The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (20 page)

BOOK: The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2)
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“Then what’s happened to me?” I whispered the words, afraid to even voice them. Believing Ian had been undermining my work had been a lot more palatable.

“You’re lost.” His voice softened, a note of genuine compassion bleeding through. “Your character, your very identity is at stake.”

“That’s been true for weeks.”

“And now those you care about have returned. The doubts have resurfaced and your confidence is shaken.”

I looked down at the vial I held. There was truth in his words. The ache in my heart attested to that. “I don’t know who I am without alchemy.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

I looked up and he offered me a smile. And not the cocky, I’m-trying-to-charm-you smile. This one was real. If nothing else, Ian understood heartache. I pressed the vial back into its case.

“There are records,” I said when I finished. “We could find out what happened to your sons.”

He frowned, his expression uncertain. “You would do that? For me?”

“It’s no big deal.” I returned the insulated case to my bag. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to accuse you.”

“No harm done. You’ve been under a lot of strain. Your lover left you when he learned of your past. Your bullets are killing his people.”

“Thanks for the summary.” I rolled my eyes, smiling in spite of myself. Sometimes Ian’s tact for social interaction failed him. A byproduct of his entombment or had he always been this blunt? “By the way, we found out who the murderer is.”

Ian had started to turn away, but stopped. “You did? Who?”

“One of the liches that worked for Lawson.”

“How do you know?”

“New Magic.” I didn’t elaborate. “He was Made because of me. He also had access to the bullets. So, that covers means and motive. Now, all that’s left is to find him.”

The corner of Ian’s mouth rose. “And for that you need me.”

“Can you…call him or something?”

“I’ll need his heart.”

“The hearts are missing from the crypt.”

“They are?”

“You didn’t notice?”

He shrugged. “Why would I?” His indifference grated, but didn’t surprise me.

“So, you can’t help me?”

“At this juncture, no.”

I sighed. So much for that hope, but I’d find another way. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. You ready?”

“So you’re not going to give up on alchemy?” He smiled, the dimples making an appearance. It seemed Doug had inherited that much.

“Not yet.”

“Good. It gets boring when you’re not around to blow up the occasional beaker.”

“It was a flask.”

“This week.”

I smiled and walked to my bench. In a very short time, we fell into our usual work rhythm. We moved easily from task to task, formula to formula. He’d begun to adopt a lot of my techniques, illustrating again his quick mind and aptitude for alchemy.

“I have a question,” I said after we’d been working a while. I kept debating on whether to ask him, but since he’d opened up to me earlier, I hoped he’d be honest about this.

“Yes?”

“What did you do with the blood I gave you last fall?” The first time we met, Ian had forced me to give him a drop of my blood in exchange for my—and Rowan’s—freedom.

“Oh, that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I tried to trick you into a blood oath.”

“A blood oath? Is that like a blood bond?” He had explained that once. A necromancer had the ability to bind a lich to him via his blood. It did something to enhance control, but since I wasn’t a necromancer, I didn’t fully appreciate it.

“Similar concept. A blood oath is used among the living.”

“Are you saying a necromancer can bind to the living?” Crap, that could be bad. What if—

“Bind, no. It’s a pact, and it is the giver who swears the oath.”

“Go on.”

“I wanted you to feel compelled to visit me again.” He shrugged.

“I wasn’t compelled; I was desperate.”

“It didn’t work. You didn’t fall for it.”

I thought about what he’d told me, and the situation I’d been in last fall. “So you told me that by freely giving my blood, you’d see me again.” Those had been his exact words. “If I’d believed you, I would have felt compelled to come see you once more.”

He smiled. I guess I got it right.

“No wonder necromancers have such a bad name,” I said.

“I doubt it’s because of a few devious blood oaths.”

I snorted. “True.” But this topic of conversation did remind me of something else I’d been wondering about. “Another question. What’s a soul bond?”

Ian lifted his fair brows.

“Is it like a blood bond?” I asked.

“A soul bond
is
a blood bond, with an added twist.” Ian said. “It’s also called a mortality clause.”

“And that means…”

“If the one doing the binding dies, so does the one bound. It’s used on the Made.”

“Your liches? But they’re already dead.”

“Physically.” Ian tsked as if I’d forgotten an important lesson. “There are different kinds of death.”

Goosebumps prickled my arms even though I was wearing long sleeves. “So you soul bind your lich as a deterrent. He knows that if he kills you, he…dies, too.”

“Exactly. Why do you want to know?”

“I heard the term. I was curious.” I turned back to the potion I was brewing.

Ian studied me a moment longer. “Curiosity satisfied?”

“Yes, thank you.”

So, Era was wrong. A soul bond wasn’t what she thought it was. And even if New Magic had the equivalent, Rowan had never given me any blood. She was feeling her magic within me. God, how would I ever tell her?

 

Chapter
15

R
owan arrived at my shop promptly at one. I didn’t ask if he’d checked with Lydia. She most likely knew him well enough to expect his heavy-handedness.

Ian carried my box of supplies to Rowan’s car, including the large flask of bullet antidote I’d just mixed up, and placed it in the trunk when Rowan opened it for us. I’d brought a few extra things, hoping for a little time in Lydia’s lab.

“I do like this car,” Ian said, stepping back to admire the vehicle. I wondered if he was just making conversation. He’d never showed much interest before.

“Thank you.” Rowan closed the trunk.

“No damage when we slid off the road?” I asked.

“Only cosmetic.”

I eyed the car, but didn’t see anything. It looked like it had been washed and waxed.

“Shall we go?” Rowan asked.

“Yes, I’m—”

“Addie?” Ian interrupted. “Do you want me to start another batch of salve?”

“Please. And I made some refinements. You can find the information in my notes.”

“Of course.” He gave me a smile, and to my complete shock, reached out and touched my face with his icy fingers. “Be careful.”

“Yeah. No problem.” I stepped back, letting his fingers slide off my check.

Ian dipped his head in a motion that was practically a bow, then inclined his head to Rowan. “Dr. Brant.”

“Mr. Rey.” Rowan pulled open his door and got in.

I hurried to do likewise, still puzzling over Ian’s actions. Maybe he hadn’t escaped entombment and the destruction of his family without a few side effects.

 

“How well do you remember Dmitri?” Rowan asked after a few silent miles.

“Not well.” My heart beat a little quicker. Did he suspect? “Not much more than his name.”

“Your fellow masters don’t have a good record of being honest with you.”

“He’s not like Neil and Emil.”

“How do you know?”

I considered a few arguments, but couldn’t come up with anything he wouldn’t shoot down, or that wouldn’t give too much away.

“I don’t know. Is that what you want to hear?” I frowned at him, though he was busy watching the road.

“I just want you to acknowledge it.”

I rolled my eyes and turned my glare on the buildings passing outside my window. He took a right, and I saw the Institute in the distance.

“I won’t take the Formula, Rowan.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Dmitri is not here for nefarious reasons.”

“Bullshit.”

I glanced over on that one. “How can you be so sure?”

“What alchemist can resist the lure of the Final Formula? Have you given him that?”

“Well, no. I—”

“Wake up, Addie. He’s clearly trying to charm you.” He turned into the parking lot, hitting the speed bump a little faster than he normally would.

“Charm me?” I asked. “He hasn’t given me any potions. And that is one thing I do know.”

Rowan whipped the Camaro into a parking space and shut off the engine. “I’m not talking about a potion.”

“Then what—” Suddenly I understood. “Whoa.” I held up both hands in an effort to ward off that mental image. “There’s nothing going on between Dmitri and me.”

“I wasn’t saying there was, but he clearly wants there to be. No doubt in an effort to get the Formula.”

I took a moment of silence to let that sink in.

“Pop the trunk.” I reached for my door handle. “Lydia’s waiting.”

He caught my arm. “And now you’re mad.”

“Gee, why would I be mad? No wait, I got this one.” I jerked my arm from his grip and twisted to face him. “One.” I held up a single finger. “I’m so weak-willed that any gorgeous guy can smile at me and I’ll instantly fall in bed with him and tell him my every secret.”

“Two.” I added a second finger to the first. “The only reason a good-looking guy would take me to his bed is because of my secrets.”

“And three.” I brandished three fingers. “You clearly think I’d screw any guy who looks at me twice.” I pushed open my door and hurried out before he could stop me. My eyes burned and I had to take several deep breaths of cold air to try to regain control. The power of the emotion surprised me.

Rowan’s door opened and I walked back to the trunk, making an effort to pull myself together. Clearly the stress of the last few days was taking its toll.

Rowan stopped beside me, but he didn’t open the trunk. “I don’t think that.” His tone was soft, but I didn’t look up to check his expression. “I merely wanted to put you on your guard. I handled it badly.”

“No, that was me.” I crossed my arms, hugging myself. I needed this conversation to end. “Lydia’s waiting. Don’t you think we should get inside?”

A pause, and he popped the trunk. He insisted on carrying the box, probably to pacify me and avoid another outburst. I opened the doors for him, but kept my comments to myself.

Lydia seemed pleased to see us. She’d already loaded four auto-injector pens with the antidote I’d made the other day and handed them to Rowan.

“I’d like you to keep one,” Rowan said, offering her one of the pens.

“I’ll keep one of the pens we fill today.” She gave me one of her crooked smiles before turning back to Rowan. “Those are for you and your brother and sister Elements.”

“Thank you, Lydia.” Rowan tucked the pens into an inner coat pocket. “I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. You ladies want something?”

“I’m good,” I answered, unloading the rest of my supplies.

“I’ve eaten, but thank you,” Lydia said.

I kept my hands busy until I heard the door close behind him.

“I made more antidote.” I gestured at the flask I’d brought. “It should be enough to fill the rest of the pens.” She’d ordered two dozen, so that left twenty to fill.

“That’ll save time.” She sat down on the stool beside me. “Do you want to talk?”

I looked up. “Talk?”

“About whatever is bothering you—and Rowan.”

Lord, was I that easy to read?

“I’m not an empath, but I’m a good listener,” she continued. “Plus, I’ve got the age and wisdom thing going for me.” She looked to be in her late forties, but being magical, she might look younger than she was.

“Thank you, but I don’t think it’ll get better with discussion.”

“Try it. It can’t make it worse.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” I turned back to my supplies. “I haven’t always done the right thing.”

“You mean because you were once a blood alchemist?”

I flinched. I guess Rowan had told her that much. “Well, yes.”

“I didn’t think you remembered much about that. I suspect this has more to do with what happened to Era.”

I almost dropped the flask of antidote. Carefully, I set it down and turned to face her.

“You know?” I whispered. “How?”

“I made Rowan tell me.”

I dropped onto the stool across from her. “When?” It had to have been recently. She’d always been so kind to me.

“A few days after I realized you were gone.”

She’d known all along? I didn’t know what to say.

“He didn’t want to tell me,” she continued. “But I couldn’t let it rest. I’ve seen him in various states of distress, but this was the first time he teetered on depression.”

Probably not the first time, I thought, remembering the story of his family. “How long have you known him?”

“Hm.” She tapped a finger on the counter. “About thirty-six years now. We met in college.”

Rowan was fifty-seven, so I was right about Lydia looking younger than she was.

She smiled as she continued. “We had a lot of undergraduate classes together. I introduced him to my brother and the pair became good friends, and then brothers-in-law when Jeff married Rowan’s little sister.”

“Oh. So your brother…”

“Died with the rest of his family when Rowan lost control.”

I just stared at her, seeing anew the way the skin on her face didn’t move the way it should.

“I pulled our niece from the flames,” she whispered. “I survived, she didn’t.”

I got to my feet and turned away. Oh my God. Rowan was to blame for her deformity. And he was reminded of that every time he looked at her. My heart lodged in my throat and I couldn’t seem to swallow it back down.

“Addie?” Lydia’s hand came to rest on my shoulder.

I just stood there, stunned. She stepped around in front of me and wrapped me in her arms. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I was crying. All the crap that had been locked inside me for weeks just came pouring out. Between sobs, I told her about it. All of it. Even Ian.

“You do walk a fine line.” She slipped an arm around my shoulders and guided me to a couch that faced the window, offering a nice view of the forested expanse behind the Institute.

“I want to tell him,” I admitted, “but I can’t seem to find the right moment.”

“And what would be the right moment?” She smiled to take the sting out of her words.

“Well, not on the drive over here when he was insisting that
Dmitri
was trying to seduce me to get the Formula.”

Lydia snorted and pressed a hand to her mouth. “What exactly does this Ian look like?”

“Drop dead gorgeous.”

“Pun intended?”

“And then some.” I rubbed a hand over my damp cheeks. “I mean, the guy is model beautiful. Of course, a month ago, he was a rotting corpse. The Formula has regenerative—” I stopped.

Lydia gave me an expectant look.

“The Formula.” I leaned forward and caught her hands. “I’ll brew you the Formula. It regenerates the body to its peak condition. It’ll wipe away all your scars.”

BOOK: The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2)
6.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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