The Final Formula (29 page)

“Someone forget to buy bulbs?” I asked, meeting Rowan behind the car.

He hit a button on his key fob and the taillights flashed as the locks engaged. “Perhaps a power surge? It wasn’t this bad yesterday.”

We started toward the elevator and took only a few strides before glass crunched under our feet. Suspicious, I looked up and could just make out the light socket above our heads.

“Or vandals,” I suggested. Someone had busted the light bulb. Maybe all the bulbs. Except the one we were about to walk under.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Rowan?”

He abruptly turned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but before he could comment, he grunted and fell against me.

“What—”

He righted himself and shoved me toward the parked cars across from us. “Move.”

I stumbled forward, but looked back as I did. He hobbled after me, a quarrel buried in his thigh.

A light scrape on the pavement behind me, and I whirled to face the sound. Shadow moved against shadow, before stepping into the low light. Henry grinned at me over the sights of his loaded crossbow.

“Keep those hands where I can see them, alchemist.”

Two more forms stepped out of the shadows across the aisle: George and Brian. Both were armed with crossbows and wore black camo and face paint like their brother.

“I told you this wasn’t over,” George made a show of reloading his bow.

I let Henry herd me back to Rowan’s side. “Now would be a good time to ash some weapons,” I whispered.

“I can’t,” Rowan ground out between clenched teeth.

I glanced up, surprised.

George started to laugh. He stepped into the light and held up one of his quarrels. An iridescent sheen coated the razor-sharp tip.

“We’re working with a new alchemist now,” George said.

“Clarissa’s son,” I said. “The Deacon’s nephew.” It couldn’t be anyone else.

“He tells me that your name is Amelia Daulton and that you really are an Alchemica alchemist.”

How did Clarissa’s son know so much about me?

“Where’s James?” George demanded.

“I’d say the necros have him now.” I prayed that wasn’t true, but saw no need to tell George that.

“What?” Henry moved closer.

Rowan shifted to the side and Brian’s bow came up.

“Stay where you are.” Brian’s voice broke on the last syllable. Rowan clearly made him uneasy.

“Explain yourself,” George said to me.

“James isn’t with me. I have reason to believe the necros have him.” I didn’t think I could make it any clearer. “Looks like you’ve been duped.”

“No.”

“Yes. Let me help you find him.”

“You’re an Alchemica alchemist,” George said. “You can’t be trusted.”

“I believe it’s the necromancers you can’t trust.”

Something clanked against the asphalt at my feet. Before I could react, a small explosion enveloped us in a thin white cloud. Gas grenade.

I caught the faintest whiff of Knockout Gas and held my breath. My hands fell to my slim fanny pack, struggling to pull open the zipper.

Rowan lunged to the side, but George and Henry caught him. The cloud thickened around us, spreading across the width of the aisle. I lost sight of Rowan, but the thumps and grunts made it clear that he still fought. Had the Huntsman boys been given the antidote?

I hadn’t had a chance to draw a deep breath and already my lungs were burning. My fingers closed over a vial when arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind. Cool hands seized my wrists, preventing me from bringing the antidote to my lips.

“You’re right, Amelia,” Emil said in my ear. “Necros can’t be trusted.”

“He’s out cold,” I heard Henry say.

Unable to hold my breath any longer, I sucked in a lung full of Knockout Gas, and fell into darkness.

I came awake in an
uncomfortable position, my hands bound behind my back. I curled my fingers, running them along the smooth plastic binding my wrists. A cable tie? It had been looped through the rungs of the straight-backed chair I sat on, and judging by the stiffness in my shoulders, I’d been here for a while. I blinked my eyes into focus and wasn’t surprised to find myself in Xander’s basement laboratory.

A clink of glassware pulled my attention to the bench to my right. Emil didn’t look in my direction, busy transferring an orange-green solution to a vial. I half-expected to slip into déjà vu at the sight of the familiar older man in his white lab coat, but it didn’t happen.

“So, you work for necros,” I said.

He must have realized I was awake because I didn’t startle him at all.

“I work for myself, Amelia. I always have.”

I puzzled over that, wondering if there was some underlying meaning to the statement. Something from our joint past that I remembered nothing about.

“I thought you’d been forcibly taken from you hospital room. I came looking for you.”

He capped the vial and turned to face me. “I’d claim you’ve become quite the altruist in the past few months—if I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“What I wanted?”

“Your memories.”

Oh, right. I looked around the room. “Where’s…my companion?” I’d almost said Rowan’s name, though it was probably a moot point to protect it now.

“You mean the Flame Lord?”

“We’ll meet him upstairs,” a new voice said.

I turned my head and my jaw fell open. Neil stood on the threshold. Before he could say anything further, Clarissa pushed past him and hurried into the room.

“You said I had to wait until the alchemist arrived,” she said over her shoulder. “She’s here now.”

Neil sighed. “Yes, Mother.”

I closed my gaping mouth. Neil was Clarissa’s son. The realization left me half sick. He’d been playing me all along.

I glanced between the pair of them. There wasn’t a strong family resemblance. She was blonde with those white eyes, while he had dark hair and eyes. Still, there was something in the structure of the face that gave them a similar look.

Clarissa walked past me, her heels clacking on the tile with her brisk pace. Unlike Neil’s casual jeans and sport coat, her low-backed red dress looked out of place. She walked to the back wall and stopped before a stainless-steel door I hadn’t noticed. A freezer? She pulled open the door and held it wide. “Come, my love.”

I knew what I’d see, but I still wanted to sob when James stepped out of the freezer. He’d wrapped a lab coat around his waist, the sleeves knotted on one hip. Otherwise, he was naked. They’d used the steel box of the freezer to contain him while not under necromantic control. His gaze met mine and then dropped to the floor, his dark hair falling over his forehead when he bowed his head.

“My poor baby,” Clarissa cooed, rubbing his shoulder. “You’re so cold.”

“Amazing find.” Neil stopped beside me. “Even more amazing that he jumped right out of the ether and into my lab.” He chuckled. “Mother was delighted.”

“What about the lich?” I asked. “How does he factor in?”

“Ian Mallory is a family treasure. An old, forgotten family treasure.” He gave Clarissa a smile, watching her fuss over James. “We all have them.” He glanced at me on that last part, a knowing look in his eye.

Clarissa planted a kiss on James’s cheek.

I fisted my hands. “And the phone registered to the lich?”

Neil reached in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He chuckled. “Funny how well it worked. Ian wouldn’t even know how to turn the thing on, yet none of them doubted that it was him calling.”

“Because it was registered with his name and address. So if Lawson had checked…”

Neil gave me a wink before he turned to walk to Emil’s side.

I glared at his back. He really had been behind it all.

“You have it?” he asked Emil.

Emil offered him the vial he’d just filled.

Neil took it and held it up to the light before tucking it in his coat pocket. “Bring our colleague,” he said to Emil, starting back toward the door. “It’s time we finish this.” He left the room.

“Go on,” Clarissa said, her tone cheerful. “Do as my boy asks. He’s a brilliant alchemist, you know.”

Emil snorted, but didn’t comment. He pulled out a pocketknife and walked over to sever my bonds.

“Such a shame my Neil was stunted,” Clarissa rattled on, seeming to need no input from us.

Emil closed the blade against his pant leg before returning it to this pocket. So much for hoping he’d leave something sharp within my reach.

“Stunted?” I asked Clarissa.

“He can’t touch his power.” She shook her head. “Dear Ethan was so disappointed. And then there was Xander.” She released a loud sigh.

Emil rolled his eyes and started for the door.

“By power, you mean necromantic power?” I asked. I eyed the bottle of nitric acid on the bench where Emil had been working. If I could reach it…

“Story hour can wait,” Emil said from the doorway. “Neil is waiting.”

“Oh, yes.” Clarissa stared up at James. “Collect her for me and let’s go upstairs.”

I lunged for the bench, but James caught my wrist, pulling me away with ease. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay.” I looked up, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll fix this.”

He just sighed and escorted me toward the door.

Neil waited for us on
the second floor in an office I suspected belonged to his uncle. The decor was certainly macabre enough for the city’s most powerful necromancer. Heavy burgundy drapes covered the windows and pooled on the glossy black tile. Neil sat behind a large cherry desk, feet propped on one polished corner, while he read from a worn book. Across the room, George lounged on a black leather couch, his combat boots crossed at the ankles and resting on the burgundy area rug.

Neil snapped the book closed and rose to his feet. “Grand Master, Amelia, if you would both please join me.” He gestured at the nearby table crafted from the same cherry wood as the desk. He gave George a nod, and to my surprise, George wordlessly left the room.

“When did you and the Huntsman boys hook up?”

“I recognized their potential the night we tried to abduct you from the clinic.” Neil stopped behind one of the chairs around the table.

“You drove the getaway car.” I watched Clarissa walk over to the couch George had vacated, James trailing in her wake. She sat down and he settled at her feet. I turned to glare at Neil, but Emil caught my arm and propelled me toward the table.

“Take a seat, Amelia,” Emil said.

I jerked my arm free and glared at my former Grand Master. He’d been lying to me since I stumbled across him at the club, maybe from long before that. “We were never lovers,” I whispered.

Emil just smirked and took a seat at the table, as Neil did the same. Each had a notepad and a pen while my place remained empty.

Neil removed the vial of orange-green liquid he’d taken from Emil earlier and set it before my chair. “You’re going to drink that.”

“I am? And what exactly is that?”

“You don’t remember it, but you were given it once before.” Emil leaned over to uncap the vial. “But you’ll be pleased to know I’ve made some refinements. There should be fewer nasty side-effects this time.”

“What—”

“It still lacks any compulsive elements,” Neil said, ignoring me.

“It takes a certain degree of finesse to brew as it is,” Emil said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Give me the formula,” I offered. “I’ll tweak it for you.”

Emil glared, but Neil laughed.

“Ah, Amelia.” Neil shook his head. “You always were too confident for your own good.” He waved a hand toward the couch. “But I’ve provided the compulsion. Mother?”

Clarissa leaned forward and whispered in James’s ear. A flicker of darkness and an enormous hellhound lay at her feet. She clasped her hands and grinned before leaning down to ruffle his fur. After a brief rub of his ears, she rose to her feet and walked over to open the door.

“Bring him in,” she said.

Dread and relief warred within me when Rowan stepped into the room, closely followed by George with his crossbow. The quarrel was no longer embedded in Rowan’s thigh, and he didn’t appear to be limping. Elemental healing at work or had I been out longer than I realized?

“That’s far enough,” George said.

Rowan stopped, his hands folded before him, a cable tie cutting into his wrists. His gray eyes settled on Neil. “Let her go.”

“Completely at my mercy and he still makes demands.” Neil gave me a smile followed by a tsk. “Really, must you make such powerful friends?”

At his mercy? “What was on that quarrel?” I asked, though I suspected I knew. “What did you do?”

“It’s what you’ve done. Brilliant work as always, though I decided to convert it to a paste. What did you call it? Extinguishing Dust?” Neil smirked. “Such quaint names.”

I gritted my teeth, realizing that he must have lifted the formula from my journal the day he’d visited me at the clinic.

Neil turned to George. “Thank you, Mr. Huntsman.”

“You better keep your word, alchemist.” George glared at Neil.

“I believe you’ll agree that the reward is worth the price.”

George glanced at James, but made no further comment. With a huff, he stepped out into the hall and slammed the door behind him.

I stared at the closed door. George had once stepped in front of Lawson’s gun to save James, now he let a necro have him?

Neil picked up Emil’s vial and offered it to me. “The grim has been commanded to rip out the Flame Lord’s soul if he tries anything—or if you fail to drink this.”

Rowan stood near the couch, and as I watched, James rose to his feet. Without hesitation, I took the vial from Neil’s fingers and downed it.

“What was that?” Rowan demanded.

“One of Emil’s mind fucks,” Neil said.

“Quaint names?” Emil frowned at Neil and got a smirk in return.

“How long?” Neil asked him.

“A minute. Probably less since she had it before.”

“Ah.” Neil turned his attention to me. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to speak when asked, otherwise His Grace will pay with his soul.” He held out a hand to Clarissa, and she walked over to take it.