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James stared at her. Was she telling him she had amnesia? “It’s an alchemy institute. The best there is, and you’re dressed like an Alchemica alchemist.”
Her shoulders slumped, and a wrinkle creased her brow. She looked so tired.
“Seriously, I think you should get some medical attention,” he insisted.
Once again, she carefully shook her head, then returned to the napkin. I need to get out of town.
“Okay. Where shall I take you?”
Her brow wrinkled again and she shrugged, then cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Were those guys who were chasing her something other than street thugs? Their dark clothing had been similar, but he had just assumed they were in some sort of gang.
“All right. Maybe you’ll figure out where you need to go as I drive.” He stepped around her to open the passenger door.
She gave him a grateful nod and got in.
Shutting the door firmly behind her, he hurried around to the driver’s side. He paused a moment to pull the hound closer to the surface and scanned the area. The only souls nearby were within the bar. It didn’t seem those guys had circled back.
He was careful to let his other sight fade before he slid in behind the wheel. Letting the hound’s vision overlay his own caused his eyes to glow. He didn’t want to freak out his new friend. It seemed she’d had enough stress for one evening.
Closing his door, he turned the key. The engine sputtered, but caught on his third attempt. “She can be a little temperamental,” he explained as he put the car in gear. He drove to the exit and stopped to check for traffic before pulling out.
“By the way, what’s you name?” he asked. She still had the pen and napkin.
He glanced over to check her response.
“Decant the supernatant,” she answered, then pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in both surprise and fear.
“Did someone do something to you? Maybe a potion?” Perhaps she’d had a conflict with a fellow alchemist.
The Alchemica had the reputation for being the best, but that wasn’t all that was said. There were whispers of black magic and a certain lack of ethics. Though as a man cursed to embody a denizen of hell, James didn’t want to cast stones. Besides, this woman didn’t seem evil, but she could have run afoul of a less ethical colleague.
She stared back at him and he could see the dawning realization in her intelligent eyes. She didn’t think his conclusion far-fetched—even if she remembered nothing of the particulars.
“Look, I’m not from around here. I live two hours away, in Portsmouth. When you said you wanted to get out of town...”
She gave him a thumbs-up. The sleeves of her dark robe were split at the point of the shoulder, apparently by design, and when she raised her left hand, the sleeve fell open and he caught a brief glimpse of the tattoo encircling her biceps. A streetlight at the corner provided a lot more illumination than the lighting in the parking lot they were leaving, and James got a better look at the tattoo. He’d thought it a single band in the low light, but he could now see that it was a series of intertwining bands. Four to be exact. If those were real, she was no common alchemist. She might be a master, the best of the best.
A flurry of excitement stirred in his stomach. Here was a potential solution. She could stay with him until she got her problems sorted out, and maybe she could help him with his.
“Okay. I’ll take you home.” He pulled out onto the street and hit the accelerator. Maybe fate hadn’t smacked him down after all.
***
THE WOMAN DOZED OFF shortly after he pulled onto the interstate, leaving James with only the radio for company. It also left him plenty of time to think this over. The workshop would be an ideal place for her. It was a large area with an attached bathroom that included a shower. The problem, as always, was his brothers. They weren’t the type to lend a hand, or help a stranger. And when it came to women, they were absolute pigs.
He glanced over at the woman dozing in his passenger seat. He hated to subject her to that.
She shifted on the seat, and he caught another glimpse of that tattoo. What would George make of it? He’d certainly try to find some way to use her to his advantage. It would be best if he didn’t know her potential. Maybe imply that she was just a novice like James, but with a little more knowledge. George would refuse to let her stay if she had no usefulness. Perhaps James could imply that she knew something about those magic bullets. And maybe she did, but without her memory, that deception wouldn’t last long.
About an hour from home, he pulled into a Walmart. He left the woman dozing on the passenger seat and went inside to get her something to wear. Not certain of her size, he opted for sweats, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a hoodie. Even if they didn’t fit well, the clothes would at least give her an alternative to her robes, and he could take her shopping for more once he got things settled with George. If he got things settled with George.
It was almost two in the morning when he pulled in behind the shop. He shut off the engine and gave her shoulder a shake.
She woke with a gasp, then doubled over and cradled her head.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Maybe he should have grabbed some painkillers as well.
“Wet ash the residue and—” She sat up and pressed a hand to her mouth, her worried eyes settling on him.
“You remember me, right? James?”
She nodded, then released a breath and leaned back in her seat.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
A wry twist at the corner of her mouth suggested that she had a sarcastic comeback for that, but she resorted to another thumbs-up. A frown creased her brow as she looked through the windshield. She waved a hand at the wall before them. The sign read: Huntsman Gun Shop Parking.
“The family business,” he explained. “My brothers own and run it. There’s a workshop upstairs. I thought you could stay there.” He reached over the seat to collect the Walmart bags. “Considering that we don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, I thought it best to get you something else to wear.”
Her brows lifted, perhaps surprised—and maybe a little unnerved—that she had slept through his stop.
“Are you still okay with this?” he asked.
A few more moments of silent consideration, and she nodded.
Again, he admired her bravery. This had to be a crazy situation for her. Unable to remember what had happened or even speak, she was forced to trust a complete stranger to get her to safety. James just hoped he wasn’t letting her down.
He led her inside and up the stairs to the workshop and, leaving her to examine the room, went down to the shop to get a cot from the small collection of camping supplies they sold. Hunting was a sport for outdoorsmen, and camping was part of that. George was all about the little extras.
James would catch hell for taking the cot from the shop, but so be it. If George didn’t give him shit for that, he’d find something else to complain about.
Stepping into the workshop, James wasn’t surprised to see his guest examining his makeshift laboratory. What did surprise him was that she was already working to light the Bunsen burner.
“What are you doing?” he asked, more curious than anything.
She pushed an open notebook toward him where she’d already written down a list of ingredients.
“You’re brewing a potion?” he asked, excited by the prospect—even if it was two in the morning.
She picked up the pen. Knockout Powder, she wrote. Then hesitated and added, I don’t like being defenseless.
James wanted to reassure her that he would protect her, but that sounded so cheesy. Besides, why should she believe him? She didn’t know that he’d chased those guys off. “I understand,” he said. “Are you going to make it now?” Not that he was opposed to the idea, but it was late—or rather, early.
If you have the ingredients, she wrote.
He glanced over the list again, then nodded. “I think I can find all this.” He couldn’t help but smile.
She studied him, then turned back to her notepad. Is this lab yours?
“Yes.” He felt his cheeks warm. “I’m an aspiring alchemist.”
She grinned and lifted her right hand to give him a thumbs-up. Her split sleeve fell away to reveal a tattoo around her right biceps as well. It was the same design as the one he’d seen on her left, but this one had five bands. Holy crap, she was a master alchemist.
She must have noticed his surprise. Spreading her hands, she lifted her brows in question.
“Your tattoos,” he said. “They mark you as a master alchemist.” Each band was supposed to signify a discipline mastered, and there were ten. This woman had mastered nine of them. “You lack only the final band, but that’s as many as anyone has. No one has found the Final Formula.”
She swayed, and James was certain she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“Maybe you should save the potion-making for later. After you’ve gotten some sleep,” he suggested.
In answer, she pulled the notepad closer. I keep having these déjà vu moments, like I’m about to remember.
“Maybe that means you will remember.”
I hope, she wrote. Those ingredients?
He shook his head. She was tenacious. “All right, but only because I can’t pass up the opportunity to work with an actual alchemist. A master alchemist.”
She flashed him a grin, then wrote one more line. Then get moving, apprentice.
He laughed and hurried off to do just that.
***
JAMES DIDN’T GET MUCH sleep, but that didn't affect his good mood as he walked over to the shop the next morning. Well, it was technically the same morning, but it felt like a new day.
This morning’s alchemy work had been amazing. He had learned so much just by watching. His guest had been easy to work with and even eager to help him understand the process better. He would have asked more questions, but it had been a pain for her to write down every response. Hopefully, whatever was affecting her ability to speak properly would wear off soon.
James opened the side door and stepped inside. Maybe he could speak to George before—
A series of thumps sounded above him, followed by a male shout. Henry.
“Shit!” James ran for the stairs and took them three at a time. He arrived in the workshop an instant later. It was as he feared. Henry and Brian had found his new friend.
James skidded to a halt. He thought he would have to rescue her, but that wasn't the case.
Brian lay unmoving at her feet while she faced Henry, a vial in hand.
Seeing how she had overcome his brothers made James want to laugh—until Henry pulled a throwing knife from his belt.
“You’ll pay for that,” Henry told her. Then he smiled.