The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) (21 page)

She just stared at me.

“He won’t have to look at you and remember,” I whispered.

She rose to her feet and walked over to the laboratory bench, keeping her back to me. “He never pushed me away, even in the beginning, before the reconstructive surgeries. It took me a while to figure it out. I don’t think he wants to forget.”

I stood up, but didn’t join her. “Hasn’t he punished himself enough?”

“That’s not why he remembers.” She turned to face me. “I made him see early on that he was not to blame. His magic was wild and uncontrollable.”

“So you are a touchstone for his control.”

“Yes. And I’m okay with that. The world needs him, Addie. What’s a few scars to that?”

I wondered just how deeply she loved him. Deep enough that she wanted to repair the rift between him and me. Deep enough that she’d prefer to remain scarred and keep him tied to her.

“Are you refusing the Formula?” I asked.

“For now.” She gave me that smile and a shrug. “I don’t guess you understand and I’m not sure I can explain it.”

“No, I get it.” I closed the distance between us and took her hand. “But I think you’re selling him short. He knows what’s at stake.” How his people looked up to him. How Xander would seize power if he could. Rowan maintained the balance of power in the city. But I couldn’t let Lydia off the hook that easily. “He’d want you to take the Formula. He’d want you to be whole.”

“Whole.” A wistful note entered her voice, but I didn’t think it had to do with her scars.

“Think about it.” I gave her hand a squeeze and released it. “Meanwhile we can fill some pens.”

“Sounds good.”

Rowan arrived half an hour later, and he brought donuts. Or that’s what I assumed the white cardboard box contained.

“How about a break?” Rowan asked, walking toward the couch Lydia and I had occupied earlier.

“Are those donuts?” I asked.

“Pastries.”

I arched an eyebrow at Lydia. He had to be doing this for her…unless he felt guilty about our argument this morning.

“Those little cream-filled pastries from Tipton’s Bakery,” Rowan added.

“Rowan!” Lydia laughed. “Those things add pounds just by looking at them.”

I leaned toward her until our shoulders touched. “Another perk of the Formula,” I whispered. At least, I assumed it was. Judging by the old photos Neil had given me, I’d been fat once.

“A tempting argument.” She bumped my shoulder with hers.

“You’ve spent just a few hours in each other’s company, and already you’re whispering.” Rowan set the box on the low table in front of the couch. “Is it a girl thing?”

“Yes.” Lydia laid down the injection pen she’d just finished filling and walked to the sink to wash up.

“We can’t tell you more, or we’d be forced to kill you.” I joined Lydia at the sink.

“Which would be a shame,” Lydia said.

“Truly. Bumping off the pastry delivery guy is always a bad move.”

Rowan sat down on the couch and pulled the box closer to open it. If he had a comment, he kept it to himself.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Lydia asked when we joined him. She took the lone chair by the window on the opposite side of the table, leaving me to share the couch with Rowan.

“No occasion. I was in the area. I knew you liked them, and Addie has never had them.”

“In the area?” Lydia laughed and leaned over to select a pastry. “Where did you go for lunch?”

“I had an errand to run.”

“Ah.” She scooted back in her chair. “Lucky us.” She gave me a wink.

I grinned and picked up a pastry of my own. A thick layer of fluffy white cream lay sandwiched between a split pastry so light that it left a trail of fine flakes in its wake. I took a bite, and the powdered sugar puffed up my nose and dusted my shirt—but I no longer cared.

“Oh. My. God.” I said around a mouthful of heaven.

Lydia laughed. “Incredible, huh?”

I made the appropriate sound of agreement. Wow. If the old bakery building I worked in had been in competition with this place, it was no surprise that they’d closed their doors. Silence reigned while Lydia and I scarfed down our confections.

“Aren’t you going to have one?” Lydia asked Rowan.

“He’s already had two,” I said before he could answer.

“Oh, really?” He leaned back against the couch, laying an arm across the top. “And how did you come to such a conclusion?”

“There are a few crumbs on your coat and only eleven pastries in the box.”

“But wouldn’t that make only one missing?” Lydia asked.

“A local, family-owned bakery would sell a baker’s dozen: thirteen. It’s good business.”

Lydia looked at Rowan. “Is she right?”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth rose.

“Nice detective work,” Lydia said to me.

“He also has a little powdered sugar on his chin.”

Rowan straightened and rubbed a hand across his lower face.

“Psych.” I grinned. “You should know better. You already checked yourself in the rearview mirror.”

He dropped his hand and smiled in earnest. “And how would you know that?”

“What’s that, Mr. Never-a-hair-out-of-place?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glint of movement among the snow-dusted tree branches beyond the window. A bird? Before I could decide, Lydia stood to get another pastry and blocked my view.

“You know, Rowan—” Lydia didn’t finish, and a loud pop echoed around the room. She stumbled forward and fell against the table. Had she tripped?

“Lydia?” I rose to my feet to help her when Rowan jerked me down behind the table where he now crouched.

“Stay down!” He caught Lydia by the arm and pulled her to him, then kept backing until he’d pulled her over behind the laboratory bench. “She’s been shot.”

Ice seeped into my veins and I glanced at the window. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from a single hole in the center of the pane.

I jumped to my feet, not caring that I made myself a target, and ran to the counter where we’d been working earlier. I snatched up one of the completed pens and ran back to where Rowan knelt on the floor, cradling Lydia against him.

“Hang on, Lydie. Addie will fix you.” He looked up as I dropped beside them. Anxiety etched his features, and fire burned in his eyes as it rode his emotions.

“I know,” Lydia whispered, her cheek against his shirt. “I told you, Roe. She’s amazing.”

I jerked the cap off the end of the auto-injector. Not wanting to waste time pulling up her sleeve, I stuck the pen in the side of her neck, close to where the neck met the shoulder. I depressed the plunger, injecting the antidote. Once empty, I pulled out the needle. Blood immediately welled, marking the hole I’d just made.

“Lydia?” Rowan asked.

She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest, doubling over.

My own heart pounded as she began to thrash in his arms.

He held her tighter, taking the abuse. “Addie, do something!” Panic colored his tone and fire colored his eyes.

I held up the pen. I had done something. I had—

Lydia stopped thrashing and simply went limp.

“Lydia!” Rowan lowered her to the floor and caught her face between his palms. Her poor damaged face that had seen so many surgeries. He pushed back her turtleneck and pressed his fingers to the heavily scarred flesh of her throat. “Oh, God, no.” He cupped her face in his hands once more. “Lydia.”

I just stared at them, unable to understand, or unwilling to. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t breathe.

Rowan looked up and his orange eyes met mine. “Why didn’t it work?” His voice broke on the last word, and he stopped to swallow.

I rose to my feet.

“Why didn’t it work?” Anger began to replace the confusion.

I struggled to understand. The antidote. He was talking about the antidote. It didn’t work.

Something clattered to the floor, and I realized that the empty pen had fallen from my numb fingers.

The antidote had failed. Another formula had failed. Like the compass and the burn salve, only this time someone had died. Lydia had died.

A strangled sob escaped my throat, and I turned and ran. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stand there looking at what my bullet had done, what my antidote had failed to do. I couldn’t bear to watch Rowan mourn the only piece of his family he had left—and blame me for it.

Chapter
16

I
ran down the hall and slammed my hands against the door release without stopping. Cold air hit me in the face, freezing the tears on my cheeks. The door exited on the side of the building, and to my left, a small open yard gaped between me and the wooded area visible from Lydia’s lab.

I skidded to a stop, slipping on the icy sidewalk. The trees. I’d seen movement in the trees. Rage replaced my despair in a single heartbeat. Was it Frank Liles, the lich Lydia had mimicked at the last murder scene? That sick bastard was killing the magical with my bullets. I remembered the hole in the window and how Lydia rose to her feet at just that moment. Had Rowan been the intended target?

All logical thought left me, and I wanted only one thing: that murdering bastard’s throat in my grip. I ran for the trees, consumed with the lust for another’s blood. The emotion was so pure, so all encompassing, that I actually laughed. A saner part of me knew I was staring death in the face, but what did it matter? I had nothing. I’d lost my best friend, my lover, and now, my alchemy. There was really nothing left to lose.

I made it to the trees without being shot and slowed my pace. I needed to think, to plan, or I’d never get to bathe in any blood except my own.

The snow wasn’t as deep beneath the trees, the canopy of branches having caught a good bit of it. I didn’t see any tracks, but the snow-covered leaf litter made it hard to judge.

I started forward, looking for signs as I wove my way between the trees. Head down, I stepped carefully around fallen logs and bushes. I glanced at the back of the Institute and tried to triangulate the shooter’s position. I moved a little deeper into the trees, glancing back often.

“Hunting for something, alchemist?” a familiar voice asked.

I gasped and turned as Henry Huntsman stepped out from behind the nearest tree, his white and tan camo blending perfectly with the snow-covered leaves. A scoped rifle hung from one shoulder. I recognized the make—and the caliber bullet it took.

“You!” I launched myself at Henry with the sole intent of scraping out his eyes. I managed to make contact with one cheek before he could lunge to the side. He didn’t try to escape, but came back at me. His hand closed around my throat, lifting me from the ground and slamming me against the tree he’d just stepped around. My head thumped against the unyielding wood and pain splintered my skull. The world darkened around the edges.

Henry trailed his fingers over his bloodied cheek. “You dumb bitch,” he whispered, stepping closer.

“Henry.” George materialized out of the trees a few yards away, Brian at his shoulder. Both wore the same camo Henry sported. And both carried rifles.

“You fucking bastards.” I choked around Henry’s grip on my throat.

“Bring her.” George waved Brian forward, and he stepped up to give Henry a hand, grinning at me as he did. Abruptly, he straightened and brought the rifle to his shoulder, aiming back through the trees—toward the Institute.

All three of them went still, then I heard it.

“Addie?” Rowan’s voice carried across the snow-dampened grounds. A pause, then a door slammed.

“He went back inside,” Brian said.

“Unlike
some
people, he’s not stupid enough to run out here.” Henry grinned at me.

“He’ll probably sneak out the back, like he did at that clinic,” Brian said. Rowan had managed to catch him that time. “Shall I circle around and take him out?”

“No.” The word came out on a shallow breath, and I tried to swallow around Henry’s grip on my throat. “Whatever you want. I’ll get it.”

George moved closer. Hazel eyes narrow and calculating, he glanced between me and where Brian stood, awaiting his command.

I considered the things he could want and settled on the obvious answer. “The Final Formula. The Elixir of Life. I’ll brew it for you. All of you.”

George’s eyes narrowed further. “You know it?”

“It’s my formula, dumbass. Neil stole it from me.” I ran out of air and stopped with a wheeze.

“He said your memory had been wiped. The amnesia.”

“And you believed him?”

George raised his arm, and I expected a slap, but he gripped Henry’s wrist instead. “Release her.”

Henry did as told, and I slumped against the tree, drawing deep breaths through my nose.

“So
you
can brew us this formula.” George studied me with an eerie detachment that made my skin crawl.

“Then we don’t need that necromantic fuck,” Henry said.

“What about the Element?” Brian still stood ready, glancing between George and the building.

“I don’t understand why you’re trying to kill him,” I said. Would it help Rowan if I told them that I needed the blood of an Element for the Formula?

“The pompous ass sent the police after us. The
human
police. Like we’re just some common thugs.” Henry answered.

“You’re pissed because he didn’t recognize you as magical?”

“We’re Hunters. They write fucking myths about guys like us.”

Somehow, I managed to hold my tongue on that one. So, they’d tracked Rowan down because he offended them. Lydia had just been an accident. The realization made me sick.

“Besides,” Henry continued, “there are three other Elements.”

My breath caught. They knew.

“True.” Brian gave George a hopeful look.

“Why does Neil need Element blood?” George asked me, his gaze calculating.

I hesitated, not wanting to give him too much information. I could launch into a discussion of prima materia, the first matter, and how it corresponded with the classical elements.

“Is it because they’re already immortal?” George asked.

Okay, so much for withholding that information.

“We already have that,” Henry said.

“Or we did.” George frowned at me.

“James,” I whispered.

“Would that work?” Henry asked. “Could you use our brother’s blood?”

I remained silent, not sure which answer would be the most helpful—or harmful.

George pulled a cell phone from his pocket and offered it to me. “Call him to us.”

I hesitated. Give them James or give them Rowan?

“Brian get ready to—” George said.

I swallowed and took the phone. James would survive the ordeal. Probably. I opened the phone. It took three attempts, but I managed to dial his number.

“It’s me,” I said by way of introduction.

“Addie?” James asked.

I closed my eyes in relief. Hot tears slid down my cheek.

“Addie, what’s wrong?”

“James, I need you.” I couldn’t manage much more than a whisper, but knew he’d have no trouble hearing me. “Rowan’s in danger. We’re at the Institute. Come to me. Quick.”