bent and drew a knife from his boot top, but he didn’t turn on Rowan. Instead, he turned outward as well. We stood in a rough circle, backs to one another, as eight zombies encircled us.

George tossed aside his crossbow and drew a hunting knife with a ten-inch blade. I suppressed a shiver. He’d have to get close to use that. He gave Rowan a quick glance. “Well?”

I sighed. “He can’t. I hit him with a neurological inhibitor specifically designed for those brain cells which have been shown to be active during—”

“In English,” George cut in.

“No fire.” I watched the zombies move closer. “It’ll wear off in a couple of hours.”

“That was fucking brilliant. Why the hell did you do that?”

“He’s as fond of James as I am. I was doing you a favor,” I lied.

“He’s fucking him, too?”

“Watch it,” James said. He’d climbed to his feet, though he still held a hand over the hole in his chest.

Suddenly, the zombies stopped advancing. They stood within the circle of light cast by the streetlight, and I noticed that they looked much…fresher than the zombie James and I had faced outside the Alchemica. The male zombies wore suits and the females wore dresses. They stood in odd contrast to one that was naked. I could clearly see the y-incision on his torso. Were they fresh from some funeral home? Maybe I didn’t imagine that faint odor of formaldehyde. I was definitely going with cremation when my time came.

James stepped closer and gripped George’s arm. “They’re being controlled. Necros,” he whispered, tone urgent. “You need to—”

George bashed his forearm into James face and he staggered back. I hated seeing my normally unstoppable sidekick so weak. I crossed my arms, a finger slipping beneath my sleeve to the hidden blow tube of pepper dust.

“The truck,” Brian muttered. He turned and ran toward the street. Did he plan to use the truck to run down the undead, or just escape?

To my surprise, two of the male zombies broke formation and took off after him. Now the Huntsman boys are fast, but apparently, the dead are faster. After watching them shuffle around, I would have never believed they could move like that, but they caught Brian before he was even halfway to the street and took him to the ground. Brian screamed.

George whipped a knife from his boot top and, with a flick of the wrist, sent it glinting through the dim light toward the tangle of bodies. The knife thunked into the side of one zombie’s throat, and an instant later, Henry repeated the same move on the other zombie. Lethal blows both, but neither zombie seemed to notice.

“That’ll do,” a female voice said.

I gasped and turned to find a brown-robed figure a few feet beyond the motionless zombies encircling us. The two attacking Brian immediately stopped and climbed to their feet.

“Bring him here,” she said, and the pair pulled Brian to his feet and dragged him over to us. They dropped him, bloodied and wide-eyed at her feet, but she was no longer interested. She stepped around him to stop before James.

“What have you done to my grim?” she asked.

James growled, low in his throat, but took a step back and then another.

“Your grim?” George asked. “Look lady—”

“You don’t belong here, Clarissa.” Rowan stepped forward.

The woman pushed back her hood, and I stared in surprise. It was the crazy necro I’d met outside the Alchemica. Gray threaded her short-cropped hair and deep lines etched her face, but it was her eyes I remembered. The irises were so faded they looked white in the dim light.

“Hello, Rowan.” Her gaze slid over him. “Looking good as always—but then, you never change.”

“How about you fuck off?” George closed the distance between them, but hesitated when one of her zombies stepped into his path.