The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy Page 13

  A kingsman appeared around the corner.

  “Just keep on,” he whispered.

  The man said something into his walkie and tucked it back into his belt, glancing once at them as they passed.

  “You there,” he said.

  Thane and Aini froze.

  Thane turned and made easy eye contact with the man. “Aye?”

  The man’s jacket was jet black against the ash-colored buildings as his beady-eyed gaze flicked over Thane’s middle. The man rubbed a hand over the back of his tidy brown head of hair. It seemed like he didn’t really want to be where he was. Thane knew the feeling too well.

  “What do you have there, Scot? Show me what’s under that shirt,” the man said. His accent said he was from somewhere in northern England. Lancashire maybe.

  If the kingsman did take Thane in, his identity would come out; he’d be released, quietly and for some well-crafted, false reason. He had only to show the man the back of his necklace, which bore the Campbell crest. It’d be difficult, to say the least, explaining his release to Aini without exposing his cover.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Thane gave a simple smile to the kingsman.

  The kingsman frowned. “You have something there. Perhaps a souvenir or…” He gave Thane a mean grin, looking ready for a fight now.

  Thane took the knife from his waistband, and Aini stepped forward.

  The kingsman’s eyes scoured the ancient-looking blade in its black sheath. “So we do have something to discuss.”

  “It belongs to her family,” Thane said. “We were only having it appraised.” He offered the knife for closer inspection.

  Fingers lighting on his gun, the kingsman leaned closer.

  Thane eased Aini behind him.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said to Aini. Now his glaikit smile was real—the complete opposite to the wolf’s smirk he’d given Thane. “I’ll have to take this.” The kingsman nodded at the knife. “I won’t report you because I can tell you’re not a rebel. Too pretty and smart, eh?” He grinned and gave her a thorough once over.

  Thane’s stomach clenched. The kingsman could not be allowed to take the knife. Well, it was too bad, but violence couldn’t be avoided here.

  Thane whistled. “Eh, lover boy.” He threw a fist into the idiot’s face.

  Aini’s hands went to her mouth.

  With a groan, the kingsman fell to his hands and knees.

  “Come on.” Thane tucked the knife away and grabbed Aini’s slender fingers.

  They ran down one street and then another. He was mad for heading this way. He should’ve fled north. The windows in most of the buildings here sported jagged breaks or nailed down boards. And there, up ahead, was the Bluefoot.

  The kingsman would be here in a heartbeat. There was nothing for it. Thane would have to take Aini in through the back door and hope the lot inside would keep to their drinks and not mind him. And pray Aini wouldn’t ask too many questions.

  “Are we lost?” she asked, grimacing at the filth in the street and the swear words sprayed on the buildings.

  He laughed bitterly. “No, hen. I’ve been to the worst of…never mind.” He dragged her into the small space between the buildings, then through the hidden back door of the pub.

  “What is this?” Aini’s eyes grew as she studied the swinging section of the wall that made up the passage into the Bluefoot.

  Smoke and the smell of fried fish choked the air. Two men leaned against the bar top, talking to the keep and drinking pints. Their black kingsman jackets hung over a nearby chair and their Campbell kilts were bright against the dark wood of the bar. Another man laughed with a woman near the stairs.

  “I don’t like this,” Aini hissed. “Those are Campbells!”

  God above, this was a mess. Thane pulled her to the back, past the stairs, under the balcony, and into the workout room. The flickering light shuddered off the heavy bag and red flooring.

  “Do you come here a lot? Why is the door hidden? You need to stop shoving me around and tell me what is going on.”

  She was going to get them caught with her blathering. He didn’t want anyone seeing her here. Except Bran. “Just come on. It’s better if you don’t know anything about this place.”

  “We’re well past what’s better for me, don’t you think? How is hiding in a place where there are Campbells smarter than running?”

  “The man will have called reinforcements. We wouldn’t have made it another two minutes.” He had to lie. There was nothing for it. He had to add another layer of deceit to this or she wasn’t going to give in. He knew that determined look on her face. The girl was like a pit bull. “My friend Bran…he…he has connections with the Campbells.”

  “What? Is he horrible? Why are you friends with him?”

  “The Campbells aren’t all horrible. They’ve been helping Scotland…well, until recently.”

  “Until they decided to start competing with the king for the title of Worst Ever?”

  He had to calm her down, steer this conversation. “Bran wishes he didn’t have to…work with them. But he tangled with the Campbells when he was very young—just out of secondary school. You can’t just tell the most powerful clan in Scotland to leave off when you choose.”

  Aini’s shoulders dropped and she let out a breath, staring at the heavy bag. “I suppose you’re right about that.” She bit her lip, her fear probably coming back as her anger receded.

  “I can hide the knife under the floorboard in my room. With the brooch,” Aini whispered. “If we can just get there. That way, if they come to question us—”

  Thane shushed her and suddenly Cora was there, frowning. She gave Aini a tentative smile. “May I help you somehow?” Cora asked.

  “Aye. There’s a…” He peered toward the stairs where the man and woman joked. If they heard him worry about a kingsman, their ears would surely perk up and he’d be in an even more awkward situation. He lowered his voice. “There’s a kingsman after us.” Pinching his lips, he looked from Cora to Aini, willing Cora to understand what was going on.

  Cora’s mouth opened, but she shut it again, her brow tangling.

  Thane glared at her.

  Her face smoothed slightly and she said, “Well, all right then.” She pushed them toward the stairs. “Up here.”

  Aini stared at the scarves flowing from the ceiling. “Thane—”

  He put a hand over her mouth. “Stay quiet. Please.” He had to keep this as simple as possible.

  She nodded, trust and mistrust warring in those big, cat-like eyes of hers.

  Cora led them up the creaking stairs to the row of closed doors that faced the open area of the balcony. The rest of the pub spread out below them like a circus after hours.

  The couple at the bottom of the stairs went quiet, and Thane looked over his shoulder to give them a glare. The man mumbled something, and the woman laughed.

  Thane had never been upstairs. He knew full well what sometimes went on here.

  Cora stopped them at the last door. “Go inside. You’ll want to see Bran as usual, I’m guessing. And we’ll keep the man away from here if that’s what you need.”

  “Thank you, Cora.”

  “No bother,” she said quickly, not meeting his eyes.

  Thane opened the door for Aini. “I’m sorry to take you to a place like this.” Heat flooded his face. “I just know Bran can help.”

  Arms crossed over her chest, Aini took three steps to the bed at the back wall. It was covered in a dingy, calico print duvet.

  A knock made them both jump. “Have fun in there!” a man’s unfamiliar voice said.

  Aini’s cheeks matched the red in the calico print. Thane was fairly certain his own did too.

  He swallowed and rapped a fist against the door. “Be gone with you.”

  A laugh echoed from outside, then faded along with the sound of footsteps.

  Thane rubbed his face.

  Another knock drummed against the door. What now?
Thane cracked it open to see Bran’s warm eyes and bushy eyebrows.

  “Do you need me, friend?” Bran’s gaze stayed on Thane’s face. Most men, knowing what these rooms were for, would’ve peeked right over Thane’s shoulder. But Bran was not most men.

  Thane nodded. “I have a…friend here.”

  He stepped aside and opened the door fully. Aini gave Bran a wave. Bran smiled at her.

  “We have a weapon,” Thane said. “And a kingsman followed us. He’s seen the thing and won’t leave us alone now that he has.”

  “There’s news,” Bran whispered. “Nathair has ordered every kingsman in Scotland to pledge allegiance solely to the Campbells. It’s being done quietly. On paper though. And I strongly doubt the king knows of this.”

  Thane gripped the side of the door. Edging out of the room, he kept an eye on the pub’s first floor, watching the front entrance. “It’s madness.”

  “Aye. It is that,” Bran said.

  As Bran opened his mouth to say something more, the front door of the pub banged open, knocking the codekeeper off his stool. The kingsman raged in, blood dripping from his nose.

  “Anyone seen a big, fair fellow about twenty or so?” he shouted across the pub. “I don’t care that this is an illegal gambling den. I need to find the man.”

  Thane made a fist and pressed it against his mouth. “What can I do, Bran?” He flicked a glance at Aini.

  Bran’s gaze followed the line of Thane’s eyes and clicked his tongue. “Hmm. Wait for a count of ten, then go out the window.”

  “The window?” Aini leaned to look out the glass.

  “The roof’s not a far jump,” Bran said. “You’ll be fine. The building next door has a fire ladder down the back side.”

  Before Thane could argue, Bran pushed him back and shut the door in his face, his deep voice booming over the pub’s TV.

  “Saw the very man,” Bran shouted. “Ran right past to the next bus stop. Just down to the corner.”

  Heart thudding, Thane jerked the tight window open. “…eight, nine…go, Aini.”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed, but climbed out. Thane followed, and they stood on a slim ledge outside the window, staring at the neighboring low roof.

  Aini dusted old paint off her hands. “Well,” she said shakily. “No use waiting around. The roof isn’t coming any closer.”

  Thane reached an arm out as she leaped over the four foot space, her hair flying behind her like a cloak. His heart jumped too. Right into his brain. His hands went to his knees as she landed safely in a crouch.

  She scowled at him over her shoulder, then stood.

  First bending his knees, Thane exploded off the ledge and ended up a good foot beyond where she’d landed. The roof’s black top pulled heat from the sun and shimmered in the air around them.

  Aini put a hand up to block the light. Her features worked into a frown. “Did you do a lot of roof-jumping in your childhood too? Along with the punching and kicking? And befriending Campbell lackeys?”

  She was too smart for her own good.

  “Aye.”

  He didn’t wait for her to ask more, but hurried to the rusty handles of a ladder. He went first, averting his eyes as she, still in that short dress with leggings that clung to every curve, made her way down after him. The knife’s sheathed tip dug into his right buttock as he climbed. He paused to adjust it.

  At the bottom, they took off for the townhouse, him leading the way and hoping against all that the kingsman would be put off their trail and that none in the pub would remember Aini’s face. As if they wouldn’t. Half Indonesian and more bonnie than any girl he’d seen, they’d remember. But there was nothing to be done for it.

  As they ran, the sun burning their heads, Thane wondered where this all would lead, what the endgame would be. Once they gave the Dionadair the knife, then what? Would the rebels tell Aini what they knew of Lewis? What was their motivation behind the telling?

  He didn’t like it. Not a bit. This was a dangerous game Aini was playing and Thane wished she’d just go back to the lab and stay there. If Rodric heard about the knife, if he found out Thane had it within his reach and didn’t turn it in to the clan, he’d be insane about it. Nathair would want to at least see this artifact the rebels were going on about. Even if it wasn’t really what they thought it was.

  As if she knew his thoughts, Aini glanced at him. “Thanks for all the help,” she said, her words breathy from running. They made it to the townhouse and she unlocked the door and went inside. “I am sorry—”

  “New rule,” he said. She gave him a scathing look. She liked to be the one doing the bossing. “No more apologizing,” he said.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Agreed. May I have the knife, please?”

  He pulled the weapon from his back and held it out to her, a knight to his queen.

  “Are you going to tell me more about Bran and that pub?” she asked archly.

  Thane looked at the floor.

  “They knew you there.”

  Aini raised an eyebrow.

  “Bran deals cards there sometimes. For extra money. I gamble with him. He’s a good man and I don’t want to end our friendship just because he has a less than perfect…situation.”

  “I like him.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  She held the knife closer. “And so are you.”

  They stood quiet, the compliment burning down Thane’s walls.

  “I’m going to examine the knife. See if there’s a vision in it.”

  “Of course. Yes. I’ll be…around if you need anything.”

  With a serious look on her face, she disappeared into her room.

  He’d told her more than he should’ve, but she needed something to chew on or she wouldn’t have let it drop.

  Heading for the kitchen, where it sounded like Myles and Neve were arguing jokingly, Thane raked fingers through his hair. His eyes filled with heat, moisture. He’d not cried in an age, but now, he wanted to. Seeing Aini in the Campbell pub. Her innocence, her goodness, against that place filled with people who were daily being drawn further away from doing right… His clan seemed driven now by a madman, by Nathair. A prickling ran over Thane like one thousand knives scratching his flesh. Willing the wetness in his eyes back to where it’d come from, Thane put his mask-like, blank expression on and went to the kitchen to wait on Aini.

  Chapter 15

  A Castle on the Sea

  Sitting on the bed, Aini set the knife on her lap and took a deep breath. Her head still ached and her jaw was sore, but she couldn’t think about resting. Not even if she’d wanted to.

  Thane spent time at a secret Campbell gambling den. He had a friend tied up with the Campbells. She rubbed her temples. Things were going from bad to worse.

  The ancient weapon gave off an odd smell. Metal, certainly, but also mildew and some kind of herb. Sage, maybe. Cloves? It was so strange, a scent that stirred an irresistible need to inhale it again, to try and pin it down. A deep, quiet fear laced the curiosity, like the knife had been touched by something not normal, something not of this world.

  Lifting the age-old weapon, she wrapped one hand firmly around the cool, black hilt and slid the steel from its ornate bronze and leather sheath. She lay the casing beside her and held the vicious-looking thing vertically. The light coming from her lamp flashed off its slanting angles. It weighed her arm down, heavier than it’d seemed earlier. Shadows danced in the corner of her room, echoing the movement of the light on the steel. The ceiling fan whisked air over her head.

  The other apprentices knocked around down the hall. Myles’s colonial banjo music carried through the house like sprites bouncing off the stone walls and wooden floors.

  Thane’s voice punched through the noise. “Turn that down!” His ow came out as oo.

  Aini pressed her fingers against the flat side of the knife.

  With a shiver, the vision dropped over her.

  Seer! The wide-mouthed man in
the old style clothes, the same from the first vision, spoke. Waymark Wall! His face dissolved.

  Sandstone walls rose from a green lawn. Castle ruins. The structure was weather worn, the edges soft. Holes marred the once solid construction. A marking was set in one wall. A spiral. The curling line spun until it morphed into a sea bird, then a flock. The birds squawked. Waves rushed and roared, gray and sea-green, in the background. A piece of land hunched like an animal’s back in the field of ocean. Then that odd, black stone appeared again—the one from the brooch’s vision—its surface carved with swirls too. It stood chest-high, hollowed like a seat.

  The images flickered, and the real world washed them away.

  Aini’s wood-paneled room appeared again. The rose carvings on her bed posts. The light on the metal. The ceiling fan pushed a piece of tickling hair over her face as she sheathed the blade. Her legs shook as she crossed the room to the vanity and jotted down what she’d seen on a slip of white paper.

  Castle ruins.

  A spiral carved into a wall.

  The ocean.

  The black stone marked like the wall, with spirals.

  Pulling the stool out from the vanity, she sat, her head splintering.

  The information from the vision explained nothing. Nothing.

  A picture of Father sat on her vanity. She traced his face with a trembling finger. Her mother had taken the photo the day she’d presented her wayang show, a Balinese shadow puppet performance. Seated on a stool with one leg crossed over the other, Father looked on as she held her cutout puppet in front of a white sheet. A traditional coconut husk lamp lit the cloth from behind. Mother had helped her make it. Father’s eyes were cinched up, partnering with his smile, as he focused on Aini, a nine-year-old at the time.

  Keeping hold of the knife, Aini lifted the picture and carried it to bed. She curled into a ball around the wooden picture frame, and with one hand gripping the antique knife, let exhaustion take her under.