The Final Formula (21 page)

“What?” I leaned over to see the last page of notes on Rowan’s screen. He’d zoomed in on the scrawled address.

“Whoever this alchemist is, he’s connected to Clarissa,” Rowan said.

“And he’s searching for Emil. May I try to call again?”

Rowan passed me his phone without comment. My call went straight to voice mail.

“He might have turned off his phone,” Rowan suggested when I told him.

“Or they already have him.”

“What do you suggest?”

I considered that. How could I locate Emil in a city the size of Cincinnati? An idea forming, I met Rowan’s gaze. “I’m going to need a lab.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Do you want the Deacon to end up with the Final Formula?” I knew that would get Rowan’s attention more quickly than helping Emil.

He slid his key in the ignition. “I didn’t think just anyone could brew a formula like that.”

I scrolled back to the notes I’d photographed. “I think Xander already has someone who can brew it.”

“His nephew’s a master alchemist?”

“Possibly.” I frowned at the screen, trying to puzzle out what the man had been working on. If it was a formula, it wasn’t one I recognized. And that never happened.

“Very well.” Rowan started the car. “On the way over, you can tell me why you needed to butt-dial the Deacon.”

Chapter
21

“W
hat do you think?” Rowan
stepped aside so I could look into the fondue pot he’d been stirring. Not my choice of lab equipment, but this was Ginny’s lab. Rowan had taken me back to the clinic.

I picked up a clean spatula and ran it across the thin layer of viscous liquid in the bottom of the pot. “Perfect.”

“The potion or my technique?” He removed the pot from the water bath and set it on a folded hand towel.

I bit my lip to keep my smile from escaping. “The potion, of course. I wouldn’t dare compliment you. If that head gets any bigger, it won’t fit in your hot little sports car.”

“Ah, so you admit, the car
is
hot.” He twitched an eyebrow, his expression smug.

I rolled my eyes and went back to gathering up the dirty glassware. Elemental distraction aside, I’d had a very productive afternoon. And to be truthful, Rowan’s presence in the lab turned out to be an asset rather than the hindrance I’d expected. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The man had been a scientist before the magic returned.

The real shocker was how well we worked together. I didn’t expect a control freak like him to take instruction well, but he didn’t question a single request. Well, he did balk at the apron I insisted he wear. Though to be fair, I wanted to balk myself. Ginny’s frilly floral-print aprons were not what I’d call appropriate lab ware, but I had been kind enough to give Rowan the jewel tones instead of the pastel.

Rowan stepped up to the sink beside me. “Let me do those. You go finish your fire hazard concoction.”

I handed him the beaker brush. “Ooo, I like the name. Can I use it?”

“You and your goofy potion names.”

“Goofy? I happen to think they’re witty.”

“Ah.” He leaned over and turned on the water. “That explains it.”

Now who was being the witty one? “Have I mentioned how cute you look in your apron?”

“It does bring out the color in my eyes.” He glanced over and his eyes flashed orange.

“Yeah. Look for the positive.”

He gave me a wink and returned to his washing.

I let myself smile on the way back to the bench. When he wasn’t being an ass, Rowan could be a lot of fun. This morning’s adventure with the Deacon seemed to have left him in better spirits. It’d taken most of the drive to pry the full story from me, but I’d never seen the man laugh so hard.

“You’ll give me a heads-up if I need to duck?” he asked over his shoulder. “It makes me a little nervous turning my back on you.”

“Ha ha.” I gave the black smudge on the ceiling a guilty glance. “Thanks for the blood, by the way.”

When I’d explained how I’d used the essence of his blood to blown up Ginny’s car, he’d actually offered a sample. Perhaps he wasn’t aware that blood alchemy was frowned on in some circles—okay, most circles.

He shrugged one shoulder, but didn’t look back. “Just remember I opened a vein for you.”

“You pricked your finger and these little beauties will come in handy the next time we’re cornered by zombies.” I selected one of my new Fire Hazard potions, rotating the glass vial in my fingers. Flecks of gold within the thick orange liquid caught the light, reminding me of Rowan’s eyes when they were on full glow. I’d designed this potion to ignite on impact. It wasn’t always easy to find an ignition source—as I’d learned firsthand.

“You are gifted with explosives.” He set a clean beaker on the drying rack, clinking it against its neighbor.

“You say the sweetest things, Your Grace.”

He glanced over, but didn’t get to fire off a comeback before Ginny walked into the room, followed by James and Donovan. She’d gone to open the back door and let them in.

“Your Grace. Let me do that.” Ginny hurried to his side.

“Now, now.” I carried a few more beakers to the sink. “He volunteered to be my assistant. I’d hate to deny him the full experience.” I nudged him with my shoulder, careful not to knock the beaker he held out of his hands.

He didn’t comment, but I did catch the curl of his lips. Ginny stared at me.

“But thank you,” Rowan said to her. He turned his attention to James and Donovan. “Did you get everything?”

“What are you wearing?” Donovan asked, his booming laugh following.

James put a hand over his mouth, but mirth still gleamed in his eyes.

Rowan gave them both a dark look, but continued scrubbing the beaker he held.

“Don’t pick on my assistant, Don. He’s rather handy at the bench. I’m thinking of apprenticing him.”

James snorted, and this time, I got Rowan’s annoyed look. “What? Look at that glassware. It’s spotless.”

The corner of Rowan’s mouth crooked, but he didn’t answer me. “Well?” he asked Donovan.

“One compass and the invitation to the Alchemica.” Donovan placed both items on the bench before me. “Now what are you two up to? Rowan is perfectly aware that he doesn’t need a compass with me around.”

“Is that a survivalist thing or an Earth Element thing?” I asked.

“Both.” Donovan raised his bushy brows at Rowan, but it was James who answered.

“Addie’s trying to locate…Emil?”

“Very good.” I picked up the invitation and handed it to him. “All I need is the signature.”

James nodded. “Powder or liquid?”

“Powder. Rowan spent a lot of time getting the viscosity of the foundation just right.”

James grunted and then got to work without further questions. Rowan had done well, but it was nice to have a trained apprentice at my side. Though still a beginner, James had the potential to be a skilled alchemist someday.

“Why are you searching for Emil?” Donovan asked. “Didn’t you get his number?”

I glanced at Rowan, surprised he hadn’t told them more in the texts they’d exchanged. “He’s not answering his phone. I fear he may have been abducted.” I spent the next ten minutes explaining what I’d found in the lab at the funeral home. I skimmed over my misadventure beneath the casket, highlighting instead the photos of Emil.

“What did Xander say?” Donovan asked Rowan when I finished my tale. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“No,” I answered for Rowan. “I overheard him speaking to his son. He wanted to know what Clarissa and her son were up to.”

James coughed. “Do I want to know how you managed all this snooping and spying?”

“It’s an amusing tale,” Rowan said.

“How’s the signature coming?” I asked James, attempting to cut off that story.

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he turned his attention back to the crucible that held the well-charred scrap of paper. “Almost done.”

Rowan cleared his throat.

“Don’t you have some dishes to wash?” I reminded him.

He met my gaze, a glint in his gray eyes, and to my complete surprise, wordlessly returned to the sink.

“You run a tight ship, little alchemist.” Donovan smiled, deep laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “No dawdling for the apprentices.”

“That’s right. No idleness in my lab.” I set the compass before him. “Disassemble that for me?”

Donovan chuckled, but set right to work.

An hour later, I held
the modified compass in my hand and waited for the needle to hold steady. After a moment, it did. “That way.” I pointed to the south wall of Ginny’s lab. The late afternoon sun glinted off the half-dozen prisms suspended by fishing twine in the window.

“I don’t guess you know how far.” Rowan stood at the bench beside me, eying the compass.

“No, just the direction.” I set the compass on the bench top and began to replace the glass face Donovan had removed earlier. Protecting the alchemically treated needle would preserve its effectiveness and extend the life of the gadget by days. I just hoped it wouldn’t take that long to find Emil.

“It’s still amazing.” Donovan sat on a stool beside my bench. “Could you track one of us if we went AWOL?”

“Sure.” I kept my eyes on my work.

“But you’d need our signature?”

“Not necessarily. Just something uniquely yours.”

“A thread from a recently worn article of clothing or a strand of your hair,” James said. He picked up the ring stand and carried it to the cabinet where they’d been stored.

“You can even use an ingredient that represents the attribute you wish to embody in the potion,” I added. “I might toss in a pinch of dirt if I sought an Earth Element.”

“From where?” Donovan asked. “The composition of dirt can vary dramatically.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I looked up at him. “It’s part of the magic, not the chemistry. That’s why I added Emil’s signature last. We refer to them as quintessent or quint ingredients. Think of it as blueberries in pancake batter, chocolate chips in cookie dough.”

“Remind me not to eat your cooking,” Rowan muttered.

“Fascinating,” Donovan said. “What about Rowan?”

I glanced at the man standing beside me. His brows rose, awaiting my answer. “A lit match.”

“Of course.” Donovan chuckled. “Cora?”

“A few drops of purified water.”

“Why purified?”

“She doesn’t strike me as a tap water kind of gal.”

Donovan laughed, hands braced on his thighs. “Good point.”

“Era,” Rowan said, no longer smiling.

My breath caught. It was clear what he was thinking. I forced myself to continue, keeping my tone light. “A piece of fabric from a recently flown kite.”

“But you used direct representations of our elements,” Donovan said.

“I can’t toss in a handful of air.”

“A balloon?”

“The air is captive. To me, Era is a free spirit.” I shrugged, not sure I could explain it. Alchemy wasn’t always logical. I turned back to the compass and finished tightening the ring securing the glass cover. My hands shook a little, clinking the ring against the glass before I lined it up.

“So, you could have found her for us—before she was damaged,” Rowan said.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. My chest tightened at the pain I saw reflected there. “Yes.”

He released a breath. “May I see the compass?”

I laid the compass in his palm. The needle swung around wildly, never stopping in one place.

“It’s keyed to you,” Rowan said.

“It’s my formula.”

Rowan looked up, a frown shadowing his eyes. “How is that possible when you have no magic?”

“The power of the mind. Alchemists are optimists. We believe that anything is possible. My formulas do not fail.” I held his gaze and put all my conviction into my words. “That’s why master alchemists are rare.”

“And why she drives you crazy.” Donovan chuckled and rose to his feet. “Self-doubt is a concept foreign to her—much like a certain Fire Element I know.”

“But the compass doesn’t work now,” Rowan said.

“It works fine—if you trust it to guide you.” I continued to hold his gaze.

James stopped beside Rowan and plucked the compass from his hand. The needle immediately stilled, pointing south once more.

“Works fine.” James gave me a grin.

The two Elements were frowning.

“Come on, guys,” I said. “You’re New Magic. You should get this. Magic is a belief-based phenomena.”

The two men stood silent a moment, considering this.

“If it’s belief-based, would another alchemist’s formula work on you?” Rowan asked.

“That depends on my estimation of their skill, and my confidence in my ability to break free.”

“So alchemy is all about perception?” Donovan asked.

“Yes and no. It’s still bottled magic, but you can counter it a little if you have the knowledge and conviction.”

“I see.” Rowan took the compass back and once again balanced it on his palm. The needle’s movements slowed until it steadied, pointing south once more.

I looked up into those unusual gray eyes. “You believe me.”

He smiled and my knees went weak. If James and Donovan hadn’t been present, I would have hugged him. Instead I just accepted the compass when he passed it back to me.

“Shall we go find your Grand Master?” he asked.

Still shocked by his faith in me, I could only nod.

Chapter
22

“T
hat’s it?” James asked, glancing
from the pub to the compass I held. “We spent the last hour chasing a compass needle because your Grand Master wouldn’t answer his phone, and we find him in a bar?”

I eyed the weathered establishment before us. “So it would seem.” We’d circled the block to make sure.

“Only one way to find out.” Rowan started forward, giving James and me no choice but to follow. Donovan had gone to find a place to park his big green Suburban. The narrow streets here in Covington, Kentucky made it tough to find a spot.

On the crowded sidewalk, I had to dodge a witch, a cowboy, and a guy dressed as what appeared to be a zombie. I did a double take to make certain it was a costume. Tonight being the Saturday before Halloween, it seemed everyone was getting into the holiday spirit. Little kids might dress up and go door-to-door, but here the adults liked to dress up and go pub-to-pub.

Rowan opened the front door and held it for me. I hesitated on the threshold, surprised by the crowd inside. Apparently, we’d found another destination on the pub crawl.

“Busy place,” James commented and led the way inside.

James was right. Every table and stool was occupied. More people stood in clusters around the room. The compass pointed into the room, but Emil was nowhere in sight.

“There’s a back room,” James said.

“And a loft.” Rowan nodded toward a staircase and the open balcony above.

“I’ll check the loft,” I said. The compass wasn’t much help in a multi-story building. I turned to Rowan. “You want to do your thing and chat with the bartender?”

“My thing?”

“The part where you cut to the head of the line. I believe you referred to it as tipping well.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll check the back room,” James offered. He didn’t wait for a comment, but started forward, weaving his way through the crowd.

“Wait and I’ll go upstairs with you,” Rowan said.

“I can manage. Go on.”

He gave me a frown, but started toward the bar.

A man and woman squeezed past me, momentarily blocking my view of Rowan’s progress. I gave up trying to watch and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, I glanced back. Rowan had made it to the bar and was already chatting with the barmaid. A good tipper, my ass.

Smiling, I pulled out my compass. The needle still pointed to the back wall.

The loft was larger than the room downstairs, taking up the space over it as well as the back room James had gone to investigate. A second bar lined one wall, every stool taken. A band played country music on a small stage in the back, and much like downstairs, every table was full. I scanned the crowd, looking for Emil’s blond head. This wasn’t a place I’d expect him to be, but my compass didn’t lie.

Five minutes later, with a quick tour of the room behind me, I still didn’t know where Emil was. Maybe James and Rowan had better luck.

I turned back toward the stairs and caught a glimpse of blond hair. It wasn’t Emil, this guy wore a pirate suit, but there was something familiar about him. He stopped to let a pair of women exit the stairs, and I got a look at his face. It was one of the young men I’d seen at the nightclub. The ones exchanging vials.

He headed down the stairs and I hurried after him. Before I reached the bottom, a group of costumed revelers started up, forcing me to squeeze against the wall to let them pass. It held me up, but I was able to see my guy slip out the front door.

By the time I reached the first floor, he was long gone. I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Rowan or James, but couldn’t see much past the crowd. Not wanting to lose my man, I stepped outside. If I’d waited a moment longer, I would have missed him as he headed down the alley beside the bar. The furtive glance he shot over his shoulder made me want to follow.

I hesitated. Rowan would be pissed if I wandered off on my own, but seeing this same young man here, where Emil was, couldn’t be a coincidence. Rowan could whine about it later. Decision made, I hurried to the corner of the building and looked down the alley.

The young man was nearly to the opposite end, walking side-by-side with a second man. Something about this man was familiar, too. Another guy from the nightclub? The second fellow wore a fleece jacket and dark pants. It could be a military costume, but I couldn’t pick out the details in the dim light.

The pair rounded the corner at the far end of the alley, and I sprinted after them. Running on my toes to silence my tread, I slowed when I neared the corner then carefully peeked out. The men had stopped a few feet away, both with their backs to my position. I quickly ducked out of sight to be sure I wasn’t spotted. I leaned against the weathered brick. What should I do?

“There. He works in that room over the garage. Maybe even lives there.” The voice was youthful. Tentative.

I leaned out enough to see the building he referred to, and blinked in surprise. It was the building in the photograph I’d found in Xander’s basement. In it, Emil had been climbing that exterior staircase.

“You’re certain?” the young man’s companion spoke, startling me. His voice was rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in awhile or had a cold. I pulled back out of sight once more.

“Yeah. I can—”

“No. Thank you. You may go.”

“Go? You’re not going to arrest me?” Relief crept into the young man’s tone.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Voran.”

“Oh, okay. Sure. And the alchemist?”

“Unregistered formulas may not be sold to the public. We enforce those laws for your safety.”

We? The guy was PIA? I peeked out to take another look.

“Um, okay. Thanks.” The young man turned back toward my alley.

Stifling a gasp, I pulled back then hurried away from the corner. A darkened doorway interrupted the brick wall ten feet away. Heart thumping, I slipped into the alcove it created. Something rattled at my feet and I looked down. An empty beer can. The noise had been slight, but…

Footsteps approached, the pace rapid. I pressed my back to the wall and tried to blend with the shadows. The young man in his pirate garb hurried past, giving no indication that he’d heard me. Perhaps he was too absorbed in his own worries to notice.

I gave him time to reach the street before I left the deep shadows around the door. The rumble of a male voice drew me back to my vantage point at the corner. Who was the PIA guy talking to now?

“Affirmative,” he said, and I realized he spoke into a cell phone. “Target is said to be inside, though I haven’t confirmed it.”

He paced as he spoke, and his path crossed the pool of light near the back door of the bar. He turned and my breathing grew shallow. Beneath the jacket, he wore black fatigues. Then too, if he really was PIA, he could be part of a SWAT team.

Another step and the light fell across his face. I stopped breathing entirely. I’d seen him before, both at the Alchemica and the gun shop. Though he wasn’t smiling now, I knew that if he did, I’d see his overlapping front teeth. He was the one who’d cornered me against that dumpster where I first met James.

So, he wasn’t PIA, or his actions weren’t sanctioned by them. The director had claimed that the raid on the Alchemica and the gun shop weren’t his. I just hoped the director had been telling the truth.

“I hardly think this warrants a full extraction team.” He paced out of the light as he continued to talk. His stride carried him back to his starting point.

“That was different,” he said. “She had help. Magical help.”

I fisted my hands. He was talking about me.

He shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket and stopped pacing. “Whatever you think best. What’s your ETA?”

I glanced up at the upper story over the garage. The blinds were drawn, but light leaked around the edges. Was Emil home? How did I warn him? Did I have time to find Rowan and James?

“Three minutes. I’ll be waiting.” He took the phone from his ear and ended the call.

Three minutes. It was up to me then.

An idea forming, I ducked back into the alley and retraced my steps to the alcove. The empty beer can lay were I’d kicked it earlier. I picked it up and hesitated. This could be a bad idea, but I didn’t see myself having much choice. Releasing a breath, I hurled the can against the opposite wall. Within the narrow alley, it made quite a racket. Pulling out a straw of my special pepper dust, I pressed my back into the alcove and waited. If the guy was preparing to extract someone, he’d want the area clear.

I wasn’t disappointed. In only a matter of seconds, he stepped into the alley. He didn’t call out, but walked forward, his stride confident as he scanned the shadows.

Keeping my eyes on the man, I removed the Parafilm I’d used to seal the ends of the straw and waited.

He stopped before my alcove. He shouldn’t be able to see more than my silhouette, but that didn’t stop him from starting toward me. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

For the first time, he hesitated. “You’re a girl.”

“You’re a genius.” I stepped forward to meet him and brought the straw to my lips. I had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in recognition before I blew the pepper dust in his face. I didn’t need to be close. A little went a long way.

He grunted and stepped back, but I didn’t stick around to see his reaction. I took off at a dead run for Emil’s door. Making no effort to be quiet, I thumped up the stairs and pounded my fist against his door.

“Emil! It’s Amelia. Open up!” I banged a few more times.

The door abruptly opened, and I stumbled through the doorway—right into Emil.

“Amelia? What—”

I grabbed the door and slammed it closed, then threw the deadbolt. “Why haven’t you answered your phone?” I didn’t wait for answer. Gripping his arm, I pulled him away from the door.

“What’s going on?”

A thump sounded against the door and I jumped.

“A team is here for you. Guys in black fatigues. They look like PIA, but I don’t think they are.”

Emil frowned at the door when a second thump followed. That made up his mind and he turned back into the room.

“Do you have any potions?” I eyed the apparatuses set up on folding tables around the room. Emil had cobbled together a lab reminiscent of my own, though his cash flow must have been better. His equipment reflected that.

“How many are there?” He moved around the tables, grabbing up several vials.

“I’m not sure. They must have just arrived.” No way it could be Crooked Teeth. He was probably still rolling around in the alley. “Do you have a back door?”

“No.” He had to raise his voice as something slammed into the door. It sounded like they were trying to break it down.

“What potions do you have?” he asked.

“Some alchemically enhanced pepper dust.”

“That’s it?”

Well, that and a vial of Rowan’s headache remedy, but that wouldn’t help much here.

“You need to get away from those Elements.” Emil pocketed another vial.

“They’re the reason I—”

The door crashed open, and I turned with a gasp expecting a team with a battering ram. Instead, Crooked Teeth stood on the threshold, the door dangling from one hinge.

Before I could process that, Emil stepped past me. I caught the glint of a vial as he raised his hand to throw.

Crooked Teeth’s arm came up as well, a high caliber pistol gripped in his hand.

“Emil!”

A pop accompanied a flash of light from the gun barrel. Emil grunted and stumbled forward.

“No!” I reached for him, but stopped as glass shattered at his feet. He’d dropped the vial.

A dingy brown cloud filled the air around him, forcing me back. He crumpled to the ground and lay still.

“Don’t move,” Crooked Teeth said. The cloud did little to hamper visibility. I could see that he had the gun trained on me.

I wanted to go to Emil, but I didn’t want to chance the gas cloud—or the gun.

“What kind of potion was that?” Crooked Teeth asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re an alchemist.”

“It was his potion, okay?”

The cloud had nearly dissipated, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Keeping an eye on his gun, I started forward. When he made no move to stop me, I knelt beside Emil. A bloodstain spread over his stomach, but his chest rose and fell as it should.

“Frank, what happened?”

I gasped and looked up to find a second man in black standing in the doorway.

“He tried to throw a potion at me.” Crooked Teeth—Frank—kept his gun and eyes on me. “I’ll keep an eye on her. You get him.”

The other man came forward, and with an ease that surprised me, lifted Emil in his arms.

“Up.” Frank gestured with his gun.

I rose to my feet watching the other man carry Emil toward the door.

“What are you doing with him?”

Neither man answered me as Emil was carried out of the room. I started after him, but Frank raised his gun, stopping me.

“What a stroke of luck finding you here.” Frank smiled, exposing those overlapping front teeth. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “I’ve lost several good men hunting you.”

“And that’s my fault?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he gestured toward the door with his gun. It looked like he was finally going to accomplish what he’d attempted at both the Alchemica and the gun shop. I had to get word to Rowan and James. Let them know that I’d been taken. But how—

The compass! I stuffed my hand in my pocket and closed it in my fist.

“Freeze!” Frank leveled the gun between my eyes. “What do you have there?”

“A compass?” I slowly pulled it out and showed him.

“Turn out your pockets.”

I set the compass on a nearby table and proceeded to do as told. All my other pockets were empty.

“Let’s go,” Frank said once I’d shown him the insides of my pockets.

I left the room without a backward glance. Maybe Rowan and James would find the compass and follow it to Emil…and me.

A dark, late-model car waited at the base of the stairs, the trunk open. I was shocked to see Emil lying inside.

“The trunk?” I asked. “Is that really necessary?”