The Final Formula by Becca Andre Page A

me in if the PIA wanted me. “I think they’re the same ones who tried to abduct me the night the Alchemica burned.”
    “There!” a voice shouted, and I whipped around to see three more men in black fatigues enter the alley from the street. They skirted the metal trashcans lining the brick wall and started toward us. All three carried submachine guns—MP5s if my gun knowledge could be trusted.
    “We found her,” the man in the middle called over his shoulder. When he turned back, he gave me a smile exposing his crooked front teeth.
    “It’s the same guys,” I whispered.
    Rowan stepped forward. “By whose authorization—”
    “Mine.” Crooked Teeth raised his gun and fired.
    Rowan dove to the side, bullets kicking up chunks of asphalt where he stood.
    “Move!” Rowan sprang to his feet beside me and pushed me toward the trashcans. More bullets whined down the alley as we squeezed in between the cans and the steps to the side door.
    James didn’t follow us.
    I pushed at Rowan, trying to see back into the alley. “James!” I screamed over the gunfire.
    “Stay down.” Rowan’s warm hands gripped my upper arms and pushed me back against the wall. Bullets riddled the trashcans, setting the empty ones dancing and sending one lid rattling down the alley.
    “Don’t…move.” Rowan let go of my arms and braced his hands against the wall to either side of my head.
    Heat engulfed us. I gasped and hot air seared my lungs. The air grew hotter still, shimmering around us; little bursts of light exploded in the heat waves. It took me a moment to realize they were bullets.
    Stunned, I looked up into Rowan’s face. He’d squeezed his eyes shut; a look of intense concentration laced with anger constricted his features. Several bullets smacked into the bricks to my right and he grunted.
    “Stop! What are you doing?” a voice shouted from the alley. The gunfire tapered off. “He wants her alive. If you kill her—”
    A snarl drowned out the voice, the sound not of this world. James had changed form. Someone screamed and then the scream cut out with an abruptness that turned my blood cold. Oh God, had James—
    Machine gun fire cut through the sudden silence, but it wasn’t directed at us this time.
    “James!” I lunged and almost got free. Rowan caught me around the waist with one arm, pulling me back down behind the trashcans. I gripped his forearm and he growled this time. My hand came away slick with blood. The wall hadn’t caught all the stray bullets.
    “Hold still,” he commanded through gritted teeth. His arm tightened, pressing my back to his chest.
    “Let me go!” I continued to struggle.
    “Why? So you can get yourself shot?”
    “There might be something I can do.”
    “What could you possibly do?”
    The pompous ass. I pulled the lid off the nearest trashcan and swung it back over my shoulder, trying to brain him. Unfortunately, I only clipped his upper arm.
    “Pull out!” a voice shouted from beyond our trashcan barrier.
    “Retreat!” someone else called from the opposite direction. God, they’d surrounded us. A vehicle door slammed, followed by the screech of tires.
    “Did they—” I didn’t get to finish the question as Rowan released me and rose to his feet. I hurried to follow. The alley was deserted except for three downed men.
    James wasn’t one of them.
    “Addie?” James’s low voice carried easily in the silence.
    I whirled to face him. He dropped to his knees, thumping the cobbles. Naked, he slumped forward, hands braced wide and head hanging.
    I hurried over and knelt beside him. “James?” I tentatively touched his shoulder. The coolness of his skin surprised me.
    “You okay, son?” Rowan asked.
    “Yeah,” James answered, his voice soft.
    “Wait here.” Rowan eyed me before he swung my pack over his shoulder and started down the alley. I frowned after him and then turned to James.
    A sheen of sweat covered his pale skin, but he gave me a weak smile. “I think