The Final Formula (32 page)
Authors: Becca Andre
“Your PIA registration forms.”
“What?” Lawson had once told me that Rowan had begun the registration process. I hadn’t believed that anything would come of it. “I’m not magical.”
Gray eyes rose to mine. “You wield magic better than the majority of those registered.”
Sixteen days ago, a comment like that would have made my heart sing. Now it just ached.
“And the PIA bought that?” I asked.
He pulled open the desk drawer. “They agreed that it’s best to keep tabs on you.”
“Agreed? As in agreed with you?”
He found a pen and laid it beside the papers. “Yes.”
His casual indifference hit a nerve, and suddenly I was angry. No, not angry, furious.
“Look, I’m not making excuses. Between the journal and Neil, I remember enough to know that he spoke the truth, mostly, but I am not that person.” I jabbed a finger at the name on the forms. “My name is Addie, not Amelia. And I right my wrongs.”
“Your wrongs? You didn’t run a stop sign; you brain-damaged my little sister.” A slim band of fire ignited around his pupils.
“I fixed that.” My voice came out as a harsh whisper.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Do you expect me to thank you?”
“Rowan.” James stepped up beside him.
“No, I don’t expect gratitude.” I stood my ground, determined to make him understand. To make
them
understand. “But I do expect…” Forgiveness? No, I didn’t expect that either. “The opportunity to redeem myself without you and your PIA cronies standing over me.” I waved at the paperwork.
Rowan frowned, but didn’t immediately speak. Abruptly, he turned back to the desk, picking up the pen, and scratched a few lines on a Post-It pad. He pulled off the top sheet and offered it to me. “If redemption is what you seek, here.”
I took the paper. It contained a name and a phone number.
“Dr. Albright?”
“He works in the Burn Center. I’ll see that he’s expecting your call.”
The Burn Center. “My salve.”
“He’s not magical, but he’ll listen to me. You’ll have one shot at this.”
“My formulas don’t fail.”
He gave me a flat stare, though the fire had faded from his eyes. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes.”
“Good, but I still need you to sign.” He laid the pen beside the papers again.
“Why?”
“I claimed you before the director.”
“Please. You run the show, not him.”
“Still, it makes my job easier to let him think he does.”
I fisted my hands, crinkling the slip of paper he’d given me. “As a member of the non-magical community, that really pisses me off.”
“Are you going to sign or not?”
“No.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then closed the folder. “I told Waylon you wouldn’t.”
“Then why ask?” God, he was exasperating.
He picked up the folder. “This doesn’t matter. You’re still mine, Addie. Don’t make me regret it.”
He’d called me Addie. For the first time in weeks, something loosened in my chest. But I didn’t want him to see it. I crossed my arms. “You won’t.”
Another moment’s silent study, and just when I thought he’d speak, he turned and headed back toward the hall. “James, the car is here,” he said over his shoulder.
I watched him walk away, my emotions a roiling mess I couldn’t begin to sort out. I turned and found James watching me.
“The flier that came to the gun shop,” he said. “Did you send it?”
The sudden change of topic threw me, and it took me a moment to gather my thoughts. “I remember researching your family, learning where you lived, but beyond that…” I spread my arms and then let them fall. “I don’t know.”
“So, you did intend to give me to Neil.”
“I don’ know,” I whispered.
“Then why don’t you take the Final Formula and find out?” He fisted his hands. “Recovering your memory is what you wanted. All you wanted for the past three months.”
“That’s not what I want anymore.” I wanted to hug him, to reassure him that I’d never betray him, but perhaps I already had. “I don’t want to know what I was.”
“You think if you don’t know, it never happened?”
“No.”
“Then what?” His voice broke on the last syllable, but it wasn’t truly anger that colored his tone.
“I…I want to try again. Alchemy can be so much more. It shouldn’t be hoarded and hidden.”
He crossed his arms and frowned at the far wall.
Uncertain, I reached out and gripped his wrist. “Rowan’s giving me another chance. Won’t you?”
He continued to study the wall, but he didn’t pull away. “You worked with necromancers.”
“Just one, and apparently, he’s stunted.”
Intense green eyes bore into my own. Not a good time to joke, I guess.
I pulled my hand from his wrist. “How do I make it right?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced toward the hall. “I need to go.”
“Here.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out a pair of vials.
“What is it?” He frowned at my hand, making no move to take the vials.
“It’s the last of Rowan’s antidote. I can make more, but…”
“You’ll need his blood.”
“Yes.”
He plucked the vials from my hand. “I’ll give him these.”
“Thanks.”
We dropped into silence. God, this hurt. “James?”
“I need to go.”
I nodded.
He met my eyes for an instant, and like Rowan, I thought he might speak. Unlike Rowan, I could watch the play of emotion across his face as he firmed his resolve. He returned my nod, then walked away.
I’d hurt him badly, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could say to make it better. Not now. Maybe in time. Meanwhile, I’d make a new name for alchemy and in the process, maybe redeem mine as well.
I crossed the silent room and pulled open the front door. Sunlight was trying to break through the overcast skies, the dark clouds moving off toward the horizon. It looked like the storm had missed us. Perhaps it would turn out to be a nice day after all.
Acknowledgements
Writing might be done in
solitude, but publishing certainly isn’t. Allow me to take a moment to acknowledge all those people who helped me get Addie and the gang off my hard drive and out into the world. I’d like to thank:
My parents, who told me I could do and be anything I wanted. I heard it so many times that I actually believed them.
My husband and children, who gave me the freedom to chase my dream. Thanks for all those evenings you settled for a bowl of cereal instead of a home-cooked meal.
My editor, Shelley Holloway, who kept me on the grammatical straight and narrow, and made the experience fun.
Glendon Haddix and the team at Streetlight Graphics for the cool cover art, website design, and technical support.
The writers I met at the Online Writers’ Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. Those of you who helped me get started down this road and followed my novel along from start to finish: Ashley, Lindy, Jules, Marc, Gail, Amy, Lisa, and Bill.
My beta readers: Kelly Crawley and Maria McConnaughy. Thanks for giving this story a final look before I sent it on its way.
And finally, my awesome critique partners: Lindsay Buroker, Beth Cato, and Kendra Highley. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help, encouragement, and um…prodding. You ladies rock!
About the Author
Becca Andre lives in southern
Ohio with her husband, two children, and an elderly Jack Russell Terrier. A love of science and math (yes, she’s weird like that), led to a career as a chemist where she blows things up far more infrequently than you’d expect. Other interests include: chocolate, hard rock, and slaying things on the Xbox. She also finds writing about herself in third person a bit strange.
For more on the world of the
Final Formula
, upcoming releases, and random ramblings, stop by
www.beccaandre.com
The Matt Archer Series
By Kendra C. Highley
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Monsters are real…and he’s been chosen to hunt them.
So begins Matt’s new life as a monster hunter. Serving with a top-secret paranormal military unit, and armed with a sentient, spirit-inhabited knife, Matt suddenly has a lot more to worry about than pop quizzes and hoping Ella Mitchell will notice him.
The series follows Matt as he grows—in some cases, literally—into the monster hunter, the soldier and the man he’s destined to become.
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