The Final Formula by Becca Andre Page B

we’re being rescued by the Lord of Flames.”
    “Or kidnapped.” The bastard had taken my pack with my robes and potions. I wasn’t going anywhere without them. Then too, James looked too ill to run. “You sure you’re all right?”
    He glanced at the downed men. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
    Oh God, were they dead? He hadn’t dismembered them as he had the zombie. From where I knelt, I couldn’t see any blood, but he wouldn’t look so stricken if he’d only knocked them out.
    The rumble of an engine made my heart leap. A sleek black Camaro with orange and yellow flames across the hood and front quarter panels swung into the alley. I glanced at the front tag. Etna. Wasn’t that a volcano in the Mediterranean? I snorted as Rowan climbed out of the driver’s seat. And he accused me of breaking his cover.
    James cleared his throat, but before he could speak, an explosion rocked the alley. He sprang into motion, tackling me so quickly, I barely had time to gasp. He pinned me to the asphalt, his body shielding mine. Over his shoulder, I watched the upper story of the shop blow apart. Huge flaming sections of wall spun outward and slammed into the taller building across the alley. Then gravity took over.
    I pressed my face into James’s shoulder and squeezed my eyes closed, bracing for impact. No way those chunks of wall could miss us. The breath froze in my lungs as I waited…and waited.
    “Come on, let’s go,” Rowan said from above us.
    James pulled back and I opened my eyes. Small particles of soot floated to the ground around us. I sat up and found the alley unchanged. No debris. No flames.
    “You ashed it,” I said, stunned.
    “Yes.” Rowan held my gaze, eyes once more gray. The color of ash.
    I’d grossly underestimated the man’s power. Perhaps it was naiveté or, more likely, hubris. I guess they called him the most powerful magic user in the country for good reason.
    I got to my feet and looked up. Fire engulfed the top floor of the shop. A plume of black smoke rose skyward, and what structure remained fueled the flames. I stared at what had been my workshop. Three months I’d struggled to pull together a place I could call my own and in a single blast, I lost it all. Again.
    “Can you stand?” Rowan offered James a hand.
    “Yeah.” James let Rowan help him up, struggling to cover himself in the process.
    Rowan helped him to the car and opened the passenger door. “There’s a gym bag on the back floor. Help yourself.”
    James muttered his thanks and climbed inside.
    Rowan turned to face me, his body between me and the passenger seat. “The vial.” He held out a hand. “In your pocket.”
    His request confused me until I remembered the vial I’d threatened him with in the shop. I pulled it from my front pocket and placed it in his hand.
    “It’s chicory root extract.”
    “Any more?” he asked.
    “No, that’s all.” It was my only vial of chicory extract.
    “Any other potions ?”
    I looked up, surprised that he’d caught my subterfuge.
    A slim orange ring encircled his pupils. “Shall I check?”
    “You could?” I asked, more intrigued than afraid.
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your call.”
    I pulled a couple of tubes of Knockout Powder from my back pocket and handed them to him. “That’s it. Had I known you were coming, I would have been better prepared.”
    “Next time, I’ll call ahead.” He stepped aside. “Get in. We need to go.” He hit a button on his key fob and the trunk popped open.
    I watched him set my pack inside. “Cocky son of a—” I muttered as I slid into the passenger seat.
    “Addie.” James leaned forward to grip my arm. “I’m whipped and it’s not safe here. Whatever his intentions, I don’t think he’ll hurt you.”
    I wasn’t concerned—not about me. As for James, the magical tended to take care of their own. I glanced back at him. He’d donned a black Under Armor shirt and a pair of sweats. The fit and color