The Element of Death (The Final Formula Series, Book 1.5) (9 page)

“We need to swing by the Offices.” He tucked the phone in his back pocket, trying to sound indifferent. “Addie’s coming over.”

“Really?” Era clapped her hands, bouncing in place.

“Yes.” James leaned down to unlock the passenger door on the sleek black Charger.

“We haven’t seen her in forever.” Era jumped in the moment he got the door open.

James closed it behind her. “Over two weeks,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and circled the back of the car to the driver’s side. Addie had found the antidote. Could she make everything right?

James stepped back, content to watch as the Elements collapsed into a group hug.  The day had grown overcast, but every lamp had been turned on here in the library at the Elemental Offices, giving the room a warm glow.  The light glinted off Era’s golden hair as she pressed her cheek to Rowan’s chest.  James didn’t know what stunned him more: that Addie had cured Era or that she’d used the Final Formula to do it.

He turned to see how Addie was taking it, but she was no longer there.  The door latch snicked and he realized she’d left the room.  Leaving the others to their reunion, he went after her.

He caught up to her in the foyer.  “Addie?”

Her hand settled on the door and stopped.  A moment’s hesitation and she turned to face him.  It struck him again how much she’d changed in just a few weeks.  She looked like someone recovering from an illness, her complexion pale and her clothes hanging off her too thin frame.

He froze, the words refusing to leave his throat.

“I need to go.” She broke the silence. “I have a cab waiting.” She hooked a thumb toward the front door.

He struggled with what he wanted to say and settled on his secondary concern. “You said the Final Formula regenerates the body. Resets it.”

She swallowed. It was clear she didn’t want to answer the question. “You’re already in your prime and immortal.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. “It doesn’t restore life.”

“James?” Rowan stood in the doorway behind him. Was he annoyed that James had followed her?

“I’m sorry,” Addie whispered, her voice just loud enough for James to hear. “About everything.” She turned and hurried toward the door.

“Wait.” Rowan surprised him by stopping her. He carried a manila folder to the receptionist’s desk. “I need your signature.”

Addie moved closer, her expression curious, yet cautious. “What do you need me to sign?”

“Your PIA registration forms.”

James blinked. Rowan was trying to register her?

“What?” She raised her dark brows in surprise. “I’m not magical.”

Rowan looked up. “You wield magic better than the majority of those registered.”

Uncertainty crinkled her features. “And the PIA bought that?”

“They agreed that it’s best to keep tabs on you.”

“Agreed? As in agreed with you?”

Rowan found a pen and laid it beside the papers. “Yes.” He held her gaze.

James tensed for an argument. No way Addie would take that. She didn’t disappoint him.

“Look, I’m not making excuses. Between the journal and Neil, I remember enough to know that he spoke the truth, mostly, but I am not that person.” She pointed at the pages lying on the desk. “My name is Addie, not Amelia. And I right my wrongs.”

“Your wrongs? You didn’t run a stop sign; you brain-damaged my little sister.” Fire glowed in Rowan’s eyes.

“I fixed that,” she whispered.

Rowan clenched his jaw. “Do you expect me to thank you?”

Concerned, James moved closer. “Rowan.”

“No, I don’t expect gratitude,” Addie continued. “But I do expect…” She seemed to consider her words. “The opportunity to redeem myself without you and your PIA cronies standing over me.”

Rowan frowned, then turned back to the desk. He picked up the pen and scratched a few lines on a Post-It pad before offering it to her. “If redemption is what you seek, here.”

“Dr. Albright?” she asked after reading the paper.

“He works in the Burn Center. I’ll see that he’s expecting your call.”

“My salve,” she whispered.

“He’s not magical, but he’ll listen to me. You’ll have one shot at this.”

“My formulas don’t fail.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

“Good, but I still need you to sign.”

James watched them argue. It was so surreal. Suddenly, it was weeks ago and he was chewing his lip, trying not to laugh as Addie went toe-to-toe with the Lord of Flames. He’d never met anyone so confident, so driven, so…fearless. But this wasn’t then.

Rowan put an end to the argument when he picked up the folder and headed for the hall. “James, the car is here.”

James didn’t follow. He still had a question to ask and this was the moment. When Addie finally looked up, he forced himself to speak. “The flier that came to the shop. Did you send it?”

“I remember researching your family, learning where you lived, but beyond that…” She spread her hands then let them fall. “I don’t know.”

“So, you did intend to give me to Neil.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why don’t you take the Final Formula and find out?” He struggled to rein in the anger, the pain. “Recovering your memory is what you wanted. All you wanted for the past three months.”

“That’s not what I want anymore. I don’t want to know what I was.”

“You think if you don’t know, it never happened?”

“No.”

“Then what?” His voice broke on the last syllable, and he swallowed, trying to hide the hurt. But she knew. She knew him better than anyone.

“I…I want to try again. Alchemy can be so much more. It shouldn’t be hoarded and hidden.”

He folded his arms and stared across the room, unable to look at her. She reached out and grabbed his wrist, and he just managed not to jump.

“Rowan’s giving me another chance. Won’t you?”

He didn’t dare look at her. He had to be strong. “You worked with necromancers.”

“Just one, and apparently, he’s stunted.”

He frowned, meeting her eyes at last. Was she joking with him? Now?

She pulled her hand from his wrist. “How do I make it right?”

“I don’t know.” He looked toward the hall, knowing that Rowan waited for him. “I need to go.”

“Here.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a pair of vials.

“What is it?”

“It’s the last of Rowan’s antidote. I can make more, but….”

“You’ll need his blood.”

“Yes.”

He took the vials. “I’ll give him these.”

“Thanks.”

Silence stretched and he couldn’t think of anything to say. He should leave.

“James?” she whispered.

“I need to go.”

She met his eyes, then nodded.

A dozen different responses ran through his mind, but he didn’t voice any of them. Instead, he settled for a nod and walked away. He’d reached the hall when he heard the front door open and close.

Rowan leaned against the wall a few yards away. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” James closed the distance between them. “You?”

“She fixed Era.” Rowan dodged the question.

“Yes, she did.” James offered him the vials. “The last of your remedy. She can make more, but she’ll need your blood.”

Rowan hesitated a moment, then took the vials. “Guess I better lay off the fire.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. That’s why you hired me.”

“I hired you to protect the others.”

“Consider it a perk.”

Rowan sighed and gave the empty foyer a final glance before clasping James’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

James nodded and followed Rowan toward the library where he heard Era’s voice followed by Donovan’s laughter. It still shocked him that Addie had cured her, but it had done little to ease the ache in his chest.

Afterword

The setting for this story does exist. There really are ruins of an old building in the forest off Buffalo Ridge Road, in southwestern Ohio. According to rumor, the decaying foundation is all that remains of a crematorium. Legends tell of dark rituals and human sacrifices that took place in this building, and the dense woods surrounding it.

As it turns out, the ruins are actually the remnant of an observatory that was started in the 1930s. The project fell victim to the Great Depression and was never completed. The legend of the Buffalo Ridge Crematorium has been debunked.

But I thought the crematorium made for a more interesting story.

Acknowledgments

This might be a short novella, but there were quite a few people who helped me make it a reality. I’d to thank:

My editor, Shelley Holloway, who is such a pleasure to work with. She actually makes grammar fun.

Glendon Haddix and the team at Streetlight Graphics for the cover art and formatting. I wish I’d had a novel to pair with this awesome cover.

My beta readers: Lindsay Buroker, Kendra Highley, and Kelly Crawley. Thank you for your help and your friendship.

And finally, my husband Scott, who beta read for me this time. I still think you enjoyed pointing out my typos a little too much, but I couldn’t do this without your support. You’re the man!

About the Author

Becca Andre lives in southern Ohio with her husband, two children, and an elderly Jack Russell Terrier. A love of science and math (yes, she’s weird like that), led to a career as a chemist where she blows things up far more infrequently than you’d expect. Other interests include: chocolate, hard rock, and slaying things on the Xbox. She also finds writing about herself in third person a bit strange.

For more on the world of the Final Formula, upcoming releases, and random ramblings, stop by
www.beccaandre.com
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