Authors: Becca Andre
“Do we have reason to believe he’s lying?”
I glanced over, gauging the seriousness of Rowan’s expression. He raised his brows in question. He seemed to want to know what I thought.
I rubbed my forehead. “Maybe. I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter.”
A final glance at Emil, and I headed back to my room. Rowan walked beside me, but to my surprise, didn’t say anything the entire length of the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked when we reached my room.
I circled the curtain divider, disappointed that James hadn’t returned with my things. “I had a lead; you ashed him.”
“He’d shoved a gun under your jaw.” A hint of anger laced his tone.
“So?” I turned to face him. “I’ve seen you ash guns before.”
He crossed his arms, pulling his sweater tight across his shoulders. “It’s not that simple.”
“You were close enough. Hell, you were able to distinguish between him and me.” I still remembered that terrifying instant the heat enveloped me.
“Drop it. I did what I had to. What the hell were you doing outside the bar anyway? You were supposed to check the loft.”
“I saw one of Emil’s customers from the club and followed him.”
“You followed a drug addict into a dark alley.”
“He took potions, not drugs. I caught him meeting with one of the SWAT guys from the raid on the Alchemica.”
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in obvious frustration. “Give me strength,” he muttered. He dropped his hand and frowned at me. “Why didn’t you get James or me?”
“I didn’t have time. He called for back up. I had to warn Emil.”
“And
you
were taken as well.”
“If I had my potions—”
“Enough!”
I jumped at his outburst.
He closed the distance between us and clamped a hand on the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my loose hair. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice dropped, and he continued in a harsh whisper. “Half the time I can’t decide if I want to strangle you or kiss you.”
I blinked.
A knock sounded on the door beyond the curtain. “Addie?” James called.
Rowan held my gaze for one long moment before he released me and stepped back. Did he say things like that to keep me unbalanced or was he truly attracted to me?
“Yeah. Come in,” I called.
Donovan followed James into the room. He carried a small suitcase that looked even tinier in his large hands, and placed it on the bed.
“Thanks for bringing that over.”
“No problem.” He abruptly wrapped me in a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, little alchemist.”
His concern and clear relief left me blinking. I hugged him back, surprised by my own reaction.
“Donovan will give you and James a ride back to the manor,” Rowan said.
I stepped out of Donovan’s embrace and turned to face Rowan. “Where are you going?”
“I have things to do at the Offices.”
Right. The Flame Lord was a busy man. My escapades must be seriously cutting into his limited time.
“Don’t work too hard.”
Rowan held my gaze. “You stay out of trouble.” He turned and left the room.
A knock pulled me from
the nap I hadn’t intended to take. I sat up and looked around, reassuring myself that I was back in my room at the manor. The trip home from the hospital made me realize that I wasn’t as recovered as I thought. I’d decided to lie down for a bit; I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, come in.”
I suppressed a groan when Cora stepped in the room. “Good, you’re up.” She crossed to the foot of my bed.
“Sort of.” I rubbed a hand over my face.
“Rowan would like to see you in his office.”
I dropped my hand. “He’s already back?”
“You’ve been asleep most of the day.”
“Oh.”
She lifted a strap from her shoulder and set a familiar pack on the foot of my bed.
“My vials!” I sprang to my feet and reached for the pack. I started to open it and hesitated. Rowan hadn’t seemed too keen on returning my vials earlier. “Does Rowan know about this?”
“It was his idea.”
I stared at my pack.
“Is something wrong?” Cora asked.
“I didn’t think he’d ever return my vials—at least, not while I was staying with all of you.”
“It’s not a choice I supported.”
I looked up. Surprised and yet not surprised by her bluntness.
“Betray his trust and you’ll deal with me.”
I held her gaze, refusing to let her see how much she intimidated me. “I won’t betray him—or you.”
She studied me one long moment. “This is no small matter. Rowan doesn’t trust easily. To trust is to relinquish control, and that’s not who he is. Or perhaps I should say,
what
he is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Being an Element is more than being able to wield a certain type of magic; it is who we are. It defines us.”
“Okay.” I still didn’t get what she was telling me.
“Fire is the most volatile of the Elements. Rowan lost control once, not long after the magic returned. His family paid the price.”
“What—”
“It’s not my place to say, but he vowed to never lose control again. And he hasn’t.”
I thought about that, remembering his reaction with Lawson. Was that what had him so upset? Had he overreacted and ashed the man when he could have ashed the gun? How close had he come to hurting me?
“I believe that is why he has lived as long as he has,” Cora added.
I forced my attention back to the conversation. “And because being an Element defines more than his magic, he has to control everything.”
“You are indeed a bright girl.”
“Thanks for the condescension.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder, an oddly warm gesture from the woman who’d so casually threatened me. “You confound Rowan’s attempts to control you.”
“So, he threw in the towel and returned my vials.”
“I’m not sure what he was thinking there.” Without another word, she turned for the door.
“What about water?” I called after her.
She hesitated and glanced back. Cool and elegant on the surface, but I’d caught a glimpse of the dark undercurrents beneath. She gave me a knowing smile and left without a word.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Elements.”
I ducked into the bathroom to splash a little water on my face and pulled my hair into a ponytail. No need to look like I’d lain in bed all afternoon. What did Rowan want?
Anxious, I hurried to his office at the back of the house. The door stood partially open, so I gave it a light knock.
James opened the door and flashed me a grin. “Come in.”
I took a few steps into the room and stopped. Rowan had company. A man stood with his back to me, engaged in conversation with Rowan. I frowned, trying to puzzle out why the guy seemed familiar when Rowan looked up, catching my eye.
“Finally,” he said.
The other man turned, the movement drawing my attention. I gasped as he faced me.
“Hello, Addie,” Agent Lawson said.
Chapter
25
F
or a moment, I could
do nothing but stare at the man before me. This made no sense. Rowan had ashed him. James even confirmed it.
Agent Lawson gave me an odd smile and I reached for my back pocket.
“Addie, don’t.” James caught my wrist. “It’s not Lawson. It’s Lydia.”
“Lydia?” Rowan’s friend? The one with the facial deformity? I glanced at Rowan, but he said nothing. He leaned against the front of his desk, an amused glint in his gray eyes.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” Lydia/Lawson said, pulling my attention back to her/him.
“How…?” I stumbled on the question, not sure what to ask. Dear God, she looked exactly like him. Same hair, same height. Even the voice sounded the same.
“I’m a mimic,” she answered. A frown creased Lawson’s brow. “You didn’t know that?” She looked back at Rowan.
“But it’s so perfect,” I said before Rowan could speak. “The voice, everything.”
“I mimic at the genetic level.”
“He must have driven that car in the garage,” James explained. “Lydia found some DNA…or something.”
She gave him a fond smile—which looked really weird on Lawson’s face.
“But why look like him? What are you going to do?” I directed the question at Rowan.
“Lydia will search his office, and when we locate it, his home.”
“You think the PIA
is
involved?”
“I believe Lawson’s behavior warrants further investigation. That doesn’t mean the agency as a whole had anything to do with it, but I prefer to remove all doubt and investigate him myself.”
I smiled, pleased that he wasn’t going to rely on the PIA’s word, but before I could comment, Donovan walked in. He turned to James. “Are we ready?”
“Lydia?” James prompted.
“You’re going?” I asked him.
“I’m going to walk in with her, pretend like I’m there to see an agent.”
“I’m driving the getaway car,” Donovan said. He gave me a wink, and I couldn’t help but grin. The big guy had a knack for making me smile.
“I expect frequent updates,” Rowan said.
“You’re not going?” I asked.
“No need. James can watch her back.”
I turned back to James and he smiled. It struck me then how much my sidekick had come into his own over these last few days. The Elements turned to him more and more, trusting him with Era and now Lydia.
I stepped forward and hugged him. “You’ll be careful?”
He drew in a breath, perhaps surprised by my actions, but quickly regained his composure. “Always.” He hugged me back. “Don’t wander off again. We had a hell of a time tracking you—even with your compass.”
I released him. “I’ll behave.”
“Yeah, right.” He grinned.
“Shall we?” Lydia asked.
The others agreed and, promising to call Rowan with any news, they left the room. Donovan pulled the door shut behind him. I guess now was as good a time as any. I took a deep breath and turned to face Rowan.
“Thank you for returning my vials.”
He straightened and walked around behind the desk to his chair. “I hope I haven’t made a mistake.”
“You think I’d use a potion against you or—”
“No.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the polished surface. “I fear the return of your potions will make you over-confident.”
“Over-confident?”
“Your tendency to jump into situations without thought.”
“I do not. I—”
“So, you thought it a good idea to take on those guys by yourself?”
“Are we back on this? Look, it wasn’t—”
The cell phone lying on his desk began to buzz. “Hold that thought,” he said and picked up the phone. He glanced at the screen and then brought it to his ear. “I’m listening.”
His Grace could really use a catchier greeting.
He picked up a pen and pulled a notepad closer. “Go ahead.”
I stepped back from his desk and sat in one of the other chairs while he wrote. I fumed in silence, annoyed that he’d take a call in the middle of our argument. Over-confident. Bullshit. My confidence was completely warranted.
“Yes, thank you.” Rowan ended the call. He ripped the top sheet from his notepad and got to his feet.
“What is it?” I asked.
“My contact at the police department was able to get me the last number Lawson called.”
“What?” I came to my feet. I hadn’t even realized that was a possibility. “Who was it?”
Rowan glanced at his paper. “The number is registered to an Ian Mallory at 601 Beechnut Street.”
“Do you know him?”
“No.” He came around the side of his desk.
I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “What are you going to do?”
“I thought I’d drive over and take a look.”
“Now?” It was all I could do not to rub my hands together in anticipation. I’d finally meet the man who commanded Lawson. The man who’d been after me all these months. “I’m coming with you.”
“You were just released from the hospital. You’re staying here.” He moved to step around me, but I caught his arm.
“You’re not going without me.”
Rowan frowned. “And your presence will help how?”
“I’m not without resources. I snuck into your offices.”
“And I caught you.”
“So?” Okay, not much of a comeback, but he wasn’t going to win this argument.
“If you get caught tonight, you may not be able to kiss your way out of trouble.”
I ignored the heat in my cheeks. “A little faith, Your Grace.”
He studied me a moment.
“Don’t leave me out of this.” I gripped his arm tightly. “Please.”
He held my gaze for one long moment before releasing a sigh. “Very well. Get what you need.”
I tried not to grin. “You might want to change into something dark and a little less,” I gestured at his expensive sweater and slacks, “GQ.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Well, you are the breaking and entering pro.”
I ignored that and hurried from the room.
Rowan pulled to the curb
and put the Camaro in neutral. The sun had set, leaving only the occasional streetlight to illuminate the tree-lined avenue. A light wind set the bare branches in motion, causing a play of shadows along the cemetery entrance across from us.
“Do you want to call your guy back and check the address?” I asked.
Rowan picked up his notepaper and held it closer to the driver’s-side window, reading it in the illumination of the nearest streetlight. “We must have missed a house. Are you sure the last one was 599?”
I scooted forward, squinting through the windshield. “Check out the gate. Specifically, the arch.”
He rested an arm atop the steering wheel, tipping his head to see around the rearview mirror. The light just reached the cemetery entrance. The numbers worked into the metal arch were in shadow, but still visible—601. The
house
number we were looking for.
Rowan pulled out his phone and dialed. A short conversation, and he tucked it back in his pocket. “This is the address registered to the number Lawson called.”
“Maybe it was a cover.” I assumed a phone could be registered to a false address.
Rowan grunted. “Possible.” He shut off the car and pulled the key from the ignition. “Ever go walking through a graveyard after dark?”
“Not in the last three months.” If he thought the suggestion would frighten me, he was wrong. I opened my door.
Rowan chuckled and we climbed out of the car. The headlights flashed as he locked the doors. In silence, we walked side-by-side toward the entrance. At least we wouldn’t have to do any breaking and entering.
“I once took a girl to a cemetery—back in my high school days,” Rowan admitted.
I grinned. “How’d that work out, Casanova?”
“She went into hysterics and I had to take her home.”
I snorted. “So, not a venue you ever tried again?”
“Until now.”
I gave his shoulder a shove as we stepped beneath the arch and into the cemetery. “No offense, but I’m more likely to throw a potion than jump into your arms.”
“Let me know when I need to duck.”
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to our surroundings. “Wow.” The cemetery spread before us, taking up several city blocks. Streetlights dotted the narrow roads that wove among the graves, but the bulk of the place lay in darkness. Large trees crowded the headstones, their bare branches casting eerie shadows in the half-light.
“Nice place,” I said. We started forward, our shoes on the asphalt the only noise.
“It does have a certain ambiance.”
I glanced over, amused, but he kept his attention on our surroundings. I didn’t see a caretaker’s building, just hundreds of headstones and a half-dozen mausoleums.
“Since we suspect necromantic involvement, should we be concerned that we’ve ended up in a graveyard?” I asked.
“Caskets are buried within a cement sarcophagus under six feet of soil. Even accounting for the unnatural strength of the dead, I doubt any could be raised to attack us.
Good point, but it didn’t completely alleviate my unease.
“Besides, you have me,” he added.
I chewed my lip and managed to stop an eye roll. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
We walked for perhaps half an hour, staying on the road. No need to wet our shoes in the dewy grass. It wasn’t like we’d find the mystery phone hidden in a planter.
It surprised me that Rowan bothered to examine the place so thoroughly. Perhaps, like me, he hated to admit defeat. Seeming to hear my thoughts, he stopped at the next intersection.
“I suspect this is a waste of time. I think you’re right about using this address as a cover.” He crossed his arms and frowned back toward the lights of downtown.
I hated to see his disappointment—and that wasn’t the reaction I thought I should be feeling. Shouldn’t I be disappointed for myself alone? Another lead had run dry. Rowan had put a lot of effort into helping me, but learning what had happened to the Alchemica and recovering my memory was ultimately my problem.
“Maybe Lydia and James found something,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“Or perhaps James could look Lawson up in hell and interrogate him.”
The corner of Rowan’s mouth quirked.
As I was contemplating another option, a low thump interrupted. Oddly, I felt it as much as heard it—as if it came from underground.
Rowan dropped his arms to his sides, his eyes meeting mine.
“I take it you heard that,” I whispered.
He looked around, eyes sweeping the shadows. I did the same, not so sure I wanted to locate the source. He’d said it’d be nearly impossible for the dead to escape their graves, but at the moment, I wasn’t so sure.
“This way.” He stepped into the grass. “I think.”
He led me a dozen yards and stopped. Time slipped past as we stood listening, and I began to doubt what I’d heard. Sound could carry in odd ways, especially at night.
Stone grated on stone from somewhere close by. Rowan caught my arm and pulled me down behind the nearest headstone. We crouched in the damp grass, waiting. I wondered if I’d be able to hear anything over my pounding heart.
“The mausoleum,” Rowan whispered. He nodded toward the large stone structure about thirty yards away.
I squinted, trying to make out the building’s contours in the shadows. Something glinted in the darkness, and I leaned forward, pressing my palm against cold granite to keep my balance.
Another flicker satisfied my suspicion. “There’s a light, under the door,” I whispered. “Maybe a candle.” The dead would have no need for a candle. Would they?
“Let’s check it out.” He still held my upper arm, but slid his hand down to grasp mine as we stood.
Surprised by the handholding, I followed him on a meandering course that drew us closer and closer to the building. The headstones in this part of the cemetery were worn almost smooth with age, and I noted that most had been here since the 1800s. Rowan led me over behind another headstone. No light flickered beneath the door. Everything was as quiet as…well, the grave. Which upon reflection, was how I preferred my graves.
Rowan started forward and I followed, hoping we wouldn’t have to venture inside the mausoleum. I gripped his hand and got a squeeze in return, though he kept his eyes on our destination. In weathered stone above the door, the name Mallory was inscribed. I pulled up short.
“What is it?” Rowan whispered.
“The name. Over the door.” I nodded at it.
“Good catch. I missed it.” He gave my hand another squeeze and pulled me forward. I guess he didn’t share my apprehension.
A metal door barred the entrance. A hasp with a rusted bolt through the staple appeared to be the only security measure. Where were the chains and padlocks? Didn’t the family worry about vandalism? Or maybe, considering the age of most of the graves, there was no longer any family to look after the place.
Rowan plucked out the bolt and opened the hasp. He released my hand to take the door handle in both of his. The thing looked heavy.
I tensed, ready for the screech of metal on metal, but it swung open silently—and judging by Rowan’s expression, easily.
I expected darkness within, but found it as well lit inside as out, thanks to a multitude of holes in the roof. Years of leaf litter lay piled against the sides of the room, leaving the center oddly clear. Sealed vaults lined the walls, but I didn’t stop to read the names. My attention centered on the sarcophagus in the center of the room. Constructed of flat black stone, it seemed to be made of shadow. More disturbing was the lid leaning against its side. Was this the source of the noise we’d heard?
Rowan started forward and I followed, adjusting the fanny pack strapped around my waist. The confidence my vials lent me diminished with each step. I let Rowan move ahead of me. He clearly intended to peek inside. Myself, I could forgo that pleasure—until he looked over the side and grunted.
I stepped up beside Rowan and understood his surprise. It wasn’t a sarcophagus with a body inside. It was an empty space, with a staircase leading down into some kind of cellar. A light flickered on the wall below.
The sarcophagus stood waist high, and Rowan vaulted the side with ease, dropping down onto a landing at the top of the steps. Wordlessly, he offered me a hand. I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t want him to go alone. Nor did I want to remain here alone.