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

by Becca Andre

  Ian pulled a dagger from his belt.

  I swallowed and accepted it. The handle appeared hand-carved, and I thought it might be ivory—except, I didn’t think ivory yellowed like that. No, not ivory, bone. The heavy blade looked like a hunting weapon, though I supposed it would be suited to cracking open a ribcage to the beating contents within.

  The dagger was heavier than I expected, so pretending to fumble it wasn’t a complete ruse—nor was jumping aside when it landed near my bare toes.

  “Crap,” I muttered.

  “Careful,” Ian said.

  Squatting beside the table, I pulled out the nearly empty vial of my blood and necro essence, and popped off the lid. Pressing my nicked finger over the vial mouth, I inverted it. The thick mixture began to crawl down the side of the vial.

  Too slow. I shook the vial, encouraging the mixture to move faster.

  “Addie, do you need help?” Ian began to squat on the other side of the table.

  Another vigorous shake and a droplet broke free, splattering the tip of my finger.

  “I got it.” I snatched up the knife with the opposite hand, just as Ian came into view under the table. “Don’t you have anything smaller?” I pressed the hand holding the vial into my dark skirt, hiding it.

  “No.” He rose to his feet.

  I quickly tucked the vial back into its pocket, careful not to rub off the blood, and stood.

  “Then this will have to do.” I curled my fingers around the blade to hide what I’d done. “I swear on the souls of my forgotten ancestors that I will help you find your daughter, Ian Mallory.”

  I pulled the blade along my index finger, wincing for effect, though the blade didn’t pierce my skin. I lifted my finger, exposing the blood droplet.

  Ian stared at me.

  “What?” My heart rate increased. Did he suspect?

  “I asked only to be shown the jars, yet you would bind yourself to help me, knowing that it wouldn’t secure your own safety?”

  “If what you’ve told me is true, she’s an innocent in this. I’d help her with or without you. Actually, you can go screw yourself.”

  He lifted his brows, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with the last part.

  “Well?” Maybe I should have demanded something. He was probably suspicious.

  Ian stepped closer, and I lifted my finger to his mouth. His cold tongue scraped the tender flesh, and I drew a startled breath through my nose.

  He straightened and a frown creased his forehead.

  “Ian, don’t move—and don’t animate anything.” After all, there were four bodies in the room. I turned and headed for the workbench.

  “What was that?” Ian asked.

  “The same mixture I used on the zombie.” I picked up the cork knife and nicked another finger. Good thing I healed quickly or I’d need a blood transfusion. I flicked my bleeding finger over the first jar and it burst into instant flame.

  I finished off the rest of the jars, casting frequent glances at Ian. I wasn’t certain how long my mixture would hold him. It had worked a lot longer than I expected on the zombie. Ian said nothing while I worked.

  “Take me to my bullets,” I said when I finished.

  Ian nodded and started for the door.

  I picked up my flask of fire solution and hurried after him. I fell in step beside him in the hall. “Don’t hinder or harm me.”

  Ian glanced over, but didn’t comment.

  I limped along as he led me back through the building, returning us to the sparsely furnished office we’d started in. Neil sat behind his desk, but came to his feet when we walked in the room.

  “She isn’t dead,” he said to Ian.

  “Hold him,” I said, limping over to lean against the desk. Damn, my foot ached.

  Ian did as told, wrapping his arms around Neil’s upper body and holding him in place.

  “Let me go, Mallory,” Neil said. “Or I swear I’ll never get you the information you need.”

  “He’s under compulsion,” I said. “It’s me you should be begging.”

  “What?”

  Ian didn’t comment. Oddly, he didn’t look pissed either, but then, Ian didn’t always react the way I expected.

  “Where are my bullets?” I asked.

  “Behind the landscape.” Ian nodded at the picture hanging behind the desk.

  “You’re kidding.”

  When he didn’t answer, I lifted the picture from the wall, exposing a safe. “People still hide safes behind pictures? Isn’t that the first place thieves look?”

  I turned to face the two men. “Ian, release him. Neil, open it.” I nodded at the safe.

  “I’m not under compulsion,” Neil said.

  “Perhaps I shall command Ian to Make you, then have him command you to open it. Or I could just tie you to the table downstairs and burn down the whole place. Your call.”

  Neil gave me a glare. “There’s the Amelia I know.” He walked to the safe and began to spin the dial.

  I frowned at his back. Was that true? He kept saying that I’d been ruthless, obsessed with my own goals. But he also knew how much that bothered me now.

  The safe popped open and Neil stepped back.

  “Ian, unload the safe and set everything on the desk.”

  He did as told, and I drew a deep breath as he set the first boxes of Heart Seekers on the ink blotter. I’d known they were my bullets, but seeing the actual boxes that I’d helped fill really brought it home.

  In the end, Ian unloaded nine boxes from the safe. I guess that explained how Neil had been able to show Megan my bullets.

  “Where did you get the bullets? Lawson?” I tried to recall how many boxes Lawson had bought. Then, too, Neil had another potential source. “George?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Probably not. I held Neil’s gaze. “But why? Why kill the magical with my bullets?”

  “It’s about time alchemy got the respect it deserves. The magical look down on us. The mundane despise us. Aren’t you sick of it?”

  “Yes, but murdering innocents doesn’t earn us respect.”

  “And your alternative is to heal a few burn victims? Please. They don’t respect you. They see you as their servant. Someone to work wonders because they lack the talent to do it themselves. And then they have the nerve to call us talentless.”

  “But you’re not talentless. You’re a necromancer.”

  I glanced at Ian, half expecting a comment, but he simply watched the exchange, his face impassive.

  Neil laughed. “I’d love to see you try to convince my uncle of that. Did you know I was named his heir? He even had it written in the family record—then I turned out to be stunted.” He snorted. “He didn’t even bother to strike my name because everyone expected me to go insane before I was ten.”

  “So you took away a little boy’s mother because you had a sucky childhood?”

  Neil frowned. “What the hell did Emil do to you? How could you have forgotten everything we spent decades trying to accomplish? This was your dream, Amelia. You wanted to gain alchemy the respect it deserves.”

  My heart thumped a dull beat in my ears. It seemed my dream hadn’t changed. “If I sanctioned your methods, then I was wrong. So very wrong.” I turned to the desk and upended the Erlenmeyer flask over the bullets.

  “What are you doing?” Neil took a step toward the desk.

  I met his white eyes. “You’re done.” With Ian’s help, I’d transport him to the PIA. I eyed the bullets. Maybe I should wait to destroy them. The PIA would need evidence.

  No. I couldn’t risk them falling into the wrong hands, especially now that the world knew what they could do.

  I picked up a letter opener. One more
cut and I’d end this. “Ian, open the portal. As soon as I light this, grab—”

  “No!” Neil shouted. He lunged for me, but didn’t try to grab me. Instead, he shattered a vial at my feet.

  A sickly yellow gas rolled up from the floor so quickly that I couldn’t avoid it. The moment it brushed my exposed skin, my flesh felt like it had caught fire. I kept it together enough to hold my breath, but little more.

  Squeezing my tearing eyes shut, I tried to run away. In my haste and confusion, I’d forgotten about my foot. When I took a step, the glass stabbed deeper and I stumbled. I caught myself on the edge of the desk with my left hand. The hand I’d nicked with the knife.

  A flash of heat and the whoosh of flames registered on the senses I still had. My blood must have made contact with the potion I’d dumped over the bullets. I sucked in a breath to scream and the acrid fog seared my lungs.

  I thought I heard Neil scream, but I wasn’t certain.

  Arms encircled me. I tried to fight back. Blind and in pain, my efforts were nothing organized. I thrashed around, but the embrace didn’t loosen. My world dissolved into agony. Somehow, I ended up on my back, strong hands gripping my biceps.

  “Hold. Still.”

  Was that—

  An explosion of air in my face…and the scent of Knockout Powder.

  Chapter

  28

  I woke on my side, the surface beneath me hard and unyielding. It took some effort to pry my eyes open. My lashes were matted together. It felt like someone had sand blasted the inside of my eyelids. I had to rub them before I could pull the lids apart enough to see my surroundings.

  Blinking, I focused on a counter across from me. Lab equipment covered the surface, the setup familiar. It was Ian’s workbench. I was back in our lab.

  I pushed myself upright, groaning as my cramped muscles were forced into service. How long had I lain here?

  “Easy.” Ian appeared beside me and gripped my shoulder as I swayed. He wore the red brocade smoking jacket, his clothing immaculate as always. Gold cufflinks glinted at his wrists.

  I stilled as everything came rushing back, then pulled away from his hand. “What are you doing?” My voice rasped and I had to clear my throat. “How did we get here?”

  “I brought you here.”

  “You hit me with Knockout Powder.”

  “To allow you to heal without pain. I also dug the glass out of your foot while you were unconscious.”

  I lifted my leg to stare at my bandage-wrapped foot. “I didn’t command you to help or heal me.” Unease crawled along my skin, raising goosebumps. “The potion wore off.”

  “Actually, the effects only lasted about thirty seconds.”

  I blinked.

  “My actions were my own.”

  For a moment, I could just stare at him. “Why?”

  He turned away. Folding his hands behind his back, he studied the ceiling. “I decided that you’re the one most likely to help me free my daughter.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He turned to face me, one corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Are you doubting my words or your ability?”

  “Your words, clearly. There’s nothing wrong with my ability. There never was.”

  “True. But my words were also true. When you said you’d help her even if I wasn’t involved, I realized you weren’t lying.”

  Perhaps, but… “There’s more to it. The blood oath?”

  He leaned against the counter across from me, but maintained his silence. I had the distinct impression he was debating on how much to say.

  “Spill, Ian. You owe me that much.” And so much more.

  “It is the blood oath, but not for the reason you think.”

  I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

  “It’s your blood. I suspected it when you explained how you commanded the dead, but it wasn’t until you used it on me that I understood. You truly are Paracelsus’s descendant.”

  “How does my blood prove that?”

  “Paracelsus didn’t find the azoth. He was the azoth.”

  “Come again?”

  “He possessed the ability to imbue his own blood with the properties of his choosing.”

  “Anyone can do that. Starve yourself, bottle hunger. Hurt yourself, capture pain. Though it does take a certain masochistic flare. Of course, you can also have it done to you.”

  If Ian felt guilty about that, it didn’t show. “That takes weeks.” Ian pushed off the counter and walked toward me. “I’m talking seconds and with no more than a thought. You commanded the dead.”

  “I had that necro essence.”

  “For the animation.” He stopped in front of me. “I felt it when you touched your blood to my tongue. Your blood bound me. As you did that zombie. That’s how you commanded the dead.”

  Cool fingers of dread gripped my stomach. Only a necro could blood bind the dead.

  “I’m not a necromancer.” Why did I have to keep repeating that?

  “You are no more a necromancer than you are an Element, yet I just watched you command elemental fire through your own blood.”

  “I just keyed the potion to my blood, so I wouldn’t have any accidental explosions.”

  Ian snorted. “Just.” He shook his head. “That isn’t something just any alchemist can do. You’re a blood alchemist of the highest order.”

  I flinched.

  “Stop that!” Ian’s sharp tone made me look up.

  “What?”

  “This, this…” he waved a hand at me as he searched for a word. “This reaction you exhibit every time someone mentions blood alchemy. A talent, whether mundane or magical, is not evil. It is what is done with that talent that determines good or bad. Even necromancy is not inherently evil.”

  “I might have done evil.” If Neil was to be believed, there was no might about it.

  He caught my chin in his cold fingers. “Let it go. You are no longer that person—if you ever were.”

  I wanted to pull away from his dead touch, but I held my ground. “You’re saying people can change. The bad become good. Is that what you’re telling me?” Did he see the irony? He didn’t have to save me and heal me. He could have just as easily Made me and forced me to tell him what I knew about those canopic jars.

  He released my chin. “I am beyond redemption.”

  “You can’t have it both ways.”

  Another hint of a smile. “You are impossible to argue with.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my breastbone. The numbness was beginning to wear off. “Rowan once mentioned that.”

  “He’s alive.”

  I looked up.

  “Rowan’s alive,” he clarified.

  “But…you sabotaged all my formulas.”

  “Not the ones you created when you weren’t here.”

  The original auto-injectors. I stared at him.

  “I know death,” Ian said.

  “That’s what you told Neil.”

  “I lied.” Ian’s cheek dimpled. “I told you I am beyond redemption.”

  “Oh God.” I slid off the counter. My injured foot ached, but it held me. “I need a phone.” I started for the front of the shop.

  “And shoes.”

  I glanced down at my bare feet. Good point. Shoes, then a pay phone.

  James answered on the second ring, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears.

  “Thank God,” I whispered.

  “Addie! Where are you? I’ll—”

  “The convenience store down the street from my shop.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you a recap later.” I took a breath. “Where’s Rowan?”

  “University Hospital.”
r />   I closed my eyes. Ian hadn’t lied. Wait. The liches were headed to University Hospital.

  “The liches,” I said. “Did they—”

  “Storm the front lobby armed to the teeth, yes. Then they burst into flame.”

  I released a breath. I’d gotten them in time.

  “Do you know something about that?” James asked. “I know it wasn’t Rowan…”

  “Yes, it was me. I—” Then it hit me. “A hospital? What’s Rowan doing in a hospital?” He healed too fast to ever need much medical care.

  “He’s in a coma.”

  “What?”

  “A coma. They’ve done tests.” He shuffled the phone, changing ears or moving away to ensure privacy? “What was the antidote supposed to do?”

  “I designed it to suppress the magic in the bullet.”

  “Addie, he’s so magical it’s scary. I know, I’ve tasted his blood.”

  I fell silent.

  “It was at the crematorium. I had lost him and had to hunt him via—”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m thinking.”

  It was James’s turn to remain silent.

  I remembered another time Rowan had been drained. “Okay. I got it.”

  “Already?” A smile colored his words.

  “Does he have any more of his remedy?”

  “No, we used the last of it trying to wake him.”

  “Then I’ll be over as soon as I make more.”

  “Won’t you need a blood sample?”

  I thought about what Ian had told me. I could deny it if I wanted, but deep down I knew he was right. “I don’t need it,” I said to James. “I’ve got another approach.”

  “Without blood alchemy?” Was it my imagination or did he sound pleased?

  I sighed. “I’ll give you the details when Rowan’s awake.”

  A slight hesitation. “Okay. See you soon.”

  Ian and I stepped out of a portal into the polished white hallway. Yep. Hospital. I recognized the smell.