The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (14 page)

“Crap.” Should I call someone? With what? The building didn’t have a phone, but I could try the convenience store on the corner.

Get a grip, Ad. She said she’d see me at dinner. She was probably just going to drive around to blow off steam.

I walked back in the lab and stopped beside my bench. Between Ian’s work last night and mine today, we’d completed the formulas on my list. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to discover it was after noon. Ian had yet to return and that concerned me.

He’d had plenty of time to deliver the salve and sell a few more of his antique books. He should have been back hours ago. Perhaps he’d found a new clothing store—the man was obsessed with his wardrobe—or maybe another necromancer had found him. That gave me a chill. Ian was powerful, but he was still dead. He could be controlled.

My concern growing, I locked up the shop and walked to the corner convenience store. It turned out that they did have a pay phone, and I was able to call a cab. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I could afford a short trip.

Ten minutes later, I stepped beneath the arch at Greenlawn Cemetery. Snow had blanketed the grounds, leaving several inches atop the hundreds of headstones and lining the branches of the leafless trees. Several sets of tracks, both canine and human, disturbed the fresh powder on the twisting road through the cemetery, but my tracks were the first to break the snow leading up to Ian’s mausoleum. That told me nothing about Ian—he didn’t need to travel by foot—but it did reassure me that no one else had been here.

Inside the mausoleum, I found the sarcophagus that hid the stairs to the crypt open. I made a mental note to have Ian close it. Without him here to guard the place, any brave soul could walk in and steal his treasures. Perhaps we should clean it out entirely.

I flicked on my flashlight and descended the stairs. The first room felt deserted without the warm glow of the wall sconces. I couldn’t tell if any more books had been taken—by Ian or anyone else. Moving on, I walked to the second chamber, but the room’s only furnishings were the stout wooden tables and the empty shelves.

“Ian?” My voice echoed off the hand-fitted stone that lined the walls.

I swung my flashlight around the room, more to check that we’d gotten all the equipment than expecting an answer from him. I moved my flashlight beam along the shelves until I came to the final set. The shelves that contained the heart jars. I didn’t want to look, but I should. I couldn’t let myself forget what Ian was.

The yellow beam of light swept across those shelves and I sucked in a breath. They were empty.

Chapter
10

I
stared at the shelf where the hearts had been. Had Ian taken them, or had they been found by someone else? The sarcophagus was open in the next room. Anyone could walk down here.

A soft thump echoed through the chamber, and I whirled toward the hall. I stood still, hardly daring to breathe as I listened. The sound came again, and I released a shaky breath. The old metal door must be moving in the wind. I hadn’t bothered to secure it before coming downstairs.

“Addie?”

A scream escaped as I spun in the opposite direction, the beam of my flashlight catching on Ian’s face.

He blinked in the light and raised his hands in surrender. “Easy.”

I realized I held a vial of alchemical mustard gas ready to smash at his feet.

“Shit, Ian. Don’t
do
that!”

His fair brows rose. “I merely came looking for you.”

I ran a shaking hand over my face, trying to get control of my breathing. “How about not appearing two feet behind me and whispering my name?”

“It was more than two feet and I didn’t whisper.”

“Ian.” I dropped my hand to frown at him. “Admit it. You love doing that.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” A smile dimpled his cheeks.

“By the way, I told Era you were gay, so you can stop flirting with her.”

“Shall I flirt with His Grace instead?”

I shook my head and turned toward the first room. What did it take to rattle the guy?

“May I ask what you’re doing here?” he followed me into the hall.

“Looking for you,” I answered over my shoulder. “Where have you been?”

“I delivered your salve, then met with the book dealer. He was able to sell
Frankenstein
for thirty-nine hundred dollars.”

I stopped on the area rug and turned to face him. “Seriously?”

“It wasn’t a first edition. And a little worn. One of my favorites, I’m afraid.”

I snorted. “Did you admire Dr. Frankenstein?”

“His approach to necromancy was unique.” Ian shrugged. “After I sold the book, I procured a couple of those mechanical pipetters you mentioned.”

“Okay. Good.” I really needed to catalogue what he had down here. “And by the way, you need to keep the sarcophagus closed, or we should move the rest of the books out of here.”

“Considering your penchant for losing labs in fiery explosions, they’re probably safest here.” He raised his head, looking up the stairs. A low rumble of stone on stone echoed down from above.

I took an involuntary step back, recognizing the sound. The vaults upstairs were sliding open. “Ian?”

“You didn’t expect me to do the lifting, did you? I just acquired this coat.” He smoothed the lapels of the brocade smoking jacket he wore. Where he found such things, I had no idea.

Moans and shuffles echoed down the stairs as the mausoleum’s occupants rose from their graves.

“Must they be so noisy?”

“Reanimating that which once lived causes…echoes of that life. To muffle it requires that I give more of myself, and I hardly see the point of the trouble.”

I looked up, noting that his blue eyes had faded to nearly white. “Is it taxing?”

“The opposite, in truth.”

I studied him as the zombies upstairs shuffled and moaned. “It feels good?”

His pale eyes left the stairs to focus on me. “A necromancer possesses an abundance of life. To keep it inside is painful…and dangerous.”

“Dangerous? To whom?”

“Himself. The Deacon wanted me sane, so he buried me here, among my family.”

Stone ground against stone as his family shifted the lid of the sarcophagus into place.

“I didn’t think you felt pain—or anything else.”

“It is not a true physical sensation, though those in life perceive it to be.”

I decided not to ask. Though his words did offer some enlightenment. Necromancers were often referred to as crazy or going crazy. Perhaps there was more to it. I thought of Neil’s mother, Clarissa. She’d been completely nuts. I also thought of something she’d said.

“Neil’s mother once told me he was stunted, that he couldn’t touch his necromantic power.”

“That’s true. That’s also why he was so obsessed with finding the Elixir of Life.”

“Then why hasn’t he gone crazy?”

“There are ways around it. One is alchemy, another is possession.”

“Possession?”

“By the spirits of the dead.”

“Ghosts?”

“Yes. Feeding on the soul of the living gives them energy to sustain their existence—and gives the stunted necromancer a way to bleed off the excess.”

“Have you ever—”

“No.” He snapped the word, surprising me. “It’s an abomination.”

Huh. “So there are some things even necromancers won’t do.”

“Very few.” The corner of his mouth rose. I had yet to truly insult the guy. I’d begun to think it impossible.

“So, what’s wrong with being ghost chow?”

Ian’s smirk became a genuine smile. “There is always the possibility of a powerful spirit making the possession of a weaker person permanent. Even the weak spirits can imbue some of their personality onto their host, though the effects gradually fade.”

“Yet faced with insanity, I can see where it might appeal—”

“No. It is only for the weak.”

His strong feelings surprised me. “So that leaves the stunted necromancer with alchemy. How can that help?”

The sarcophagus lid slid across the opening, gradually blocking the light filtering down through the decaying roof of the mausoleum. The rectangle of light grew smaller and smaller.

“There are potions to numb the call.”

“The call?”

Ian’s white eyes shifted to me. “Of the dead.”

I know death when it calls me
. I remembered Doug’s words and shivered.

“And then there is the legend of the Elixir of Life.”

The lid slid closed, casting us into darkness—except for my flashlight—and leaving me completely at Ian’s mercy.

“But no one ever found the Formula.”

“Until you.”

“I have access to things those old alchemists didn’t.” Like the blood of an Element. “I’m sure there have been some very talented alchemists over the course of history. Take Paracelsus for example. He was supposed to have found the azoth.” The universal cure all—or that’s what the layman called it. Within modern alchemical teachings, it was referred to as the universal ingredient. How cool would that be? An ingredient that would take the characteristics of the designer’s choosing. I’d love to have a flask of that sitting around the lab.

“There are stories among my kind, all but gone now, but faint whispers still existed when I was a young man. Stories of how he used his formulas to command the dead. He could even open a doorway into their world.”

“Like you can.” I studied his expression in the beam of my flashlight. “And you could do that before you died?”

“Yes.”

I remembered Xander claiming that such an ability was a myth. “Go on.”

“Those stories inspired me to delve into alchemy, though the study was well past its heyday even in my time.”

“But you could already command the dead and open doorways. You weren’t stunted. Why study alchemy?”

“The lure of immortality, of course. That’s the reason every alchemist gets started in the field—well, every alchemist except you.”

I’d only been out to prove myself the best and find the Final Formula first. Immortality hadn’t entered into it. “How do
you
know that?”

“I’ve heard stories about you for years. Neil was very pleased to have found you. He even went so far as to imply that you were a descendant of some great alchemist.”

“Really?” Now here was an area of my past I wouldn’t mind learning more about. Who was I before the Alchemica? “Did you believe him?”

“Neil is a stunted necromancer who repeatedly left himself open to possession. Granted, there are truths to be learned, but there are also a lot of lies. No one ever claimed spirits were honest—the opposite, usually.”

“But…” I drew out the word.

“You have no trouble traveling the land of the dead.”

“But I made myself immortal via the Formula. Who’s to say that my ancestry had anything to do with it?”

“The very fact that you found the Formula.”

Ian had opened the portal. “Come.” He offered his arm, knowing that I wouldn’t want to hold his icy hand.

“I’d like to learn more.” I took his arm, the silk fabric smooth and cool against my hand.

Ian led me through to our lab and the portal winked out, a gust of warm air stirring the curtain to the storage room behind us.

“Do you know—” The words died in my mouth as Rowan stepped through the door from the front room.

Rowan stopped in front of us, his gray eyes shifting from me to Ian and back again. My heart pounded so fast that a wave of dizziness passed over me. Had Rowan seen the portal?

“Why didn’t you answer me?” he demanded.

“I—” His words sunk in. “What?”

“You didn’t answer when I knocked, so I let myself in. I called out three times.”

“Oh. I…was in the back.” I had to release Ian’s arm to wave at the curtain. “What do you need?”

Rowan gave us a frown. “The staff said that Era gave you a ride here this morning.”

“She did, but she left around noon. Why? What’s wrong?”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

I glanced at the clock. It was almost three. My stomach knotted. Rowan’s eyes met mine and for the first time since I met him, he looked a lot closer to his true age. Yes, Era had only been gone three hours. She was probably fine, just pouting. But after what happened to her before, Rowan needed to do something now.

“I’ll find her,” I said. “I just need a compass and something of hers.”

“Donovan is bringing those now.”

Ian grunted. “The scrying potion?” He lifted his pale brows in question, the interest clear on his face. “I’ve been wanting to learn more about that.”

Rowan’s frown deepened and without another word, he turned and started for the door.

“She’s like a daughter to him,” I whispered. We stood in silence, and I heard the front door open and close. I swallowed. I’d been the last one to see Era, and now she was gone. If something happened to her on my watch, he’d never forgive me.

“What do you need me to do?” Ian asked.

I forced my mind back on task. “Let me make you a list.”

Donovan arrived half an hour later with the compass and Era’s hairbrush. The foundation for the formula was finished, so all I had to do was add the hair and apply the formula to the compass needle.

“I’m coming with you,” I told Donovan as he replaced the glass covering the face of the compass.

“You’d better grab a coat,” he said without looking up. “The wind has picked up.”

I went to get my coat, pausing to stick my head in the back room where Ian was sorting through the massive antique armoire he’d found to hold his wardrobe.

“Hey, I’m leaving. Will you lock up?”

“Yes.” He lifted a dark suit with tails, clearly admiring it.

“Going somewhere?”

He looked up and something in his eyes made me regret the glib words.

“Thanks for the help today,” I added.

He returned the suit to the armoire before he faced me. “Stay alert out there. The world is not a kind place.”

“I noticed.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile and returned to Donovan. He stood waiting for me, the completed compass resting on the counter.

“Ready, little alchemist?”

I gave him a nod and picked up the compass, then followed him outside where his big green SUV waited at the curb.

“We’ll swing by the Offices and pick up Rowan and James.”

“What are they doing there?”

“Rowan had an afternoon meeting with Waylon.”

“The PIA director?” I guess Rowan’s job didn’t stop, even when a member of his family was missing. “What did he want?”

“I think he had the ballistic results back from the last murder.”

“Oh. Okay.” I climbed in the front seat and reached for my belt.

Donovan slid in behind the wheel. “Something wrong?”

“The shorter list is what isn’t.”

“So, what isn’t?”

“You’re still nice to me.”

“I assume you’re not upset about Cora being mean to you.”

I snorted. “Uh, no. That’s just the status quo.”

“Then…”

I opted for honesty. “It hurts, you know? My best friend and…whatever the hell Rowan and I were.” Lovers qualified, but I’d hoped to be more than that.

Donovan didn’t start the engine, instead he rested his arms atop the steering wheel and looked over at me. “They still care,” he said. “Both of them.”