The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (12 page)

BOOK: The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2)
3.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Sorry,” he muttered, though he didn’t attempt to regain his feet.

My arm still around his waist, I guided him toward the bank. Breathing hurt and my extremities were numb. I wanted to collapse, but I had to get Rowan—and me—out of the water. I slipped and slid up onto the bank, managing to pull Rowan partially out of the water, but I couldn’t seem to get any further. Without the buoyancy of the water, he was one heavy guy.

“Rowan, help me,” I said between gritted teeth.

He heard my request and surged up the bank. The sudden move surprised me, and I stumbled backward, pulling Rowan with me. A thick water maple stopped my progress, but before I could get my balance, Rowan collided with me. I ended up sitting at the base of the tree with Rowan slumped against me.

The family we’d helped from the river was picking their way along the bank toward us. The current hadn’t been strong, but it had pushed us downstream.

The family stopped a short distance away, seeming uncertain about coming closer.

“Is, is he…” The woman stared at Rowan.

“Really tired,” I answered.

“The Flame Lord,” she finished.

I glanced up at the now distant bridge, noticing more cars and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.

“Your little girl is bleeding,” I said. “Perhaps you should get her checked out.”

“Let me help you up there?” the man offered. He sounded calmer, but his eyes were nearly as wide as the woman’s and his gaze kept returning to Rowan.

“Just send down a few blankets,” I suggested. “I forgot the beach towels.”

The man blinked. Maybe he wasn’t ready for humor yet.

“Go on,” I encouraged them. To my relief, they went.

I held Rowan against me and watched their progress up the bank. When I glanced at the bridge again, I noticed that the emergency vehicles weren’t the only new arrivals. A news van was parking along the verge.

“Oh shit.” I struggled to strip off my wet hoodie—not an easy feat with a tree at my back and a two-hundred-pound man leaning against me. I finally slipped the wet material from my arms, hardly noticing the wind against my bare skin. That was probably a bad sign.

Rowan mumbled something when I draped the cold fabric over his head.

“The news is here. Keep your head down.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, laying a hand on his head to keep the jacket in place.

He made another sound and struggled to raise his head. In the shadow of my hood, his eyes still glowed.

“And work on banking the embers,” I said. “If I do manage to spin a plausible lie, no one is going to believe it.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his forehead resting against my collarbone. “Shit,” he breathed.

“I said that already.”

He raised his head again, and I was relieved to see the fire absent from his eyes. Though the blood on his lip bothered me.

“Rowan—”

“You’re wearing a tank top.” He looked surprised.

“The rest of the ensemble is on your head.” I looked down, and if I hadn’t been succumbing to hypothermia, I would have blushed. The thin white cotton clung to me like a second skin, and the wet and the cold were having the expected effect.


Just
a tank top,” he said.

“It was Era’s idea. No bra straps.”

He looked up, his skin pale, blood and exhaustion lining his face, and yet that smirk appeared on his mouth. God, he had a great mouth.

Movement beyond his shoulder caught my attention, and I saw the news crew heading down—ahead of the EMTs. The cameraman kept slipping, almost falling on more than one occasion. He must already be filming.

“Can we discuss my clothing choices later?” I asked. “We’re about to have company—and they have a camera.”

“Take back the jacket.” He reached for it, but I caught his arm.

“No. You’re not going to reveal yourself.” If the world knew his face, he’d never have any privacy. And crazy people with magic bullets could find him more easily.

“You’re not going to reveal yourself either.” The words came out as a growl and then he started to cough.

His reaction surprised me, but I didn’t get to comment as he continued to cough. “Hey, are you okay?”

A few more wet hacks and he managed to stop. I caught a glimpse of blood on his lips before he slumped against me once more.

“Rowan!” I whispered his name, not sure how sensitive that camera was. But the crew was still struggling through the brush lining the river so I had a few moments.

Damn it. What could I do? If I let them pack us off to a hospital, I could find a phone or a cab and get word to Ian. He could whip up a batch of Rowan’s remedy while I played some sort of damage control. But first, I had to stop this camera crew from getting a good look at Rowan.

To my surprise, they hung back and let the two EMTs approach. The two young men hurried to us. One dropped to his knees in the mud while the other shook out a blanket.

“Any injuries?” the man kneeling beside us asked.

“Just cold and tired,” I answered honestly. I was surprised that the cold didn’t affect me more. Maybe my rapid healing helped in this situation as well.

“We need to get you to the ambulance,” the young man continued. “Can you walk?”

“Probably.” I kept my voice low, hoping the camera crew couldn’t hear. I didn’t like them seeing Rowan so weak.

“Give her a blanket,” Rowan said, his voice muffled by my jacket—and exhaustion. “My brother will be here shortly.”

“It’s under thirty degrees, sir, and you’re both soaked to the bone. You need—”

Rowan started to raise his head, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him against me.

“A blanket would be great,” I said, holding the EMT’s gaze.

“…that alchemist,” I heard one of the camera crew comment to another. I guess they’d noticed my tattoos.

“Her lips and nails are blue,” the EMT said to Rowan, ignoring me. I had to give him credit. He knew which card to play.

Rowan tried to move again, but I tightened my hold. “We need to lose the prying eyes first.”

The EMT looked up at the camera crew. “I don’t think we can do anything about that, ma’am.”

I wiggled until I could pull a vial from my pocket. “Throw this at them.” I offered him the vial, and he pulled back his hand, his eyes widening. I almost laughed.

“Is that a threat, Ms. Daulton?”

I looked up, realizing the reporter had addressed me. She moved closer, the cameraman and the sound guy following.

“That depends on what’s in the vial,” I told her.

Rowan braced a hand on the tree above my shoulder and managed to push himself up. He caught my wrist with the opposite hand. My jacket still covered his head and his back was to the reporter, but the EMTs could see him. Of course, they didn’t have cameras.

I met his gray eyes, and caught amusement within the exhaustion.

“Yes?” I said to him.

“Closer,” he whispered, his eyes flickering in the direction of the reporter.

I frowned. Did he intend to ash the camera? He wasn’t up to that. Blood still stained the corner of his mouth.

The vial I held was just some amyl acetate Lydia had given me. An ingredient I planned to use in an upcoming potion, but one that offered nothing in this situation. Alchemically, I was helpless.

“Aw, come on,” I complained. “The effect is temporary.”

Rowan plucked the vial from my fingers. “No.”

“You’re no fun.” I leaned up, closer to his ear. “Don’t,” I whispered, too soft for the reporter to hear. “Let me up. I’ll tackle the guy and chuck the camera in the river.”

“No,” Rowan repeated, his expression serious now.

The reporter moved closer, though her crew hung back a little.

“Please don’t come any closer, ma’am,” the EMT said. “We need to get them to the ambulance. Unless you wish to assist. They just saved a family of three. I think that deserves a little privacy.”

“I like him,” I whispered to Rowan.

“We’re not hindering you,” the reporter answered.

“You’re agitating the patients,” the EMT replied.

“A shame none of this will make the news,” I said.

Rowan bowed his head and closed his eyes. I glanced up at the reporter, gauging the distance. A drop of blood slid off Rowan’s lip and splattered against my tank top.

 

Chapter
9

I
had to stop him. Rowan had already done more than he should. Another use of his power could be his last. If I just had some Extinguishing Dust…

I fisted my hand against the ground. Hell, there wasn’t even any dust, just mud.

The cameraman had hung back, maybe for a better angle, but he moved closer now, almost in range of Rowan’s power. No, that wasn’t accurate. The cameraman had been in range the whole time, but for Rowan to distinguish between him and the camera, he needed to be within about ten feet. I dug my fingers into the soft earth. I had to stop this.

An idea forming, I fisted a handful of mud and smeared it across Rowan’s face. He gasped, his eyes snapping open to give me a full view of his glowing orange irises. I caught the edge of my wet jacket and pulled the fabric over his face, rolling to the side as I did so. I staggered to my feet, annoyed by how much my chilled muscles had stiffened. Mud gripped in my fist, I ran at the cameraman. Unfortunately, he eluded me easily.

“She’s crazy,” the reporter exclaimed.

I ignored her, closing with the cameraman once more. Being an alchemist, I often had to defend myself by throwing a vial, and I found I was pretty accurate. I didn’t want to speculate on any practice I’d gotten before I lost my memory. Then, too, my potions had a wider dispersal area than a mud ball.

I pulled my arm back and threw. The cameraman saw it coming, but his reaction time wasn’t that good through a viewfinder. A good portion of the mud splattered across the lens.

“Damn it!” He pulled the camera from his shoulder. I considered jerking it from his hands, but a low growl pulled me up short. A warm mass settled against my hip and the reporter screamed.

I twined my fingers in the shaggy black fur of the hellhound standing beside me.

“You may go now,” I told the news crew.

James snarled and my chilled skin pebbled further. The news crew turned and ran.

“W-wish I could do that,” I muttered against chattering teeth.

James bumped me with his shoulder.

“Ma’am?” the EMT prompted.

When I turned to face him, he offered a blanket, though his eyes kept drifting to James.

“Thank you.” I took the blanket, but fumbled it as I tried to wrap it around my shoulders. To my surprise, the young man moved closer to help me. Most reacted like the news crew when faced with James’s hellhound form.

James walked toward Rowan. My hoodie still shadowed Rowan’s face, but I could make out the smear of mud on one cheek, and his frown.

“What…is that?” the EMT asked, his eyes on James. His friend just stared.

“A hellhound,” I answered. “He’ll take us home.” James could take us back to the manor via his hell dimension. Ian and I had frequently saved cab fare traveling that way.

James stood quietly while Rowan used him to climb to his feet.

“You’re sure?” the EMT asked. His silent friend offered Rowan a blanket, then moved over beside his buddy.

“Yes. Thank you.” I offered my hand. “I’m Addie. Addie Daulton.”

“I know.” He took my hand. “Kevin Shaffer. And God, you’re freezing.”

“Yes, I am.” I hobbled over to where James and Rowan waited. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Kevin Shaffer nodded and then led his silent friend away.

I followed James and Rowan around to the back of the tree, using the bulk to hide us from the crowd on the distant bridge.

Rowan let go of James and slumped against the tree. “What the hell was that?” he asked me.

“No Extinguishing Dust, so I used mud.”

Rowan frowned at me so I turned to James. “You want to open the portal?” I tried to pull my blanket closer with my numb hands.

“I can’t go through there,” Rowan said, his words slurred.

“Your Grace, I’m—” The new voice stopped with a gasp, and I looked up to find Gerald standing a few yards away. Like James, Gerald could teleport anywhere, though he used wormholes instead of crossing the land of the dead. Gerald was New Magic, and Rowan often used his talent to move around the city unseen.

Gerald raised both hands and took a hasty step back. He glanced over his shoulder like he intended to run.

“Gerald, wait.” I bumped James with my hip. “Change,” I whispered.

Gerald and James hadn’t gotten along so well on their first meeting. I suspected Gerald still had nightmares about that.

James became human, squatting on the ground beside me. “Get a grip, man. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You need to get Rowan to the manor, Gerald.” I drew the man’s attention to me. “Move! Before he succumbs to hypothermia.”

Gerald blinked then seemed to truly notice Rowan slumped against the tree. “Your Grace!” He hurried to Rowan’s side.

“Wait!” James called.

Rowan and Gerald vanished.

“Shit!” James smacked his bare thigh with his hand. “You need to go, too.”

“So, take me with you. Hell sounds nice and toasty at the moment.”

James looked up. “Addie, you can’t. The living cannot travel through the land of the dead.”

“I’m not supposed to be able to touch your blood, either. I’ll be fine, James. Trust me.”

He frowned and I realized what I’d said. After my betrayal, that was the last thing he’d want to do.

James became the hellhound and a dark portal opened beside us. He leapt through, his form changing as he entered the darkness. One clawed hand reached out, catching the edge of the portal before it could shimmer closed. No matter how many times I saw it, James’s true form—as he called it—always gave me chills. Human and hellhound merged into one was a terrifying sight.

You’d better be right.
James’s voice echoed out of the portal: a menacing snarl formed into words.

“I am.” I walked toward him.

What did you find, little brother?
Gavin, the other grim who shared James’s hell dimension, whispered in the darkness.
Ah, it’s her.
He drew out the pronoun.

My feet came to a halt of their own accord.

Back off
. James snarled. He turned back to face me, those familiar eyes meeting mine.
He won’t touch you.

A sense of déjà vu washed over me. Not the nose-bleeding, memory-returning sort that my mind-raping Grand Master had left me with, but the more common feeling that I’d done this before, back when James had often come to my defense.

I stepped into the portal, ducking beneath James’s arm, and a delicious wave of heat washed over me. “God, that feels good.”

The portal shimmered closed behind us, and we plunged into near darkness.

Other books

Los Oceanos de Venus by Isaac Asimov
Ruin Me Please by Nichole Matthews
Eoin Miller 02 - Old Gold by Stringer, Jay
Walking with Abel by Anna Badkhen
Housebound Dogs by Paula Kephart
A Memory of Love by Bertrice Small
Uncharted Stars by Andre Norton