by Becca Andre
George’s good mood baffled me. This couldn’t be an investigation—on him or me. He might be personally pleased to see me arrested, but he’d be pissed to lose my financial input to the shop’s coffers.
“These bullets are impressive,” Lawson said. “Where were you trained?”
“I last attended Master Boris’s Alchemical Academy on Ninth Street.” I saw no reason to lie—no reason to tell the truth either.
“Boris Tuppins is no master. Before he decided to try his hand at alchemy, he taught chemistry at a Kentucky high school. He’s never set foot inside the Alchemica.”
It seemed Lawson had done his homework. “Master or not, that’s where I last attended an alchemy class.”
“That surprises me. While we were registering this shop’s bullets, analysis suggested they might be the work of a Master.”
And now his presence, and George’s creepy smiles, made sense. Purveyors of magical items had to register their wares with the PIA. If the PIA gave their stamp of approval, you could advertise as such. In other words, the PIA agreed that the magic was safe and did as you claimed—and prices tended to adjust accordingly. George could probably double his profits.
“The formula is mine,” I said.
Lawson frowned. “But you’re not old enough.”
“Old enough? Were you expecting an Alchemica Master?” I smiled, trying to make it a joke. “I thought they were all dead.”
“There were no records on the numbers attending the Alchemica, so it is possible a few survived.” Lawson drew a card from the inside of his coat and offered it to me. “I’d like to learn the name of the man who taught you alchemy.”
Man? Was he looking for a male alchemist? I took the rectangle of crisp white cardstock. It contained only a name, Robert A. Lawson, and phone number in black ink. The number had a Cincinnati area code.
The front door of the shop opened with an electronic chime. “Addie?” James saw Lawson and started toward us.
“Shit,” Lawson muttered and in one smooth move, drew his gun.
Shocked, I could only watch as he trained it on James.
“Whoa!” George threw up his hands and to my total astonishment, stepped between Agent Lawson and James.
I hurried around the counter and caught Lawson’s arm. “Wait!”
He glanced over, his pupils huge, and I pulled my hand away. Crap. The man was a Sensitive. I’d heard rumors that the PIA hired them to sniff out those who failed to register their magic. But why point a gun at…
I connected the dots. James was magical. The confrontation in the alley took on a whole new light. I needed to think fast, or James was going to get some unwanted attention. Though Lawson’s reaction seemed a little over the top.
“I guess my Hunter’s Prowess potion is a success.” I created the title on the fly then lowered my voice. “Especially if a Sensitive is picking up on it at this distance.”
Lawson stiffened then lowered the gun. It looked like his sensitivity was a secret. His eyes swung in my direction, and I offered an innocent smile.
“What do you think, Agent Lawson?”
“I think I’d like you to come in for an interview, Miss Addie.” His voice dropped. “You appear to be a talented young lady.”
“And underappreciated.”
“Hmm.” He studied James for a moment longer before he tucked the gun away. “You can do that,” he nudged his chin in James’s direction, “with a potion?”
“I can do a lot of things with a potion.” I met his gaze and held it. That’s right buddy, focus right here. Ignore the boy.
“The potion will need to be registered.”
“When it’s perfected, it will be. Just as we registered the bullets.” I waved a hand toward the counter where George had bagged up his order.
He continued to look me over as he picked up his purchases. “I’ll be expecting your call.” He turned toward the door.
That was it? No interrogation? No preliminary formula? He really hadn’t come looking for me.
“Mr. Huntsman.” Lawson nodded at George. James took a step back to let him pass, but held his stare without flinching.
Lawson pushed open the front door, the chime interrupting the silence in the shop. A silence that didn’t return once the door closed.
“What the hell are you doing?” George turned on James. “Didn’t you listen to Henry?”
“A PIA agent came looking for Addie and you didn’t tell me?” James closed the distance with angry strides.
“You were supposed to stay in the house.” George jabbed a finger toward the front door. I still couldn’t believe he’d put himself in harm’s way for James.
“I covered it,” I spoke up. “Agent Lawson thinks I used a potion on him.”
“How’d you know?” George turned on his brother and grabbed him by the shirt. “Did you tell her?”
“No one told me anything. Come on, I’m an alchemist. I bottle magic for a living.”
“You made that agent focus on you.” James glanced at me then dropped his gaze to the floor. “What if he’d taken you in?”
“Why would he?” George released James with a small shove. “You’re the one he wants.”
I ignored George and kept my attention on James. He frowned, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t expect him to be so shy about this magical ability of his.
“But what about the interview?” James asked the floor. When I didn’t immediately respond, he looked up.
I shrugged and hoped it didn’t look as stiff as it felt. I no intention of going for a little tête-à-tête with Agent Lawson, but I didn’t want to discuss that in front of George.
“I don’t trust him,” James said.
“Nor should you,” I said. “He’s PIA.”
“And that means what?” George demanded. “You got a problem with authority?”
It took me a moment to gather my wits. “You make and sell magic bullets, and you’re defending the PIA? Do you want them to regulate every move you make?”
“We are fully sanctioned by the PIA.” George took a step toward me. “I don’t want to hear anything out of that smart mouth of yours. If I do, you’ll be out on your counterfeit ass.”
“The ass is legit.”
George fisted his hands, and the cords in his neck stood out in stark relief. Not overly tall, but packed with muscle, George made an imposing figure. I doubted he had any qualms about striking a woman. I should probably shut up.
“As for the PIA,” I began.
“Addie’s not going to discuss them in this household.” James stepped between George and me. Taller than his brother, James had the lean, athletic build typical of his eighteen years. George made him look like a malnourished child. “Isn’t that right?” James asked me.
Whatever James’s magical talents, I knew he wouldn’t stand up to George as he had Henry. I couldn’t let my sidekick get pummeled for my inability to shut up. “Yeah, sure.” I clamped my jaw closed to prevent further elaboration on the subject.
“She better not.” George glared at me.
I managed to stop an eyeroll. I needed to get out of here. “You want to go for that drive?” I asked James.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
“You love birds got a hot date?” George snorted and eyed James. “Where do you take an alchemist?”
“The cemetery,” I answered before James could. I grinned at George’s scowl and patted James on the shoulder. “You pack the shovel?”
“And I remembered the crowbar this time.”
I might be a bad influence.
Chapter
3
James parked in the municipal lot across the street from the Alchemica and shut off the engine. Neither of us spoke as we stared through the windshield at my former home. Night had fallen, but several streetlights and
a nearly full moon provided enough illumination. Surrounded by a chain-link fence and Do Not Enter signs, the Alchemica looked like a construction site. Only the crumbling shell of the three-story building remained. I stared at the rubble, looking for something I remembered. Maybe it was the destruction, but I didn’t recognize a thing.
“You okay?” James asked.
I picked up one of the flashlights he’d brought and put it in my jacket pocket. “Let’s take a closer look.” I opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit lot.
We hadn’t talked much on the two-hour drive from Portsmouth to Cincinnati. The agent’s reaction to James had clearly bothered him. He’d spent the trip twiddling with the radio, rather than talking with me. I didn’t mind. Preoccupied with our destination, I’d watched the Ohio farmland slide past my window, lost in my own concerns. Would the ruins of my former home awaken any new memories, or would this prove to be a wasted trip?
With James at my side, I started across the street. Behind a clump of bushes, we found a gap under the chain-link. James slid beneath the fence with ease, and I hurried to follow. Small stones ground into my stomach, and the fence snagged my jacket, but I managed to wiggle through. Between the moon and the streetlights, I didn’t need to pull out my flashlight.
“I don’t think it’s safe,” James said.
“What? Exploring a burned-out building in the dark? Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“A little caution is a good thing.”
I blew him a raspberry before picking my way through the ruin of a fallen wall.
“Looks like the explosion was on this side of the building,” James said.
I agreed. On the other end of the building, the stone outer walls still stood. Here, that wasn’t the case. With cleanup already begun, I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like the walls had been blown outward. Had the Elements been inside? Odd. If I were going to burn down the place, I’d do it from outside. It’d be easier to avoid falling chunks of roof and smoke inhalation.
I climbed down into the debris field that had once been an auditorium or gym. In places, I could see sections of hardwood floor. Careful of my footing in the low light, I threaded my way around man-sized chunks of cement and twisted I-beams.
“I’m no expert,” I said, hopping across a foot-deep pothole, “but this seems like a bad location to take out the building.” I gestured toward the rest of the structure. “It didn’t take down very much.”
James cleared the pothole in one long stride. “Maybe the building wasn’t the target. A room like this would be a good place for gatherings.”
“Good point.” I remembered nothing, of course. At the time, I’d been in my bed waiting for my head to explode. Had there been an assembly that evening? Had the Elements heard about it and decided to take us all out? Why? We’d co-existed for over a decade and a half. What had changed?
We reached an archway that might have supported double doors, and stepped through to a concrete floor. The fire had destroyed everything that would burn, leaving a cavernous space open to the night sky above.
I crossed my arms and followed James through the blackened rubble. Ash rose in a cloud around our feet, occasionally drifting high enough to tickle my nose. I searched for something familiar, but found nothing I recognized. Nothing. If I hadn’t retrieved those few memories, I would believe the tattoos on my arms were fakes.
“Look. There’s a basement.” James turned right and picked his way to a square hole and a set of cement steps that disappeared into darkness. Without further comment, he pulled out his flashlight and started down. For someone who’d been hesitant about coming in here, he had overcome his reservations. Give him a leather coat and a fedora, and he’d be all set.
I pulled out my flashlight and followed.
The basement had survived the blaze better than the upper floors, possibly because of the block walls. A door-lined hallway stretched before me, and for the first time, my memory stirred. I stopped to analyze the feeling.
“Addie?” James halted a few feet away, his voice pitched low.
“The labs were down here,” I whispered.
“You remember something?”
“Maybe.”
Heat had warped the metal doors lining the hall. Most hung askew, hinges broken and painted metal surfaces gorged by prying tools. We weren’t the first to find this place.
I chose a room at random and walked inside. Three rows of black graphite benches occupied the space. I ran a hand over the pitted surface. I could almost smell the reagents and hear the excited chatter of the apprentices. Shelves lined the walls, most empty or piled with worthless clutter. Nothing of value remained, but that didn’t upset me. I’d been right; I’d been here before. I hurried out to try another room.
I was close, so close. Terrified the sensation would slip away, I ran from room to room searching for something I knew. Had one of these labs been mine? Would I know it if I saw it? I searched quickly, my anxiety driving me.
“Addie, slow down,” James called.
I ignored him and sprinted toward the last room I’d yet to explore: the one at the end of the hall. I pushed on the door, but found it jammed. I took a step back and threw my weight against it. The door resisted, then broke free without warning. I tripped and fell forward, landing hard on my hands and knees. The force knocked the flashlight from my hand, and it rolled to a stop a foot away. A shower of dust fell through the beam of light.
“Addie! Move!”
A deafening pop sounded overhead. I snatched up my flashlight and swung it toward the ceiling. Dust fell from above, and I lifted a hand to shield my eyes. Through my fingers, I watched a wide support beam bow toward me, cracks radiating across the plaster ceiling.
I tried to regain my feet, but the marble-sized debris beneath my shoes sent me back to the floor. I skidded a few feet on my knees and bumped into James, having almost slid between his spread legs. He grunted and metal screeched overhead. I looked up and forgot to breathe.
James had caught the beam. He held it suspended over his head, the cords in his neck bulging with the effort.
Chunks of ceiling fell around us, but all I could do was stare.
“Go,” he growled—literally growled. The sound rumbled deep in his throat and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I shoved myself to my feet once more and stumbled past him. Somehow I dodged the large chunks of cement falling around me, and reached the door.
I looked back in time to see James hurl the beam back into the room. He ran for the door and had almost reached me when a hunk of rebar-spiked concrete crashed into his shoulder with a crunch and a splatter of blood.
“James!” Only a foot away, I reached for him, but he shoved me back with a snarl. The force knocked me out into the hall where I landed hard on my butt and slid halfway to the stairs.
I swung my flashlight back toward the room. Dust billowed out, shrouding the hallway in a gritty haze, but I could see well enough to know that James hadn’t made it out. I scrambled to my feet, ready to go back for him when he stumbled through the doorway. He staggered a couple of steps before dropping to a knee. His jacket gaped open revealing a crimson stain on his white T-shirt.
I swallowed, trying to force my heart out of my throat and hurried back to him. “You’re bleeding.” I started to kneel beside him.
“Stay back!” He snapped the words, and I hesitated. When he raised his head to glare at me, I froze. His eyes glowed like green lamps in the darkness. “Did you get any blood on you?”
I swallowed. “N-no, just a few bruises.”
“Not your blood, mine.” The fury in his voice made me take a step back. “Did I get any on you?”
“I, I don’t think so.”
“Check. Now.” He started to rise, but caught himself and dropped back to his knee. “You’re not checking.”
“Your ey
es. They’re glowing.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the glow had dimmed. “Check, Addie. Please hurry.”
“Why?”
He rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “I’m cursed. My blood is cursed.”
I had to strain to hear his soft words. “Cursed?”
“It’s poisonous.” He looked up. “It’s been long enough. If I’d gotten any on you, you’d be dead.”
“That fast?” I couldn’t believe that. No poison worked that fast. Not on absorption.
“Yes, that fast.” He took another breath and it shook. He wasn’t mad; he was scared. “Go upstairs where the light is better and check your clothes. There’s a duffle bag in the car if you need to change. Take what you need and bring me the bag.”
“You’re still bleeding.”
“Please go check. I’ll take care of this.”
“I could probably find some rubber gloves. I’m used to dealing with toxic substances.”
“No. Please go.”
He looked so miserable that I gave in and started for the stairs.
Once outside the chain-link, I walked a short distance along the fence and stopped beneath a streetlight to examine my clothes. All clean. Well, not clean, just not blood splattered. Dust and soot covered nearly every inch of me. I leaned over to brush my thigh and caught a glimpse of the back of my hand. Four drops of crimson lay drying on my dirty skin.
I stilled, half-expecting… What? It was just blood. James had exaggerated. It wasn’t as lethal as he thought. I squatted and rubbed the back of my hand in the grass. No need to upset him.
I retrieved the duffle bag from the car and jogged back toward the gap in the fence. Maybe I should have stayed with him. What if he didn’t get the bleeding stopped? If he passed out, I’d never get him out of that basement. I couldn’t even call for help. Neither of us had a cell phone.
Movement drew my attention, and I looked back. A man sat on his haunches beneath the streetlight I’d stopped beside earlier. I’d almost reached the gap under the fence, but I slowed my pace to watch. What was he doing? He braced his hands wide and leaned over to press his face to the ground. His tongue snaked out and licked the grass—in the same place I’d cleaned my hand.
