The Element of Death (The Final Formula Series, Book 1.5) (7 page)

Chapter

7

J
ames pushed himself to his
feet. He swayed—whether from the quaking floor or the blood loss, he wasn’t sure—then launched himself at the ghost. He landed hard in the spot where the burned man had been, and caught a whiff of charred meat. A chunk of ceiling crashed down beside him, and he threw an arm over his head. Unable to do anything else, he curled up in the rubble, bracing for impact.

Moments later, the shaking stopped. James lifted his head, surprised that nothing had fallen on him.

“James?” Rowan called.

“Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Look behind you.”

James turned. The mound of debris blocking the room’s only exit had parted, exposing the doorway to the corridor. He got to his feet and braced a hand on the side of the cremator to get his balance, the hot bricks warming his palm.

The way is open.
Stop him.
The last word was an airy whisper, then it was gone.

“Did we just get some help?” Rowan asked.

“I think so. Come on.” James started for the door.

“What’s the plan?”

“We find a way to get these staples out of my back, then I take Winters and his girlfriend to hell.”

It seemed to take hours to make their way to the foyer. James stumbled along beside Rowan, both of them using the walls for support. The building rumbled from time to time, but it seemed that Winters’ minions hadn’t built up enough energy to do more. Or maybe the burned man was running interference.

Reaching the foyer doorway, James stepped around the wrought iron chandelier, careful not to trip and fall on the thing.

“I guess the quaking damaged more than the basement.” Rowan eyed the damaged chandelier as he followed James into the room.

“No. That was an earlier attempt to stop me.” James crossed the room to where he’d left the duffle bag. “The burned guy didn’t want Winters freed.”

“Burned guy?”

“The spirit that helped us get out of the basement. I suspect he was one of Winters’ victims.” James dug out the first-aid kit. He’d kept his injured hand fisted and close to his chest, but blood had seeped out between his fingers, trickling over his wrist and dampening his sleeve.

Rowan stopped behind him. “Where’d you get that?”

“Donovan tossed it in the portal after me. Didn’t you wonder where I got the clothes?”

“Honestly? I hadn’t really thought about it.”

James found a roll of gauze and with the help of his teeth, began to quickly wind it around his hand and forearm. He used the entire roll, then ripped off a piece of medical tape to secure it in place. It was a sorry bandaging job, but it would keep the blood contained. For now.

“Anything we can use to get those staples out?” Rowan asked. “Tweezers?”

James held up a tiny plastic pair.

Rowan grunted. “I was hoping for something more…substantial.”

“We can search the room where I saw the staple gun.” James pushed himself to his feet. The room spun around him, but Rowan caught his arm before he ended up on the floor.

Rowan didn’t immediately let go. “I’m getting stronger. A little longer, and I should be able to ash the staples.”

James glanced over, meeting his eyes. In the better light, his skin looked almost gray, the tension around his eyes hinting at the headache he must be suffering. “You look like hell.”

The corner of Rowan’s mouth quirked. “And you look like death warmed over.”

“Ha ha.” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and James looked out the open front door into the evening gloom. Rain still fell, but it looked like the storm had rolled past while they were stuck in the basement. He’d lost all track of time, but shouldn’t Donovan be here by now?

“It’d be best if you waited outside,” James said. “If you get possessed—”

“I won’t.” Steel laced Rowan’s tone.

The building rumbled, belying Rowan’s words, but James didn’t have the strength to argue. He released a breath and gave Rowan a nod. With Rowan at his side, he started for the hall, trying to ignore the way darkness tinted the edges of his vision. If he lost consciousness before the staples were removed, would he ever wake up again?

The hall was unlit, but there was enough ambient light for them to reach the room they sought without incident. James stumbled on the threshold and once again, Rowan caught his arm. The arm with the bleeding hand.

James pulled away. “Careful. I’m bleeding.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Rowan’s tone was soft. “Five more minutes. If we don’t find a way to get those staples out, I’ll just ash all of you and hope I get them.”

And perhaps kill himself in the process. “We’ll find something.”

James led the way into the room, grateful that one window had remained uncovered. He didn’t think he had the strength to rip down the makeshift curtains.

It was Rowan who found the small metal toolbox tucked in one corner. A worn decal embellished the side of the box: a cartoon ghost with the words “paranormal investigator” encircling it.

James snorted. “Some investigator.”

“I suspect he found more than he wanted here.” Rowan picked up a pair of needle-nose pliers. “Sit down.”

James did as he was told, turning so his back was toward the window. “Please be careful.”

“I promise to be gentle.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I might be immune to your blood.” Rowan didn’t go on to point out that Addie was immune. They suspected her immunity came from the Final Formula. A formula that incorporated Element blood.

“I’d rather not prove you wrong.” James bowed his head, waiting for Rowan to begin. He should refuse to let Rowan do this, but he couldn’t deny the selfish desire to cling to this…life. Please, please don’t let Rowan get any blood on him.

Rowan dropped to a knee behind him, but before he could begin, another tremor shook the building, this one stronger. A thumping clatter followed as something nearby fell over or caved in.

“Maybe we should go outside.”

“This will only take a moment.” Rowan touched the pliers to his back. He braced a hand on James’s opposite shoulder and pulled.

James sucked in a breath through his teeth as Rowan pulled the staple from his flesh. His vision darkened as more of his blood leaked out the new holes Rowan had created. Would he have the energy to change when the iron was finally gone?

“Two more,” Rowan said.

The pliers dug in, pinching skin along with the staple head. James opened his mouth to tell him, but Rowan jerked it from his flesh before he could speak. James bit down on a scream, muffling it to a yelp.

“Sorry.”

James panted through the pain. “Finish it.”

A touch of cold metal to his shoulder, then the ground bucked beneath them. The pliers hit the floor with a clatter, but the sound was drowned out by a splintering crack as the floor fell in only yards from where they sat. The hole grew, working rapidly toward them as if determined to pull them down into its black maw.

Somewhere, James found the energy to leap up and grip the window sill with his injured hand. He reached out and caught Rowan with the other and jerked him over beside him as the spot where they’d been sitting fell into the basement below.

“The pliers.” Rowan reached for them, but failed to catch them before they disappeared into the hole. “Shit!”

James tugged him back. “Forget it. Help me with the window.”

They stood on a narrow section of floor against the wall. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed as well.

James thought he might have to resort to busting the glass, but between the two of them, they managed to shove the window up. They tumbled through the opening to land in an overgrown hedge. Branches snapped, leaving sharp ends to slash several more wounds in James battered body, but at least these injuries wouldn’t bleed. They crawled away from the building and collapsed on the rain-slicked cobbles.

“Still want to make fun of that paranormal investigator for running?” Rowan asked. A gash trickled a steam of red down one cheek, but he otherwise seemed unharmed.

“God, no.” James stared at the building, so dizzy he could barely focus. He tried to push himself to his feet and failed. Spots swam before his eyes, the darkness growing around the edges of his vision.

Rowan gripped his upper arm. “James.”

James knew he should tell him no, but time was nearly gone. If that staple didn’t come out in the next few minutes, his was done—and the next group of kids who braved the haunted crematorium would take home a nasty surprise.

“Rowan? James!” A deep voice shouted.

James blinked, not believing what he was seeing when Donovan walked out the front door of the crematorium.

“Where were you guys?” he asked walking closer.

Weak with relief, James continued to blink his eyes, pretending it was the blood loss that now blurred his vision.

“Donovan,” Rowan said. “I need you to remove—”

The ground shook, and a familiar rumbling came from within the crematorium. With a crack, the stone edifice spit, sending large pieces of stone crashing to the ground.

“Oh, God.” Donovan whirled to face the building. “Era!”

“What?” James asked.

“What is she doing here?” Rowan demanded at the same time.

“She loves spooky old buildings. I left her in the foyer!” Donovan ran toward the entrance, even as stone continued to rain down.

He reached the front steps as the floor beneath one of the portico’s support columns gave way. With a crack, the portico fell, taking the other columns with it. Stone clattered against stone, raising a cloud of dust over the jagged pile of rubble that now blocked the front door.

Donovan didn’t even slow. A wave of the hand and the debris flew out of his path. An instant later, he disappeared inside.

“Will he survive if the building collapses?” James asked.

“No.” Rowan gripped his arm. “Can they be possessed?”

“Him, probably not. Her…” James didn’t finish. Era’s mind was damaged. She’d be easy prey.

“Then it’s up to you.” Heat rippled through James’s shoulder and he gasped, though in surprise rather than pain. His senses sharpened; the iron was gone.

“Good thing you’re immune to fire,” Rowan muttered and slumped forward, though he didn’t collapse.

James opened himself to that other dimension. The warm darkness of…home filled him. He moved away from Rowan, heeding Gavin’s advice to never be in contact with anyone when he called the hound. Euphoria filled him as he slid into his other form. He turned to face the crematorium.

“James.”

James looked over his shoulder, and Rowan lifted his head meeting his eye.

“She’s my heart.”

The soulless holds the heart of magic in his hands.

Another violent quake rocked the ground beneath them. James spread his legs to keep from falling.

A massive boom, and the whole building imploded. They could do nothing but watch as two stories of stone and brick collapsed inward. The four-story smokestack followed, leaving a plume of black smoke behind to mark where it had been.

“No!” Rowan shouted.

Chapter

8

J
ames couldn’t move. For one
long moment, he could do nothing but stare.

“No,” Rowan repeated, his voice now a whisper.

James shook himself and turned his attention to the rubble. A plume of dust rose in the air, obscuring the lingering smoke from the stack. He turned to his other sight, searching….

There! Two souls, alive. Slipping into the twilight region between planes, he ghosted through the debris. When he reached an open area, he stopped. He was back in total darkness, the air thick with blood and dust. But as the hound, he didn’t need light to see in the dark.

Broken checkerboard tiles littered the ground beneath his feet, but the damp scent of earth suggested that the foyer had fallen into the basement. A clatter of brick was followed by the minor rumble of stone on stone. The pile of debris before him literally parted, and he found himself looking into Donovan’s dust-streaked face. A cut above one eyebrow bled, but he seemed otherwise fine.

“James?” Donovan must have seen his eyes glowing in the darkness.

He shifted human. “Yes. Can you make your way out of here?”

“No problem. Where’s Era?”

“Alive. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

He shifted into the hound, then worked his way through the rubble. He found Era standing before what was left of the counter of lab equipment. Coals still burned in the cremator, though most of the fire had been smothered when the stack fell. The dim orange glow added a little light to their surroundings.

James shifted human, but remained in a crouch though it was probably too dark for her to see. “Era?”

She gasped and spun toward him. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, James. What are you—”

“James!” Her voice broke on a sob and she ran toward him—or tried to.

He rose to his full height, catching her against him as she stumbled over some loose bricks. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He caught her by the shoulders and pushed her back a step. It’d be nice if he didn’t lose his clothes every time he shifted form.

She snorted. “What’s the matter? Shy?”

James had a startled second to wonder at the question, then she jabbed a hand at his midsection. Instinctively, he twisted to the side. A brush of cold metal grazed his ribs before he knocked the weapon aside. A scalpel flew from her hand, glinting in the dim light before clattering to the floor.