The Final Formula

by Becca Andre

  Voices carried from the direction of the elevator. I turned and ran across the room, stopping right before the foyer entrance. When I saw no one; I hurried toward the front door.

  “Hey!”

  I jumped and spun to find Doug walking out of the sitting room to my left. I guess the back hall must tie into it.

  “Hey,” I replied in an attempt to sound casual. I hoped my leaping pulse wasn’t visible in my throat.

  “What are you still doing here?” he asked, closing the distance between us. His eyes were blue again.

  I gripped Rowan’s phone, but my fictitious call would seem a weak excuse after all this time. “Restroom,” I answered. They had to have a public bathroom. I just hoped my current location supported the excuse. I didn’t actually know where the restrooms were.

  Doug eyed me a moment, and I began to fear my excuse had fallen flat.

  “You nearly jumped out of your shoes there.” He gave me a smug smile, a dimple forming in one cheek. He might have been handsome if he wasn’t such a jerk.

  “You startled me.”

  “I think we make you uneasy.” He raised his pale brows in question, but he didn’t look concerned. “You seemed…uncomfortable downstairs.”

  Rowan’s phone buzzed and I jumped again. Damn it. I needed to get out of here. I glanced at the screen. Nelson Funeral Parlor. Crap. Xander had read his caller ID and was returning the call.

  “You’re an ass,” I told Doug and turned toward the front door. I almost collided with Rowan.

  “Is my phone ringing?” he asked me, ignoring Doug completely.

  “Yes.” I slipped past him and out the front door.

  Rowan followed me outside, the front door slamming behind him. “Are you going to let me answer it?”

  I handed him the still buzzing phone. “It’s Xander. Tell him I accidentally butt-dialed him.”

  “You what?”

  “Hit a wrong button and called him.” I started down the front steps.

  Rowan answered his phone. He didn’t use the term butt-dial, but he did give Xander my excuse. While he tied up that loose end, I hurried around to my side of the car and got in. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  Rowan’s door opened and the car shifted as he sat down. “Any particular reason why you’re pranking the Deacon and cussing his son?”

  I opened my eyes and leaned forward. Rowan wasn’t smiling, but the glint in his eyes suggested amusement.

  “I might have found us a lead.”

  He pulled his door closed. “Go on.”

  I told him of the alchemy lab and directed him to the pictures I’d taken. He shuffled through the photos while I told my tale.

  “Do you think it’s Clarissa’s son?” I asked.

  “This is the clinic’s address.”

  “What?” I leaned over to see the last page of notes on Rowan’s screen. He’d zoomed in on the scrawled address.

  “Whoever this alchemist is, he’s connected to Clarissa,” Rowan said.

  “And he’s searching for Emil. May I try to call again?”

  Rowan passed me his phone without comment. My call went straight to voice mail.

  “He might have turned off his phone,” Rowan suggested when I told him.

  “Or they already have him.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  I considered that. How could I locate Emil in a city the size of Cincinnati? An idea forming, I met Rowan’s gaze. “I’m going to need a lab.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Do you want the Deacon to end up with the Final Formula?” I knew that would get Rowan’s attention more quickly than helping Emil.

  He slid his key in the ignition. “I didn’t think just anyone could brew a formula like that.”

  I scrolled back to the notes I’d photographed. “I think Xander already has someone who can brew it.”

  “His nephew’s a master alchemist?”

  “Possibly.” I frowned at the screen, trying to puzzle out what the man had been working on. If it was a formula, it wasn’t one I recognized. And that never happened.

  “Very well.” Rowan started the car. “On the way over, you can tell me why you needed to butt-dial the Deacon.”

  Chapter

  21

  “What do you think?” Rowan stepped aside so I could look into the fondue pot he’d been stirring. Not my choice of lab equipment, but this was Ginny’s lab. Rowan had taken me back to the clinic.

  I picked up a clean spatula and ran it across the thin layer of viscous liquid in the bottom of the pot. “Perfect.”

  “The potion or my technique?” He removed the pot from the water bath and set it on a folded hand towel.

  I bit my lip to keep my smile from escaping. “The potion, of course. I wouldn’t dare compliment you. If that head gets any bigger, it won’t fit in your hot little sports car.”

  “Ah, so you admit, the car is hot.” He twitched an eyebrow, his expression smug.

  I rolled my eyes and went back to gathering up the dirty glassware. Elemental distraction aside, I’d had a very productive afternoon. And to be truthful, Rowan’s presence in the lab turned out to be an asset rather than the hindrance I’d expected. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The man had been a scientist before the magic returned.

  The real shocker was how well we worked together. I didn’t expect a control freak like him to take instruction well, but he didn’t question a single request. Well, he did balk at the apron I insisted he wear. Though to be fair, I wanted to balk myself. Ginny’s frilly floral-print aprons were not what I’d call appropriate lab ware, but I had been kind enough to give Rowan the jewel tones instead of the pastel.

  Rowan stepped up to the sink beside me. “Let me do those. You go finish your fire hazard concoction.”

  I handed him the beaker brush. “Ooo, I like the name. Can I use it?”

  “You and your goofy potion names.”

  “Goofy? I happen to think they’re witty.”

  “Ah.” He leaned over and turned on the water. “That explains it.”

  Now who was being the witty one? “Have I mentioned how cute you look in your apron?”

  “It does bring out the color in my eyes.” He glanced over and his eyes flashed orange.

  “Yeah. Look for the positive.”

  He gave me a wink and returned to his washing.

  I let myself smile on the way back to the bench. When he wasn’t being an ass, Rowan could be a lot of fun. This morning’s adventure with the Deacon seemed to have left him in better spirits. It’d taken most of the drive to pry the full story from me, but I’d never seen the man laugh so hard.

  “You’ll give me a heads-up if I need to duck?” he asked over his shoulder. “It makes me a little nervous turning my back on you.”

  “Ha ha.” I gave the black smudge on the ceiling a guilty glance. “Thanks for the blood, by the way.”

  When I’d explained how I’d used the essence of his blood to blown up Ginny’s car, he’d actually offered a sample. Perhaps he wasn’t aware that blood alchemy was frowned on in some circles—okay, most circles.

  He shrugged one shoulder, but didn’t look back. “Just remember I opened a vein for you.”

  “You pricked your finger and these little beauties will come in handy the next time we’re cornered by zombies.” I selected one of my new Fire Hazard potions, rotating the glass vial in my fingers. Flecks of gold within the thick orange liquid caught the light, reminding me of Rowan’s eyes when they were on full glow. I’d designed this potion to ignite on impact. It wasn’t always easy to find an ignition source—as I’d learned firsthand.

  “You are gifted with explosives.” He set a clean beaker on the drying rack, clinking it against its neighbor.

  “You say the sweetest things, Y
our Grace.”

  He glanced over, but didn’t get to fire off a comeback before Ginny walked into the room, followed by James and Donovan. She’d gone to open the back door and let them in.

  “Your Grace. Let me do that.” Ginny hurried to his side.

  “Now, now.” I carried a few more beakers to the sink. “He volunteered to be my assistant. I’d hate to deny him the full experience.” I nudged him with my shoulder, careful not to knock the beaker he held out of his hands.

  He didn’t comment, but I did catch the curl of his lips. Ginny stared at me.

  “But thank you,” Rowan said to her. He turned his attention to James and Donovan. “Did you get everything?”

  “What are you wearing?” Donovan asked, his booming laugh following.

  James put a hand over his mouth, but mirth still gleamed in his eyes.

  Rowan gave them both a dark look, but continued scrubbing the beaker he held.

  “Don’t pick on my assistant, Don. He’s rather handy at the bench. I’m thinking of apprenticing him.”

  James snorted, and this time, I got Rowan’s annoyed look. “What? Look at that glassware. It’s spotless.”

  The corner of Rowan’s mouth crooked, but he didn’t answer me. “Well?” he asked Donovan.

  “One compass and the invitation to the Alchemica.” Donovan placed both items on the bench before me. “Now what are you two up to? Rowan is perfectly aware that he doesn’t need a compass with me around.”

  “Is that a survivalist thing or an Earth Element thing?” I asked.

  “Both.” Donovan raised his bushy brows at Rowan, but it was James who answered.

  “Addie’s trying to locate…Emil?”

  “Very good.” I picked up the invitation and handed it to him. “All I need is the signature.”

  James nodded. “Powder or liquid?”

  “Powder. Rowan spent a lot of time getting the viscosity of the foundation just right.”

  James grunted and then got to work without further questions. Rowan had done well, but it was nice to have a trained apprentice at my side. Though still a beginner, James had the potential to be a skilled alchemist someday.

  “Why are you searching for Emil?” Donovan asked. “Didn’t you get his number?”

  I glanced at Rowan, surprised he hadn’t told them more in the texts they’d exchanged. “He’s not answering his phone. I fear he may have been abducted.” I spent the next ten minutes explaining what I’d found in the lab at the funeral home. I skimmed over my misadventure beneath the casket, highlighting instead the photos of Emil.

  “What did Xander say?” Donovan asked Rowan when I finished my tale. “Do you think he’s involved?”

  “No,” I answered for Rowan. “I overheard him speaking to his son. He wanted to know what Clarissa and her son were up to.”

  James coughed. “Do I want to know how you managed all this snooping and spying?”

  “It’s an amusing tale,” Rowan said.

  “How’s the signature coming?” I asked James, attempting to cut off that story.

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he turned his attention back to the crucible that held the well-charred scrap of paper. “Almost done.”

  Rowan cleared his throat.

  “Don’t you have some dishes to wash?” I reminded him.

  He met my gaze, a glint in his gray eyes, and to my complete surprise, wordlessly returned to the sink.

  “You run a tight ship, little alchemist.” Donovan smiled, deep laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “No dawdling for the apprentices.”

  “That’s right. No idleness in my lab.” I set the compass before him. “Disassemble that for me?”

  Donovan chuckled, but set right to work.

  An hour later, I held the modified compass in my hand and waited for the needle to hold steady. After a moment, it did. “That way.” I pointed to the south wall of Ginny’s lab. The late afternoon sun glinted off the half-dozen prisms suspended by fishing twine in the window.

  “I don’t guess you know how far.” Rowan stood at the bench beside me, eying the compass.

  “No, just the direction.” I set the compass on the bench top and began to replace the glass face Donovan had removed earlier. Protecting the alchemically treated needle would preserve its effectiveness and extend the life of the gadget by days. I just hoped it wouldn’t take that long to find Emil.

  “It’s still amazing.” Donovan sat on a stool beside my bench. “Could you track one of us if we went AWOL?”

  “Sure.” I kept my eyes on my work.

  “But you’d need our signature?”

  “Not necessarily. Just something uniquely yours.”

  “A thread from a recently worn article of clothing or a strand of your hair,” James said. He picked up the ring stand and carried it to the cabinet where they’d been stored.

  “You can even use an ingredient that represents the attribute you wish to embody in the potion,” I added. “I might toss in a pinch of dirt if I sought an Earth Element.”

  “From where?” Donovan asked. “The composition of dirt can vary dramatically.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I looked up at him. “It’s part of the magic, not the chemistry. That’s why I added Emil’s signature last. We refer to them as quintessent or quint ingredients. Think of it as blueberries in pancake batter, chocolate chips in cookie dough.”

  “Remind me not to eat your cooking,” Rowan muttered.

  “Fascinating,” Donovan said. “What about Rowan?”

  I glanced at the man standing beside me. His brows rose, awaiting my answer. “A lit match.”

  “Of course.” Donovan chuckled. “Cora?”

  “A few drops of purified water.”

  “Why purified?”

  “She doesn’t strike me as a tap water kind of gal.”

  Donovan laughed, hands braced on his thighs. “Good point.”

  “Era,” Rowan said, no longer smiling.

  My breath caught. It was clear what he was thinking. I forced myself to continue, keeping my tone light. “A piece of fabric from a recently flown kite.”

  “But you used direct representations of our elements,” Donovan said.

  “I can’t toss in a handful of air.”

  “A balloon?”

  “The air is captive. To me, Era is a free spirit.” I shrugged, not sure I could explain it. Alchemy wasn’t always logical. I turned back to the compass and finished tightening the ring securing the glass cover. My hands shook a little, clinking the ring against the glass before I lined it up.

  “So, you could have found her for us—before she was damaged,” Rowan said.

  I looked up, meeting his eyes. My chest tightened at the pain I saw reflected there. “Yes.”

  He released a breath. “May I see the compass?”

  I laid the compass in his palm. The needle swung around wildly, never stopping in one place.

  “It’s keyed to you,” Rowan said.

  “It’s my formula.”

  Rowan looked up, a frown shadowing his eyes. “How is that possible when you have no magic?”

  “The power of the mind. Alchemists are optimists. We believe that anything is possible. My formulas do not fail.” I held his gaze and put all my conviction into my words. “That’s why master alchemists are rare.”

  “And why she drives you crazy.” Donovan chuckled and rose to his feet. “Self-doubt is a concept foreign to her—much like a certain Fire Element I know.”

  “But the compass doesn’t work now,” Rowan said.

  “It works fine—if you trust it to guide you.” I continued to hold his gaze.

  James stopped beside Rowan and plucked the compass from his hand. The needle immediately stilled, pointing south once more.

 
; “Works fine.” James gave me a grin.

  The two Elements were frowning.

  “Come on, guys,” I said. “You’re New Magic. You should get this. Magic is a belief-based phenomena.”

  The two men stood silent a moment, considering this.

  “If it’s belief-based, would another alchemist’s formula work on you?” Rowan asked.

  “That depends on my estimation of their skill, and my confidence in my ability to break free.”

  “So alchemy is all about perception?” Donovan asked.

  “Yes and no. It’s still bottled magic, but you can counter it a little if you have the knowledge and conviction.”

  “I see.” Rowan took the compass back and once again balanced it on his palm. The needle’s movements slowed until it steadied, pointing south once more.

  I looked up into those unusual gray eyes. “You believe me.”

  He smiled and my knees went weak. If James and Donovan hadn’t been present, I would have hugged him. Instead I just accepted the compass when he passed it back to me.

  “Shall we go find your Grand Master?” he asked.

  Still shocked by his faith in me, I could only nod.

  Chapter

  22

  “That’s it?” James asked, glancing from the pub to the compass I held. “We spent the last hour chasing a compass needle because your Grand Master wouldn’t answer his phone, and we find him in a bar?”

  I eyed the weathered establishment before us. “So it would seem.” We’d circled the block to make sure.

  “Only one way to find out.” Rowan started forward, giving James and me no choice but to follow. Donovan had gone to find a place to park his big green Suburban. The narrow streets here in Covington, Kentucky made it tough to find a spot.

  On the crowded sidewalk, I had to dodge a witch, a cowboy, and a guy dressed as what appeared to be a zombie. I did a double take to make certain it was a costume. Tonight being the Saturday before Halloween, it seemed everyone was getting into the holiday spirit. Little kids might dress up and go door-to-door, but here the adults liked to dress up and go pub-to-pub.

  Rowan opened the front door and held it for me. I hesitated on the threshold, surprised by the crowd inside. Apparently, we’d found another destination on the pub crawl.