A loud crash exploded from the darkness. I twisted around and fell on my ass with a gun pointed toward that direction. When no buck-toothed monsters emerged from the shadowed trash piles, I rose and ran toward the lab. My harsh breaths worked my ribs painfully and my heartbeat pounded in my head.
“Where are you going, Katherine?” Bane giggled nervously.
I was only half listening because I had bigger problems. If the terrifying noises behind me were anything to go by, my movements had earned me the attention of a very large, pissed off, and hungry Volos. Adrenaline and Mez’s speed potion made my movements fast but imprecise.
I slammed the large door and my fingers fumbled with the bolts. I’d finally slid one home when a very heavy body slammed against the panel. Claws scraped wood. Rage-filled howls promised pain. The next bolt closed more easily. For good measure, I took advantage of the added strength I’d gained from Mez’s potion and adrenaline to shove a large filing cabinet in place as well.
Satisfied I’d done all I could to barricade the door, I ran across the room to the furnace. Using my shirtsleeve, I flipped the latch to open it. Searing heat slammed into my skin. Squinting into the red-hot mouth, I tried to see if the green vitriol was ready. “Shit.” I couldn’t see anything.
Wasting precious seconds, I scrambled to find an insulated mitt among the shards of glass and overturned tables and stools. While I slid it on my left hand, the banging continued at the door. The snarls of an angry werewolf crept into my head and haunted the parts of my brain responsible for remaining calm. My boots slid on broken glass as I struggled back to the furnace.
Even with the mitt, the heat permeated the material and made my palm sweat. Or maybe that was nerves. Either way, carrying the vessel back to the counter was an uneasy feat.
The crack of splintering wood lit a new fire under my ass. I removed the vial of John’s test antipotion from my sleeve and set it in a bracket. The green vitriol had burned into a white ash, as I’d hoped. But the tricky part was still to come, and judging from the creaks and groans that door was giving I didn’t have near enough time.
I poured the ash into a mortar and gave it a very quick grind to ensure all the crystals had pulverized. Luckily, the chaos earlier hadn’t harmed any of the cabinets, so it only took a couple of seconds to find a brown bottle labeled SULFUR.
People always think sulfur smells like rotten eggs in any form, but that’s not true. Heated sulfur releases chemical compounds that stink like rotten eggs and gunpowder residue, but not the pure form. I didn’t have time to heat the sulfur correctly, so I poured it in the still-smoking pot I’d pulled from the furnace along with the calcined vitriol. The container wasn’t hot enough to melt the crystalline powder, so I’d need additional heat to activate the magic.
On top of the sulfur and ash mixture, I poured the rest of the prototype antipotion John had made. I caught my breath as they met and mixed in the pot. This was my best and only chance to save John and Danny.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and my hands were slippery as I lit a match from the book John had given me earlier. I touched the small flame to the concoction. It caught fire immediately. The melting sulfur turned from yellow to red, giving the mixture a bloody cast. The stink was noxious so I breathed through my mouth—panted, really.
A loud crack echoed through the room, reaching right into my gut and twisting. Time to make some magic happen.
Up until now, I’d been doing basic alchemical processes. But now, it was time to bring magic into the mix. By manipulating a substance’s energy, an Adept can take toxic materials and combine them in such a way that they may be ingested to create desired outcomes. If a Mundane mixed a paste of vitriol and sulfur and then tried to ingest it, he’d vomit profusely and probably die. But once magic was in the mix, the melding of compounds and intention morphed the ingredients into something … other.
I blocked out the angry pounding and scratching at the lab door and closed my eyes. My heart thumped in my ears and red veins glowed dully behind my lids. Starting at the top of my head, I scanned down my body, trying to relax each limb and part as I went. Another loud crash behind me. Trying to ignore the sounds, I willed my cells to vibrate at the proper frequency. This wasn’t just a matter of my thinking magical thoughts, I actually had to manifest the energy and infuse it into the ingredients.
Opening my eyes, I focused my energy at the flames licking the air above the elixir. At first, the fire was the typical red and orange. I raised my left hand above the mixture and focused every cell in my body on activating the antipotion. I’m not a praying woman, but I did a little of that, too. My hands shook and my stomach roiled as the energy flowed through me. It had been so long since I’d played with these energies that I had trouble regulating my body’s reaction.
The flames slowly turned blue. A split second later, the mixture swirled and morphed from grayish to brilliant green, indicating I’d transformed Volos’s failed sample into a viable antipotion. I let out a little whoop of victory. But the only way to ensure the elixir worked properly would be to apply it directly to a sample of Gray Wolf.
The werewolf outside decided he’d waited long enough.
The world exploded into a storm of wood shards, black fur, and the heat of angry animal. Volos’s once-familiar and handsome face was now the image of rage personified: snapping fangs, red-rimmed eyes that glowed with hunger.
“Fuck!” The panic switch flipped on and with it the instinct honed by training that turned that panic into fuel. While the beast stalked in and commenced with his intimidation display, I scrambled through drawers looking for a syringe. I didn’t exactly love the idea of having to get close enough to him to prick him with the needle. But judging from the way he was stalking me, I wouldn’t have much of a choice about getting close and personal.
Panicked, I grabbed a syringe, threw off the wrapper, and shoved the cap between my teeth. Then I jabbed the needle into the vial in a smooth motion. I’d just managed to pull back the stopper when the attack hit.
One second I was hunched over the vial, working feverishly. The next white-hot pain erupted in my shoulder. If I’d been wearing my leather jacket, the slice wouldn’t have caused much damage. But I’d shucked the coat earlier and was left clad in a thin T-shirt that shredded like paper under the sharp assault.
The hit knocked me to the side. I grasped the syringe in my left hand and curled it protectively against my chest as I fell. I didn’t stay down long because that was just begging for death. Shoving the cap back onto the needle, I dug in my feet and sprinted toward the door.