The Final Formula (25 page)

I took his hand and let him help me into the sarcophagus. The stairs below the first two were rough-hewn rock. Fitted stone of the same variety lined the walls. The floor might have been more of the same, but I couldn’t see it for the dark red area rug.

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared in awe—or at least, I did. Bookcases lined two of the walls, their shelves loaded. I couldn’t be certain in the dim light, but they looked like hardbound volumes from centuries past. No cheap paperbacks or glossy dust jackets. A pair of wingback chairs sat in one corner, a table between them. The candle sat flickering next to an open volume, but whoever had been reading wasn’t in the room.

I took a step forward and then another, my tread muffled by the thick carpet.

Rowan’s hand settled on the small of my back, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Get the candle,” he whispered.

I looked back and saw why. The stairs had descended along one wall, but beneath them stood an arched doorway. The candlelight reached no more than a foot into the blackness.

I did as asked, glancing at the open book on the table. It appeared to be an old medical book. Dense text covered one page while the other presented a rather graphic illustration of an amputation. Great. Like I needed to see that at this moment.

I snatched up the candle in its old-fashioned metal holder and hurried back to where Rowan waited for me at the doorway. I let him take the candle, keeping my hands free to fling a potion if necessary.

The hallway, or should I say, tunnel, pressed close. The arched ceiling cleared Rowan’s head by inches and the walls brushed his shoulders in spots. Tight spaces had never bothered me before, but this did. I couldn’t seem to draw a breath deep enough.

Rowan’s body blocked most of the light, throwing the room we’d just left into darkness. I rested a hand on his waist, reassuring myself with his nearness, and tried not to think about my exposed back—or the fact that I’d never hear anyone approach across that thick carpet.

Rowan stopped and I bumped into him. Before I could apologize, something scraped across the stone floor behind me. I whirled and pressed my back against Rowan’s, struggling to find the zipper on my fanny pack as I strained to see in the darkness behind me.

“Addie?” he whispered, half turning toward me. The light of his candle illuminated the empty corridor behind me, but it didn’t reach far into the room beyond. Dim light from the mausoleum filtered down the open stairwell, revealing a room of dark shapes and shadows.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m being a weenie.” I belied my light tone by pressing against his side.

His arm slid around my shoulders. “It’s okay. This was all part of my plan, remember?”

I looked up and caught a grin in the flickering light. “Scaring me into your arms?”

The grin became a smile. “Seems to be working.”

“Yes, it does.”

He studied me for one long moment, his expression growing more serious. His eyes kindled, and like me, he glanced back up the hall to the other room. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Thanks. Nothing like having my fears confirmed.”

“You feel it, too?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and then stepped sideways, pulling me forward into another chamber. He held the candle aloft, revealing a space of similar size to the last room, but not as well decorated. Here the stone floor and walls were unadorned. The light didn’t reach the far wall, but it did illuminate a table to our right.

“Oh, wow.” Forgetting my fear, I moved closer. The table held an assortment of alchemical equipment. I stared in wonder at the alembic and assorted glassware. A small cauldron sat on an iron tripod with an unlit Sterno burner beneath. Archaic, but functional, though I had to wonder about a practitioner who heated chemicals in such an enclosed space.

“Alchemy?” Rowan asked.

“Yeah. Really old school. This equipment is incredible. I could be wrong, but I don’t think they’re reproductions.”

Rowan grunted and moved on down the wall, taking the light with him. I guess he wasn’t impressed.

I started to turn away and noticed a stack of paper near the far end of the table. Moving closer, I discovered notes written on the top page. I couldn’t read it in the dimness, so I picked it up and stuffed it in my jacket pocket. Taking another alchemist’s notes gave me a twinge of conscience, but the idea of learning more about him overrode my scruples. Who did alchemy in a hidden room beneath a mausoleum?

“Addie?” Rowan’s voice pulled me from my musings. He stood by the back wall, his light illuminating a series of shelves. Most held extra glassware and jars of what appeared to be ingredients. Curious, I moved closer. You could learn a lot about an alchemist from his ingredient shelf.

“What do you make of this?” Rowan whispered. He moved the candle closer to a group of wide-mouth glass jars. Each filled with a liquid and…something else.

Not wanting to look, but knowing he expected me to, I stepped up beside him. A piece of meat floated in each jar. No, not meat. “Organs,” I whispered.

“Hearts,” Rowan said. “They’re all hearts.”

I swallowed. He was right.

“Blood alchemy?” he asked.

I looked up. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes. Why do you look surprised?”

“You gave me your blood.”

“It made sense to use it in your potion. Besides, I trust you.”

Warmth suffused my body, and I turned my attention back to the jars to hide my blush. “Given the lab equipment and ingredients, you might be right. This does look like blood alchemy.” I didn’t admit it, but I could think of a dozen applications for the ingredient before me.

Something moved within a jar. A flicker of light upon the glass? I leaned in closer. The movement came again and I jerked back with a gasp.

“It moved!” I pointed a shaking finger at the jar.

Rowan moved the candle closer and leaned in for a look. He pulled back an instant later. “Shit.” He looked back at me. “This isn’t blood alchemy. It’s—”

A low growl filled the chamber.

I turned toward the doorway, squinting my eyes to better see in the dim glow of Rowan’s candle. A dark canine shape stepped from the shadows. For a second, I thought it was James, and then I noticed the white patches. The animal stepped farther into the room, and I realized it wasn’t white fur, it was bone. It looked up and its filmed-over dead eyes met mine.

“Necromancy,” I finished for Rowan. I stumbled back and my butt bumped the table, causing the glassware to chime. Without warning, the zombie dog went up in a flash of flame. I closed my eyes, but it was already too late to save my night vision.

Snarls echoed around the room and Rowan shouted. I whirled in time to see two more dogs pull him down from behind. The candle hit the floor with a metallic clatter and winked out.

Chapter
26

R
owan cried out again, this
time in pain. In total darkness, I felt for my fanny pack and dug out a foam-insulated case. My fumbling fingers found the two vials stored inside: my newly designed Fire Hazard potions. I pulled out a vial without dropping it and stopped to listen. Grunts and snarls pinpointed my target, but I hesitated. I could hit Rowan as easily as the dogs.

I turned and hurled the vial at the opposite wall. It hit with a tink of broken glass, followed by a bright flash. The thin paste splattered across the wall and ignited on contact. As it burned through the stone, it illuminated the room.

The two zombie dogs had Rowan on the floor, one with a grip on his thigh while the other went for his throat. He twisted aside and the animal caught his shoulder instead. Why hadn’t he incinerated them?

I pulled out the other vial and ran toward him. The dog released his shoulder and lunged for Rowan’s neck once more. He caught it by the throat, baring his own teeth with his effort to hold it back. The animal didn’t notice me, and I landed a solid kick to the creature’s ribs. Bone crunched like dry twigs and the thing went flying, smashing into the wall with another crunch. It must not weigh much, because I’m not that strong.

I drew back my arm to throw and stopped, stunned by what I saw. The dog’s caved-in ribcage began to rebuild itself. When the dog rolled to its stomach and prepared to stand, I threw the vial. It shattered against the wall, but enough of the paste landed on the dog to ignite it. The flesh that wasn’t burning continued to mend. In a matter of seconds, the dog rose to its feet, dead eyes focused on Rowan. Neither dog had even glanced at me.

Rowan continued to struggle with the other dog. He pulled up his opposite leg, trying to kick the animal in the face. A couple of weak attempts and Rowan slumped against the floor, chest heaving. Something wasn’t right.

I ran at the second dog and punted it across the room as I had the first. It smacked the wall and collapsed at its base, but like the first dog, it immediately began to regenerate.

“I’m out of fire,” I shouted at Rowan. I positioned myself between him and the dog. Its flaming companion was now fully engulfed, though it managed a few more steps before it fell to pieces.

“Can you move?” I asked Rowan while I kept my eye on the remaining dog.

Something touched my shoulder.

I screamed and whirled, taking a hasty step back. Only a foot separated me from a hooded figure. He reached for me with one skeletal hand, scraps of flesh clinging to the yellowed bone.

I stumbled away and my heels caught something solid. Another cry escaped as I fell, landing hard on my butt, my legs draped over Rowan’s.

“Addie?” he whispered.

He’s strong,
the hooded figure said. I wondered how it could speak if its lips and tongue were as decayed as its hand. Then I realized it hadn’t spoken. Not aloud. Like James in his hell dimension, this thing had projected the words directly into my mind.

My hounds feed on the life force of the living.
It waved a hand toward the remaining dog.

Life force? The hairs on my forearms stood up. That sounded eerily similar to what James could do, but these creatures didn’t appear to be hellhounds. The remaining animal had finished rebuilding its emaciated form and rose to its feet.

I pulled my legs off Rowan and got to my knees. Rowan’s gray eyes opened a moment before they slid closed again. He wasn’t unconscious, just drained. It occurred to me that he hadn’t tried to incinerate anything since the dogs got him. An idea forming, I bent over him to hide my actions and slid my fingers into the front pocket of my fanny pack.

Few survive a prolonged bite,
the hooded figure continued.
But this is the first time they’ve chewed on an Element.

Alarmed, I looked up. He knew what Rowan was. “Who are you?” I would have liked to put more force behind the words, but they came out as a broken whisper. Had the thing been watching us? Was this the presence we’d both felt?

A dry rasping sound answered me, and I realized that it was laughing. The dog paced closer, but didn’t attack.

“What do you want?” I demanded, my voice stronger this time. I wormed the vial out of my pocket.

Freedom, but I’ll settle for you.
It moved closer, the frayed ends of its robe dragging the floor.

Rowan tried to sit up, but failed. “Lich,” he whispered.

Lich King,
the thing answered with another rasping laugh.

I didn’t get the significance of the exchange. I knew that a lich was an animated corpse with a consciousness, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

“Drink this,” I whispered to Rowan while the thing still laughed. I brought the vial to Rowan’s lips and watched him swallow. It was Emil’s magic enhancing potion—the same stuff I’d used on Lawson. It had upped Lawson’s magical ability. Maybe it would do the same for Rowan.

Rowan cried out and rolled onto his side, cradling his head in his hands.

Oh God. What if I’d hurt him? “Rowan!” I gripped his shoulder.

What did you do?
the lich demanded. A gesture and the dog started toward us. It moved in silence. No growling, no menace, just dead eyes focused on Rowan. That was enough.

I rose to my feet, ready to intercept it, when it suddenly exploded in a flash of light. No flames, no sense of burning. It had simply vaporized. I looked back at Rowan and found him sitting up, hands braced against the floor. He stared at me with wide eyes at full glow, the gold flaring so bright it nearly masked the orange. He turned his head to where the lich stood, but it was gone.

No way the thing could have made it back across the room to the doorway. It could either move very quickly or it could turn invisible. I didn’t want to consider either alternative.

Rowan closed his eyes, the cords in his neck visible in the fading light of my fire potions. I hurried back to his side.

“Get away from me,” he whispered. “I can’t control it.” As if to illustrate, something on the table popped in a flash of light.

“You’re going to have to.” I knelt to get my shoulder under his arm. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Addie—”

“I know you’re hurt, but I need you to help me. I can’t carry you.”

“Go without me. Call for help. I’ll—”

“Less talk, more moving.” I wrapped an arm around his back and tried to pull him up.

He quit arguing and started to help me. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He drew a loud breath when he tried to put weight on his injured leg.

“It’s part of my charm.” I took more of his weight when he came to his feet. Damn, he was heavy.

The light was fading fast. I didn’t want to think about what might be in the dark with us once it went out. Instead, I put everything I had into moving him through the tight corridor—we had to turn sideways—and into the first room. Random things kept exploding in flashes of blinding light. I could have complained about the beating my eyes were taking, but I decided just to be grateful I wasn’t the latest flash.

The stairs took an eternity to climb, but we finally made it to the landing at the top. We both gripped the wall of the sarcophagus, gasping for breath.

Rowan’s shoulders slumped and his chin dropped to his chest.

“Hey,” I gripped his upper arm.

His eyes slid closed and he dropped to a knee, one hand still gripping the lip of the sarcophagus. The dim glow from the roof holes illuminated his face—and the blood on his upper lip. His nose was bleeding.

Clutching his shoulder, I squatted beside him. “Rowan.” I touched his cheek and jerked my fingers away at the flare of heat. He was burning up—maybe literally.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I unzipped my jacket and reached down the front of my shirt for the vial I now kept in my bra.

Rise!
the now familiar voice intoned.

I looked around, trying to see where it came from, even looking back down the stairs, but I couldn’t see the lich anywhere. A rumble from within the mausoleum brought me to my feet. One of the burial vaults slid open and then another. One by one, each drawer slid out.

“Rowan?” I squeezed his shoulder. “I need you.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he released the wall and began to fall. I moved to intercept him, positioning myself between him and the open stairs. I caught him, but his weight and momentum pulled me down. We teetered on the edge of the stairs before I was able to shove him back onto the landing. I collapsed against the wall with him slumped against me. Familiar moans sounded from the room above us. Zombies. Hundred-year-old zombies. The fresh ones were nasty enough. I didn’t want to see what was shuffling around up there.

“Rowan,” I whispered, patting his hot cheek. He mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand him.

I uncapped the vial and shifted him around until I had his head tipped back. “Drink this.” I poured the vial’s contents into his mouth, careful to keep his head back so it’d roll down his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed and I released a breath. At least, I hadn’t drowned him.

Now what, alchemist?
the lich whispered.

I gasped and turned my head. It stood a few steps below us. If not for the low hood, I’d be looking it in the face. The moans and shuffles within the mausoleum surrounded us. In seconds, they’d be looking over the wall.

“Call off your buddies and let’s talk.” I tried for a confident tone, but wasn’t so certain it won out over the terror. God, I hated zombies.

The lich seemed to consider my request. Above me, a skeletal hand gripped the top of the wall, and across from it another.

Hold,
the lich said. Silence took the place of the moans and shuffles.

“You’re a necromancer. Or you were.”

Very good, Amelia.

Goosebumps rose on my arms.

I hope you don’t mind if I call you Amelia.

“Call me what you will, Ian.”

The rasping laugh escaped his hood.

“So, you are the guy Lawson called.”

Called what?

He wasn’t going to make this easy. I tried another approach. “You said you wanted me. Why?”

You could very well be the greatest alchemist of your time. Maybe all time.

“Flattering me isn’t necessary. You already have the advantage.”

Another breathy laugh followed. It occurred to me that he must be using some magical means to speak, but the laugh was produced from whatever was left of his body. I shivered.

“What do you want from me?” I repeated.

The immortality that resides in your blood.
He raised his hand offering an empty vial pinched between the bare bones of his forefinger and thumb.

No one else was using the mausoleum as a secret lab. The lich was the alchemist—and not just any alchemist. A blood alchemist with a necromancer’s power.

“You created dogs that can feed on a person’s soul?”

Not the soul.
He made a sound that might have been a sigh.
An alchemist of your caliber and yet you know so little of your past.

Another chill stood my hair on end. “M-my past? What could you possibly know of my past?”

Not your personal past. Your history. Our history. The history of alchemy.
His tone was scolding.
But we digress.
He tapped his finger bone against the vial with a tink.
I believe we were about to come to an arrangement.

Rowan mumbled something and shifted against me before going still again.

“What’s the…arrangement?” I asked.

Your blood for your freedom.

“And his.”

A dry chuckle followed.
Yes, of course. Your mastery of the
elements
is quite impressive, but then, is that not the goal of every alchemist?

“You’re rather witty for a dead guy.”

I’m glad you appreciate it. My cousins don’t find me all that amusing.
He waved a fleshless hand toward the mausoleum.
But they do have their uses.
He tapped the vial again, and I took it from him, careful not to touch him in the process.

Was this all he wanted from me? My blood? Lawson had made it sound like he wanted the Final Formula. I was missing something here, but what?

Well?
he prompted as I hesitated.
My cousins aren’t a patient lot.

The hand on the wall above me began to move. Oh, please, I thought, don’t let the zombie look over the wall. I hurried to dig my Swiss Army knife from my fanny pack. I pricked my finger and squeezed a few drops into his vial.

“That’s all you get,” I said, holding up the vial. “If you’re really an alchemist, that’s all you’ll need.”

He took the vial from my fingers. Rowan stirred against me, and I almost fumbled the exchange.

Blood freely given,
the lich whispered.
We’ll meet again.

A rumble from the room around us signified the vaults sliding closed once more. The skeletal hands no longer gripped the lip of the wall above us. I turned back to the lich and found the stairwell empty. Damn. He hadn’t answered any of my questions. Talking to him had only created new ones.

“Addie?” Rowan whispered.

Thank God. “Hey. You back?”

“I never left.” He tried to sit up, but slumped back against me once more. “I wanted to stop him.”

“It’s all right.” I ran my hand over the back of his head. He had the softest hair. “Can you stand?”

“Give me a moment.”

“Okay.” I wanted to get out of here, but I couldn’t carry him. While I waited, my mind returned to some of the things the lich had said. “That mastery of the elements crack—”

“Is true,” Rowan cut in. “Era and Donovan adore you. Cora respects you—which is huge coming from her.” He fell silent.

“And what of you, Your Grace?” My tone was teasing, but my stomach muscles tensed, anticipating a gut shot. I’d caused him so much trouble.

He straightened, bracing a hand on the wall to keep his balance, and looked me in the eye. His hesitation set my pulse racing.