The Blood Alchemist (The Final Formula Series, Book 2) by Becca Andre Read Free Book Online

The bastard was going to leave a bruise.
    The protesters started toward us, muttering words of encouragement to one another. I caught “witch” and a similar sounding word. Wow, these people were really pissed off. Maybe I should offer a public apology for relieving pain and saving lives.
    The rumble of an engine preceded a squeal of tires, and George’s big 4X4 stopped at the curb, Brian behind the wheel. He kicked open the door and jumped out. To my utter astonishment, he held a crossbow in hand.
    The protesters skidded to a halt, and when he turned the bow in their direction, half their number fled screaming. So much for not causing a scene.
    “You guys are utter morons,” I said. “I mean, I always suspected, but wow…”
    “Get in.” George shoved me toward the open truck door.
    “Hey, let her go!” Era ran toward us.
    Brian whirled around, bow coming up.
    “No!” I screamed.
    The quarrel released with a twang, but Era must have seen it coming and tried to dodge. The quarrel took her through the shoulder. The impact knocked her back and she dropped to a knee.
    “Don’t waste the special quarrels,” George said as Brian reloaded the bow.
    Era pushed to her feet. Her hand drifted to her shoulder, and the muscles in her jaw tensed, but she showed no other evidence of pain. “I said, let her go.”
    George reached behind his back and pulled out a handgun. My blood ran cold. That gun was the same caliber as my bullets.
    I gripped George’s wrist. “What are you loaded with?”
    “What does it matter?” He caught my wrist with his free hand and squeezed until I released him. “Unless…” His hazel eyes shifted to Era, narrowing. She had doubled over, muttering something I didn’t catch.
    I shoved a hand into my pocket, fumbling for the vial.
    “Unless she’s magical,” George said.
    I looked up, understanding. “You know what my bullets can do.”
    “Yeah, I know.” He cast me a glance and sneered.
    He knew? I found the vial. Sucking in a breath, I smashed it to the ground at George’s feet. A greenish-brown cloud billowed up. It wasn’t much: a weak, alchemical variation of mustard gas. A cloud to obscure the user and confuse the target while noxious fumes burned the sensitive tissues in the nose and throat. The Huntsman boys began to cough immediately.
    Era looked up, her eyes going wide as I ran toward her.
    “Run!” I grabbed her arm and pulled her around. My eyes began to water as the cloud enveloped us.
    Era coughed, but managed to run beside me. The limo was closer than the hospital entrance, so I steered her toward it.
    Tires squealed behind us, and I looked back to see George’s 4X4 swerving away from the curb. The cloud of brown-green gas dispersed in its wake. The truck did a U-turn and barreled back toward us.
    “Hurry!” I pushed Era into the limo.
    “Marlowe!” I called to the driver, climbing in after Era. “We’ve got company!”
    “I see. Hold on!”
    I closed the door then fell on the floor as he jerked the limo to the left, leaping away from the curb.
    Era gripped the edge of the seat, her complexion pale. I wanted to go to her, but it was pointless to try while Marlowe was driving like a bat out of hell.
    He drove through the side streets, seeming to choose direction at random. I wondered what the people outside the car saw. A banged up Volkswagen or something else. Illusions aside, there was no denying that Marlowe was a damn good driver. It might look like he was driving a compact car through these narrow streets, but the limo was anything but compact.
    We took an onramp to the nearest interstate, and the swerving lessened. I was able to climb up on the seat beside Era. She sat with her eyes squeezed shut, a sheen of sweat already coating her face. The shoulder of her coat was bloodstained around the quarrel shaft, but not excessively. Or so I told myself. I had no clue, but figured she’d be bleeding a lot more if it had hit an artery or something.
    “Era?” I