The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy Page 2

  “How’s it taste, then?” Neve scooted forward on her stool.

  “A bit fiery.”

  “Fiery?” Aini asked, pen poised over the clipboard. “Be more specific. We need details for the investors.”

  “Any visions yet?” Father inched closer to Thane.

  Stumbling back, Thane’s mouth dropped open, the gum on his tongue.

  Aini laughed.

  Father practically hopped on Thane. “What do you see, lad?” He normally hid his accent, wanting to please his many English clients, but excitement drew it right out of him.

  Staring at the ceiling beams, Thane paled. “Translucent wings. About ten feet long. He’s...he’s...” The uni student ducked and laughed once, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “He’s breathing fire.” He shoved his hands through his hair and knocked his glasses to the floor.

  Neve hugged herself. “A dragon.”

  Father lifted his feet in a little jig and grabbed Aini’s arm, pulling her into his dance. Heart light, she did a spin, then squeezed him, feeling safe and loved, as if everything was going to be okay.

  “I can’t believe it,” Thane whispered.

  Neve grinned. “I knew that white pepper would do the trick.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you, my wee squirrel,” Father said to Aini. “The king will reward us handsomely, what with his birthday celebration coming up. We might get a tax exemption.”

  “And the elite will want it at their parties if the king has it at his,” she said.

  Father shouted, “Huzzah!” and zipped over to his desk to write something up.

  Aini couldn’t stop smiling. Another candy for their impressive inventory. Another building block for Father’s beloved business. Somehow, she had to thank the apprentices for all their hard work. Maybe a special dinner or a big night out. This vision-inducing gum was another reason she loved having all of them here, a part of the family.

  Neve peppered Thane with questions about the formula. Over Neve’s head, Thane met Aini’s gaze. A shadow passed over his face. He was a melancholy sort, but this was more. Something…darker. Aini’s smile faded. He had nothing to be upset about today. What could be bothering him? Surely not all this stuff about the Campbells. It would pass. Wouldn’t it?

  Father tugged Aini into another jubilant hug, and her smile returned. She could maintain this happiness. She would maintain it. No matter what. She just had to keep her sixth sense concealed. Because visions prompted by chewing gum earned money, but visions of another sort only led to death.

  Chapter 2

  Living in the Darkness

  In Mr. MacGregor’s townhouse common room, Thane pulled a book off a shelf. It was a mystery set in the Dominion of New England, where Aini had lived with her mother, then her grandmother after her mother passed on.

  Now Aini and her father were settling in for their nightly poetry nonsense by the stone fireplace, and Thane wanted to give them room. Deep inside, Thane knew their ritual was anything but nonsensical, but he didn’t want to think on that. He had to stay cold, stay focused.

  “Robert Burns again tonight, squirrel?” Lewis said to Aini as he crossed his legs and opened a book on his lap.

  The light scrape of a turning page followed the click of the lamp. Aini sat opposite Lewis, her foot pointed as she drew an imaginary circle on the floor with her toe like a ballet dancer. Thane’s neck grew a little too warm. He turned away.

  “Care to join us, Thane?” Aini asked, her red lips plump and lovely in the lamplight.

  “No. Thank you though.”

  His heart pulled at his chest as he bid them goodnight and went to the room he shared with Myles. The time Thane spent with his own father was minimal and perfunctory, more about drilling loyalty to the clan into him than any kind of bonding.

  Thane pushed the bedroom door open, and the glare of the overhead made him squint. A quilt—stitched with the leaf logo of Myles’s favorite band, Mint—lay half on, half off the guy’s bed. Myles was still upstairs working on his advert with Neve. At least there’d be an hour or so of quiet before the colonial tossed himself into bed to snore like a Highland cow.

  Thane switched the overhead off and lit a wide candle on his nightstand. When in the lab, focusing on chemistry and his mission, bright light was key to staying alert, focused. Alternatively, the golden shadows of a candle told Thane’s brain to relax.

  Using a paperclip, Thane popped his phone open, revealing the electronic guts. He picked out the small square that fed his calls to Campbell headquarters, set it near the candle, and dialed his mother’s number.

  She answered on the first ring, as always, her strong voice softened by anxiety. “Thane?”

  “Yes, Mother. And how are you today?”

  “Oh, it’s a joy to hear your voice. How’s all with you?”

  “All right.”

  “Liar,” she said. “You know I don’t sleep at night, thinking about the orders they give you.”

  He rubbed his face roughly. “Can we not talk about that for a bit, aye? How is your new gardener working out, then?”

  She made a huffing noise over the line. “I had to let him go.” Her voice was sad, but then it lifted and sparked. “The man had no sense of what I wanted.”

  Thane smiled. “Too much trimming?”

  “Exactly that. He wanted it like an English garden.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t do, would it?”

  “Certainly not,” she said, a laugh in her voice. “I can’t stand feeling like I’m in someone’s parlor when I’m enjoying a walk.” She broke off, coughing.

  “Are you sick?” he asked.

  “No.” There was a sound like she’d switched the phone to her other ear. “I’m…”

  “He hasn’t hurt you again, has he? Just leave, Mother. Please.”

  “You know he would find me. Find us.”

  Thane let the silence speak for a beat. It was an old argument. There was no answer for either of them.

  “I should have something to please the clan soon,” he said tightly. “It’s something to do with my mission here.”

  “Don’t fret over me, Son. I’ve been managing that man since long before you were a twinkle in his eye.”

  Managing. Enduring abuse is what she did. Thane pressed the corner of the phone into his forehead until the pain cleared away his anger.

  “I’ll ring you again soon,” he said. “All right?”

  With her blessing, he clicked the phone off.

  He could picture her folding her arms over herself, the phone tucked under an elbow. She was probably standing beside her bedroom window, looking out on the green gardens she loved so well and wearing her favorite cashmere sweater. Though her hair had gone prematurely white, she stood tall, nearly as tall as he, and her shoulders only slightly bent against the life she lived. She’d tug on her perfectly plucked eyebrow as she planned how next to handle her husband, how to best cover the yellowing bruise on her cheek. If there was a woman who could survive under these circumstances, it was her.

  If only Thane could help her get away. But the network of Campbell relatives, operatives, and kingsman, both related and not, was too thick and far-reaching. No one could find their way out. Especially not Thane.

  He couldn’t truly think of leaving Scotland. He’d been to Paris, Rome, even the colonies and parts of Asia, but no place gave him the same feeling as his own home country. He wondered if others—maybe those who were also descendants of the country’s most ancient families—felt the same way. It was like Scotland was a living, breathing being. A person to come home to, who laughed at your jokes and gave you rest when you needed it. The high slopes of the bens, the peat-brown waters, the smell of the air, his feisty people. Scotland beat in his chest like a second heart. It’d kill him to turn his back on the homeland, and he hoped with everything in him he’d never have to do it.

  He leaned back on the bed to start on the mystery, but his book sat in his hands, ignored, as Lewis’
s reaction to the clan’s pressure flickered through his mind.

  So Lewis thought he could simply say No. That Nathair Campbell needed royal approval to actually force him to create sweets that were anything but sweet. Until a month ago, Thane would’ve agreed his father would wait for the king’s go-ahead to pursue this route. But when Nathair ordered those rebels and sixth-sensers shot down in public last month, he’d turned a page in the story of his growing madness. The king had excused Nathair’s disregard for following proper execution mandates, saying his head of security was simply overcome with loyalty to king and crown.

  Thane knew better.

  Nathair wasn’t overcome with loyalty; the scarred and vicious leader of Clan Campbell, Thane’s own terrible father, lusted for more power.

  Unable to read, Thane blew out the candle and pretended to sleep when Myles came in, smelling like paint.

  “Good night, sleeping beauty,” Myles said, comic sarcasm dripping from his southern colonial accent.

  Thane rolled his eyes in the dark. He turned over and began the long wait for a short sleep. He wondered if he’d sleep better if he had a different life to wake up to. Working in the lab was a sick sort of tease. Having Lewis MacGregor as a mentor—such a master chemist and a good man all around. Sharing work space with the others who knew nothing about Thane’s real life. It was a dream that would end all too soon, and in a bang, if the past had taught him anything.

  Thane woke abruptly, heart rumbling and stuttering. He sat up. The clock on his nightstand said five in the morning. He’d had that strange dream again. The one that had haunted him since childhood.

  It began with him simply looking down at his palm. The focus narrowed onto one of his fingers, zooming in, closer, deeper. He seemed to race through the ridges and lines of his own fingerprint. They towered over him like walls of a great valley. Their flesh tone faded. The curves and patterns of his fingerprint grew black as he seemed to rush backward. The sound bothered Thane most. In this last part of the recurring dream, the air reverberated with a shattering boom that made him feel as if his eyes might pop from their sockets.

  He’d never told a soul about the dream. When he was young, he didn’t want to tell his mother. Running to Mummy was something only wee bairns did. Now, the dream smacked of a sixth sense, so he ignored it as best he could.

  One of Myles’s ear-cracking snores broke the silence in the dark room, and Thane forced his tired legs out of bed, fumbling for his glasses. Leaving Myles to his dreams, he slipped out of the room, through the warm kitchen, and up the winding, stone steps to the tower lab.

  At the low, wide stove, he poured ingredients for Lewis’s golden taffy into a huge copper pot. Aini had edged the color enhancing sweet into the day’s schedule after she pre-sold a batch to the Earl of Lincoln. With that boiling, and the automatic wooden spoon spinning in the pot, Thane moved on to his real project. If anyone was out of bed this early and surprised him, he could simply point to the taffy as his reason for being here.

  The mortar and pestle were still where he’d stored them, behind the blocks of wax they sometimes used for molds. Henbane and nightshade, the dried anticholinergic herbs he’d researched and gathered, hid under the mortar. After setting all this on the table, Thane pulled a vial from his boot.

  The small glass container held the substance he’d developed during his first week here. He’d drawn the basics of it from Lewis’s aphrodisiac cherry drops. The way Thane distilled the substance increased the paralyzing effect ninety-seven percent and would hopefully, with today’s mix, draw the herbal additions through the victim’s tongue and into the body.

  Dropping the ingredients into the mortar, he ground them until they made a fine powder he had to be sure not to inhale.

  The taffy was ready on the stove, so he added the sparkling golden color and orange flavoring, then pulled it off the heat. The mix cooled, and Thane added one tablespoon of Lewis’s photoreceptor enhancer, Cone5, into the mix. Those who ate this golden taffy would see the world in an array of colors usually reserved for the Chinese yellow swallowtail butterfly, Papilio xuthus. Twenty minutes after consuming, candy-eaters’ eyes would be flooded with two extra types of rods that allowed ultraviolet and violet color vision. Thane had never tried it, but it sounded fairly interesting.

  Pouring the hot taffy onto a baking sheet and placing it in the lab’s oven on two hundred degrees, he’d keep it warm enough to put on the puller when he’d finished his secret project—the altered, intensified cherry drops.

  Now for the dangerous drops’ flavor—the project for his clan to possibly use on the rebels.

  It had to be something unique, not simply cherry. Something that would make any daft fool want to give it a go. Setting the pestle down, he eyed the shelves and jars. What flavor would cover the foul taste the higher levels of the chemical produced?

  Above him on a high open shelf, a tall glass container held a cloudy liquid. Coconut extract. He poured two teaspoons into the mortar, his brain latching onto the scent and throwing out mental images of Aini. Ebony hair knotted high and showing off her slim neck. Her ruby lips. That sweet, painfully innocent smile.

  “What are you working on?” Aini’s voice carried across the lab.

  Heart rate increasing, Thane smiled casually, quickly setting the coconut extract on the table and turning to take the warm taffy from the oven.

  “Just the taffy you had on schedule.”

  He laid the baking sheet near the extract, the orange of the taffy rising and combining with the island scent.

  Aini gave him a quick smile, then eyed the coconut oil. “And what’s this for?”

  As she turned, he slipped the mortar and the secret herbs onto the shelf below the table. “I was thinking about a twist on your father’s cherry drop recipe. Adding coconut.” A little truth turned lies to gold.

  “Did you fill out the form for the flavor addition?” Aini touched the mound of taffy on the table, wincing a bit at the heat. With a metal scraper, she began folding the taffy to ready it for the puller. “The king can shut us down for not following procedures.” Her hand went to her hip and her eyebrow quirked into a vicious slant.

  “Give me the form then. I’m not here to ruin anything.” The words stuck a bit in his throat. He certainly wasn’t there to make things all rosy.

  Lewis walked in, his gaze raging over the lab. “Why is the coconut extract out? Where’s the mortar?” He took a breath and looked at Aini, who was ringing her hands. “Can you tidy this place up a bit? I’m shutting the lab down for today. I have to go to the kingsmen’s office and have a chat about the Campbells.” Lewis’s gaze strayed to the battered ring on his left hand.

  Thane fisted his hands, his nails cutting into his palms.

  “At least I’ve readied the King’s Ointment they ordered…” Lewis pointed to a crate of vials nestled in packing paper. The stuff could heal almost any wound. Expensive and time-consuming to craft though. “Thane, will you take it downstairs?”

  “Aye. No bother, Mr. MacGregor.”

  Pushing the tall bottle of coconut extract over—on purpose—with his elbow, Thane apologized. As Aini and Lewis rushed to clean the mess, Thane bent and cupped the mortar. With the substance behind his back, he retreated, then rounded the table, heading for the vials of King’s Ointment. Cloaking his movements with his body, Thane tucked the mortar and herbs into the crate.

  His secret concoction hidden, he grabbed a towel and helped with the cleanup.

  “Never knew you to be clumsy,” Lewis said, frowning at him.

  “Didn’t sleep much I guess.”

  Again, Aini raised that eyebrow. She screwed the cap onto the oil. “Did you go out last night?”

  “No. Just…my brain would not shut down.”

  She smiled then, looking sorry for accusing him of sneaking out. It made Thane feel even worse. “That, I understand,” she said.

  Lewis clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt. I’m a bit
…stressed. Please remember, I require dedication, lad, but not more than your mind and body can handle. Why don’t you go have a lie down?”

  Thane swallowed and his eyes burned. The man was far kinder than any he’d ever known. “I thank you, but no. I’ll do.”

  “All right then.”

  “Father, why don’t we let Thane finish up here,” Aini said. “I’ll make some oatmeal downstairs and you can be on your way.”

  Lewis started to pick up the crate of King’s Ointment.

  “Don’t,” Thane said. “I’ll take it. Don’t worry.”

  Aini looped her arm through her father’s and they disappeared down the stairs.

  With them gone, Thane had a moment to turn the powder in the mortar into something he could use. After finding a jar of petroleum jelly, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves from his lab coat pocket and lifted the tiny container of healing ointment from its nest. He smeared a nice glob of jelly into the mortar, mixed it, and scooped it into a vial.

  It wasn’t a clever candy recipe, not what he’d been ordered to work on, but the paralyzing ointment might be enough to please his fool cousin for the time being.

  Chapter 3

  Gone

  To do list:

  buy apples

  look for deals on spices/herbs

  purchase the bread Father likes with his stew

  Since her father had deemed the lab closed, and it was Williamsday, Aini herded the apprentices to the weekly market. If she let them stay home, they’d lie around eating and watching television.

  Her mother had been like that; throwing time away as if it wasn’t already designated as work hours by the oily man who managed their dance troupe. During their off weeks, Aini tried to get her mom to teach her Balinese or even Scottish history, the story of Lewis’s homeland, where Aini had been born. But her mother would only smile condescendingly and claim she needed rest. Aini would retreat to her cot and simmer, frustrated at her mother’s nature and the fact that she’d broken up the family for a reason she’d never share.