The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (19 page)

“Then he’s not magical.” James was referencing one of the hypotheses we’d discussed after the killer had shot at us in the Suburban.

“He’s a former PIA agent, so there’s a chance he’s a Sensitive, but knowing who he is, I suspect he recognized me.”

“The messages at the murder scenes…”

“I’m the reason he was Made. He has every reason to hate me. He would also have access to Lawson’s list of the magical.”

“The list I found when I searched Lawson’s office?”

“Yes.” I snorted. “Now Xander can stop whining about the PIA database being hacked.”

“And Frank would have access to the bullets Lawson bought from George.”

“He’d also know where to get more.” I gripped James’s arm. “That’s how George knew what your bullets would do.”

“That makes sense.” James’s somber expression turned into a smile. “Damn. So, all we have to do is find Frank.”

I returned his smile. For the first time today, I felt good. I had hope.

“And while this lich is hunted down,” Lydia said, “we’ll have your antidote. We can give some to every person on that list.”

“True.” This might work. No one else would die. Suddenly, I was grateful to Rowan for keeping my bullets secret. If we could find them and destroy them, no one needed to know of the harm alchemy could do. What I’d used blood alchemy to do. I could focus on the good.

Lydia got to her feet. “Well, if you two aren’t going to let me help clean up, I’m going to go change into something sloppier and a lot more comfortable.” She gestured at the slacks and button-down shirt she wore. I didn’t know what time she’d gone to work this morning, but I suspected it had been a long day. The slump of her shoulders as she left the room suggested as much.

“Maybe I should take a cab to the shop,” I said. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Rowan asked me to take you back to the manor.” James set the last bowl in the drainer, and let the water out of the sink.

“And if I don’t want to go?”

James looked up, but didn’t answer.

“What are you, his guard dog?”

“Actually, yes, I am.”

His answer threw me off, silencing the impassioned tirade I was about to launch into.

“I get a pay check from the Elemental Offices for a security position. Of course, that also comes with room and board, a car, a phone, and now, a college education.” He shrugged, but something in his tone suggested he wasn’t as indifferent as he appeared.

“And that bothers you?”

“No, it’s just—” He frowned and glanced toward the door.

I returned the towel to the counter. “Just what?”

“I don’t know. I would have done it for free.”

“I’m sure Rowan realizes that, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting what’s offered. Heck, there are jobs out in the corporate world that are just as sweet.”

“That’s true.” He looked over, meeting my eyes. “But I can’t help feeling that he’s doing this to keep tabs on me.”

Ah, here was what was bothering him, but what could I say? He was right.

“You agree,” James concluded, reading my hesitation.

I sighed. “There is some truth to what you say, but I truly believe that it is not his sole motivation. He sees you; he values you for the person you are. The rest is just the necessity of his job. Don’t let it bother you.”

“Did you know he bought the building that holds your new lab?”

I gritted my teeth. Why did that even surprise me?

James twitched his brows upward, waiting for my response.

“It’s not the same thing,” I said.

“It’s not?”

I turned toward the window. The moon was up, glinting off the snow. “Did he really leave you here to keep an eye on me?”

“Yes.”

At least James was honest. “Okay. Fine.” I didn’t want to get James in trouble. I could head over to the shop first thing in the morning. “Let’s tell Lydia good-bye, and get moving.”

“Thank you.” He headed for the hall.

I frowned at his back. I really missed the way things used to be.

Chapter
14

I
was in the sunroom by seven, scarfing down a bagel in the hopes of catching a ride to the shop before everyone left for the day. To my surprise and unease, it was Era who showed up first. She hesitated on the threshold then walked toward me. I tensed, not sure what to expect.

She stopped in front of me, and I could see her resolve crumble. She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t sleep at all last night thinking about what I did, what you said. I don’t know how I—”

“Era, stop.” I cut her off and she looked up, her eyes damp. “I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“No.”

“Yes. So much had happened and—” I made myself stop. “No. No excuses. I’m sorry.”

She blinked back the tears. “But I was so wrong.”

Unable to see her so miserable, I pulled her into a hug. “Lesson learned. Let’s put all that behind us.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed me back, and I swear my ribcage creaked.

“Uh, Era,” I wheezed. “I can’t breathe.”

She laughed, then released me. “Sorry.” We walked to the cart and she poured herself a large mug of coffee. We busied ourselves with breakfast. I returned to my bagel and she selected a pastry.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I’ve got some work waiting for me in the lab.” So much work. “Do you think someone could give me a ride over?” I took a bite of my bagel, hoping she’d offer.

“I’ll take you.” Rowan had walked into the room without my notice.

I coughed to dislodge the chunk of bagel I’d sucked down my windpipe. I took a drink of my warm tea to force it down my throat. Fortunately, the milk had cooled the tea to drinking temperature.

Stopping at the cart, he selected a mug, then smoothed his tie before lifting the teapot. Rowan never wore jeans, willingly, but I’d never seen him in a suit and tie before.

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Era said.

I had to agree with her. The charcoal fabric was tailor fit, the dark color a contrast to the crisp white shirt. The silver-gray tie contained little flecks of powder blue that set off his eyes.

“I can call a cab,” I said. “You look like you need to be somewhere.” He had to be pissed at me for berating Era last night. I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

“I have an appointment.” He added a splash of milk to his tea. “We’ll need to leave in about five minutes.”

So much for getting out of alone time with him. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

He took a cautious sip of his tea. “And Lydia called. She has those auto-injection pens.”

“That’s great. But what is she doing working on a Saturday?”

“Checking to see if the pens are in. I spoke to James; good idea about giving everyone on that list a pen.”

My cheeks warmed at his praise. “If she’s not busy, I could take a cab to her place this afternoon. Would you call her—or give me the number?”

“It’ll be done.” He set down his mug and picked up the copy of the
Cincinnati Enquirer
that lay on the lower shelf of the cart.

I frowned at him. He was in full-blown Flame Lord mode this morning. Was he still pissed about Era?

James walked into the room, and for once, his silent tread didn’t enable him to sneak up on me. Maybe because I happened to be facing the doorway when he entered.

“Hey,” Era said to him. “I was about to come up and bang on your door.”

“Are we still picking up your photos at the frame shop?” James asked.

“Yes.”

Rowan muttered something and his paper rattled.

James glanced over. “Rowan, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He folded the paper and dropped it on the cart and turned to face me. “Ready?”

“What’s in the paper?”

“The same crap.” A hint of color lit his eyes, so I suspected something more. “Let it go.” He gestured toward the door.

I held his gaze and leaned over to pick up the paper. Spread across the front page were the photos of three guys I knew well: George, Henry, and Brian Huntsman. It turned out Henry had an old mug shot. My eyes drifted up to the headline.
Hospital’s Alchemist Attacked
. Heart beating quicker, I skimmed down the article. I found my name almost immediately.
Amelia Daulton, a master alchemist trained at the Alchemica, was accosted while leaving the Burn Center where one of her potions is being used in the controversial treatment of patients
.

“Shit. They know who I am. Albright will never let me help now.”

“Leave that to me.” Rowan turned toward the door. “We need to go.”

I glanced up, meeting James’s eyes, then passed him the paper. He looked at the front page and sighed.

Rowan and I didn’t speak on the drive over. He’d turned the radio to a news channel, and I fidgeted in my seat, waiting for the DJ to say something about the newspaper article. The topic didn’t come up, but he did speak of the latest murder. It was a harsh reminder of what I needed to do.

I was relieved when Rowan finally brought the Camaro to a stop at the curb in front of my new shop.

“Thanks for the ride.” I gripped the door handle, ready to climb out.

“I’ll pick you up this afternoon and take you to the Institute.”

“That’s not necessary. I can take a cab.”

“Would one o’clock suit you?”

“You’re really on a controlling jag today, aren’t you?” When my comment failed to get a response, I continued. “One o’clock is fine only if it suits Lydia.” I climbed out and glanced back, noting again the suit he wore. “I hope your meeting goes well with the hospital board. I’d like a chance to try again.”

“I thought you would.” His eyes met mine before turning back to the windshield. “Who told you?”

“Told me?” That he had a meeting with the hospital’s board of directors? I’d figured it out.

“About my family.”

Oh. I hadn’t expected him to go there. But that might explain his mood. “Era, but don’t blame her. I pretended to already know and fed her a few leading questions.”

Rowan grunted.

“I’ll figure this out,” I said. “I’ll get the salve working again.”

“I hope so.” He tapped the steering wheel with one finger, but didn’t look over. Time to go.

“See you this afternoon.” I closed the door and turned toward the shop.

Rowan remained at the curb until I let myself in. That told me he wasn’t completely pissed off, though it puzzled me that he’d be upset that I knew about his family. He was probably upset with the way I’d acquired the information. I guess I shouldn’t have taken advantage of Era that way.

The light was on in the lab, but I didn’t see Ian. From the clutter on his bench, it looked like he’d been working.

“Ian?” I called. When he didn’t answer me, I checked the back room, but I didn’t find him fawning over his clothes. He did wander off from time to time, but not usually during working hours.

I slipped off my jacket and donned my lab coat. When I turned around, Ian stood by his bench. I jumped and banged my hip against the counter.

“Damn.” I pressed a hand to my pounding heart. “You’re going to give me a coronary one of these days.” I was bad about being lost in thought and not noticing when someone walked up on me, but Ian took that to the next level.

“I’m sorry, Addie.” He tried for a solemn expression, but I wasn’t buying it.

I decided to get right to the point. “The last batch of salve failed.”

Ian frowned. “You made that one.”

“I know.”

“This makes no sense. Hades blood, it’s not even possible.”

I smiled, though it was bittersweet. “Thanks, but it
is
possible. The compass failed, too.”

Ian sat down on a stool, his expression stunned.

“What?”

“You’ve lost your alchemy?”

“No.” I refused to believe that. “It’s just…” Just what? There was nothing else it could be unless someone had found a way to sabotage my work. But who had access to—

The air stilled in my lungs as I studied the man before me. We’d worked side-by-side for over six weeks, but how well did I actually know the man?

“Have you thought of something?” Ian asked.

“Yes.” I retrieved the shoulder bag that held my potions. I’d made these potions months ago, long before I had any alchemy problems. Before I started working with Ian. I pulled out a foam-insulated box. Ian didn’t speak. He simply sat on his stool and watched, a puzzled expression on his face.

I popped open the box and took out the single vial inside. Flecks of gold swirled within the thick orange solution. My Fire Hazard potion. To be precise: a vial full of elemental fire. I’d made it last fall with Rowan’s blood. I’d had two other vials, but I’d used them on the guardians of Ian’s tomb—when he sicced them on Rowan.

“Have you been sabotaging me, Ian?”

He straightened. “You think I’m messing with your potions?”

“Are you?”

He frowned, his puzzled expression still in place. “To what purpose?”

That, I couldn’t answer.

“You freed me,” he said. “Showed me how to get by in this world.”

“You don’t seem all that interested in this world.”

He rose to his feet and I gripped the vial, but all he did was turn away. He walked to his workbench and stopped in front of it.

I stepped to the side, giving myself a better angle if I had to throw the vial, but he didn’t take anything from his bench. He just stood there. “Talk to me, Ian.”

He braced his hands against the counter and took a breath. “Matilda, Mattie, was fourteen when he took her. It was my fault.”

His response threw me. “Mattie? Your daughter?”

“She was such a beautiful girl. Young woman.” A soft snort: a father’s amazement that his little girl had grown up. Then he shook his head. “I let her down, let them all down.”

I assumed he told me this for a reason, but at the moment, I saw no connection to my accusation. Even so, I was curious. “What happened?”

“We had lost her mother three months before, giving birth to my youngest.” He held up his hands to study his palms. “I’m supposed to have power over death. One of the strongest to walk this earth in centuries.” He fisted his hands. “Bullshit.”

The fury in that single word surprised me, and gave me another glimpse in the necromancer’s world. I’d never thought about what it was like for a necro when he lost a loved one: the second-guessing, the temptation to bring them back.

“I…lost it for a time,” Ian continued, his voice rougher. “Barricaded myself in the lab. Left Mattie to tend her brothers. When she failed to talk sense into me, she went to Alexander.” He raked his hands back through his hair, fisting the blond strands for a moment before releasing them.

“Alexander?”

“The Deacon.”

That must be where Xander got his name. No wonder Ian spoke his name with such loathing.

“I never knew what happened to the boys, my sons. None of them ever came looking for me. I don’t know what he told them. Or maybe he just let them starve. Joseph, the eldest, was only ten.”

Dear God, what was I supposed to say?

He turned to face me. “So no, I don’t have a whole lot of interest in this world, but that doesn’t mean I wish to amuse myself by tormenting you.” His eyes held mine with a sincerity I’d never seen in him. If he was lying, he was damn good at it.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t
have
an answer. Between his pain and mine, I couldn’t speak.

“You’ve been kind to me. Why would I
want
to hurt you?”