The Final Formula

by Becca Andre

  “Back of the house. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “You’re giving us twenty minutes to get ready?”

  Rowan glanced at this wristwatch. “Nineteen minutes.”

  He turned and headed back down the hall. “Hustle up.”

  With a growl, I stepped back into my room and slammed the door.

  Rowan’s gift didn’t improve my humor. Oh, the clothes fit well. Disturbingly well. I even approved of the black three-quarter-sleeve shirt. My problem lay with the red block letters emblazoned across the front that read “Flammable.”

  After a bit of exploring, I found the sunroom Rowan had mentioned. The man sat in a wicker chair reading a newspaper, the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined most of the back wall. Another wall displayed a series of black and white photos that looked like something from a museum gallery, but I didn’t stop to look. I marched across the room and stopped before him.

  “I suppose you think this is funny,” I said.

  He turned the page, but didn’t look up. “What’s that?” Sunlight caught on his hair, setting the dark red strands aglow.

  I crossed my arms. He knew exactly what I meant.

  After a moment of silence, he sighed and lowered his paper.

  I gestured at my shirt. “This.”

  His eyes dipped to the bold red letters across my chest and his lips quirked. “I find it more refreshing than funny.”

  “Hey, what’s up?” James asked, walking up behind me. I jumped in surprise. I hadn’t heard him enter.

  “I’m complimenting His Grace on his charming fashion sense.” I turned to face him.

  James glanced at my shirt and immediately rubbed his lower face. He wasn’t fooling me. He thought it funny, too. Apparently, Rowan didn’t pick on his magical guests. James wore jeans and a retro bowling shirt in dark green and black.

  The paper rattled and Rowan got to his feet. He looked more casual today in a beige pullover, though he still wore the dark slacks. I suspected Rowan wasn’t a jeans kind of guy.

  “Before this is over, I’m buying you a shirt,” I said.

  “What will it say?”

  A man in the now familiar black livery entered the room pushing a cart. He stopped beside a round table close to the glass wall and began unloading it. James moved closer to inspect the platters of sausage and eggs.

  “Well?” Rowan looked at me expectantly.

  “You’re a pompous ass.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” Rowan started for the table. “While you’re thinking of a slogan, let me share what I learned from the PIA.”

  “What?” I hurried after him.

  “I spoke to Director Waylon at the regional office downtown. He had no raids in Portsmouth yesterday—nor any the night the Alchemica burned.”

  “Damn.” Another dead end. I dropped into a seat while Rowan pulled out the chair beside mine.

  “I also asked who oversaw the Alchemica investigation, and Waylon thought him competent.”

  I looked up. “What did he say?”

  Rowan picked up the plate of sausages and selected a few. “It’s a man who’s been with the agency nearly a decade. Waylon has high confidence in him.”

  “Did you get his name?” I didn’t expect to know him, but maybe we could look the guy up, get his take on the investigation.

  Rowan passed the plate to James. “It’s an agent by the name of Robert Lawson.”

  “Lawson?” I hadn’t expected that.

  James looked up, his gaze meeting mine. He clearly remembered the name.

  “You know him?” Rowan asked.

  “He visited the shop a few days before the raid. He claimed to be registering my bullets. He’s also a Sensitive and nearly wet himself when he saw James.”

  James snorted.

  Rowan glanced between us. “What happened?”

  “Addie told him she used a potion on me,” James answered. “She made him focus on her.”

  “He was there to see me anyway.”

  “And he bought it?” Rowan asked.

  “I threw in a little blackmail. I let him know that I knew he was a Sensitive.”

  “And a few days, later the gun shop was raided.”

  “Are you implying the raid was my fault—because I learned his secret?”

  “They were there for you,” Rowan reminded me. “But I don’t think it’s because you learned his secret.”

  “Then why?”

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” He pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “Waylon needs to know about this agent’s involvement in both cases.”

  I leaned over and caught his wrist. “Wait.”

  Rowan looked up, his brows raised in question.

  “You blow the whistle, and we might lose him.”

  “Lose him? The PIA will have him.”

  “And I won’t.” I released his wrist.

  “Ah.” The corner of his mouth twisted. James was already grinning.

  “He gave me his card,” I continued. “He wanted me to come in for an interview. I think it’s time I obliged him—but I won’t be the one talking.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” Rowan said.

  “Yeah. I hope he doesn’t track me across the state and force me to come live with him.”

  James pressed a hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh.

  “It’s only until we straighten this out.” Rowan turned his attention to his breakfast. “You’re entirely too much trouble for an extended stay.”

  Chapter

  11

  I pressed the phone to my ear and drummed my fingers on Rowan’s desk, waiting for Agent Lawson to answer. Unlike Rowan’s office downtown, his office here at the manor contained a large mahogany desk. My pack lay on the polished surface between us, the front pocket open where I’d dug out Lawson’s card.

  “Lawson,” a male voice said in my ear.

  I jerked my attention back to the phone. “Addie.”

  A moment’s silence. “The little alchemist from Portsmouth.”

  I bit back a retort. “You wanted me to call,” I reminded him. “To set up an interview?”

  “Yes, I do, but I’m no longer in Portsmouth. I’m in Cincinnati. Can I—”

  “You’re in Cincinnati?” I glanced at Rowan. He straightened and leaned forward to brace his elbows on his desk. James stood beside me, listening as intently. “What a coincidence, so am I.”

  “You are?” Agent Lawson sounded surprised.

  “Yep. I’m available today if you’d like to meet somewhere.”

  “Today.” He seemed to think on it. “Would you hold a moment?”

  I could hear muffled movement in the background, and then silence.

  “Sounds like he left the room,” James said.

  I placed a hand over the receiver. “You can hear that?”

  He shrugged.

  “A shame you passed out after the shop blew. I didn’t have much luck eavesdropping on the two-dozen calls His Grace made on the way out of Portsmouth.”

  Rowan leaned back in his chair. “Hardly two dozen.” A corner of his mouth quirked.

  “You do know it’s dangerous to talk on the phone and drive? Or is that not a concern you have?”

  A rattle on the phone and Lawson came back on the line. “I’m really tied up with a stakeout, but maybe we could meet before—”

  “Stakeout?” I cut in. “Cool. Will you be sitting in a car, drinking bad coffee, and watching some nefarious alchemist roam the shadows?”

  He snorted. “You watch too many movies. It’s a nightclub.”

  I grunted. “Not an alchemist then.”

  “Actually.” He stopped.

  “Don’t leave me hanging, Agent Lawson. Anyone I know?”r />
  “That depends. You want to level with me?”

  “Level?”

  “Those bullets you make are the work of a master.”

  “I keep one chained in the basement.”

  “Now, Addie.”

  I bit my lip. I wanted in on this. If he tailed an alchemist, it might be someone I knew. Someone who could help shine some light on what happened to the Alchemica, and by extension, what happened to me. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to survive. My heart beat harder considering it. And if my growing suspicions were right, Lawson might be the guy to lead me to him.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said. “Let me tag along, and I’ll level with you.”

  “Tag along?”

  “If I’m who you think I am, I might be able to ID this guy.”

  Silence. I could almost hear the wheels turning.

  “Being a Sensitive isn’t going to help you get close to an alchemist.” A little blackmail never hurts.

  “All right,” Lawson said. “We’ll meet early, before he gets there. We can have a little chat first.”

  “Sounds good. Where and when?”

  “I could pick you up.”

  “This isn’t a date. Where and when?”

  He sighed and then rattled off the details. I wrote down the address and ended the call.

  “Well?” Rowan took the phone from me and returned it to the charging cradle.

  “Lawson is in town tailing an alchemist. That’s all I know. I’m going to meet him at a nightclub tonight.”

  Rowan propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his chin. “Did he say why he’s so interested in you?”

  “He knows that those bullets were made by a master. How is one of several questions I want answered.”

  “And are you going to level with him? If he insists on seeing your arms?”

  I’d already considered that. “I intend for him to see my arms, but he won’t see my tattoos.” I gestured at my pack where it lay on the desk between us. “Shall I show you?”

  “The cream?” James asked. He turned to Rowan. “It’s the coolest thing.”

  Rowan considered us both and then nodded.

  I turned and grinned at James. Finally, we were back in the chase to find some answers. “Want to take me dancing?”

  James returned my grin. “Sounds like fun.”

  My night out wasn’t going to be as much fun as I thought—not that I really thought it would be. I’m not a social butterfly; I’m an alchemist. Give me a beaker, a hot plate, and a few random ingredients, and I’m happy. Make me spend the evening at a nightclub, and well, a root canal is suddenly looking like a great alternative. But my social apathy wasn’t the problem tonight. It was the company I was forced to keep.

  We stopped across the street from the neon monstrosity that was our destination and observed a moment of silence.

  I cleared my throat. “An alchemist, an Element, and a grim walk into a bar…”

  “It’s a club,” James said.

  “Why do you get top billing?” Rowan asked.

  “It’s my joke,” I said.

  “What’s the punch line?”

  “Why do we need you again?”

  “That’s not all that funny.”

  I sighed and started across the street. Rowan, Lord of Flames and Wit. At least they give you Novocain with a root canal.

  “Quit fidgeting,” Rowan said as we stepped up on the curb.

  “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me have my vials.”

  “You don’t need them when you’re with me.”

  The egotistical— I took a deep breath and forced myself to hold my tongue.

  “Besides, where would you put them?” he continued.

  I released the breath I’d just taken. “I hate this. I feel naked.”

  “Without your potions or in that outfit?”

  I glared at him and kept walking. I wasn’t comfortable in these clothes, but Era had insisted. With Rowan’s help, she had found me suitable clothing for this outing. I’d suggested something sleeveless, but the open back and short skirt had been her idea. As we drew near the line outside the club, I could see that she was right. The young women, most with bare arms crossed against the chill, wore as little as I did.

  “You look good.” Rowan’s warm breath brushed against my ear. I jumped in surprise at his nearness. I’d been so intent on our surroundings that I hadn’t seen him lean down.

  He straightened. “Follow me.”

  He took the lead, and I frowned at his back. I couldn’t even exchange an eye roll with James; he was busy studying the crowd. Era had settled on the bad boy look for my sidekick. The distressed jeans and fitted black T-shirt suited him. More than one girl elbowed her neighbor as we passed. Well, the girls who weren’t watching Rowan. He wore black slacks and a black button-up shirt of some silky material. He’d rolled up the sleeves and left the buttons open at his throat, but even that attempt at casualness didn’t take away from his presence. The man moved through the crowd like he owned it, and no one challenged him. It wasn’t the clothing, and without the gray robes, no one knew his identity as Flame Lord. He commanded respect on attitude alone.

  Rowan led us straight to the front of the line. A mumbled word and a handshake with the bouncer, and we were through the doors and into the dark, bass-pumping atmosphere. I’d pointed out before we arrived that neither James nor I had any identification on us. I guess Rowan had been right about it not being a problem.

  He didn’t hesitate, but led us to the upper level in the back, overlooking the rest of the club. Lawson said he’d meet me here, but he wasn’t at any of the tables.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked Rowan.

  “No.” He pulled out a high-backed stool from the nearest table and held it for me. I let him help me into the chair. “I’ll send you a drink. What’ll you have?” He and James would be waiting at the bar while I met with Lawson.

  As always, the personal question threw me. What did I like to drink? Did I drink?

  “Addie?” Rowan prompted.

  “Surprise me.”

  He nodded and then he and James headed for the bar.

  I turned my attention to the crowd, looking for Lawson or his mystery alchemist. Fearing I’d give too much away, I hadn’t asked Lawson if he sought an Alchemica alchemist. If he did, I had no clue why he’d look in a place like this. Assuming my fellow alchemists were like me, this would be the last place they’d want to spend an evening.

  A waitress stopped at my table to deliver a drink in a long-stemmed glass. I took a tentative sip and smiled to myself. Not bad. I guess Rowan was better at selecting my drinks than my T-shirts.

  Low voices drew my attention to the next table, and the trio of young men gathered around it.

  “Seriously, man, it’s amazing,” a guy in a loud paisley shirt told his friend. He sat something down in front of him and I stared in surprise. A vial.

  “It’ll ramp you up,” Paisley said.

  His friend eyed the vial and licked his thin lips.

  “Brady tried it,” Paisley said, waving a hand toward the third young man. “Last weekend.”

  “Yeah, man,” Brady said. “It was a trip. Next pay day, I’m going to up the dosage.”

  “You felt the magic?” Thin Lips asked.

  Magic? I doubted that.

  “It was such a rush,” Brady agreed.

  Thin Lips picked up the vial, glancing around them. He caught me watching and got to his feet. A gesture, and he lead his companions away.

  I sighed and turned back to my drink. Nice. It seemed magic had even made its way into the recreational drugs. Or at least it was advertised as such. It probably wasn’t legitimate. No wonder alchemists had such a bad name. Anyone could mix some crap, call it a potion, and claim
to be an alchemist.

  I went back to scanning the crowd and noticed a few other vials trading hands in the darkness. This must have been what led Lawson to this place. I’d have to ask him…if he ever made an appearance.

  The skin crawled between my shoulder blades, and I twisted around to check behind me. The dim lighting left the cluster of couches along the back wall in shadow. I couldn’t pick out any particular person watching me, but between the darkness and the crowd, I couldn’t tell.

  Shaking off the sensation, I turned back to my drink. Lawson must be running late.

  I hadn’t worn a watch, so I didn’t know how long I sat there by myself. I’d eaten most of the peanuts in the bowl on the table and my third drink stood half empty when James returned. He sat his beer on the table and took a seat beside me.

  I glanced at his beverage, but decided not to tease him about being underage. “I think I’ve been stood up,” I said instead.

  “His loss. That’s a great look.”

  It took me moment to realize he referred to my clothes. I threw a peanut at him. He snapped it out of the air and popped it in his mouth.

  “Yeah, I can go work the corner when we’re through here.”

  “It’s not that bad. Hot, but tasteful.”

  “Thanks, but I’m a jeans and T-shirt gal.”

  “Or black robes. That concealing cream is awesome. You can’t see your tattoos at all.”

  I glanced down at my upper arms. The absence of my tattoos left me feeling even more naked—if that was possible.

  “Where’d Rowan go?” I wanted to tell him about my observations and see if he’d heard of any recreational drugs in the form of potions. Plus, I’d had about enough of this place. “I hope we’re leaving.”

  “It’s not a bad place.”

  Maybe to an eighteen year old. “Too noisy.” I nodded toward the dance floor. “And sweaty.”

  James laughed. “You sound like an old woman.”

  I chucked another peanut, which he caught and ate. “You could scoot closer to the bowl. You needn’t insult me to get some peanuts.”

  He smiled and leaned over to grab a handful. “What? You’re always telling me you’re older than me.”

  “Not old enough to be your mother.” I glanced toward the bar. “Oh, joy. Look who’s about to grace us with his presence.”