but it certainly meant progress: the kind of progress he’d previously only dreamed about. They weren’t quite at the organically-attached-wings stage, but the alchemist was developing something that looked promising. The first step of a long journey.
Perhaps he should go out for a while. It looked as though the old man was all caught up in his work, even blowing off a big meeting at the Frost Estate so he could finish what he was doing, and—
Xan’s phone chimed in his pocket, making him jump and earning him a reproving look from Maker. He glanced at the display and frowned. He didn’t recognize the number. He also noticed he had missed calls from Donna, and realized that he’d left his phone on silent earlier in the day. Shit.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” said Navin Sharma. “I think I need your help.”
“What? Why are you whispering? You’re breaking up. You sound like you’re in—”
“A bathroom. Yeah, that’s because I am.”
“Why are you calling me from a bathroom? Are you naked?”
“Relax, Grayson. Not everybody falls at your feet in adoration. It’s the only place I can get any damn privacy around here.”
“You sound really strange, man. Are you suffering from some kind of post-traumatic thing?”
“Stop talking and leave the humor to me,” Nav whisper-shouted. “You need to come pick me up, like … now.”
Xan couldn’t shut down the flash of irritation. Who was Navin to order him around? “What the hell for? Dude, I’m in the middle of something important. I can’t just—”
“Do you care about Donna?”
“What sort of a dumb question is that?” Xan glanced up and realized that Maker was watching him. He gave the alchemist an apologetic look and slid off his stool, taking the phone to the far end of the workshop. “What’s all this about?”
“It’s about the fact that if we don’t get our butts to the Frost Estate in the next half hour, I’ll have lost the chance to get her what she needs. If I have do this on my own, I’ll probably end up getting turned into a frog. Or something. Not that you’re gonna be so worried about that part—”
“Not particularly, no.”
“But the part about Donna? Come on, Xan, you’ve been way out of touch. She needs us. Both of us.”
Xan sighed. Of course he would help—Navin knew that already. He’d just been so excited about watching Maker’s progress it was hard to think about straying too far from the workshop. Still, it would take a couple more hours to finish the prototype, right? Donna came first.
“I’m on my way.”
Thirteen
Donna walked through Ironbridge Common, thankful to once again be wearing a pair of jeans and sneakers that she’d found in an old pile of her stuff at the Frost Estate. She increased her pace, trying to shake the feeling that she was losing the battle before it had even started. The afternoon was already growing short and they only had the rest of this day and early tomorrow to make the Philosopher’s Stone. Correction: she only had that amount of time left to create the Stone. Alchemists from the four Orders were currently very busy examining detailed schematics of the Ironwood and planning their campaign of magical mayhem and violence. It was seriously messed up.
She’d left the others to it, slipping away after her phone call with Navin. It would still be light for another hour at least, and the demon shadows seemed to prefer the night. She didn’t doubt that Demian would be watching her, but it was unlikely he would cause her harm at this point—even if he did randomly appear and say creepy, suggestive things. What was he going to do? Talk her to death? The worst he seemed capable of, where she was concerned, was making her head hurt with cryptic pronouncements. She figured she was safe enough as long as he still needed her to make the Stone.
It had been a relief to connect with Navin. But what if he couldn’t find Xan? She really didn’t want Nav going after the demon tear on his own. Which is how she found herself power-walking across Ironbridge Common in hopes of finding the elusive Mr. Grayson at home. Okay, so she really wanted to see Xan, too. She wasn’t going to lie about that. But this was serious—things were moving so fast, and they were running out of time. It always came down to those sands slipping through the glass. Like in her dream.
Blowing out a breath, she tried to take in her surroundings