The Final Formula (19 page)

I crossed my arms. I hated it when he was right. “Fine. I can see a formula there. It is possible that the bomb was alchemical.”

“Possible? Don’t you mean probable?”

“If I’d meant probable, I would have said probable.” I raised my hand to silence him. “And before you say it, no, it wasn’t Emil who bombed the Alchemica.”

“Why not?”

“The Alchemica was his life’s work. He wouldn’t destroy that.” Of that I felt certain. The Alchemica was Emil’s dream.

“How do you know? If you couldn’t remember your own name—”

“You’re an ass.”

“Damn it, that’s not a criticism.” He stepped closer. “There are things you don’t remember. Someone like Emil can use that to his advantage.”

“Whatever.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture I’d come to recognize as frustration. A long exhale, and he focused on me once more. “Is Addie really short for Addled?”

I suppressed a groan. I wasn’t in the mood for this. “When James found me, I couldn’t speak. All that came out were garbled ingredient lists and random action steps. His brothers nicknamed me the Addled Alchemist. I shortened it to Addie.”

“It’s derogatory.”

“It’s who I am, Rowan.” It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized it was true.

“Emil calls you Amelia and since you think so much of him—”

“Would you give it a rest?” I threw my hands in the air. “I didn’t ask for your opinion or your help.”

“You can’t solve this on your own.” He gestured at the analysis sheet, taking credit for it, no doubt.

“Yeah? Watch me.” I started to turn, but he caught me by the shoulders, preventing the movement.

“You need me.” He leaned down until his eyes were almost level with mine.

“You keep telling yourself that.” I refused to back down.

“Where does this infernal pride come from?”

My chin came up. “I’m an alchemist. I create magic from intellect and skill.”

“You create trouble.”

“I do not—”

He laid a finger across my mouth, silencing me. “Trouble follows you.” He drew his finger down my lips and cupped my chin in his palm. His thumb slid beneath my lower lip, tracing it. “You need to listen to me, Addie.”

“I’ll take your words under advisement,” I whispered.

He traced my lip again. “Good.” His gaze dropped to my mouth.

“Rowan?”

His eyes returned to mine.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

He sighed. “Me, too.”

Wow. That surprised me. Another brush of his thumb and I longed to tip my face up and let him kiss me. If I just kept quiet…

“I won’t hesitate to do it again,” I said.

He dropped his hand and stepped back. “You put us both at risk.”

“We were at risk because you took my vials.”

“Enough!” A ring of orange ignited around his pupils.

“Would you stop!” I shoved both hands against his chest—or tried to. He caught my wrists and in one smooth move and pinned my hands behind my back, trapping me in the circle of his arms.

“Damn it. I’m trying to help you.” Only an inch or two separated my chest from his.

“Your methods suck.”

“Screw you.”

He hesitated and then the corners of his mouth curled upward. “Okay.”

I arched a brow and his smile grew. Cocky bastard.

“Rowan, your eyes are still glowing.”

He sighed and released me. “It only hurts me if I use it.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No.” He studied me a moment then smiled.

“What?”

“You care about me.”

I was so not going there. “Can I use your phone? I want to call Emil.”

The orange light died and he studied me with cool gray eyes. “Why?”

“I want to tell him what we found out.”

“I don’t see the wisdom in that.”

I didn’t bother to answer, I just held out my hand. After a moment, he sighed and passed me his cell phone. I punched in the number Emil had given me the day before. The call went straight to voice mail. From my vague recollections of the man, I didn’t think him the type to forget to turn on his phone. I left him a short message, promising to call again when I could.

The door opened and Era walked in.

“Hey, Addie, Roe.” She gave us a big grin. “Have you seem James?”

“He and Donovan had to run an errand,” Rowan answered. “What do you need, honey?”

“Oh.” Her smile vanished. “He was going to let me take some pictures.”

“He shouldn’t be gone long.”

Era bounced back—literally. She rocked up and down on the balls of her feet. “Thanks, Roe.” She bounded out of the room.

Rowan stood frowning at the open door.

“It’s only a crush. You know James would never—”

“I know.”

I studied the man before me. “You really are okay with this.”

He turned his frown on me. “Trust me. I am not okay with this.”

“But you said—”

“She’s twenty-three years old. She should be dragging him off to her bed, not blushing over a little hand-holding.”

I blinked. “You want her to bag James?”

“No.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I mean, she should be acting like a college senior, not a seventh-grade girl.”

“Oh.” I passed him back his phone. “Still, you treat her like a daughter. That’s not a very fatherly attitude.”

He hit a series of buttons on his phone. “She’s an Element.”

“Meaning?”

“The usual concerns aren’t valid.”

“The usual concerns?”

“Disease.” He kept his eyes on his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “Pregnancy.”

I stared at him. “Are you saying that because she’s an Element, she can’t—”

He looked up from his phone, those unusual gray eyes holding mine. “There’s a price for immortality.”

I held his gaze, wondering if he referred to my supposed immortality. Come to think of it, I hadn’t had so much as a cold in the last three months. As for the rest of it…

Rowan’s phone buzzed, and he returned his eyes to the screen.

I waited while he read the text.

“What’s making you frown?” I asked.

“The Deacon paid for last night’s damages.”

“That makes you angry?”

Rowan looked up. “He doesn’t know where his sister is or why she attacked us.”

“Is he telling the truth?”

“It’s possible.”

“I want to meet him.”

Rowan studied me for a moment then shocked me by nodding.

“Really? You’ll take me to meet him?”

“On one condition.” He held up a finger. “No truth serum. It’ll piss him off.”

“Speaking from experience, Your Grace?”

“I tracked you halfway across the state, remember?”

“Um, good point. Having a necromancer do the same wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”

The corner of Rowan’s mouth curled upward. “Get your shoes, alchemist. Let’s see if you give Old Magic as much trouble as you give New.”

Chapter
19

“I
’m surprised you took the
Camaro,” I said once we were on the road. “And what about your robes?”

“The robes are for the public and the paparazzi. Among the magical, I don’t have the same concerns.”

“Among your people, maybe, but this is Old Magic.”

“It’s a gentlemen’s agreement. If he sells me out, I can do the same to him—and destroy his business.”

“What business?”

“Xander owns nearly every funeral home in Cincinnati. Would you take your dear departed mother to a necro? What if his crazy sister takes her for a walk?”

“Oh, man.” I slumped in my seat, the horror of the night before still fresh in my mind. “Those zombies were from her brother’s funeral home?” I thought about my napalm and Rowan’s ax. “What will he tell the families?”

“Ironically, there was a fire in a funeral home not far from the clinic last night.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he changed lanes.

Whoa. “Expensive cover.”

“But easier to explain then missing or mutilated corpses.”

I grunted. He had a point. And the Deacon no doubt had everything insured. It probably wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. I suppressed a shiver. Every funeral home in Cincinnati? That meant that nearly everyone who died in the area passed through necro hands on the way to their final resting place. Not a soothing thought.

I pulled my mind back to the matter at hand. “What are you going to say to him?”

“I want to know how Clarissa knew about you and James.”

“We bumped into her that night we visited the Alchemica, or rather, I did.”

Rowan glanced over. “
She
was the necro? Why didn’t you mention that when you first told me?”

“I didn’t know who she was until last night. And you weren’t all that interested in talking after our confrontation with her at the clinic.”

He frowned out the windshield. “You should have made me listen.”

Yeah, right. I decided not to go down that road. “She didn’t see James that night. I knocked her out before he arrived and ripped up her zombie.” I wondered where she’d gotten the dead man. Had her brother had to cover for that mishap as well?

“She must have seen him earlier or something.”

“What I want to know is how she knows that I took the Final Formula. Only the PIA knew about that.”

“Emil knows.”

“I doubt Emil is colluding with a crazy necromancer.”

It was Rowan’s turn to grunt.

“The next question,” I continued, “is whether she’s working alone or not. Do you want to go in there demanding to know why the Deacon is trying to take your grim? If the Deacon isn’t aware of James, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Clarissa had an accomplice who drove her away.”

“You noticed that, too?”

“Yes.”

“The Deacon?”

“Driving the getaway car isn’t his style.” Rowan took the next exit and followed the off ramp into a nice-looking neighborhood.

I watched the scenery slip past noting the jack-o-lanterns and Halloween decorations on a lot of porches. Appropriate I supposed, since we were going to meet a necromancer.
The
necromancer, it seemed.

A large brick colonial sat on a rise overlooking the street. It stood three stories tall and took up most of the block. The columned entryway rose to the roofline, reminding me of a governor’s mansion. On the front lawn, a marquee among the manicured shrubs declared it Nelson Funeral Parlor.

Rowan parked at the curb and pulled the keys from the ignition. “How do you recommend we handle this?”

The request surprised me, but I tried not to let it show. “Let him do most of the talking. Demand to know why Clarissa was there and see if he says anything about grims or formulas.”

He nodded once and opened his door. “Let’s do this.”

I hurried to follow, pleased that he trusted me enough to set up this meeting, and that he valued my opinion enough to ask it. Maybe he’d finally come to respect my abilities—even if they weren’t magical.

“Let me do the talking,” Rowan said as we started up the steps.

And maybe I’d been too generous with my praise. “No fire,” I reminded him.

“The Deacon and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but our relationship isn’t that rocky.”

I studied the front door of the funeral home. “I bet he has a whole basement full of corpses.”

“Yes.” Rowan pulled open the front door and held it for me.

“Maybe we should have brought the ax.”

Rowan chuckled and followed me inside.

The interior looked like a typical funeral home. The hardwood floors and paneling had darkened with age, giving the atmosphere an elegant, but somber feel. The high-ceiling foyer opened onto a pair of sitting rooms to either side, while a wide-open doorway led into the parlor before us. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Dozens of bouquets decorated the room, most gathered around an empty space along the far wall. The sliding doors behind the space stood open, revealing a wide hallway.

A clatter echoed from the opening, and a moment later, a pair of young men entered carrying folding chairs. Both wore suits and ties, though they’d doffed their coats and loosened their ties for the task. Were they both necromancers or just the hired help? They must have noticed us, but didn’t stop what they were doing, intent on adding their chairs to the rows already set up in the room.

Rowan started toward them and I followed. “Is Xander in?”

The two young men eyed each other before one stepped forward to answer. “He was expecting someone. Red hair. New Magic.” He eyed Rowan with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“Yes,” Rowan agreed.

The youth waited, but when it became clear that Rowan wasn’t going to give him anything, his attention shifted to me. “He didn’t say anything about a girl.”

“He wants to meet her.” Rowan gestured toward the sliding doors. “Is he in his office?”

“No, downstairs.”

Downstairs? I glanced at Rowan, but he didn’t appear concerned.

“You’ve been here before?” The young man frowned.

“Several times. Do you need to call him or shall we head down?”

“I’ll tell him,” the other young man offered and hurried from the room.

The first guy continued to watch us. “So, what can you do?” he asked Rowan. His smug expression made it clear that he didn’t expect much.

“I possess the ability to adjust the thermodynamic state of substance up to the point of ionization.” Rowan shrugged. “That’s all. I’ve been called a one-trick pony.”

I snorted at his reference to a comment I’d once made. The confused look the kid was giving him didn’t make biting back my laughter any easier. Rowan had just admitted to being a Fire Element, but that bit of information had flown right over the kid’s head.

My snort drew the boy’s attention, and he turned his frown on me. “What about you?”

“I suffer no such limitations.” I glanced up at Rowan and caught the tension around his mouth and the slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He was trying not to smile.

I returned my attention to the frowning youth. “I’m an alchemist.”

The kid blew out a breath that became a raspberry. “You’re not even magical.”

“Like I said: no limitations.”

Rowan cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his lower face.

I didn’t get to comment as the thumping of footsteps announced the other young man’s return. He paused on the threshold to catch his breath, and then hurried to us. “He’ll see you now. The girl, too.”

“Thank you,” Rowan told him. “I know the way.” He didn’t wait for permission, but started toward the open sliding door before either of them could give it.

I followed Rowan from the room and then fell in beside him when he turned down a wide back hall. A freight elevator stood open on one end. At least a dozen folded chairs leaned against the wall.

At the end of the hall, Rowan pushed open an
Employees Only
door exposing a stairwell.

“We’re meeting him down there?”

Rowan hesitated, glancing back at me. “I’m sorry, but it seems he’s chosen today to mess with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“His magic is not something he can call to hand without other conditions being met.”

“Conditions being dead people. So it’s a display of power.”

“Or a test.” Rowan looked up as the two young men returned to the elevator to gather more chairs. Not wanting them to see my hesitation, I stepped into the stairwell and Rowan followed.

“A test?” I didn’t like the way that sounded.

“Of our fortitude.”

“He’s preparing a body for burial.”

“More than likely.” Rowan started down the stairs and I hurried after him, wondering if anything fazed him. I’d seen him face down men with guns, zombies, and James’s red-eyed predecessor. Perhaps his day-to-day dealings with the magical made such excitement common place.

The basement was a stripped down version of the hall above us. An unadorned cement floor stretched between block walls broken by the occasional door. Most stood open. A glance within one revealed a larger room with several caskets. A man stood near one, arranging the satin liner—unless he was the casket’s occupant and he was adjusting his sheets.

I shivered and picked up my pace. Rowan didn’t bother to glance in the rooms, but walked straight toward an open door at the end of the hall. Muffled voices grew louder as we drew closer. My pace slowed of its own accord.

Three yards from the door, Rowan stopped and looked back at me. I increased my stride to catch up, lifting an inquiring brow when I stopped beside him. Perhaps he thought I’d fallen behind due to my sightseeing.

“He will test you,” Rowan said, his voice soft, though not quite a whisper. “Are you okay with this?”

I lifted my chin and met his gaze with what I hoped looked like confidence. “Of course.”

He studied me for one long moment and then the corner of his mouth twitched. “No explosions.”

I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“I don’t blow things up.”

“No, you’re too controlled for that. You get excited and ionize things.”

“Usually just vaporize.”

“Oh. Right.” I glanced toward the open door. Not even swapping barbs with Rowan could make me forget what waited for us in there. “Can you really create a plasma?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” I whispered. That was like surface-of-the-sun hot. I took a deep breath. Distraction wasn’t working. Time to suck it up and face my fears. “Okay, Hot Stuff, let’s go.” I took a step toward the door.

“Hot Stuff?” Rowan fell in beside me. “Did you finally think of a slogan for my T-shirt?”

“Hmm. It does express your opinion of yourself.”

“My opinion or yours?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” We’d reached the door.

Rowan’s hand settled on the small of my back and we walked through.

“Ah, here you are.” A big man stepped forward to greet us. Like the young men upstairs, he wore a suit, but had doffed the coat. An apron covered his linen shirt and tie, giving him the appearance of an old-world baker rather than a mortician. Although, with the blond hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders, the helm of a Viking ship might be more appropriate.

He stripped off one latex glove and extended a hand to Rowan. He wasn’t Donovan’s size, but he had no trouble looking Rowan in the eye. “You’re early,” he said. “I’m afraid you caught me working.” He gestured at the scene behind him, taking in the second man and the body on the table. I didn’t look too closely at the room’s horizontal occupant.

“My apologies.” Rowan took the offered hand. “Traffic wasn’t what I expected.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” the big man asked. Eyes the color of faded denim shifted to me and back again.

“Usually.” Rowan released his hand. “Good to see you well, Xander.”

“Good to be well.” Xander chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to fall over dead around this lot.”

The man’s levity surprised me. This was the Deacon? I’d expected someone a little more…vile.

Xander turned to include the man standing at the table in the conversation. “You remember my son Douglas?”

“Of course.” Rowan and the younger man, who strongly resembled his father in appearance, exchanged greetings before Rowan turned to me. “Allow me to introduce Addie…Daulton.” He fumbled a bit on the last name.

“I caught the clip on the news.” Xander offered his hand. “A surviving Alchemica alchemist.” He smiled as he said it, but something in his tone made it clear that he didn’t approve.

“Disappointed the explosion missed one?” I took his hand, noting that it was dry and not clammy. He hadn’t been wearing the gloves long. Perhaps he’d just pulled them on for our entrance.

“No, of course not.” He released my hand. “I have the utmost respect for alchemy. You know our disciplines have a long history together.”

“I’ve heard that,” I said, but it surprised me that he knew.

“Some of us still practice it,” Douglas said.

I glanced toward the younger man and then wished that I hadn’t. He lifted a glossy gray-pink…something out of the body cavity of the naked man on the table. My stomach rolled over, and I quickly averted my eyes.

“He refers to my nephew,” Xander explained.

I swallowed. “Oh, okay.” Come on, Addie, focus.

“Clarissa’s son?” Rowan asked.

“Yes.” Xander sighed. “He’s not your typical necromancer, but then his mother is insane.”

“Is that your defense for her actions last night?” Rowan asked.

A muscle ticked in Xander’s jaw. “
My
defense?” His cheerful demeanor slipped. “I lost eight corpses and one of my nicer homes. Trust me, if I could find her this morning, I’d happily give her to you for kindling.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“I paid the damages.” Xander turned toward his son. “You delivered the check this morning, right?”

“I personally handed it to his secretary.” Douglas dropped the wet organ into the stainless-steel tray on the cart beside the table. It landed with a splat.

I gritted my teeth against another wave of nausea. Rowan had nailed it. They were definitely testing us—and I was failing.