The Final Formula (30 page)

“And when you’re done, the grim is mine?” she asked, ruffling Neil’s brown hair.

“To do with as you please.”

My stomach twisted at the adoring look Clarissa gave James before she turned and walked back to him.

I opened my mouth to demand that they leave him alone, but all that came out was a couple of ingredients. I snapped my mouth closed. Oh God, not again.

“Hold up!” Neil picked up his pen. “Is she ready?” he asked Emil.

My former Grand Master smiled. “Tell us the Final Formula, Amelia.”

Chapter
30

I
couldn’t think of a way
out of it, so I spoke. I wanted to ask questions, make demands, but what came out of my mouth wasn’t what I meant to say. It was alchemy. For the next twenty minutes, I recited a formula I’d never heard before. A formula that grew more familiar with each word. I stopped to swallow.

“Finish,” Neil said, “and I’ll get you some water.”

“The quint ingredients,” Emil said. “This is where she held out on me before. I’d increased the dose and was waiting for it to take effect when she destroyed the Alchemica.”

I sat up straighter and gave him a frown. He blamed that on me? Emil glared right back.

“What are you talking about?” Rowan demanded. The sound of his voice after such a lengthy silence surprised me.

Neil chuckled and our attention shifted to him. “She doesn’t remember,” Neil told Emil. “I suspect she was trying to frame you for the death of the Elements.” He glanced at Rowan before his attention shifted back to Emil. “Good thing you were in her lab trying to brew her formula.”

I stared at Neil. Close to forty people had died in that explosion. Neil had to be lying. I wouldn’t have done that.

Would I?

“Or could it have been you?” Rowan asked Neil.

“Hmm, yes, I did have a motive,” Neil agreed. “But the liches I sent to retrieve her hadn’t returned. They might survive an explosion, but I didn’t know how well the Formula would protect her.”

“How did you know she was the one who found it?” Rowan asked.

“She came to me seeking one of the ingredients, promising me the grim if I got it for her.” Neil turned his smile on me. “Remember, Amelia?”

I stared at him, remembering my search of James’s family tree. Was that what I’d been searching for? A bargaining chip for Neil’s cooperation? And what ingredient did I need a necromancer’s help in securing?

“Is that true?” James asked.

I gasped at the sound of his voice and turned my head. The shaggy black hellhound no longer lay at Clarissa’s feet. Human now, he knelt beside her, his eyes on me. I took a breath to answer and stopped. If I spoke, it wouldn’t be the answer to his question that came out.

“Of course, it’s true,” Neil answered for me. He rose to his feet and crossed to the desk to retrieve a worn leather-bound journal.

“George was right,” James said to me, “you were the one who called to invite me to the Alchemica.” He flinched as Clarissa stroked his hair, but it wasn’t anger that wrinkled his brow.

Neil chuckled before answering him. “Did you think your alchemical skills warranted the call? The Alchemica doesn’t let just anyone in.”

“I let
you
in,” Emil said to Neil. “I never did figure out how you made master. Some necromantic trick, most likely.”

Neil glared at our Grand Master, but didn’t try to defend himself.

“I bet you’re quite brilliant,” Clarissa said to James, still stroking his hair like he was nothing more than a pet.

Neil returned to the table and placed the journal beside his notepad. He smiled at me and patted it with one hand. “This is your journal. The one you kept while researching the Formula. Perhaps you’d like to read it. Later.”

I stared at the worn journal. Would reading my own notes return any memories to me?

“Do I need to add a threat to get you to finish?” Neil asked, then looked at Clarissa.

“Baby’s breath,” I said.

“The flower?”

No, dipshit. A handful of actual baby’s breath. “The first blooms, dried and ground,” was what I actually said.

Neil and Emil went back to scratching on their notepads. I looked down at the journal beneath Neil’s hand.

“Go on,” Emil said.

“Spring rain. Three drops.”

“Of course,” Emil said, chuckling.

Neil looked up, meeting my eyes. “You suspect, but you’re not certain.” His smile was smug. He opened the journal and thumbed through the pages before turning it to me. I leaned forward and looked down at the words, recognizing my own handwriting. A twinge of déjà vu crept through me.

June 27th

The blood sample resists everything I throw at it, which is more than I can say for the girl. Perhaps I shouldn’t have left her in Neil’s tender care, but I couldn’t chance her being found at the Alchemica. Relations between the magical community and us are strained enough. It’s best to let the magical hold her captive for me. He promised to return her when our experiments are finished and tomorrow may be the day. The quintessent ingredients have been added. Tomorrow I will take the Final Formula, and he can return the Air Element to her people.

I gasped and sprang to my feet, overturning my chair in the process. I stared at Neil in wide-eyed horror, but he just laughed. “Now do you remember?”

I shook my head. I really didn’t.

“Addie?”

The sound of Rowan’s voice froze me where I stood. Oh God, no. If he found out that I was responsible for what had happened to Era…

“Enough games,” Emil cut in. “What’s the last ingredient?”

“Amelia?” Neil’s dark brows rose.

I could feel the tears on my cheeks. I couldn’t say it. Not in front of Rowan. I didn’t fear the fire. In truth, I’d prefer it to his disapproval, his disgust, his hatred of me.

“This is tiresome,” Emil complained.

My attention shifted to my Grand Master. The man who’d been like a father to me for so long. The man who destroyed my mind to achieve his ambition. Destroying lives in the name of alchemy. I must have learned my lesson well.

“Answer, or I’ll have Clarissa put your gift to use.” Neil gave his mother a smile, but she was too busy petting her new toy to notice. Neil shook his head. “I still can’t believe you found the grim, Amelia. You must have necromancy in your ancestry.”

Or the astounding ability to use Ancestry.com.

“That true?” Emil demanded. “Are you magical, too?”

Jaw set, I glared at my Grand Master. That’s right, attribute my skills to magic, asshole. With an unhurried motion, I gave him the finger.

His face went red and he rose from his chair.

“Sit, both of you,” Neil said. “We haven’t finished here.” He glanced over at Clarissa. “Mother?”

“Sit,” she said and Emil immediately dropped back into his chair.

My heart pounded against my breastbone as I suddenly understood why Emil had been so willing to work with Neil. James was wrong. It didn’t take days to make a lich. Just a few hours.

I stared at Neil and his brow rose in question. Holding his gaze, I moved closer to the table and gestured at the pen lying beside his notepad. After an amused quirk of the lips, he nodded. I picked up the polished steel pen and pulled his notepad closer.

He’s a lich
, I wrote in the margin.

Neil smirked. “His interest in the Final Formula is no longer academic.”

I clenched my fist around the pen. Once they had the Formula, then what? I glanced at Rowan, noticing that he’d moved a little closer to our table. Powerless, but not helpless, even with his death kneeling a few feet away. Though James wasn’t watching him. He had his head bowed while Clarissa trailed her fingers over the back of his neck.

“Let’s finish this,” Emil said, the words barely understandable through his clenched teeth.

Yes, let’s.

I jabbed the pen at Neil’s face and he jerked back, eluding my half-hearted jab. He tried to catch my wrist, but I dodged his grasp and dove to the side, landing only feet away from my true target. James’s head came up and I lunged at him.

“Mother!” Neil shouted. “Stop her.”

I collided with James’s chest, sprawling him on his back. One hand braced on his bare shoulder, I met his confused gaze before jabbing the pen between his ribs. I hadn’t anticipated the resistance of the muscle surrounding his chest, and the pen only penetrated a few inches.

“James!” Clarissa cried. “Save yourself!”

A muscle ticked in his cheek as he absorbed the command. Jaw clenched, he covered my hand with his and shoved the pen deeper. He was saving himself—from her.

“Addie, his blood!” Rowan shouted. “Don’t get it on you!”

James’s eyes widened. “No.” He caught me by the shoulders.

I lifted my hand from his chest. Blood oozed around the pen, having already slicked my palm.

“Oh no,” he whispered and choked on a sob. A second went by and then two. Understanding dawned on his face. “The Final Formula.”

I held his gaze and slammed the heel of my hand into the two inches of pen sticking out of his chest, shoving it all the way in. James gasped and then went limp beneath me. A final breath escaped his parted lips and his chest rose no more.

“What have you done?!” Clarissa shoved me aside and dropped to her knees beside him. She sunk her fingers into the wound trying to grab the pen.

“No!” Neil shouted. He took a step toward her and then she started to scream. Cradling her hand, she withered on the floor. Blood coated her fingertips, clashing with her burgundy nail polish. The smell of burning flesh wafted in my direction. Not just flesh, but burning sulfur. Brimstone.

“No,” Neil repeated, a whisper now. Clarissa thrashed a few more times and with a final whimper, stilled. I clenched my left hand, hiding my blood-slicked palm.

“Freeze!” Neil yelled.

I jumped and twisted around to face him, but his attention wasn’t on me. Nor was the gun he now held in his shaking hands. Rowan stood only a few feet away, having almost reached him in the excitement.

Neil’s skin had paled, but he seemed to be regaining control. He glanced at Clarissa’s still form and released a breath.

“Emil,” he said. “Retrieve our colleague. I will finish this.”

I wondered what Neil had in mind. He knew the last ingredient. Why the charade? Did he want me to say it in front of Rowan? Or did he think I’d used another ingredient?

Jaw tight, Emil rose to his feet. He walked over, gripped my upper arm and hauled me to my feet.

“Enough of this,” Emil turned me to face him, his grip crushing my upper arm. “You dumb, fat bitch,” he whispered, his face only inches from mine. “I bet you’re loving this. What he did to me; what I need from you. But the power’s not all yours.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering further. “The last ingredient for your memories. I can give them back to you.”

I looked up into his blue eyes. Mind rape, betrayal. This was my mentor. The man I looked up to and aspired to imitate. How far had I gone down that path? I gave him a smile and reached up to cup his cheek. No more. The dark rumors about the Alchemica alchemists had been true. I had been one of them.

Emil stumbled back and his eyes went wide. He raised a hand to his blood-smeared cheek, but didn’t touch it. A tendril of smoke rose from the aged skin, and he started to scream. I didn’t flinch or back away. A moment later, he collapsed at my feet, twitched a few times, and then lay still.

“Ruthless as ever,” Neil said in the sudden silence.

I turned to look at him.

“You don’t need to tell me the last ingredient.” He no longer smirked. Clarissa’s death had sobered him. “I was there when you discovered it.”

I had a thing or two to say to that, but I held my silence. No need to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. Let him wonder. I took a step closer, my hand still wet with James’s blood.

“Don’t even consider it.” Neil trained the gun on me.

I spread my hands and smiled, inviting him to take a shot.

“Addie,” Rowan said.

Neil frowned at him before glaring at me. “Your friends are so loyal. What will they say when they read that journal?” He gestured at the worn book still lying open on the table. “What if I read it to them?”

I sprang and he fired. I saw an explosion of light at the end of the barrel. Suddenly, the light became a fireball. Neil screamed when the gun joined it.

“You’re not the alchemist she is,” Rowan said, eyes aglow. He gradually began to frown. “Why can’t I see in you?”

Neil smiled, but didn’t answer.

“A formula?” Rowan asked. He glanced at me, no doubt wondering if it was mine.

I shook my head. Not mine, the lich’s. I thought about the page of notes I’d taken, and it all became clear. With the way Rowan had been bleeding, it would have been a simple matter to get a sample of his blood in the tomb. Unlike me, the lich hadn’t created a potion to take away Rowan’s power; he had created one to make a person immune to Rowan’s magic. Impressive. I wondered how long the effect would last.

James growled and the hairs on my arms stood up. He was up on his knees, braced on one hand. He pressed the other hand to his chest, a wisp of smoke leaking from the wound, and gave Rowan a tentative smile. “Thanks.” Rowan had ashed the pen.

“It was the Air Element,” Neil scooped up the journal and shoved it into Rowan’s hands. “She was Amelia’s secret ingredient.”

“What?” Rowan demanded.

“No,” James whispered.

Rowan looked down at the journal in his hands, and James stepped up beside him. Helpless to stop them, I turned on Neil, reaching for him with my blood-smeared hand.

He saw me coming, but instead of backing away, he raised his hands to his eyes. For a moment, I feared he meant to pluck them from his face, then I realized he was removing his contacts. He tossed them aside and his white eyes met mine. “Remember me now?”

Without warning, the déjà vu hit me. Images flew at me. Visions of Neil in college. The nice guy who had doted on me. Pudgy, geeky me. I would have done anything for him. I kept his secret. Got him into the Alchemica. Kept him close even when Emil learned his secret and kicked him out. I remembered going to him for information on the magical. Asking him to catch an Element. I remembered Era.

A door slammed somewhere close by. Neil escaping? I couldn’t do anything about it. I stayed on the floor, fighting the dry heaves as the memories lessened and finally ceased. I pushed up on my knees, hands braced on the polished black tile. I could almost see my reflection in it.

Silence.

I followed a crack between the tiles to a cluster of feet. James and Rowan. A sharp inhale of breath on James’s part and the journal snapped closed. I returned my gaze to my dark reflection, watching the occasional tear smack the tile, interspersed with drops of blood from my nose.