The Catalyst of Corruption (The Final Formula Series, Book 4) (12 page)

Neil laughed. “Now, now. I scratch your back and you scratch mine. I'm not giving you any freebies.”

Shit. I needed this knowledge, and there was no other way to learn it. “What does this scratching involve?”

“Meet me at—”

“No.”

“I'll bring you something to read.”

I hesitated. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want us to finish what we started.”

“And what was that?”

“It's the path you're already on.”

A chill crawled up my spine. “I don't trust you.”

“When you make up your mind, call me.” The line went dead.

I slowly hung up the phone. No need to debate whether I was doing the right thing. I had known the answer to that question before I even made the call.

 

I returned to my rendezvous
location to meet Elysia, but the closet was empty. I walked back to the elevators and the empty bench to wait for her there. The area wasn't as crowded, for which I was grateful. This section held doctors offices for the most part, and I suspected most folks had gone to find something to eat. It was nearly lunchtime.

Five minutes crawled by before Elysia arrived, looking much happier than I had seen her since her misadventure in the catacombs.

I rose to my feet. “Why are you smiling?”

“They're talking about removing the respirator entirely. Maybe as early as tomorrow.”

“That's great.”

“Yes.” She studied me. “What about you. Should I interpret it as a good sign or bad that you're sitting here waiting for me?”

“Bad. The jerk wouldn't even give me the opportunity to present my evidence. And he made a big point of telling me that if I tried to call in Rowan, he would take it to the media. He would add to the
fire
, as he so cutely put it.”

“What a dick.”

“I would add a few adjectives, but yes, that's accurate.”

She crossed her arms and frowned toward the hall that led to his office. “Do you want me to—” She fell silent, cocking her head a little to the side.

“Elysia?” I took a step toward her. Crap, this place was haunted, too. She had once told me that herself.

“Death,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I feel death.”

“It is a hospital. Sadly, people do die here.”

“No, not a body. This is moving.”

My breath caught. “No way. He wouldn't be that brazen.”

Elysia frowned. “Who?”

“Xander. I saw Steadham leaving his party that night Rowan and I went.”

“That night Gavin almost soul ripped Rowan?”

“Yes. What if Xander made Steadham a lich?”

“Only one way to find out.” Elysia gave me a wink. “You stay here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to see if you're right, whether Steadham is Xander's creature.”

“How?”

“I'll pop in and say hi. He's in the same office Albright had, right?”

“Yes.”

She gave me a big smile, a mischievous twinkle in her faded eyes. She lacked the dimples and the blue eyes, but it unsettled me how much she reminded me of Alexander at that moment.

I returned to my bench and watched her walk away. She paused to speak to Shirley who smiled, then waved Elysia on. Shirley knew she was my friend, but I wondered what story Elysia had given her. Not that it was a big deal.

Why was I so nervous? Elysia was just going to take a look. This was the smart thing to do. I needed to know if Steadham had been Made by Xander, though I wasn't sure what I could do with that information at this moment. I couldn't take it to Rowan, and revealing what I knew to Steadham might make him step up his game. Or make Alexander step up his. I wasn't certain how all of this fit together—if any of it did. Perhaps Xander had set this up before his ancestor had come into the picture.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, stopping at the lab. Should I call Ian? What if Steadham thought he was Alexander? Of course, that might work in my favor. Could Ian command Steadham to let me continue my work?

Wait, I was getting ahead of myself. I didn't even know if Steadham was a lich.

The elevator dinged and the same two women who had left these offices earlier returned. They once again gave me a curious glance before heading for the hall. Shirley gave them a smile and a nod.

I watched them go. Shouldn't Elysia be back by now? She was just going to look in on him, right?

My finger hovered over the lab's number on my phone. Although, if Elysia did something foolish, I didn't want to start another fight between her and Ian.

I got to my feet and took a step toward the hall, then a scream rang out.

Chapter 10

T
he first scream was followed
by a second, echoing out of the hall into the small foyer by the elevator. A man who had just taken a seat on the bench opposite me, leapt to his feet. I didn't stick around to reassure him.

Shirley was standing by the time I reached her desk, her hand on her phone. “Addie?” she called as I ran past.

I held up a hand, asking her to wait, and hurried into the hall.

I rounded the corner and my pulse rate doubled when I saw that the door to Steadham's office was open. The two interns stood on the threshold, staring into the room.

“What's going on?” I asked.

My voice seemed to break whatever paralysis held them, and they both stumbled back from the doorway.

I didn't wait for an answer. With one hand on my ribs—where an assortment of vials was stored—I stepped into the room.

A narrow green runner was stretched along the center of the floor: one of those indoor putting greens. At the far end, Steadham lay sprawled, a putter lying on the floor beside him. But that wasn't what stopped me.

Elysia was crouched over him, a letter opener clutched in one hand. Even from across the room, I could see the bloodied tip. I could also see a smear of blood on one corner of Steadham's mouth. Had he been alive? Was he still?

I pushed the door closed—in the interns faces—and locked it. “Elysia?”

She lifted her head and her white eyes met mine. For a necromancer's eyes to change color, they had to use their gift, and the only way to do that was when the dead were present. If Steadham had been alive, he wasn't now.

“What happened?” I asked.

One corner of her mouth curled upward. “I took care of the problem.”

“How?”

She pushed up to her feet, then stumbled to the side, catching herself on the glass desk. She left a smear of blood across the surface.

“Elysia? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

I'm well!

Her mental voice slammed into me with the force of a punch. I fell backward, thumping against the door behind me.

“Addie?” Shirley's voice carried through the door. “Do you need me to call someone?” She had been the one to call the PIA when Dr. Albright had been murdered.

“No. Just give me a minute,” I answered, then pushed myself upright. A pounding in my temples protested the move.

Elysia turned the letter opener in her hand, studying the bloodied blade. “Stupid bastard,” she muttered. “Did he really think he could get the better of me? Now?”

“What are you talking about?”

Elysia didn't answer. Instead, she moved around behind Steadham's desk and dropped into his chair. She brought the letter opener to her mouth and licked the blade.

I cringed. Was it Steadham's blood? “What are you doing?”

She ignored me, turning the letter opener to lick the other side.

“Ely?”

Silence
.

I flinched at another slap of her mental voice. “Ow.” I rubbed my temples. “Don't do that.”

“Then shut up.” She glared at me with those white eyes. “I'm trying to savor this.”

I frowned. What the hell was wrong with her? She made more sense when she was drunk.

“Tell me what happened?” I moved closer the desk. “Verbally.”

“What's to tell? I removed the problem.” She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “God, that is such a rush. Nothing like a magical soul, though.” She smiled.

My heart thumped a quicker beat as I remembered Gavin's creepy grin when he told us that magical souls were the tastiest. I looked at Steadham's body. “You took his soul.”

“Yes.” She continued to smile. “Maybe I'll take yours next.”

I slid a hand along my ribs and extracted a vial. “I think you're a little out of it, Ely.”

“Yes, but in a good way.” She turned the letter opener, studying the blade. Was she looking for more blood?

I flicked the vial cap open and stepped around the side of the desk. I had almost reached her chair when her eyes opened.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“This.” I threw the Knockout Powder at her, flicking my wrist to expel the light powder from the vial.

The powder carried easily, the cloud hitting her in the face. I took a hasty step back and, holding my breath, pulled a second vial from the pockets along my ribs. I removed the cap and downed the lime-green liquid. It was the antidote to the Knockout Powder. It would do no good if I was left unconscious as well.

“Elysia?” I asked.

She didn't respond.

I gripped her shoulder. “Hey.”

Her head rolled to the side as if she were asleep.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Damn,” I muttered. Seeing no alternative, I pulled out my phone and called the lab.

“Ready for a pick up?” Ian asked by way of a greeting.

“Maybe. I need you to come to Dr. Albright's old office.”

“Do you have another body for me to examine?” A smile colored his words.

“Looks that way.”

He sobered immediately. “I'll be right there.”

I ended the call, and when I looked up, Ian was stepping out of the portal. He looked from Elysia to Steadham. “What the hell happened here?”

“I had to knock her out.” I swallowed. “I think she killed him.”

Ian gave me a frown, and stepping over Steadham, moved to Elysia's side. He slipped a couple of fingers beneath her chin, tipping her face up. With the other hand, he pulled up one eyelid. Her eye had rolled back, but there was enough of her iris visible that I could see that it was still white.

“She didn't kill him. He was a lich.”

“But there's blood in the corner of his mouth.”

Ian lifted Elysia's hand, showing me her bleeding finger. A drop fell as I watched, and Ian snatched a tissue from the box on Steadham's desk and wrapped it around the digit.

“She blood bound him?” I asked.

“No. She reaped his soul.” He brushed away the hair from her cheek. “Thank God he wasn't magical. Otherwise, it could have been the last soul she reaped.”

My attention drifted to Steadham's dead body. His unmoving dead body. He
had
been a lich.

“She took his soul,” I said, trying to get my mind around it. “All of it.”

“That's why he isn't moving.”

I gave Ian a frown. “Why would she do that? She knows it can kill her.”

“I think your assumption was right. She tried to blood bind him, to take another's lich and make it her own. But she lacked the finesse.”

“Or training.”

Ian frowned. “Training requires practice, and everyone makes mistakes when they're learning a new skill. A soul reaper can't afford to make a mistake.”

A knock at the door interrupted us before I could throw any more accusations at him. “Addie?” Shirley called through the door.

Ian bent down and lifted Elysia from the chair. “I'll take her back to your apartment.”

“She was seen. She can't just vanish. Especially not when there's a dead body in the room.”

“He was a lich.” A portal opened beside him.

“Ian!”

“She's still bleeding. Call Waylon.” He stepped through the portal and was gone.

Damn it, Ian. “Just a minute, Shirley,” I called. Once again, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Waylon's number.

“I've got a situation,” I told him after identifying myself.

“A situation?”

“Dead body. Necromancy. And something I'd really rather not have my name attached to right now.”

“I guess you saw the lodge story.”

“Yes.”

“I gave them a statement. I said it was bogus, but so far, that hasn't changed much.”

“Not when it would hurt ratings.”

He made a sound I took for agreement. “Where are you?”

“You remember Dr. Albright's office at the Burn Center?”

“Someone else was murdered in that office?”

“Well, technically he wasn't murdered here. But his soul did leave his body in this room.”

“I'm on my way, but if there's a body, I can't just throw it over my shoulder and sneak it out of there. I do things by the book, and that sounds like a crime scene.”

I sighed. “I know. Do you want me to get Doug over here?” He would help me cover it up—especially since Elysia was involved.

Waylon fell silent.

“I know you see it as a conflict of interest, but there are advantages to be gained by getting magical consultation on these things.”

“Okay, he can observe the autopsy. I would like to get his take on this new Deacon. You didn't tell me it was going to be your friend, Ian.”

“It's not. That was his brother.” I had never given Waylon the full story on the Nelson family history. “I need to tell you a few things about them, but if you would, please don't mention Ian to his brother. There's some bad blood there.”

“You can bring me up to speed later. I'll be right over.”

I thanked Waylon, then hung up and headed for the door. Now to let Shirley know I'd called the PIA. Again.

 

I sat on the bench
near Shirley's desk and frowned at the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the hall. So much for keeping this quiet.

On the other side of the tape, a PIA agent stood with the two interns, taking their statements. I wasn't too worried about the ramifications. I had already told Waylon what had really happened. He was just doing things by the book, as he had said.

The elevator dinged, and I glanced over, more out of boredom than any other reason. I wasn't expecting anyone. Unlike the time Albright had died here, Rowan would not be coming to comfort me.

Several men stepped out, carrying an assortment of equipment, but it wasn't until the brunette in the hot pink blazer and skirt followed them that I understood. It was Natalie Gomez, Channel 5's reporter on all things magical.

“Damn,” I muttered. Who the hell had alerted them? I knew Shirley hadn't, because I had asked her to try to keep this low key. Then I remembered how the cameras showed up every time Rowan went to the PIA offices in his robes. Someone in the building or within the PIA was tipping off the media. Or in this case, perhaps Natalie's people had been listening to the scanners and heard the call go out.

It didn't matter. The damage was done. I didn't even have time to hide. Natalie turned and her gaze settled on me. A big smile spread across her face.

I liked Natalie. She had always been good to interview me honestly and give the work I was doing some positive press. But I had a feeling that any press today's events received would not be good.

“Addie!” She stopped in front of my bench, her keen eyes sweeping up the hall where the PIA agent was finishing up with the interns, before she turned back to me. “I heard the new Burn Unit director has been murdered, just like the prior one. Is that true?”

“He was found dead in his office,” I said. Of course, he had been
dead
in his office for who knew how long.

“Wow. Do you think there's any connection between the two murders?”

I glanced at her crew. They were still unpacking their gear and messing with their cameras.

“Off the record,” she added.

There was a kind of connection between the murders. Necromancers were responsible in both cases, but the biggest connection between them was me. Both men had been killed to get to me, though it seemed that Steadham might have gone along willingly. The lure of immortality.

“None that I'm aware of,” I lied.

The two interns had been dismissed and were ducking beneath the yellow tape.

“Excuse me,” Natalie said and moved toward them.

Crap. How was I going to stop this? The interns had seen Elysia and would no doubt mention that.

I got to my feet and hurried after the PIA agent who had just taken their statements. I caught up with him just outside Steadham's office. Unfortunately, he wasn't an agent I had met before.

“Hi, I'm Addie,” I said holding out a hand.

A faint frown creased his forehead. “Right. The Flame Lord's alchemist.” At least he shook my hand.

I pressed my lips together. That title had always annoyed me. It reduced me to an object, a servant to the more powerful, but now it bothered me for another reason. I found myself wishing I could still claim the title.

“I was wondering what those two women had to say about what they saw here,” I said.

“Statements are confidential. Weren't you on the scene with them?”

“I was, but they got here a little before me. I was just trying to piece it all together and figure out what happened.”

“That's our job, ma'am.” He turned and walked away.

Great. Maybe I could convince Waylon to get me the information. That way, I could give Natalie an interview and perhaps offset some of what the interns said. If they had mentioned Elysia, I could claim that she had been giving Steadham CPR.

I walked back into Steadham's office. The body was now in a body bag, but the gurney it rested on had not been removed from the room. A team of agents was moving around the office, dusting for prints and snapping pictures of the scene. One guy was taking samples of the traces of Knockout Powder on Steadham's desk. I had told Waylon what it was and why, but this was proper protocol—or so he had told me.

Waylon was standing near the windows that lined a good part of one wall. He had his cell phone pressed to his ear while he frowned at nothing in particular.

I stopped a few feet away in the semblance of giving him some privacy.

“She said he was a lich, but I have no way of knowing until the autopsy is performed. If he's missing his heart, then we might have something.”

I frowned. Who was he talking to?

“I know,” Waylon said into the phone. “I hope we find something, otherwise it looks bad for both of them. Especially after what happened to the previous director.”