The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (23 page)

“What’s the difference?” He scowled at the list.

“The purer the ingredients, the less work I have to do and the quicker I can whip up the potion.”

George studied me, but didn’t comment.

“What?” I asked, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

“You really are one of those alchemists. A blood alchemist.”

“Yes. Why should that bother you? You’re a murderer.”

“Neil said you are, too.”

Did Neil refer to how I’d killed Emil? Or had I killed other people in my forgotten past? I decided I didn’t want to know. I raised my chin, looking George square in the eye. I wouldn’t let him see how much that bothered me.

“My little brother wouldn’t approve.”

“He’s killed far more than I have.” I remembered the three men James had killed at the gun shop last fall. Granted, they’d been liches, but he had still ripped their souls from the mortal world. I hoped my kill count was less than three.

George stepped closer. “James hasn’t killed anyone. You stopped him from taking that Element’s soul.” George had witnessed the time Neil’s mother had taken command of James and almost forced him to kill Rowan.

“James soul-ripped three of the men who attacked the gun shop.”

“He’s come into his full powers. He can now rip souls.”

“Yes.” My tone was hesitant. There was an intensity about George that unsettled me.

A series of thumps was followed by a crash in the front room. I turned toward the open door, my heart in my throat. Had James or Rowan made a bid for his freedom?

“Damn it, would you hold him?” Henry’s voice sounded strained.

The thumps came again, in the hall this time. Rowan slammed into the wall across from the door, mere feet from where I stood. They’d stripped off his coat, leaving him in the white button-down shirt and dark pants. I glimpsed the cable tie binding his wrists before he righted himself.

Suddenly, Brian was there. Rowan ducked and Brian’s fist connected with the log wall. Brian howled in pain, gripping his wrist with the opposite hand.

But Rowan hadn’t stopped. He spun away from the wall, then turned, using his momentum to slam an elbow into the side of Brian’s head before the guy could recover.

Movement out of the corner of my eye reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I reached out, trying to stop George, but I was too late. A flick of the wrist sent a throwing knife whirling into the fray. I didn’t even have time to shout a warning.

Rowan grunted as the slim blade slammed into the back of his thigh. He fell back against the wall, and an instant later, a quarrel struck his shoulder, pinning him in place.

George caught my bound hands without taking his eyes off the confrontation. “Secure him.”

“He needs to die.” Henry stepped into view. He held an empty crossbow, and a trickle of blood colored his upper lip. “There are other Elements if we need the blood later.”

Rowan reached up and gripped the quarrel with his bound hands. He lifted his lips, exposing his clenched teeth, before jerking the quarrel from his shoulder. Brian hurried to step out of his reach.

“Enough.” George dragged me with him as he stepped forward.

Rowan frowned, but didn’t speak. My eyes were drawn to the growing bright red stain around the hole in his shirt.

Brian pulled his hunting knife from his belt and shoved Rowan toward the open door across us.

Rowan stumbled, but caught himself on the doorframe. It looked like a bedroom, though George didn’t give me a chance to stand and watch.

“Don’t screw this up,” he said to Henry before dragging me back to the front room.

George released me, but before I could turn to look back down the hall, he jabbed his stiff fingers into my shoulder and gave me a shove. “Sit.” A chair caught the back of my knees, and I sat down hard, kicking up a cloud of dust from the cushion. While I coughed, George squatted in front of me and began removing my shoes and socks.

“What are you—”

He held up a vial he found in my left sock and set it on the table behind him.

“If you want my vials, all you had to do was ask. Unbind my hands and—”

He rose, catching my bound hands, and pulled me to my feet.

I started to breathe a sigh of relief, expecting him to unbind me, but he gripped my shoulder and spun me so I stood with my back to him. His large hands fell to my waist and he began to undo my pants.

“George! What—”

The soft hiss of a blade leaving its sheath preceded the press of his knife against my throat.

“Don’t move,” he said, his voice low and angry. “I know what you’re capable of.”

The knife left my throat, and an instant later, his hands returned to my pants.

“George,” I whispered. My heart raced and I tried to push his hands away with my bound ones, but he had the zipper undone and pushed my pants down over my hips. They slid to my ankles.

“Step out of them,” he commanded.

My balance wasn’t the best, but I managed.

No sooner was I free of my pants then he jerked me around to face him. The knife made another appearance, slicing through my bonds. Immediately, it returned to my throat.

“Whoa,” Henry said, stepping out of the hall.

“Give me a hand,” George said, his voice just this side of a growl.

“You seem to be doing well on your own.”

George glared at him, and Henry hurried over, dropping his empty crossbow onto the chair I’d just vacated.

“Ensure that she doesn’t move,” George told him.

Henry stepped up behind me, and now it was his blade at my throat. He let me feel the sharp edge, forcing me to tip my head back to avoid it.

“The Element?” George asked.

“Secured.”

“That was quick.” George pulled off my jacket and tossed it aside.

“I got creative.” Henry chuckled.

“What did you do?” I whispered.

“Ever see a butterfly collection? All those bugs tacked in place with stick pins.”

I pulled in a breath, careful not to move against his blade. The quarrels. “You shot him.”

“Quite a few times.”

George tugged the neck of my shirt to the side. I opened my mouth, but closed it when I felt the cold touch of steel against my shoulder. My bra strap gave as he severed it and then went to work on the other side.

Bent back, staring at the ceiling, I blinked my eyes as his hands slid up under my shirt, up over my ribs to grip the bottom of my bra. He jerked it down to my waist. Cold metal brushed my belly, and I held my breath. I couldn’t believe he meant to hurt me—not if he wanted me to brew him a potion. But not even that logic could slow my pounding heart.

My bra slid off my waist, and I realized that he’d cut through the band.

“Nice,” Henry said. Did he admire George’s technique or something else? I squeezed my eyes closed, not wanting to know.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” George said.

A pause.

“Damn,” Henry said. “How much shit did she have packed in that thing?”

I realized he must be talking about my bra. It was a handy place to hide a few vials.

“But what do they do?” a third voice asked. Brian. I didn’t know when he’d joined us.

“Probably nothing,” Henry said.

George caught my wrist, knife cool against my skin, then he ripped open my sleeve, up to the shoulder.

“No fucking way,” Henry said. “She’s the real deal?”

“Yes,” George answered. “Our baby brother brought home a real Alchemica alchemist.”

“But aren’t they supposed to be…” Brian hesitated.

“Evil?” Henry laughed.

I sucked in a breath as George gave me a pat down. He was quick and professional. Was that all he was doing? Removing my vials?

“Aren’t they supposed to rob graves and steal babies?” Brian asked. The guy was five years older than James, but he always seemed five years younger.

“That true, Addie?” Henry asked me. He sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

“We had lab assistants for that,” I answered, my eyes still on the ceiling.

The knife pressed closer, and I didn’t dare swallow for fear of cutting myself.

“Release her,” George said.

A pause, and Henry did—so abruptly I stumbled forward. George caught me and immediately shoved me toward Brian.

“Take her downstairs.”

“You’re going to give her to him?” Henry asked.

George ignored him. “Go.”

Brian gripped my biceps and pulled me toward the door.

“What a waste,” Henry said from behind me. “I’d never noticed between that mouth and the sloppy-ass clothes she wore around the shop, but she’s stacked.”

George didn’t comment.

“Great ass,” Henry continued. “Bet he likes that when he gets her doggie style.”

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” George sounded more amused than angry now.

I didn’t catch the rest of the conversation as Brian pulled me outside. Oh damn, it was cold. I stumbled along beside him, my bare feet seeming to find every stick and root beneath the snow-covered leaf litter.

“Do you think I can have my clothes back once George removes my vials?”

Brian didn’t answer. Instead, he led me around the back of the house and stopped. He opened a pair of ground-level doors, exposing a stairwell leading down under the cabin. The floor was packed dirt, but worn down to the bedrock in places. To my surprise, it wasn’t nearly so cold; then I spied the old-fashioned stove in one corner. Someone had actually started a fire in it. My interest in my surroundings faded when I saw James lying a few feet away. A chain had been affixed to his collar, but that was the extent of the attention he’d been given. He was still naked, his lips blue.

I hurried over, dropping to a knee beside him. His skin was cool.

“Can’t you get him a blanket?” I demanded, running a hand over his shoulder.

Doors thumped and the light dimmed. I looked over my shoulder and discovered that Brian had left us.

Chapter
18

C
hains rattled on the other side of the door. Brian locking us in—no doubt on George’s orders. “Bastards,” I muttered for what felt like the hundredth time.

James mumbled something and drew up his legs, curling into a fetal position.

“James?”

He didn’t respond. Why was he unconscious? Was it from exposure, or had he lost more blood than I realized when they shot him?

I rose to my feet and moved to the stove. The door to the firebox stood open an inch, providing the only source of illumination. I reached for the handle, intending to open the door and let in more light. At the last moment, I thought better of it and pulled my sleeve over my hand before touching the hot metal.

Some smoke escaped, but not enough to be concerned with. I straightened and surveyed my surroundings. The dimensions of the room were uneven, as if the space had been dug by hand—and I suspected it had been. The support timbers looked hand hewn and the shelving along the wall was held together with wooden joints. This cabin had been here a while.

On the shelves, I found a collection of old-fashioned canning jars. They’d been here so long that the wire holding the glass lids in place had rusted. A few contained an amber liquid. A heap of rusted metal turned out to be an old still. I shook my head. I had a good idea what the Huntsman boys’ ancestors did in the 1920s. Though, at the moment, I wasn’t going to complain. I had alcohol, various parts, and fire. If I couldn’t do something with this, I truly had lost my edge.

I came to a stop when I found a tarp covering something near the door. Some dry-rotted burlap sacks of what had once been corn. The mice had long since made away with the kernels, but it wasn’t the corn I was interested in, it was the canvas tarp. Like the bags, it had begun to dry rot, but enough of it was still intact to be useful. I dragged it back to James and covered him with it.

A stack of wood lay near the stove, and I added another log. Would the Huntsman boys give us more if we ran out or should I ration this?

Just one log then. A large ember popped out of the open door, just missing my bare foot. I pushed the door closed, leaving only the slim crack for light.

“Addie?” the sound of James’s voice in the stillness startled me.

I hurried back to him, dropping to my knees. “Hey, you okay?”

He sat up with surprising ease and looked me over. “Oh, sorry.” He averted his gaze.

Did he think I’d been changing clothes or something? “George took my vials—and my clothes.”

“What? That shithead.” He tried to get up, but the chain pulled him back. For the first time, he looked around, seeming to take in his surroundings. “The cabin,” he whispered.

“A cabin, yes. Somewhere east of Cincinnati.”

“Actually, Adams County.”

I didn’t realize we’d come that far. “Oh.”

His attention shifted back to me. “Here.” He started to hand me the tarp. “You need to keep warm.”

I pushed the tarp back to him. “At least, I have two articles of clothing.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, dragging the tarp back across his lap. A little color bloomed in his cheeks, a pleasant change from the blue tinge earlier.

“It’s all right. It’s not like you can help it.” I gave his shoulder a light nudge. “The full moon. The bane of the shapeshifter.”

He snorted and shook his head. “That’s so wrong.”

“No, that would be your piece-of-shit brothers.”

“I’m sorry I had to shoot Rowan at the Institute. I was almost to him when I heard you scream. Rowan took off toward the sound, and I had to shoot him before Brian did.”

“Brian had him in his sights?”

“I’m sure he did. I’d already found Rowan, so I assumed he had, too.”

“Because he’d ingested your blood? What the hell was that all about? Is he part vampire or something?”

James snorted, though he dropped his eyes. “My blood gives my brothers a temporary power boost. They, in turn, have the ability to heal me.”

“How does that work?”

He shrugged. “The same blood that flows in my veins flows in theirs, though to a much weaker degree.”

“Can they heal anyone?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Gavin claims that it’s a boon granted to the grims’ keepers.”

“Seems an odd gift for those murderers.”

James looked up, frowning. “What happened?”

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. “They killed Lydia.”

“What?” he whispered.

“Well, they shot her. I failed to save her.”

The chain rattled and James’s shoulder brushed mine. “Tell me about it.”

I took a deep breath, then did as he asked. I didn’t leave anything out, not even those decadent little pastries Rowan had shown up with. When I finished, my eyes were burning and my voice had grown thick, but I’d kept it together.