The Catalyst of Corruption (The Final Formula Series, Book 4) (28 page)

She offered me a smile, but kept her eyes on her work.

I returned to my room and after pulling on some clothes, checked my phone. James had left me a text: “Rowan's fine, but they want to keep him overnight for observation. He's not happy, but Cora insisted.” A winking emoji ended the text.

I thanked James and set my phone aside, not feeling particularly happy myself. If Rowan was in the hospital for observation, then his doctors must have felt there was something to observe. What did that mean? Had the Fire finally damaged him to the point where he could no longer heal? Was that another warning sign in the breakdown of a Fire Element's defenses. I was tempted to call Cora and ask, but I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear the answer.

To distract myself, I turned my attention to the old tin Blake had led us to. I understood that he was young, and that the medium gig wasn't an accurate thing, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something here. Blake was good. He hadn't been wrong about anything at Livie's house; why should he be wrong about this?

I removed the lid and picked up the tin. It seemed heavier than a container of old papers should be—though that could be wishful thinking on my part. I upended it on my bed.

The papers fell out, scattering across my new comforter. With a soft thump, a worn leather book landed atop the papers.

I bit my lip, a surge of mingled anxiety and excitement twisting my stomach. When I lifted the book, my hands were shaking. This was it. The reason the ghost sent us there. I knew it.

I gently opened the cover. No, it wasn't a book. It was a journal. I turned to the flyleaf and sucked in a breath.

Private notes of Ian Mallory, June 1823 to
…

“Oh my God.” It was Ian's lost journal. The one he had been keeping just before he died. The journal James and Elysia had found and taken from the catacombs. The book in which Ian recorded his own experiments with ash alchemy.

How had it ended up in this box? Had Alexander hidden it there when he locked up James's brothers? What was in it that Alexander felt necessary to hide? Was it the same reason the ghost wanted me to find it? Only one way to find out…

I turned the page and started to read.

Chapter 24

A
knock sounded on my bedroom
door, and I quickly shoved Ian's journal beneath my pillow. I was only about halfway through, and so far, there had been no mention of ash alchemy. There had been notes on a few mundane formulas Ian had developed, as well as a few amusing antidotes about things his kids had said, a blush-worthy note written in the margin by Isabelle, and the tale of Joseph's first attempt to brew a pain relief formula. Apparently, it cured the headache, but the recipient spent the rest of the day in the outhouse.

“You okay?” Elysia asked me when I opened the door.

“Yes. Just reading.”

“I thought I'd check. You were unconscious not long ago.”

“I'm fine.” I didn't want to tell her about the journal yet. Not until I learned what it contained. “Do you need me to set the table?”

“Doug already did, before he left.”

“Left?” Unease settled in my stomach as I remembered his curiosity about that tunnel beneath the old house we'd explored.

“He had a date.”

“A date? When has he had a chance to meet anyone?”

“I didn't ask.” Elysia shrugged.

“Huh.”

“As for our supper, the chicken still has another twenty minutes.”

“Do you mind if I finish?” I jerked a thumb toward my room. “I'll do the dishes.”

“That is the perk of cooking.” She gave me a wink and headed for the kitchen.

I watched her go for a moment, then closed my door. Returning to my bed, I pulled Ian's journal from beneath my pillow. I found what I sought on the very next page.

Our youngest son came into the world yesterday, but Isabelle has not recovered the way she usually does. Doctor Amherst is fearful of her fever, and every remedy I've given her has failed to provide more than an hour's relief. I've begun to pore through her uncle's texts and journals. I'm certain I can find something to cure her.

It made me half sick to turn the page, knowing how this all would end, but Ian had never told me exactly what had happened—just that he had done something he always regretted.

The entries continued for the next few days, listing a variety of formulas and things he had tried. Most were familiar to me, or I knew formulas that achieved the same result. I had never studied up on Isabelle's particular ailment, puerperal fever, but I had my suspicions about what was really wrong, and Ian's formulas did nothing to address what was undoubtedly an infection. In the early 1800s, nothing was known of antibiotics, and little was known about proper hygiene—which was probably how poor Isabelle had contracted it in the first place.

On the fourth day of Isabelle's illness, Ian found Lord Dunstan's treatise on ash alchemy, and things devolved quickly from there. Being a necromancer, Ian didn't approach the topic as I did. He was interested in ash alchemy solely for its ability to transfer a magical gift from one person to another. Specifically the blood gifts of necromancers. And the blood gift he sought to acquire was that of a soul reaper.

“Jesus,” I whispered as the full impact of what Ian intended became clear. A soul reaper possessed the ability to transfer someone's soul to the body of another…and Isabelle was dying. He intended to find her a new body. I pressed a hand to my mouth as my stomach rolled over. Now I really didn't want to read on—but I had to.

I swallowed and turned the page. The entries were becoming more infrequent, and those that were recorded were often disjointed, but it was clear enough that Ian had found a soul reaper. He kidnapped the poor young woman from the local lunatic asylum. The same asylum that had once sat on the grounds of Music Hall. Oh God. Was the ghost possessing Elysia the soul reaper Ian had kidnapped and murdered?

The thread of the story became difficult to follow after that as Ian set out on the difficult task of selecting his wife's new body. On the seventh day of Isabelle's illness, Ian experienced a major setback when the potion he had made with ashes of the soul reaper he'd cremated failed to transfer the ability to him. That's when it occurred to him that all the soul reapers he had ever heard of had been women, so he pulled in an accomplice: his daughter, Matilda. This time, his ash alchemy formula worked.

“Oh, shit. The curse.” Matilda and Alexander's children weren't soul reapers because Alexander had managed to combine his and his brother's powerful magic; they were soul reapers because their mother, Matilda, was one. Ian had made Matilda a soul reaper through ash alchemy. And when he gave Alexander the potion that would only allow their power to pass to his daughters, he had inadvertently doomed those daughters to be soul reapers, facing ultimate death from insanity. At least, I assumed that part of the story was still true.

My hand shook as I turned the page. There was just a single line:
I buried Isabelle today
.

I didn't know if her death had been natural, or if Ian had begun to enact his mad plan. Either way, he failed. The next page, and the pages that followed were blank.

I stared at the final line he had written until a knock sounded on my door again. The sound startled me, and I sprang to my feet. I grabbed the journal and shoved it under my pillow again.

“Addie?” Elysia called through the door. “Supper's ready.”

Should I hide it, or should I let Elysia read it?

I ran a hand through my hair. This was too huge. I needed to think. Leaving the journal where it was, I joined her for dinner.

 

“Are you sure you're all
right?” Elysia asked me for what felt like the tenth time.

“Yes, sorry. I'm just preoccupied.” Somehow, I had made it through the meal, forcing down her incredible chicken cacciatore when I felt more like vomiting.

“It's Rowan, isn't it?” she asked. “You're worried about him.”

“James sent me a text. Rowan's okay, but they're keeping him for observation.” I got to my feet and began clearing the table. “I need to get to the lab. I've got—”

She caught my wrist. “Then go. I'll take care of this.”

“No, that wasn't what—”

“I know.” She smiled. “Go on. You're so preoccupied, you'll probably cut yourself on a steak knife while washing the dishes.”

It was silly, but after my crazy, emotional day, her kindness just shot me through the heart. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “I'll fix this,” I whispered.

She gave me a brief hug, then pushed me back. “You're starting to worry me. Fix what?”

“You.”

“You're still on that?”

“I've never been off it, and I'm getting close. So close.”

She pressed her lips together, her expression sad. “Is that why there are bags under your eyes?”

“Maybe.”

“What we need to do is get Rowan back in your life, then at least you'd have bags under your eyes for the right reason.”

I snorted. “One problem at a time.”

She bit her lip. “Do you really think there's a solution to mine? It's a blood gift. I was born this way.”

I started to tell her that wasn't true, that she was
made
this way, but something stopped me. Was I still defending Ian, or was his tale just too horrific to repeat? Until I could make up my mind, I decided to keep my own council.

“I don't want to get your hopes up, but I feel like I'm onto something.”

She studied me for a moment, then abruptly hugged me. “However it works out, thanks for trying.”

“No problem. You know how I like a challenge.”

She laughed and released me. “Go on. Blow something up downstairs and spare my kitchen.”

I laughed in turn, noting the way she called it
her
kitchen. She had made this place her home. Smiling, I stopped in my room for the journal, then headed downstairs.

I stepped into the lab and my good mood evaporated. Ian sat on a stool beside his workbench, taking notes in a much more modern journal than the one I held. He had tied his hair back at the nape of his neck, reminding me of Alexander and his shorter hair.

Alexander and Ian. They were more alike than I ever realized. Ian had kidnapped a young woman and burned her alive to steal her blood gift. He had made his own daughter a soul reaper so that he could kill again to secure a new body for his dying wife. I now understood Alexander's comment when he accused Ian of doing something bad to Mattie. Something that even Alexander seemed to disapprove of. Were Alexander's crimes that much worse?

Ian looked up and gave me a smile. “How did it go? Was Blake able to find out where the ghost wanted to be buried?”

“No. But the ghost led us to this.” I dropped his old journal atop of the new one.

Ian picked up the journal and came to his feet. “Where did you get this?”

“Beneath an old house on Xander's property, but that's a puzzle for another day.” I waved away the question, then took a breath and plunged on. “You once told me that after Isabelle's death, you lost it for a time. I assumed you meant that you locked yourself in the lab and forgot to eat.”

He looked down at the journal he held. “You read it.”

“I read it.”

He returned the journal to his workbench. “Do you see now why I warned you away from ash alchemy?” He kept his eyes on the worn leather beneath his fingers.

His comment completely threw me, and it took a good ten seconds before I could even speak.

“What the
hell
did those events have to do with ash alchemy?” I demanded.

He finally looked up, and the pain in his eyes almost made me feel guilty about my harsh words. Almost. “It was because of ash alchemy that I did those things,” he whispered.

“No. You did those things for your own twisted, selfish reasons. Ash alchemy was only a tool, a means to an end. What you did with it was all you. Dear God, is that what you thought I intended to do?”

His brow wrinkled, but he didn't speak.

“Did you think I would even consider something like that? Ash alchemy is the gateway to the prima materia. Pure First Matter from that moment when the manifested unmanifests.”

“It's called death, Addie. The moment when someone
dies
. And steeping the act in alchemical terms does not make it any less damning.”

“And making your daughter a soul reaper is fine?”

“I never said that,” he whispered.

“You know what? You've never told me the truth, well, the whole truth, about anything. It's been nothing but half-truths and sometimes, outright lies. I should have listened to James and Rowan, but no, I always stuck up for you.”

He frowned, but said nothing to defend himself.

“And now you tell me that you'll work to help us take down your brother, yet the two of you fell into each others arms like…well, long lost brothers. I saw the way you looked at him, so don't give me that shit that you were just playing along. That for a moment, you were back in the day.”

“Addie.”

“Every time I turn around, you're gone.” I snatched up his note from my workbench. “Your tailor, my ass. You were with Lex, weren't you?”

“That's not true.”

“Of course it's not. You always tell me the truth.” I wadded the note and threw it aside.

“I wasn't with Lex,” Ian repeated, his gaze holding mine. “But you are correct; I wasn't at my tailor's.”

“Then…”

“I was at that old house you visited—a house that was once my home—checking on my prisoners.”

I blinked. “It
was
you.” Henry had been right. “You were the one who found James's brothers.”

“I found them six weeks ago, while you were still in the hospital.”

“
You
killed those guys who were breaking into your tomb.” I frowned.

“Yes. They were looking for you. I figured it was just a matter of time before they realized who you were, especially with all the media coverage lately.”

“But Doug sensed a blood animation.”

“Livie's blood.”

“You pulled her into this? She's a child.”

“I didn't pull her into this. I had a sample of her blood, from when I tested it.”

“Don't you need only a drop to test it?” Basically, a talented necromancer could taste the power in another's blood.

“She didn't know that.”

God, he was lying to her, too? That child idolized him.

“What about the journal,” I asked. “Where did you find it?”

“Elysia's pocket, shortly after she, James, and Doug returned from Lex.”

I stared at him. “You've had it all along? You never went to Xander's funeral parlor to look for it.”

“No.” His gaze held mine. “I returned to the catacombs and put Psyche down.”

I ran a hand over my face. No wonder he was never around. He was busy killing people, or imprisoning them.

“Addie.”

“Save it. I can't trust a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Look, I—”

“I said, save it!” I took a step toward him. “Poor Mattie is dead,” I whispered. “My blood oath is fulfilled. Leave.”

“But—”

“Go.” I fisted my hands. “Go hang with your soul mate, Lex. And tell him I'm coming for him.”

“Addie.”

“Go!” I shouted. “And by God, if you get in my way, I'll take you down, too!”

He held my gaze for one long moment, then a portal shimmered open and he was gone.

I released a breath that shook. Ian wasn't a good person. Hell, he was as depraved as his brother. I might have forgiven him his sins from the past, but he lied at every turn. It would be insane to keep him around, and yet, I wanted to cry.

“Addie?” Elysia called from the doorway. “What just happened?”

I closed my eyes, struggling for control, then faced her. “I told Ian to leave.”