The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (32 page)

“I’m sorry, Addie. I really am.” He no longer smiled, his expression solemn, pained even.

It occurred to me that he didn’t seem amazed by James. The grim was to the necro world what the Final Formula was to the alchemist’s. Yet Ian seemed to have…expected him.

“Neil,” I whispered. “Oh my God, you’re still working for Neil.” My voice gained strength as I continued. “Why? He’s stunted. He can’t control you.”

“He has knowledge of the only thing I still care about.”

“The Final Formula,” Rowan said.

“No,” I answered for Ian. My voice dropped to a whisper as everything fell in place. “His daughter.”

Rowan frowned.

“Tell me, Your Grace,” Ian said. “What would you do for the love of a daughter?”

Rowan said nothing, but something in his expression said that Ian’s words had hit home.

“I would have found her for you,” I said.

“Unless you have access to the Nelson family secrets, you’ll never find her.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rowan demanded. He no doubt recognized Xander’s last name. “What does—”

A gunshot sounded from the direction of the Great Hall, quickly followed by another. Screams rang out and Rowan turned and ran for the rail. I looked up, in time to catch Ian’s eyes flicker white before fading back to blue.

The liches. Not Neil’s liches, Ian’s.

Rowan didn’t bother with the stairs; he vaulted the rail, dropping out of sight. I sucked in a breath. If the gunman noticed, he’d know Rowan was magical…

I turned to face Ian, determined to stop this at its source. “I can find your daughter.” I pulled a vial from the front of my dress.

“What’s that?”

“It contains the essence of a necromancer’s power. One of the Nelson line.”

“How will that help?”

“It’ll be no trouble to make one of them talk. Right, James?”

He was staring off toward the Great Hall, but those green eyes shifted to me when I said his name. He clearly wanted to go help, but Ian held him immobile.

“Though I don’t think you trusted it to work at first and took matters into your own hands.” I held James’s gaze, willing him to remember how he’d attacked Rowan the first time we went to the Elemental Offices. If I could get him to do the same with Ian…

James didn’t answer, but I had his attention.

“Catch!” I tossed him the glass vial.

For an instant, James did nothing.

“Catch it!” Ian shouted.

James moved, the motion so fast, I almost couldn’t follow it. He caught the vial and charged in the direction of his lunge before that action was complete. He tackled Ian and took him to the floor.

I was already moving. I pulled a second vial from my bra and smashed it on the floor beside the two men. A yellow fog rapidly enveloped them.

“Stop!” Ian commanded.

The smack of flesh striking flesh followed.

“That’s rather pointless,” Ian said.

The fog dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared. James sat atop Ian, his fist pulled back for another punch.

“I’m dead to pain. And I can’t be knocked unconscious.” Ian’s blue eyes shifted to me. “What was that?”

“Extinguishing Dust—for necromancers.”

James turned to look at me, his eyes on full glow.

“Hold him,” I said to James. “He’s our way to Neil.”

I turned and ran—or tried to in the damn heels. When I nearly twisted my ankle, I kicked them off and sprinted for the balcony rail. I stopped beside it, scanning the chaos below. The well-dressed crowd was fleeing toward the exits, leaving the area around the easels open. Rowan and Donovan stood beside Era, facing a man in black fatigues. Though I didn’t recognize the man, I knew he was one of Ian’s liches. He stood several yards away. Too far for Rowan to ash.

The lich lifted his arm, aiming the gun he held at the three Elements. A gun I knew was loaded with my bullets.

“No!” I ran down the stairs.

One of Era’s large framed photos shot off the easel, spinning toward the gunman. He ducked the whirling projectile, and the heavy frame just missed him. It slammed into the wall twenty feet away with enough force to shatter the glass and wood.

Donovan had closed the distance with the lich, but he had too much ground to cover. The man rose from his crouch and leveled the gun on him.

Only halfway down the spiral staircase, I stopped and gripped the rail.

The room had nearly emptied, so I not only saw, but heard the man pull the trigger.

Click
.

He tried again and got the same result. “Fuck.” He ejected the magazine, and it fell to the ground with a clatter, spilling several bullets.

“It’s jammed, not empty.” Donovan continued toward him.

The man tossed the gun aside and pulled something from his belt. A grenade. The smile he gave Donovan looked more like a grimace.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. The grenade tumbled from his fingers and both hands rose to his throat. He might have tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled gurgle.

Without warning, liquid exploded from his body, ripping apart cloth and skin to get free. What was left of his body collapsed on the floor with a soft thump. The liquids hung in the air, a swirling mass that was predominately thick and rust-brown, but with parts that were more viscous and green.

Movement drew my eye, and Cora stepped out from behind the putrid swirl of liquid, her arms held wide.

Then I understood. She’d ripped the fluids from the gunman’s body. Oddly, it didn’t nauseate me. It seemed too surreal to be, well, real.

Cora dropped her arms, and the liquids fell, splattering across the body and floor.

“God, that stinks.” Era covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

I could imagine. The guy had been dead at least two months. It was surprising he still had fluids left in his slowly decaying body—or that their loss would stop him. The thought no sooner crossed my mind then the man began to move.

“We’ve got a necromancer,” Donovan said, voice low and dangerous. I’d never heard Donovan sound like that.

“We do,” Rowan agreed, “but this man is also a lich.” He laid a hand on Era’s shoulder as he passed her. He walked toward the gunman who’d managed to get up on his hands and knees. Had Ian left him with a command he couldn’t deny? James had implied that Ian had that kind of strength. Or did the gunman act of his own volition? He stretched forward, reaching a hand toward the grenade he’d dropped.

A flash of white-hot flame and the gunman, and all his…fluids, vanished.

“Era! Behind you!” Cora shouted.

Era spun around, and that’s when I saw the second gunman, his gun already trained on Era.

“No!” I screamed.

Rowan whirled and ran toward her. Time seemed to slow, and I watched the gap between him and this new gunman shrink. Could Rowan get close enough to—

The man became a pillar of flame—at the same instant the gun went off, the sound ricocheting around the empty room.

I jerked my eyes back to Era in time to watch Rowan take her to the ground. I heard him grunt. From hitting the floor, or—

“Rowan?” Era helped him sit up. “Rowan!” She pushed his coat back off his shoulders revealing the red stain on the shoulder of his white shirt.

I vaulted the rail, dropping the last six feet to the ground. I didn’t even notice when my bare foot found the shattered remains of a wine glass. The pain barely registered as I ran to them. I dropped to my knees in time to catch Rowan as he doubled over.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him. His breath came in pained gasps.

A soft thump, and Cora knelt beside us. I watched her open her matching blue handbag and pull out an auto-injection pen. My memory flashed back to the worthless pen falling from my fingers after I failed to save Lydia. God no, not again.

I opened my mouth, about to tell Cora it was pointless, but she’d already jerked the cap off the pen. She pulled his coat down, then plunged the pen into Rowan’s shoulder, through his shirt.

Rowan began to shudder. Remembering how Lydia had thrashed in her final moments, I squeezed my eyes closed and held him tighter.

Work. Work. Work. The litany went on in my head. Rowan began to twist in my arms and I tightened my hold. His breath wheezed with the effort. Just when I thought he’d break free of the toxic alchemy, he slumped against me, and his violent movements stopped. His head came to rest on my shoulder, his cheek against mine.

It was silent. So silent. Then, in the depths of my soul I heard it: I’d finally hit bottom.

Shots fired and a scream followed, echoing down the marble hallways of the museum.

“James,” Donovan said, his voice strained.

“I got it,” James answered from behind me. An instant later, a hellhound ran past us, his tread silent, then he leapt through the nearest wall.

More shots rang out, but I couldn’t find the strength to care.

“Addie.” Strong fingers gripped my upper arm. Cold fingers. Ian.

I shook my head, holding Rowan tighter. He was so warm against me—unlike the icy hand gripping my arm.

“What’s
he
doing here?” Cora demanded.

“You only put these people in danger the longer you remain,” Ian said to me. As if to punctuate his words, another gunshot rang out.

I glanced over at Era. Tears wet her cheeks, but she was taking everything a lot better than I expected. I had to protect her. For Rowan.

Releasing Rowan to his family, I let Ian pull me to my feet. I sucked in a pained breath when my injured foot hit the floor, but it was just a passing observation.

“What have you done to yourself?” Ian asked as I hobbled along. Without warning, I was suddenly in his arms. Or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.

“Addie, where are you going?” Donovan called.

I should answer. Donovan had always been good to me, but before I could even formulate a response, I was swathed in warmth and darkness. Startled, I lifted my head. A dark expanse of nothing glowed in the dim light. James’s hell dimension.

“How—” Of course, my Necro X Dust had failed, just as the antidote had failed. Ian had been biding his time.

A doorway opened and I squinted in the brightness. Ian carried me through, and we stood in a small room with few furnishings aside from a desk, a chair, and a nearly empty bookshelf.

“Were you successful?” a familiar voice asked.

Ian turned, facing a figure in the black robes of an Alchemica Master. Neil’s white eyes met mine.

Without warning, Ian dropped me at his feet. I grunted as my body hit the hardwood floor.

“Broken, as you requested,” Ian said, his tone as cold as his flesh. “Now find my daughter.”

Chapter
26

T
he hardwood was cold beneath my bruised tailbone, the thin dress doing little to ward off the chill.

“Patience, Mallory,” Neil said. “Your task is not yet complete.”

“I have done all that you asked. I brought you the broken alchemist. Does your word mean nothing, Nelson?”

Nelson. Wasn’t Neil’s last name Dunstan? Oh right. Nelson was his mother’s maiden name. The Nelsons and the Mallorys. Kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys, but with zombies. I snorted. It sounded like a bad B movie.

Both men glanced down at me.

“Just one final task,” Neil said. “Once I’m finished, I want you to Make her.”

The insane laughter I was struggling to hold in died.

“Make her,” Ian repeated.

“Yes.” Neil drew the word out as if he spoke to a child. He turned away and picked up something off the desk. “Bring her here.”

Ian released a sigh, then reached down and caught me by the upper arms. With no apparent effort, he lifted me from the floor. He carried me to Neil and set me on the surface of the desk.

“First we harvest the fruits of your labors,” Neil said. He lifted his hand, and I saw that he held a syringe. “Hold her.”

Ian pushed me back and pinned me to the desk. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle. Indifferent, that’s how I would describe him. He held me in place by the shoulders. The impulse to struggle flashed across my senses, but I ignored it. I couldn’t defeat the strength of the dead. Besides, what was the point?

Neil gripped my wrist and held my arm to the desk. I knew what was coming, but still jerked when the needle pierced my skin. Neil chuckled.

“Don’t move or I’ll have to prick you again.”

I stared at the ceiling, refusing to give him the pleasure of a response.

A few minutes later, he held up the syringe of blood for me to see. “Congratulate me, Amelia. I just captured failure. Ian does brilliant work.”

Ian released me and stepped back, his face impassive.

I sat up. “What?”

“The way he sabotaged your formulas.” Neil grinned. “Every time you mixed a potion, you thought you failed.”

I glanced at the tube of blood Neil held and suddenly everything fell into place. All my failures—the burn salve, the compass, the antidote—everything had been a lie. I had been a vessel to create an ingredient he needed. But at what cost?

I slid off the desk to stand before him and fisted my hands. “People died.”

“Who the hell
are
you?” Neil demanded. “As soon as spring gets here, I’ll brew you the Formula, then I’ll have my Amelia back.”

Spring? Then I understood why Neil hadn’t yet brewed it for himself. It wasn’t just Element blood he lacked to make the Formula. “You have no spring rain? What alchemist worth his robes has no spring rain?”

“The kind who has his lab demolished after that shit you pulled back in October. Then to add insult to injury, you used the last of Ian’s.”

I’d been fortunate that Ian kept a well-stocked lab. Otherwise, I would have had to wait to heal Era.

Neil snatched up a wad of dark fabric off a nearby shelf and shoved it in my hands. “Put those on.” It was a set of robes, black Alchemica Master robes, styled for a woman.

Neil turned his glare on Ian. “Go, do as I say, and once I am successful, you will have your information.”

“The potion she hit me with hasn’t completely worn off. Not enough to perform a Making. I’ll need a few hours.”

“Potion? What potion?”

“A necromancer equivalent of her Extinguishing Dust.”

Neil’s brows climbed his forehead, then he started to frown. “You said she was broken.”

“The Flame Lord died in front of her.”

Neil seemed to struggle for words. “You were successful? You’re certain he’s dead?”

“I know death.”

I closed my eyes. Before, I might have hoped, but if Ian felt it…

“Why didn’t you mention this?” Neil demanded. “Do you have enough juice to send the men out?”

The men. Did he mean the other liches?

“If we finish the other Elements, this city will be ripe for the picking.” Neil’s smile had returned. “My uncle will be pleased.”

I pushed back the horror and the hurt to find my voice. “Why do you want to curry favor with the man who disowned you?”

“It’s a means to an end.” Neil waved off my comment and turned back to Ian. “Send out the men, now. Then you have two hours. When I see her again, I want her death to call to me.”

“Lot of good that’ll do,” Ian muttered, then walked away. He didn’t even glance at me.

I wanted to call out to him, to beg him not to send his liches after the Elements. But Ian had made it clear where his loyalties lay. I’d have to count on James to protect them—if he wasn’t out looking for me.