The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy Read online

  The memory disappeared—she’d never see it again—and a new one bled into its place as Aini curled her fingers tightly around the pin, lost in the vision.

  A handsome young man with a wide mouth gripped the brooch. Wearing old-fashioned clothes, he shut his eyes and envisioned a large room with rough brick and stone walls.

  Was this man leaving an emotional imprint on the brooch on purpose? Impossible.

  Water dripped from the ceiling. There was a large knife—a dirk—with a hilt black as coal. He thought of a number. Eighty-five.

  Seer, his mind said. Find the knife, first in the clah-na-cinneamhain trail.

  An oddly shaped rock came into view. Very large. Sloping upward toward the back, hollowed in the middle like a seat. Circles. Swirls.

  Make certain the time is right, his thoughts shouted.

  His dark eyes grew larger and larger, shining, wild, closer, closer. Seer! See me! Find the knife!

  The vision disintegrated, and Aini sucked the air of Father’s hidden room as the brick and cement walls bubbled into view. The brooch fell from her fingers and thunked to the floor.

  She still wasn’t used to her sixth sense, though the process was fairly straightforward. The first time she touched an object with strong sentimental value to someone, a moment of imprinted emotion played out in her head like a movie. At least it only occurred the first time her skin made contact.

  She’d seen Mother in a pearly veil when she’d touched Father’s watch. That had been a nice one. Unfortunately, they weren’t all so pleasant. When she’d touched the chain Myles wore around his wrist, she’d seen a vision of Myles’s mother turn her back on him before his trip here to be an apprentice.

  And this vision, the first one in the brooch, it showed Father with a stranger, standing in front of the banned flag. She looked at the ceiling, her fingers going cold.

  Father, what did you do?

  She squeezed the brooch and pressed a hand against her forehead. This could ruin everything. It was one thing if the Campbells took him because he’d refused their plan; it was quite another if they found out he was a traitor. She breathed out slowly, trying not to panic.

  The second vision in the brooch had been so strange. The man had seemed to speak through the memory. He’d told her to “find the knife.”

  Crouching, she gathered the brooch. The light glanced off the tiny words around the border. It was a clan motto. Most were in Latin or French. “De bonnaire…”

  “Graceful,” a deep voice said.

  Thane walked into the lab, his face pale except for the red mark of Aini’s fingers on his cheek. Then he froze. His gaze roamed the hidden room.

  She cupped the brooch, then hid it in her pocket. “Is that what the French means? Graceful?”

  “Aye.” He looked at her, his stare unrelenting.

  Standing, she pulled her shirt back into place and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I didn’t know you spoke French.”

  “You could fill the North Sea with what you don’t know about me,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and looking generally miserable.

  Aini wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She shut the trunk and dusted her hands together. Thane’s gaze burned a hole in her back.

  “Aini. Listen. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault your—”

  She held up a finger, and he paused as she shoved the hidden room’s door closed. “You said the picture you found was taken at a club. A rebel club?” She faced him.

  His gaze fixed on the jar of blue sugar as it slid back into place with a mechanical clunk. “I did.”

  “I’m going to that club tonight,” Aini said. “What’s it called? Where is it? Is it still open?”

  “You can’t go there. It’s not safe.”

  “I have to know how serious this all is.”

  “Bad sorts go in there. You can’t just walk in there with not a thought to—”

  She started down the stairs. The smell of coffee and the cool air of the stairwell cleaned the rest of the vision away. A quick thought of her dark room and bed beckoned, but she couldn’t hide away.

  “Aini.” Thane came up behind her as the stairs opened into the kitchen.

  Neve and Myles’s heads lifted, their faces drawn.

  “Aini. Please. Listen. The Origin is not a Dionadair meeting place anymore.”

  “The Origin? Perfect. Now I know where to go.” Snatching her phone, she searched for the location.

  Neve stood and frowned at Thane. “And how do you know so much about the Dionadair?”

  “The club is on George IV Bridge,” Aini said.

  Thane raised an eyebrow at Neve. “You know enough to call me on it.”

  Red splotches rose on Neve’s neck. “I hear urban legends and…things…when I lead tours. I have one this weekend…” She chewed her lip and blinked under his stare.

  Aini glared at Thane. “Leave her alone.”

  Neve knew more about Scotland than all of them.

  Aini’s phone said The Origin opened at ten o’clock. “So who’s with me for clubbing tonight?”

  Myles snorted and gave a weak version of his normal grin. “I could be persuaded to gyrate under obnoxious lighting while flocked by women. Only if it’ll help you out.”

  Eyes wide, Neve looked from Thane to Myles. “Will someone please tell me what’s happening?”

  Aini tucked her phone into her waistband and took Neve’s hands, swallowing with the effort not to scream or cry or lose it completely. “That picture Thane found shows Father in a rebel club called The Origin.”

  Neve started shaking her head slowly back and forth.

  Aini squeezed her fingers. “I’m going there to see if I can learn anything.”

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Neve said. “I’ve heard that place is rough.”

  It was probably true. If it used to be a rebel hang out, chances were the people there liked risking treason to have a little wild fun. Stupid. But Aini couldn’t sit around here doing nothing. It was one night. One trip to find out what exactly Father had done in his past and how bad it was. One risk that could give her what she needed.

  She met Neve’s gaze. “I need answers.”

  “The Dionadair rebels won’t be there with name tags on. You’ll never find one, even if they are there and know something of your father’s past.”

  “I have to try.”

  Plus, Aini had the brooch. A stranger, most likely a rebel, had given to Father. If she wore it in plain sight in the club, maybe the Dionadair would recognize it and tell her more. Information was power, and she needed every bit she could find to untangle this nightmare.

  She started out of the kitchen, the brooch warm in her pocket.

  She wished she could tell them why a rebel might know to approach her, but she couldn’t explain about what she’d seen, about how she knew the brooch had belonged to a rebel. The king and Nathair Campbell called people with talents similar to hers “abominations.” And those who covered for sixth-sensers were taken for questioning, and were either sentenced to death for treason or simply never returned to their families, lost in the Campbells’ famed prison cells under Edinburgh.

  Thane stood in her way. In the dark hallway, his glasses hid his eyes and Aini felt oddly frightened of him. The feeling only lasted a moment, and she felt stupid about it immediately after. She knew him well enough to know he was a little unruly, but nothing to be afraid of.

  “This is a waste of time,” Thane said quietly. “The kingsmen raided the place countless times. Aside from some rebel wannabes and a few black market operators, the kingsmen have found nothing. Not in years.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be too dangerous to go. Excuse me.” She shoved past him to her bedroom door.

  When she grabbed the doorknob, he covered her hand with his. His long fingers were smooth. Small calluses on his palm pressed into her knuckles and part of a tattoo—CaCo3—marked his thumb.

  “Just because it’s not a Dionadair nes
t doesn’t mean it’ll be a sweet, little place.” His thumb twitched, brushing across the bone in her wrist. They were both breathing like they’d run down the hallway. He pulled his hand away and rubbed his face. “Look, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Just because you’re twenty-whatever and I’m seventeen doesn’t mean I need you protecting me.” She jerked the knob and threw the door open.

  A black sweater and a pair of blue leggings lay on Neve’s bed. She went to her armoire and surveyed her own wardrobe.

  Thane’s boots knocked on the floor behind her. “It’s not about age.”

  She picked out a black and blue striped dress she’d never worn and held it up. “This should work, right?”

  He put fisted hands against his eyes, shoving his glasses into his messy hair, and leaned his head back. Making that Scottish sound of annoyance in his throat, he stalked out the door.

  But it didn’t matter what he thought. Aini had to do this.

  The dress fit perfectly. She dropped the brooch into her bag, not wanting anyone to ask her about it before they were at the club. The less they knew, the better.

  Chapter 7

  The Origin

  Turns out, Aini’s dress wasn’t going to work. She fought her impatience and tried to be thankful for Myles. He’d picked up some clothes at the thrift shop. Richest guy ever to go into a secondhand store. With his plantation-owning mother, he could’ve bought the thrift shop.

  Myles put a hand over his heart, his fresh hair dye bright as spring grass and his sleeveless suit jacket blue as the sky. “One must demonstrate one’s lusty beauty before time snatches it away.” He kissed his wiry bicep.

  Chewing a nail, Aini rolled her eyes. “Maybe in Mylesland.” A fleck of gold mascara dropped under her lash.

  Myles sighed and fell backward on Aini’s bed, arms and legs splayed, knocking bolsters and circular pillows all over. “What a gorgeous idea—Mylesland.” Aini hoped he planned on putting those pillows back the right way. “It would be filled with honey and paint and pictures of me.”

  He and Neve had both been trying to be cheery all afternoon. They’d pushed hope and positive thinking as the group had draped a golden length of taffy over the pulling machine’s metal arms. By the end of the six-on-the-dot greens and lean protein dinner Aini served everyone, they’d managed to calm her down, taking her from crushing panic to manageable anxiety.

  Now, sitting at the vanity near Aini, Neve made a little groaning sound. Leaving the mess he’d made of Aini’s bed, Myles pushed the corners of Neve’s mouth up. He stepped back and her feigned smile fell.

  “I look a proper idiot,” Neve said.

  Myles shook his head. “No. You look…delicious.”

  “He’s right,” Aini said. “You are beautiful.”

  Aini had braided Neve’s hair into an intricate mess on top of her head. Her outfit consisted of a flowy top with straps and a short skirt. She did not look one bit like a mouse tonight.

  “I’m not going to be able to dance in these.” Neve pointed to her stacked boots.

  Aini smiled down at her own matte gold heels with matching feathers that fluffed out at the ankles. Practical was best, but sometimes lovely things were good too. This dress was another world entirely with its agonizingly short, puffy layers of white colonial cotton and fake gold threading. It was pretty seriously inappropriate.

  “Are you sure I can’t wear the other dress?” Aini said. “This one is—”

  The sight of Thane erased her ability to make words.

  His suit jacket had sleeves, but lacked a shirt underneath. His flat stomach was totally on display right there. Right. There. And his dress pants hung way too low on his hipbones. He stood, looking at Aini with those gray eyes framed doubly by black lashes and glasses. His gaze warmed her forehead, nose, the delicate skin over her chest, all the way down to her ridiculously shod feet. His tattooed fingers twitched at his sides.

  Aini swallowed, her heart running triple speed. Blinking, she focused instead on Myles and Neve. “I should change,” she said. “I’m practically naked.”

  Turning away, Thane muttered something and shoved his hands in his hair.

  Neve bit her lip and gave Aini a trembling smile.

  Myles grabbed Neve up and pushed her purse into her arms. “You’re fine, Aini. Now it’s time to go, people.”

  Thane made a strangled noise from the door, kicked his heel backward against the frame, then walked into the hallway. Myles trailed him.

  Thane spoke to him, voice rolling around the corridor outside the door. “I’m putting a shirt on. This is nonsense.”

  Aini stopped Neve, laying a hand on her back. “Is this…am I…am I doing the right thing?”

  “As if I know. But we’re with you. No matter what.”

  Aini hugged her tight. “Thanks. Thank you so, so much.”

  She wasn’t half the woman Neve was. Working two jobs, Neve supported a sick mother and so many little brothers that Aini could never remember the count.

  With a shaky smile, Neve turned and Aini followed her to the front door, worry and guilt hovering like dark ghosts.

  The rain pelted them like bullets as they climbed into a taxi Myles had set up.

  It was time to find some rebels.

  Rain clapped against the clear tarp shielding people waiting to get into The Origin. At the front, the bouncer held out a hand for Aini’s Subject Identification Card. The pale stone facade of the club towered over them with arching stained glass windows. A body-shaking bass line, cigarette smoke, and the musky scent of incense leaked from its insides.

  “Not you. Too young,” he said, handing the card back.

  Heat rose to Aini’s cheeks. She pointed to Myles, who stood beside Neve and Thane at the club’s door. “My friend said most places let in fifteen and up. I’m seventeen.”

  The baldheaded man shook his head and gestured for the next person to come forward. A girl elbowed Aini in the back. Aini turned to say something but ended up staring at the girl’s forehead. A tattooed third eye peered back. Aini shook her head.

  “Go home, you wee thing,” the girl said nastily. “You heard the man.”

  The boy next in line wore a tight leather shirt that was ripped down one side. “Aye,” he said. “Go on.” Tiny chains dangled from his lips and ears, and swirls of black paint covered his bare shoulder.

  “I am not going home.” Aini glared at them. “Nor is this any of your business.”

  Myles came over and flashed a handful of pounds. He tucked them into the bouncer’s shirt pocket. “Let the little lady in, pretty please?”

  “Thanks for the tip, pal, but no.” The bouncer trained his eyes straight ahead, arms crossed.

  Thane said something in Neve’s ear as she peered into the club. Red lights colored their faces. Then he waved Myles over and they both looked at Aini. After their tête-à-tête, during which Aini was pushed out of line by the eye tattoo girl, Myles trotted to the middle of the street.

  “Check this out!” he called to the bouncer.

  Suddenly, he was upside down in a handstand.

  Thane walked over as the bouncer looked at Myles and snorted.

  Thane took a loud breath, and with one look over the distracted crowd, he snatched something small from his boot and put his arm around the bouncer’s big shiny head. He laughed too loudly and swept a finger across the bouncer’s upper lip before the man could pull away. The bouncer slumped forward on his stool and Thane eased him to the ground.

  “Drank a bit too much, did you?” Thane’s voice was too high and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He patted the man’s back genially. “I’ll get the manager. We’re tight.” Crossing his fingers and holding them up for the crowd, he leaned toward Aini. “Get inside now.” His breath warmed her ear. “I’ll meet you.”

  A broad-faced woman halfway under the tarp shouted, “Don’t mind if you get tight with me, blondie!” Several other women howled, and the men laughed.

 
“What did you do?” Aini demanded. “Did you use something from the lab?”

  “Aye. Now go.” He jerked his chin toward Neve and Myles, who stared, eyes wide.

  “What if the manager comes out? The people saw you and me.”

  “Aini,” Thane hissed through his teeth. “Quit worrying about all the wrong things, will you? Now, go on.”

  He clapped the bouncer on the back again and scowled at the increasing flow of creatively inappropriate remarks about his backside coming from the line.

  Aini rubbed her temples. Thane had used Father’s chemicals and herbs on that man. He was trying to help, but that was not okay. Sighing, she stomped across the red and green glass mosaic floor, took Neve’s arm, and entered The Origin. Myles hung back, waiting on Thane.

  Inside the club, a dance floor, a bar area the size of Aini’s bedroom, and two balconies with railings made of what looked like bones greeted them. Red electric lights blended with what had to be a thousand candles, giving the room a sickly pall.

  Neve looked over her shoulder. “What’s happened to the bouncer? Did Thane hit him?”

  Aini’s single dress strap dropped off and she tugged it into place. “No. He gave him something. Wiped something under his nose.” Her stomach rolled. They were falling further and further from her comfort zone. She had to get some information and get out of here before they all ended up in jail.

  Neve bumped into a five foot candle, and Aini caught the thing before it hit the elaborately painted stone floor. “And the stuff knocked the man out?” Neve asked.

  Aini nodded.

  Artistic vines curled underfoot from the door to the bar. A painted mouth surrounded the dance area like the people were tiny offerings about to be devoured. Over them, an automobile-sized skull with long, stringy hair hung from plastic links.

  Shaking her head, Neve followed Aini closer to the dancing crowd. “Did he use stuff from our lab?” she asked. “You’ll give him trouble for it, aye?”