The Element of Death (The Final Formula Series, Book 1.5) by Becca Andre Page A

easily see the look Rowan gave him. That would be a no .
    Rowan stepped up to the hole and gripped a cinder block with both hands.
    “Seriously, if you get my blood on you—”
    “I understand the risk and I choose to take it.” He pulled the block free and stumbled back as its weight dragged him down.
    James sighed. Rowan was nowhere near well. Gripping another block in one hand, he tugged it free. He didn’t fall over the way Rowan had, but it was becoming clear that his own strength was fading.
    “Once we get some light, maybe I can get those staples out of your back the old-fashioned way.” Rowan set his block aside and returned to the hole.
    “They’re buried in bone.”
    James pulled another block loose and tossed it aside. The hole had grown to about a foot in diameter. A little more, and they might be able to squeeze through.
    “In bone? She knew what she was doing,” Rowan said.
    “Apparently. I was afraid she’d burn you out.”
    Rowan didn’t respond, so James kept working. He wrapped his hand around a brick and almost dropped it. His fingers had gone numb. He needed to break through to the other side soon and find a way to get the staples out. Hopefully, the area would be open once they got through here.
    Rowan cleared his throat. “What I experienced…Was that what it was like when Clarissa had you under her control?”
    James glanced over. That’s what he’d been thinking about? “It was similar, I guess, though I controlled my own actions with respect to how I carried out her commands.”
    “I had no direct control, but I was conscious of every move she made, every word she said, every time she went digging through my memories.”
    James kept his attention on his work, exposing what appeared to be a brick wall around one edge of the hole. He didn’t want to discuss the memories Gertrude had stolen from Rowan’s mind and shared with him. “Clarissa couldn’t enter my mind, though she seemed to get a sense of my emotional state. Mainly, she just forced me to do things I didn’t want to do.”
    It had felt a lot like the time Addie had hit him with the Perfect Assistant Dust. He hadn’t told her at that moment, but he’d sensed her through the blood she’d used. In hindsight, he realized that even then, he’d known that she had more than a passing knowledge of blood alchemy.
    James forced the memory away. Rowan hadn’t spoken, so he glanced over to find him frowning at him.
    “Did she…violate you?” Rowan’s tone was soft, but his eyes were hard.
    It took James a startled second to realize that he referred to Clarissa, not Addie. “Just my will.”
    Rowan nodded, though his eyes never left James’s. “I won’t let it happen again. I’ll inform Xander that if any of his necros—”
    “Xander?” James stopped. Of course. The man in the vision with Clarissa. Xander, her bother. The Deacon.
    “What?” Rowan asked.
    James curled his fingers over the edge of the hole he’d made and pulled. A section of wall broke free and tumbled out of the dirt, spilling bricks at his feet. James jumped back to spare his toes.
    “The spirits of Winters’ victims showed me a vision of the past.” James moved the debris aside, working his way back to the wall. He told Rowan what he’d seen as he worked.
    Rowan didn’t comment until he finished his tale. “You know, if you’d told me that yesterday, I would have scoffed. Now—”
    The building rumbled, the ground beneath their feet quivering.
    Rowan gripped the exposed edge of the brick wall. “We need to get out of here.”
    “Step back.” When Rowan complied, James threw his shoulder against the remaining section of wall. A moment’s resistance and then it gave. He tumbled through the opening, landing hard on his side amid the broken masonry. He groaned then lifted his head to look around. What he found made him want to groan again. The doorway past the mortuary drawers had caved in as well. He looked in the opposite direction and