The Catalyst of Corruption (The Final Formula Series, Book 4) (11 page)

They cut to a reporter standing outside the Elemental Offices. “So far, His Grace hasn't issued a statement, nor have we received a response from the PIA, who were on the scene that night.”

New footage played, this appearing to be shot with a cell phone the night of the fire. It was late evening, but the flashing lights and headlamps from the emergency vehicles provided enough illumination to make the PIA SWAT vests visible. Then the camera focused on me, standing a few yards away talking to Director Waylon.

“Damn,” I muttered.

They cut back to the studio where the anchorman addressed the camera. “With the PIA on scene along with the Flame Lord's alchemist, I think an assumption can be made that His Grace was involved. Whether it was as… confrontational as the clerk suggested, I can't speculate.”

“Or do you value your skin too much?” his pretty sidekick asked.

The anchorman gave her a knowing smile. “In other news…”

I turned away from the TV and paced to the kitchen. “It can't be a coincidence that the Deacon decided to come out the same day that story broke.”

“According to him, it was his inspiration,” Doug said. “Avoid guilt by association.”

“There's nothing to the lodge story,” I said. “Waylon will shoot it down, and they already showed that he was there. He'll be credible.”

“It is rumored that the PIA is in New Magic's pocket,” Doug said.

“Come on. You know Waylon. The man refuses to hire the magical. Hell, he wouldn't let you do more than observe that autopsy.”

“You don't have to convince me, Addie. I'm just saying what the public believes.”

“He's right,” Elysia said. “And it doesn't matter if the lodge story won't hold water. It will have done its damage.”

I crossed my arms. “So…what? How do I fix this?”

“It's not up to you to fix everything,” James said.

He didn't know how wrong he was. I left them standing there and walked to my room. I needed to set this aside for now and focus on how I was going to convince Steadham to let me keep helping the burn victims. He hadn't been all that enthusiastic when he met with Rowan. Then there was that quote in the paper about how he wasn't going to endanger patients just to give the Flame Lord's girlfriend a job. Would his attitude change if he found out I was no longer the Flame Lord's girlfriend?

I covered my face with my hands. I had to stop going there. Rowan still loved me; he just couldn't be with me. I tried to laugh at the irony, but it came out closer to a sob.

“Addie?” James stood on the threshold to my room.

I rubbed my hands down my face before I faced him. “Yeah?”

“What's wrong? I mean, besides the obvious.” He waved a hand toward the living room and that newscast. When I didn't immediately answer, he walked over. “Talk to me, Ad.”

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his black T-shirt. “He ended it,” I whispered, so soft that I barely heard it, but I knew James did when his arms tightened around me. “He's afraid he'll lose it and hurt someone, like he did his family.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. I'm afraid for him. He's slipped so much in the last few months. I need to find a way to help him…and Ely.”

“Do you think you can?” he whispered, the hope clear in his voice.

“I've got something in mind.”

He released me to study my face. “What?”

“I'm still working out the details. But it feels right.”

“If you need me to help out…”

“Just watch Rowan for me. Give me that peace of mind so I can concentrate on my end.”

“Okay.”

“He needs to shut down, emotionally. I hope this crap with Alexander doesn't interfere.”

“If the opportunity presents itself, I'll take care of Alexander.”

“James, please. Don't make me worry about you, too.”

“I'm not going to do something stupid. But necromancers have no power over me in the land of the dead. I have a soul there. I'll bide my time.”

I hugged him again. “I love you, James. Please be careful. If something happened to you, it would rip out what's left of my heart.”

He kissed the top of my head. “That street runs both ways. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, either.”

I smiled. Hadn't I made Ian promise the same thing? “I promise to do the sensible thing.”

“I guess that'll do.” He stepped back and gave me a smile. “Good luck with Steadham. Worse case, I'll soul rip him and they can find another director.”

I laughed. “James!”

His eyes lit up, and he gave me a flash of teeth that had taken on a more animal-like appearance. A wink, and he left the room.

I closed the door behind him and changed into my Alchemica robe. I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, reminded of a photo I had once seen of my younger self. I had been exploring ash alchemy during the end of my career. What had I learned?

Crossing to my dresser, I pulled out the bottom drawer. I shifted aside a stack of sweaters and picked up the worn manila folder I had tucked beneath them. Inside was a sparse copy of the PIA's file on me. I flipped to the second page and stared at the photo there. It had been taken over eighteen years ago at the founding of the Alchemica. There were four people in the photo, the founders of the Alchemica. Only two of them were still alive: Neil and me.

I studied Neil's youthful face in the photo. A faint tug of déjà vu threatened, but didn't materialize.

“What were we doing?” I whispered to his picture. “What do you know about ash alchemy?” Had he continued to study it after I was gone?

I flipped to the inside cover of the folder. A paper clip held a business card in place. I pulled it free and read the simple lines: Neil Dunstan, alchemist. Beneath that was a phone number. Did he have the same number?

I tucked the card in my pocket.

Chapter 9

I
stepped out of the portal
into the small closet I used as my entry and exit point at the hospital. It was silly to pay for a cab when Ian could transport me in seconds, but it might stir the wrong kind of talk if I was seen coming and going through the land of the dead. Although, I guess a normal person would just see me appearing out of thin air. Either way, it was a bit much for someone to take in.

Elysia stepped out beside me and stopped to wait a few feet away.

“Thanks, Ian,” I said. “I'll call when I'm ready to be picked up. Hopefully, I'll be here a while.”

“I'll be waiting. Good luck.” The portal closed and he was gone.

“Did you get anything out of him about his brother?” Elysia asked.

“Just that what we saw on TV is Alexander's modus operandi. He's is a charmer.” I glanced over. “I guess he hides the crazy well.”

“Alexander is the scary crazy you don't see coming,” she said. “Smart, charismatic, handsome—and completely psychotic.”

“Sounds like a cult leader,” I said.

“He would make a good one.”

“Great.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “He's going to turn this whole city against Rowan.”

She gripped my shoulder. “James told me what happened—between the two of you. I'm sorry.”

I released a breath. “Rowan tried, but emotion is his enemy.”

She gave me a sad smile. “I remember the shower.” Rowan had pretty much destroyed the shower at my apartment after I got the bright idea to let him wash my hair.

“He burned his bed this morning—with us in it.”

“Oh God. Are you okay?”

“Burn salve to the rescue.” I patted the bag slung over my shoulder for emphasis. It contained several jars of salve. “I have a whole new appreciation for it. I just hope I can convince Steadham.”

“If not, I could Make him and see to it that he agrees.”

I laughed. “James offered to soul rip him and let the hospital pick another director.”

“And when they pick another loser, James has to repeat the process. My way is better. I can
guarantee
that Steadham will agree.”

“Hey, Alchemica alchemist here.” I gestured at my robe. “I'm perfectly capable of performing my own morally questionable deeds.”

Elysia snorted. “I like your delicate phrasing.”

I shrugged. “I didn't want to shock you.” I pulled open the door and peeked out into the hall. No one was around, so I stepped out, holding the door for Elysia. We walked down the hall together.

“I'm glad you're not giving up on the little guy,” I said. Elysia was here to visit the baby. They estimated that he only had a week, two tops, before he was released to go home.

“I still think it's a bad idea, but I can't abandon him. Maybe you could take him if…I go off the deep end.”

“Um.” The concept was so foreign to me, I didn't even know how to respond.

Elysia glanced over.

“Are you sure I'm the best choice?”

“Well, there are your morally questionable deeds.” She winked. “Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I gave her what I hoped was a confident smile. I definitely needed to cure her.

“I'll meet you here in half an hour,” she said.

“If I can talk Steadham into it, I might not be ready by then.”

“We'll hope.” She left me standing outside the hall that led to Steadham's office, and went to catch the elevator.

Hitching my bag higher on my shoulder, I walked to the nearby desk. Shirley, the secretary for the offices in this section, looked up and gave me a big smile when I stopped in front of her.

“Good to see you well, Addie.”

“Thanks. Good to be well.”

Shirley had visited me a couple of times while I was in the hospital. She was one of those rare nonmagical people who gave magic a fair look, rather than viewing it with fanatical awe or unfounded fear.

“I see you have a ten o'clock appointment with the new director.”

“Yes.”

“I'll call back and let him know you're here.” She picked up the phone, and I waited while she did just that.

“So, what do you think?” I asked when she hung up. “Do I have a chance?”

Shirley glanced toward the hall, though there was nothing to see. The short corridor ended with a right turn to a longer hall lined with offices. The layout provided the office occupants a bit of privacy from the bustle of the waiting area near the elevators.

“I'm still forming my opinion about him,” she said. “It's hard not to be judgmental after Dr. Albright.”

Dr. Albright had been the director before Gavin murdered him. I missed the older man, and clearly, Shirley did, too.

“Albright was a great guy,” I said. “It'll be hard for anyone to fill his shoes.”

“Yes.” She gestured toward the bench against the far wall. “Have a seat. He'll be out to get you shortly.”

I thanked her and took a seat. I straightened my black robe across my knees and set the bag on the ground beside me. It was an effort not to squirm. I was more nervous about this meeting than I had been when I met Albright for the first time. And I'd had just as much riding on my acceptance then as now.

Movement in the hall drew my attention, but it was just a pair of women in scrubs. Interns, most likely. They glanced at me as they passed, then put their heads together for a whispered conversation.

I didn't get to speculate on what they spoke of because Dr. Steadham was walking down the hall toward me. He was an older man, his dark hair and beard liberally sprinkled with gray hair. His dark eyes settled on me, and his expression turned sour. Not the best of starts.

“Miss Daulton.” His tone matched his expression.

I picked up my bag and walked over to him. “Dr. Steadham.”

His eyes traveled over my robe. “Did you think this a costume party?”

“This is the uniform of my profession, like your white lab coat. Of course, I have one of those, too.” I smiled.

Apparently, he didn't appreciate the humor. He spun on his heel and headed toward his office. “Let's get this over with. I have work to do.”

He led me to the same office that had once been Albright's, and I followed him inside. The space had been redecorated; the walls repainted and even the carpet replaced with glossy black tile. Dr. Albright's heavy wooden desk had been removed, and in its place, a modern glass and black metal desk now stood. The comfy, twin leather chairs that used to occupy this side of the desk were gone, replaced by a pair of straight-backed chairs in the same black metal as the desk. The only splash of color were the prints on the walls that featured abstract swirls of burgundy, framed in black. It reminded me a bit too much of blood. The entire space was now sterile and unwelcoming.

“You needn't sit down,” Steadham said. “This won't take long.”

“You're not even going to give me a chance, are you?” I cut right to the chase.

He settled in his large, black leather chair behind the desk. “I am not interested in what you are selling.”

I pressed my lips together and forced down what I really wanted to say. “I have references and testimonials. Most of the nurses have worked with my salve and could tell you more. Or I would be glad to give you a demonstration.”

“You will not be peddling your snake oil here. Press me, and I will notify the U.S. Health Department, as well as the FDA. This is the modern age, Miss Daulton. You can't whip up a magic elixir in your basement and sell it to an unsuspecting public.”

This guy was starting to piss me off. I was tempted to show him one of my
magic elixirs
. “I would be glad to work with either of those organizations. As you said, this is the modern age. They need to get with the times. Magic is real.”

“I suppose this is the point where you remind me who your lover is, but you needn't waste your breath. I am not intimidated, nor does it sound like he will be in power much longer. Try to force my hand, and I will add to the… fire.” He smiled at his own wit.

I stepped forward and intentionally pressed my hands against the unsmudged surface of his desk. I leaned toward him. “He's not the one you need to worry about.” I held his gaze for one long moment, then straightened.

“Are you threatening me, Miss Daulton?”

“Not at all, Dr. Steadham.” I gave him a big smile, then turned and left the room. It took everything I had not to slam the door.

I headed toward the elevators, my mind gleefully suggesting various ways to
convince
Steadham to allow me to continue my work.

When I reached my destination, I stopped and made myself quit fantasizing about setting Dr. Steadham on fire and letting him beg for my salve. Sometimes, my mind went to a dark place.

It was too soon to meet Elysia, but I had something else to do. I crossed my arms and impatiently waited for the elevator. A small crowd began to gather, and I hoped they were here for the elevator and not to watch me. I gave up that hope when I saw one guy snap a picture while pretending to read his phone. Lovely. I was half tempted to throw a vial at him, too.

The ride to the lobby wasn't much better, but I was able to find relative peace at a pay phone. In this day when it seemed everyone had a cell phone, a pay phone—if you could find one—rarely had a line. I didn't want to use my cell phone to make this call.

I slipped the bent business card out the pocket of my robe and dialed the number. He answered on the third ring.

“I guess you didn't change your number,” I said.

There was only the briefest of pauses. “I wanted you to be able to get ahold of me, Amelia.” It was disturbing that Neil instantly recognized my voice.

I hesitated. Was I really going to do this?

“Amelia?”

I couldn't come right out and tell him what I wanted. “What are you up to, Neil? What are you doing with Alexander?”

“Ah. You think I'm behind his little
press conference
. I'm touched that you think I have that much influence among my brethren, but you are grossly mistaken.”

“You gave him the Final Formula. You're playing him.”

“You gave Ian the Final Formula. I could accuse you of the same.”

“I needed a lab at the time. I made him a trade. What do you need?”

“I need you back by my side, in the lab.”

Leaning against the wall, I watched the people in the crowded lobby. Just mundane people going through their lives. Granted, this was a hospital, so most were probably not enjoying life at the moment, but I still envied them.

“Doing what?” I asked.

He sighed. “You still haven't taken the Formula.”

“Nor will I.” I watched a man and woman walk by, hand in hand. “But that doesn't make me any less the alchemist that I was.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” A sound like a glass stir rod against a beaker came over the receiver. He must be in the lab. “This all started out so simply,” he continued, “just a couple of kids pushing the boundaries of alchemy. Now look at us.”

“I don't see that you've achieved much aside from stealing my formulas.”

“
I
continued the work—unlike you.”

I turned my back on the room. “I'm not buying this. I never have. We were not working on some project together. You were just hanging out in the wings, waiting for me to find the Final Formula.”

“The Formula was just the first step, but if you refuse to take it, how am I to convince you?”

“You could tell me about this supposed project.”

“It's amazing. You wouldn't recognize it now. The path has altered so much—mainly because of you.”

I frowned at his word choice. Marian, Rowan's seer had talked to me about paths.

“Each time I think you have stymied me,” Neil continued, “it evolves into a new opportunity, another piece of the puzzle I would have never seen, if not for you. Sometimes I wonder if you're subconsciously pursuing it.”

“So, another vague reference. Well, I'm convinced.”

“I'm not going to give you the prize when you don't understand its significance.”

I took a breath. “I know it involves ash alchemy.”

A beat of silence. “You've remembered something.”

My heart pounded, but I made myself continue. “There were necromancer's ashes. We were going to see if it worked on New Magic. On Era.”

“Yes. We were using ash alchemy to test the compatibility of Old Magic and New.”

The world swam around me as a wave of déjà vu washed over me. An odd longing filled my heart and with it, that sense that I was on the cusp of a great discovery.

Another clink of glass carried over the line before Neil spoke again. “Why else would we have kept her for days, chancing discovery, when all we needed was a drop of her blood?”

“That was the knowledge you were teasing me with when you made me recite the Final Formula.” I would never forget those awful moments in his uncle's office when he revealed my past to Rowan and James. “You knew what the last ingredient was.”

“Of course I did. By the way, you deemed our ash alchemy experiment a success, though at the time, I had no idea why.”

I frowned. Why would I think that? Our experiment had damaged Era.

“Why are you really calling me, Amelia?”

“I have a… problem, and I know the solution involves ash alchemy.”

“But you're a good person now. Isn't that right, Addie?”

“Answers aren't always black and white.”

“Sometimes they're gray,” he agreed. “Like ashes.”

“Yes. You have Ian's journal.”

Neil chuckled. “I see. He refuses to teach you anything about ash alchemy. If you knew what he did with it, you'd understand why.”

“What happened?”