by Becca Andre
“Answer, or I’ll have Clarissa put your gift to use.” Neil gave his mother a smile, but she was too busy petting her new toy to notice. Neil shook his head. “I still can’t believe you found the grim, Amelia. You must have necromancy in your ancestry.”
Or the astounding ability to use Ancestry.com.
“That true?” Emil demanded. “Are you magical, too?”
Jaw set, I glared at my Grand Master. That’s right, attribute my skills to magic, asshole. With an unhurried motion, I gave him the finger.
His face went red and he rose from his chair.
“Sit, both of you,” Neil said. “We haven’t finished here.” He glanced over at Clarissa. “Mother?”
“Sit,” she said and Emil immediately dropped back into his chair.
My heart pounded against my breastbone as I suddenly understood why Emil had been so willing to work with Neil. James was wrong. It didn’t take days to make a lich. Just a few hours.
I stared at Neil and his brow rose in question. Holding his gaze, I moved closer to the table and gestured at the pen lying beside his notepad. After an amused quirk of the lips, he nodded. I picked up the polished steel pen and pulled his notepad closer.
He’s a lich, I wrote in the margin.
Neil smirked. “His interest in the Final Formula is no longer academic.”
I clenched my fist around the pen. Once they had the Formula, then what? I glanced at Rowan, noticing that he’d moved a little closer to our table. Powerless, but not helpless, even with his death kneeling a few feet away. Though James wasn’t watching him. He had his head bowed while Clarissa trailed her fingers over the back of his neck.
“Let’s finish this,” Emil said, the words barely understandable through his clenched teeth.
Yes, let’s.
I jabbed the pen at Neil’s face and he jerked back, eluding my half-hearted jab. He tried to catch my wrist, but I dodged his grasp and dove to the side, landing only feet away from my true target. James’s head came up and I lunged at him.
“Mother!” Neil shouted. “Stop her.”
I collided with James’s chest, sprawling him on his back. One hand braced on his bare shoulder, I met his confused gaze before jabbing the pen between his ribs. I hadn’t anticipated the resistance of the muscle surrounding his chest, and the pen only penetrated a few inches.
“James!” Clarissa cried. “Save yourself!”
A muscle ticked in his cheek as he absorbed the command. Jaw clenched, he covered my hand with his and shoved the pen deeper. He was saving himself—from her.
“Addie, his blood!” Rowan shouted. “Don’t get it on you!”
James’s eyes widened. “No.” He caught me by the shoulders.
I lifted my hand from his chest. Blood oozed around the pen, having already slicked my palm.
“Oh no,” he whispered and choked on a sob. A second went by and then two. Understanding dawned on his face. “The Final Formula.”
I held his gaze and slammed the heel of my hand into the two inches of pen sticking out of his chest, shoving it all the way in. James gasped and then went limp beneath me. A final breath escaped his parted lips and his chest rose no more.
“What have you done?!” Clarissa shoved me aside and dropped to her knees beside him. She sunk her fingers into the wound trying to grab the pen.
“No!” Neil shouted. He took a step toward her and then she started to scream. Cradling her hand, she withered on the floor. Blood coated her fingertips, clashing with her burgundy nail polish. The smell of burning flesh wafted in my direction. Not just flesh, but burning sulfur. Brimstone.
“No,” Neil repeated, a whisper now. Clarissa thrashed a few more times and with a final whimper, stilled. I clenched my left hand, hiding my blood-slicked palm.
“Freeze!” Neil yelled.
I jumped and twisted around to face him, but his attention wasn’t on me. Nor was the gun he now held in his shaking hands. Rowan stood only a few feet away, having almost reached him in the excitement.
Neil’s skin had paled, but he seemed to be regaining control. He glanced at Clarissa’s still form and released a breath.
“Emil,” he said. “Retrieve our colleague. I will finish this.”
I wondered what Neil had in mind. He knew the last ingredient. Why the charade? Did he want me to say it in front of Rowan? Or did he think I’d used another ingredient?
Jaw tight, Emil rose to his feet. He walked over, gripped my upper arm and hauled me to my feet.
“Enough of this,” Emil turned me to face him, his grip crushing my upper arm. “You dumb, fat bitch,” he whispered, his face only inches from mine. “I bet you’re loving this. What he did to me; what I need from you. But the power’s not all yours.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering further. “The last ingredient for your memories. I can give them back to you.”
I looked up into his blue eyes. Mind rape, betrayal. This was my mentor. The man I looked up to and aspired to imitate. How far had I gone down that path? I gave him a smile and reached up to cup his cheek. No more. The dark rumors about the Alchemica alchemists had been true. I had been one of them.
Emil stumbled back and his eyes went wide. He raised a hand to his blood-smeared cheek, but didn’t touch it. A tendril of smoke rose from the aged skin, and he started to scream. I didn’t flinch or back away. A moment later, he collapsed at my feet, twitched a few times, and then lay still.
“Ruthless as ever,” Neil said in the sudden silence.
I turned to look at him.
“You don’t need to tell me the last ingredient.” He no longer smirked. Clarissa’s death had sobered him. “I was there when you discovered it.”
I had a thing or two to say to that, but I held my silence. No need to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. Let him wonder. I took a step closer, my hand still wet with James’s blood.
“Don’t even consider it.” Neil trained the gun on me.
I spread my hands and smiled, inviting him to take a shot.
“Addie,” Rowan said.
Neil frowned at him before glaring at me. “Your friends are so loyal. What will they say when they read that journal?” He gestured at the worn book still lying open on the table. “What if I read it to them?”
I sprang and he fired. I saw an explosion of light at the end of the barrel. Suddenly, the light became a fireball. Neil screamed when the gun joined it.
“You’re not the alchemist she is,” Rowan said, eyes aglow. He gradually began to frown. “Why can’t I see in you?”
Neil smiled, but didn’t answer.
“A formula?” Rowan asked. He glanced at me, no doubt wondering if it was mine.
I shook my head. Not mine, the lich’s. I thought about the page of notes I’d taken, and it all became clear. With the way Rowan had been bleeding, it would have been a simple matter to get a sample of his blood in the tomb. Unlike me, the lich hadn’t created a potion to take away Rowan’s power; he had created one to make a person immune to Rowan’s magic. Impressive. I wondered how long the effect would last.
James growled and the hairs on my arms stood up. He was up on his knees, braced on one hand. He pressed the other hand to his chest, a wisp of smoke leaking from the wound, and gave Rowan a tentative smile. “Thanks.” Rowan had ashed the pen.
“It was the Air Element,” Neil scooped up the journal and shoved it into Rowan’s hands. “She was Amelia’s secret ingredient.”
“What?” Rowan demanded.
“No,” James whispered.
Rowan looked down at the journal in his hands, and James stepped up beside him. Helpless to stop them, I turned on Neil, reaching for him with my blood-smeared hand.
He saw me coming, but instead of backing away, he raised his hands to his eyes. For a moment, I feared he meant to pluck them from his face, then I realized h
e was removing his contacts. He tossed them aside and his white eyes met mine. “Remember me now?”
Without warning, the déjà vu hit me. Images flew at me. Visions of Neil in college. The nice guy who had doted on me. Pudgy, geeky me. I would have done anything for him. I kept his secret. Got him into the Alchemica. Kept him close even when Emil learned his secret and kicked him out. I remembered going to him for information on the magical. Asking him to catch an Element. I remembered Era.
A door slammed somewhere close by. Neil escaping? I couldn’t do anything about it. I stayed on the floor, fighting the dry heaves as the memories lessened and finally ceased. I pushed up on my knees, hands braced on the polished black tile. I could almost see my reflection in it.
Silence.
I followed a crack between the tiles to a cluster of feet. James and Rowan. A sharp inhale of breath on James’s part and the journal snapped closed. I returned my gaze to my dark reflection, watching the occasional tear smack the tile, interspersed with drops of blood from my nose.
“Amelia,” Rowan said.
I squeezed my eyes shut and hot tears scalded my cheeks.
“The last ingredient of the Final Formula.”
I swallowed and took a breath. “The blood of an Element.” My voice broke and I finished in a whisper. “One drop.” I fisted my hands against the floor, but kept my head down.
Footsteps approached and those familiar loafers came into view. The flame embossed on the slim metal band winked in the light. The journal smacked the tile in front of me and I jumped.
“Counter what you did to her and I’ll spare you.” His voice held that deathly calm that always made me so uneasy. Having it used on me turned my insides to ash. I couldn’t look up, so I just nodded.
“Rowan, the blood,” James said.
A flicker of flame where James had lain, and a sudden searing across my palm. I gasped and clutched my hand to my chest.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t move. I sat there cradling my hand and listened to them leave the room.
I opened my hand and looked down at my unblemished palm. James’s blood was gone. A good precaution. Never leave a blood alchemist with a sample.
Epilogue
I stopped and stared up at the stately Victorian house before me. It seemed larger than I remembered, towering over the spot where I stood on the sidewalk. Even the cheerful cream and yellow paint seemed somber this morning—or perhaps it was the leafless trees and overcast sky. I kept expecting it to storm, but the angry gray clouds just swirled and darkened, reserving their gift for a more appropriate moment.
“Hey, lady.” The cabbie had rolled down his window to poke out his head. “You know you’re still on the meter, right?”
I gave myself a mental shake and the man a smile. At least, I hoped it was a smile. I suspected it was closer to a lunatic’s grin and by his concerned expression, I could see he did, too.
“This won’t take long,” I told him—and myself—and forced my feet to move.
I didn’t remember the sidewalk being so long or the porch steps so steep, but I eventually arrived at the front door and let myself in. I stopped two strides into the room and the door closed behind me with a click.
The sound echoed in the empty space, and I took in the unoccupied receptionist’s desk and the dimmed lighting. I didn’t know why it surprised me. I knew that the Elemental Offices weren’t open on Saturdays.
“You’re late,” a female voice said from behind me.
I turned with a gasp and watched a gray-robed figure rise from one of several leather chairs grouped around the waiting area. Cora. I knew her voice and the graceful way she moved, though I couldn’t see her face beneath the hood.
“Traffic,” I said.
She ignored the excuse and closed the distance between us. “You have it?”
In answer, I slipped a hand into my jacket pocket and pulled out a vial. The golden liquid caught the dim light and twinkled in my unsteady hand.
Cora studied it in silence for one long moment. She didn’t reach for the vial. Instead, she pushed the hood back off her head. She’d pulled her dark hair up in an elegant twist that the hood hadn’t disturbed.
“Try anything and I will kill you.” Her eyes shifted from navy to black-indigo.
I didn’t doubt she meant every word. Even so, I lifted my chin and met her eyes. “Fair enough.”
“Cora?” Donovan’s deep voice rumbled from the hall.
My heart clenched in my chest, but I didn’t turn toward him. I couldn’t bear to see the disapproval in his eyes.
“Ah, she’s here,” his voice grew closer, and I knew he’d stepped into the room. “Are you coming?”
“Come along, Amelia.” Cora stepped past me, leading the way to the hall and the offices beyond.
I followed, my eyes locked on her back. Donovan didn’t speak as I passed him, but he didn’t threaten me either. I couldn’t summon the courage to check his expression. Knowing my destination and whom I’d face next, it was an accomplishment not to vomit all over the polished stone tile.
I followed Cora toward those double doors, and Donovan fell in behind us. It’d been sixteen days since I’d seen their brother Element. Sixteen days since the Lord of Flames had granted me a stay of execution.
Cora opened both doors wide and led me inside. Donovan closed them behind us, the snick of the latch audible in the silence.
“Addie!” Era’s shrill voice echoed around the room.
I closed my eyes.
“Where have you been?” She caught me in one of her crushing embraces, momentarily lifting me from my feet. “It’s been months!”
Guilt twisted through me at her inability to grasp something as basic as the passage of time. I looked up, meeting her smiling eyes. I’d done this. I’d caused the damage to this incredible girl.
As if reading my thoughts, a frown gradually replaced her grin. “You don’t look so good.”
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t my thoughts she read.
“Have you been sick? You’re all pale and skinny.”
“Give her a little room, honey,” Donovan said. He stopped a few feet away and beckoned her to him. Like Cora, both he and Era wore their gray robes, though neither had pulled up their hoods.
Era gave us each a frown, clearly not understanding, but did as Donovan asked.
A chair scraped near the oblong table that took up half the room. I didn’t look over, focusing instead on the floor a few feet ahead of me. Gray robes trimmed in black triangles moved into my line of sight, stopping in that very piece of carpet I’d been so diligently studying.
No one spoke.
I steeled my courage and raised my eyes to Rowan’s expressionless face. He looked tired, and I wondered if he’d had another adverse reaction to his gift. Worry washed away my other concerns.
“Rowan—”
“The antidote,” he said, cutting me off. But it was his cold gray eyes that silenced me.
I unfisted my hand and held up the vial of golden liquid.
A glimpse of movement to my right, then someone plucked the vial from my fingers. I jumped and took a step in the opposite direction before I realized it was James.
“What is it?” Rowan asked, his attention shifting from me to James.
“Antidotes are typically in shades of blue or green.” James eyed the vial.
“It’s not an antidote,” I said.
James lowered the vial and every eye in the room focused on me.
“Clarify,” Rowan said.
“I don’t know what formula Neil used. The journal didn’t say.” I suspected the potion contained properties much like Emil’s Identity Crisis. Something to confuse the target and make her unable to use her magic. Neil had either given her too much or not bothered to make the effect temporary. “I can’t counter what I don’t know.
”
“Then…”
I took a breath. “That’s the Final Formula.”
James’s eyes widened, and he closed his hand around the vial.
“But she’s already immortal,” Rowan said.
“The Final Formula has regenerative properties. Powerful properties. It resets the body to its peak.”
“I know.” Rowan studied me.
I tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “She’s twenty-three. Outwardly it won’t change her, but it will repair her mind.”
“Then why didn’t it fix you?” Cora demanded, joining us.
“Emil got me after I took it.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Then you could fix yourself. Regain your memories.”
“Yes.”
“Have you?”
“No.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
I shifted my attention to Rowan. “It will work.” I just managed to stop myself from adding trust me.
“I thought you needed the blood of an Element,” he said.
“I do.” I didn’t look away. “The formula isn’t complete.”
He considered this a moment then turned to James. Rowan’s brow rose a little, questioning. The trust between the pair surprised me. But then, they were no longer competing for the same woman. Neither of them wanted anything to do with me.
James offered Rowan the vial.
“Use mine.” Donovan stepped forward.
“I’ve got it.” Rowan turned toward the table, but Donovan gripped his shoulder.
“I need to do this.” Donovan’s low voice just reached me.
Rowan frowned, but didn’t comment. Clearly a story existed behind the exchange. Did Donovan feel responsible for what happened to Era, or something else?
The two men moved to the table, shielding Era from what they did. I watched their backs, keenly aware that James still stood beside me.
“One drop,” Rowan said.
I didn’t see what Donovan used to prick his finger, but a moment later, Rowan capped and shook the vial.