The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (30 page)

That’s what
he
thought. I had to tell him about Ian. “Rowan—”

“Speaking of your observational skills… Waylon sent over the latest bullet analysis. I’d like you to look at it.”

He wanted my help? Warmth suffused my chest, and I quickly agreed. I’d tell him about Ian later.

He turned toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“My office, upstairs.”

Curious, I followed him from the room. I’d only been upstairs once. That room had been laid out as a private sitting room or maybe a place to spend the night. Then too, the inclusion of the day bed in the furnishings might have been for those times Rowan suffered from one of his headaches, back before I’d designed his remedy.

Rowan led me past that room to a closed door near the end of the hall. Inside, a neat little office had been set up. After the grander downstairs, I’d expected more. Although, the desk was oak and the two upholstered chairs across from it, leather.

Rowan circled around behind the desk and settled into his chair. The sigh he released might have been for the subject matter we were about to go over, or it might have been the result of fatigue. His rest the night before may not have been as peaceful as mine. My cheeks warmed as I remembered waking pressed against his bare chest, his arms around me.

“Are you familiar with forensic ballistics?” He opened a manila folder that already sat front and center on his cluttered desk.

“The premise.” I forced my mind back to the topic at hand. “I’ve never seen an actual report.”

“I’ll show you.”

I circled around to stand by his chair, since it seemed he intended to study the pages with me. He began pulling pages from the folder and arranging them on his desk. The movement exposed the arm of his chair. I considered taking a seat, remembering doing the same that night at the manor. That night we’d started out sharing his desk chair and ended up sharing his bed.

Uncertain, I hesitated. Yes, he’d kissed me back when I’d kissed him at the cabin, but the circumstances had been intense. I’d been certain that I was dying and he’d thought the same. Now, in the saner light of his day-to-day life, maybe he wasn’t quite ready to forgive me for what I’d done to Era. Then there was Lydia. My bullet killed her—after my antidote failed to save her. I decided to remain standing.

Rowan didn’t seem to notice one way or the other as he launched into an explanation of the report. Pictures of the individual bullets were included, which I found far more useful than detailed descriptions of each nick and groove. Ultimately, I came to the same conclusion as the PIA: the bullets were all the same caliber and appeared to have been fired from different guns.

“Either Frank has multiple weapons,” I said, “or his friends are involved.” I tapped my finger on the desk, my eyes drifting over the reports and scattered papers.

“Neil knew a lot about your bullets on that news clip.”

“How would he control the liches? Neil is stunted.” Though according to Ian, he had more than enough juice. I wondered how Ian knew if he’d never seen that power work. “And Neil knows a lot about my bullets because he was the alchemist the PIA hired to examine them last fall.”

“Then what? Do we have another necro?”

“The liches still have their minds and personalities intact. Maybe they want revenge on the magical community for dealing them such a nasty blow.”

“But they were victims of a necromancer. Their targets have all been New Magic, with one exception.”

“Trust me, the untalented don’t see a distinction.”

Rowan frowned. “You’d lump me in with Xander?”

“And now you’re saying I’m untalented? You tried to register me with the PIA. Although, I guess I do fall in the untalented category now.”

“Addie.”

“Do you still have the list of magical people Lawson compiled?”

“Yes.” He began sifting through the papers on the desk. “After you mentioned it, I dug it out. The first three victims’ names were on it, but I haven’t had a chance to check for the others.”

“Were the names in order?”

“No.” He picked up a stack of stapled pages. “Here it is.”

I waited in silence as he went over it.

“They’re here.” He picked up a highlighter and lined the two new names before passing the pages to me. “Obviously, Xander’s grandson isn’t on there.”

I took the list and began flipping through the pages. There was one on the first page, three on the second page, and one on the last. “So, no pattern?”

“None that I can see.”

And I didn’t know his people or the community well enough to see any connection between the names and addresses.

“Do you have a map?”

“I might, but I can drive you to each location.”

“I’m looking for more of an overview.”

“I see.” He stood and walked to a filing cabinet. A few minutes of digging, and he found something. “This might work.” He held up a folded map entitled
Fly Fishing on the Little Miami River
.

I snorted. “Worst case, we can go fishing.”

“I picked it up for Donovan.” He opened the map and spread it on his desk. “The addresses are all on the east side of the city.”

“Interesting.”

He glanced up, his gray eyes meeting mine before he picked up a pen and began marking the locations. A few minutes later, he straightened. Five black Xs now marred Donovan’s map.

“They’re all pretty close together,” I said.

“I hadn’t noticed until now.”

“I wonder where Xander’s grandson was shot.”

“I can find out.” He frowned at the map.

“What is it?”

“The murders took place not far from here.” He touched a finger to the paper, marking our current location. It was well away from the cluster of Xs, but not that far. “Why weren’t we targeted? We’re much easier to find.”

I had wondered that before. “The messages left at the murder scenes were for me
and
you. It takes away from the killers fun if he bumps you off too soon.” I turned away from the map. “I’m missing something. I can feel it.”

Rowan didn’t say anything, letting me think.

“But why taunt you?” I asked. “Like you said, you weren’t responsible for what was done to Frank.”

“But Neil might hold me responsible for what happened to his mother.”

“That’s possible.” I rubbed my face. What was I missing?

“Not possible. Probable. He seeks vengeance—against both of us. He kills my people and tries to point suspicion at you.”

“Maybe.”

Rowan’s hands settled on my shoulders, and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how close he stood.

“I’m right,” he said.

I looked up, holding his gaze with my own. My heart thumped in my ears, but it had nothing to do with the topic we were discussing.

“And I’ll bet my power he’s somehow behind what’s happening to you.”

“I don’t see how.”

“He’s an alchemist. They approach things a little differently.”

I smiled, and my heart kicked again when his eyes followed the movement. “Then shouldn’t I be able to see it?”

“Unless he’s messed with the very thing that makes you an alchemist.” His eyes met mine once more. “Your confidence.”

My breath caught. Dear God, could it be that simple?

The doorknob rattled, and I stepped back out of Rowan’s grip, turning to face Cora as she opened the door. She didn’t even glance in my direction.

“The caterer has it all screwed up. We need to go.”

“Of course.” Rowan picked up the map and folded it. “This is Era’s big night. We should focus on that.” He looked happy, so I didn’t say what I was thinking.

We really needed to focus on Neil.

Chapter
24

E
ra took my arm and we descended the stairs together. It was silly, but I was oddly self-conscious in my little black dress. It was actually more conservative than the outfit I’d worn to the nightclub nearly two months ago. The satiny material skimmed the top of my knees, and the straps rose to a narrow collar that encircled my throat. I’d used my concealing cream to hide my tattoos, since I’d been in the news so much of late and this wasn’t technically a magical gathering.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out onto the glossy tile of the foyer. I was suddenly grateful for Era’s support. I hadn’t noticed until this moment how much the tile resembled ice.

“If I break an ankle, I’m blaming you.”

Era laughed and squeezed my arm. “You’ll be fine.”

“At what point did I agree to wear stilts?”

“They’re three-inch heels.”

“That’s all?”

“I considered four.”

I suspected that’s what Era wore, though I hadn’t looked that close at her sparkly, open-toed shoes. At five-eight or five-nine, Era already towered over me. What was another inch? The shoes were a nice contrast to her white dress, though. They coordinated well with the cascade of rhinestones over one shoulder. She reminded me of a glamorous snowflake.

“The heels make your legs look great,” she continued. “Not to mention, anyone who goes to kiss you will appreciate not having to lean down so far.”

“Kiss me? What kind of a museum is this?”

“Wow,” a male voice said from the hall.

I turned and grinned as James stepped into the foyer. His eyes met mine.

“Wow, yourself.” I left the security of Era’s arm and stepped forward to meet him. My former sidekick had traded in the jeans and concert Ts for a tuxedo. A classy, tailor-made tux that accented his broad shoulders and athletic build. He looked older, sophisticated. Or maybe it was the effort he’d made to style his hair. Normally, he did little more than comb the dark mass into some semblance of order.

“Cleans up well, doesn’t he?” Era said, joining us. “I finally talked him into getting a hair cut.”

Ah, that was the difference. “I’m impressed.”

James gave us a lazy smile. “It was easier than listening to her nag.”

“I don’t nag,” Era said.

“Cajole then.”

I snorted. “Listen to you. I do believe more has changed about you than your appearance.”

“Not really. Rowan used that word the other day and I looked it up.”

I smiled, so pleased that James had ended up here. After spending time with his brothers, the contrast was even more dramatic.

“If you two are done picking on me,” James said, “they left us the limo. I’ve been charged with escorting you to the ball.”

Era laughed. “And does the limo become a pumpkin at midnight?”

“I hope not. I’d get pumpkin seeds on these fancy new clothes.”

The Cincinnati Art Museum was a neat place. Situated high atop Mt. Adams, it appeared a mishmash of different buildings. One end reminded me of a modern educational institution, while another had the look of an old world country estate, and the third, the appearance of a Greek temple. Inside, long marble hallways branched off in different directions, a maze to those unfamiliar with the layout, but Era didn’t have a problem. She led us without error to a room she called the Great Hall. It was aptly named.

The room rose two stories overhead. Three of the walls held small balconies, while the balcony on the fourth side took up the width of the room, and was accessible by two spiral staircases.

“I didn’t expect this.” I stopped in the entryway.

Era turned and gave me a wide grin. “Handsome room, huh?”

“Yes,” I said, though my attention was no longer on the room. A sizable crowd had already arrived, but I picked out Cora’s sapphire blue dress with ease, and beside her, Rowan’s tuxedo-clad form. Unlike James, who continued to fidget with his clothing, Rowan looked at ease in the formal wear. He walked with Cora to the refreshment table, his movements fluid and confident.

He looked up at that moment, and though I stood beside the guest of honor, his eyes locked with mine—until another couple moved between us, blocking my view.

“Ironically, some of my first photos were of this room,” Era said, pulling my attention back to her. “They’re a sorry, amateurish effort, but to be expected from a six-year-old, I guess.”

“You’ve been coming here since you were six?”

She started forward and I walked beside her. “Donovan used to bring me all the time.”

“Really?”

Era laughed. “You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but Don’s a big fan of art. Roe preferred the Cincinnati Museum Center—more science and history stuff there.”

I smiled, imagining the guys taking a little girl to the museum. Era probably had a great childhood.

“And the lady of the hour makes her appearance at last,” Donovan said, stopping beside us.

I looked up and smiled, wondering where they found all that black fabric to make a tuxedo to fit his large frame.

“There was a lot of primping,” James said. “I didn’t think we’d ever get out of there.”

“You arrived in the foyer the same time we did,” Era said.

“He didn’t say who was primping.” I patted James’s chest. “But I think it was time well spent.”

“Obviously,” Donovan said. “You look very nice, James.”

James snorted.

“Era. Finally.” Cora joined us, Rowan walking a few steps behind. Cora’s actions belied the reprimand when she pulled Era into a hug.

“We couldn’t begin without the guest of honor,” Rowan said. He touched Era’s cheek when Cora released her. “You look lovely, honey.”

“Thanks.” Era beamed.

I had to relent and agree that maybe this evening out wasn’t a bad idea. It was good to see everyone relaxed and smiling.

Donovan grunted. “Era? And here I was commenting on how nice James looked.”

“You look very handsome,” Cora said to James. She reached up and smoothed his lapels, a mothering gesture for a boy that had none. I’d never gotten along with Cora, but at the moment, I thought more of her.

James thanked her, then fell silent as he locked gazes with Rowan.

“I’ll accept the chastisement,” Rowan said, echoing James’s words from that day at the restaurant. “I’m not telling you how cute you look.”

James arched a dark brow. “So, you’ll just check out my ass on the sly?”

I pressed my hand to my mouth to muffle the laughter, though Era and Donovan made no attempt. Even Cora was grinning.

Rowan’s eyes glinted in amusement. “I’m just glad your ass is covered.”

“The full moon,” I said. “The bane of the shapeshifter.”

James groaned. “That is
such
a bad pun.”

“Thank you.”

The crowd began to collapse on us, and the others were soon drawn into different conversations. We weren’t far from the collection of easels displaying Era’s artwork, so I moved on to examine the photos on my own.

The theme of the black and white photos became apparent after the first few I studied. Each portrayed a doorway or an arch—and each one made my skin crawl. There were six pictures in total. I stopped in front of the sixth: an outdoor archway captured in the evening light with a fog rolling in. I rubbed my arms.

“So, what do you think?”

I looked up and gave James a smile. “You’re very photogenic.”

He returned a grin.

“How’d you know?” Rowan asked, stopping on my other side.

I wordlessly held up my arm, displaying the goosebumps. “Although, it was just a guess.” I turned to James. “But I’ve seen photos of you before.”

“Not of my other form.”

“Oh.” I studied the photos once more. So, the hellhound couldn’t be photographed. Interesting.

“Guess or not,” Rowan said, “I didn’t make the connection until Era told me.”