“What?” Myles and Neve spoke in unison.
Thane’s voice carried over the noise. “I am your Heir. I accept my role. I hope to drive the scourge of King John’s influence out of our country. My father and I have mended our broken relationship. We want everyone—factory workers, teachers, fathers, mothers, Dionadair, all manner of rebels, kingsmen loyal to the Campbells—to come together and rise up. The French support us in our fight for freedom. They’ve sent weapons. Ammunition. Ships are on their way. We can win this for ourselves, for Scotland.”
The people cried out and many crossed their thumbs over their heads. They curtseyed and bowed to Thane and began milling around, talking excitedly. Some were crying as they hurried home, most likely to fill loved ones in on the news.
The French had promised support. Really? Truly? They’d sent guns? This was big. This was very big.
Nathair clasped his hands together, looking for all the world like an earnest man. “I welcome the Dionadair and all who call themselves rebels to this very spot at sundown tonight to discuss strategy. We are one now. All of us. I trust you will not fire on me and please trust I will not fire on you. Our Heir needs everyone to fight King John. Our country needs all of us. Today marks the beginning of our new Scotland!”
The people erupted into chanting and cheers.
“The fountain.” Neve frowned. “It stuttered. Now it’s stopped completely.”
Bran’s chest caved in. “The water. They’re getting ready to do something to the city’s water. Now.”
Thane raised his hands, stretching them wide. “People of Edinburgh.”
It was the signal. “He wants us to cause a distraction,” Bran said, “then find a way to stop the poisoning. But we must be careful. If they think Thane warned us, Aini will suffer.”
Vera spoke into her phone. “Give out vision-inducing gum to everyone you can. Distract the populace. Find a unit close to the waterworks. Nathair is plotting to poison the water.”
“Why can’t we just tell everyone?” Neve hissed. “Maybe they’ll rise up and we can get Aini and Thane out of here.”
“That will ruin our own chances against the king. He will come and we need to be united. The French are key. We have to keep this carefully balanced or we will all end up cold in the ground.”
Bran had a handful of the gum. He pulled out a piece, ran up to the nearest man, and rammed the gum into his mouth. The man’s wife shouted and shoved Bran back as her husband choked, then appeared to swallow the gum.
One of Nathair’s new men spotted Bran and started toward them.
“What are you doing?” Myles grabbed Bran.
“He’s distracting people. Weren’t you listening?” Neve took some more of the gum from Bran’s outstretched hand. She ran off and offered the gum to a group of teens who took it willingly between chants of “Thane the Heir! Take down John! Thane the Heir!”
Then the visions started and the screaming began.
“A big snake!” One lass pointed at the sky, her face losing all its blood.
The man Bran had assaulted staggered and held onto his wife. “Lacey. I see…it’s a great tree. And a monkey. A monkey and we’re in the jungle!” Laughing like a maniac, he looked around like he might be searching for Bran. “You need some of this gum, dear. It’s wonderful! What a day. What a bizarre day!”
Vera gripped Bran’s elbow. Her red lips were a line. “It’s time to move.”
Myles, Vera, Neve, and Bran ran from the square. Thane spoke to the nobles onstage, most of him blocked by a circle of men in peaked flat caps and coats.
Bran and the rest pushed through the people watching those who’d chewed the gum. Woolen coats raked across the back of Bran’s hands as he wove through the crowd, Vera’s patchwork winter cap bright against the gray backdrop of Edinburgh’s Old Town. She was chattering into her phone every step of the way. The lorry that held all their guns was parked in front of a noodle shop, quiet and unassuming with its false advert about multi-colored false teeth Myles had painted on the side.
The waterworks building with its towering pumps and churning wheels was eerily silent.
“That’s a good sign.” Neve trailed Bran inside the even more eerily unguarded front entrance. “The water isn’t running so no one is dead yet.”
Vera ate a speed caramel, handed one of the candies to each of them, then cocked her gun and held it up. “This isn’t going to be a clean job. Get ready.”
Chewing his caramel, Bran took out two grenades and held them carefully.
But when Bran rounded the corner, he didn’t find kingsmen with tubes of vile-looking, bubbling poison cackling over water pipes. He found a group of men in overalls, each with a pint and evidence of several more glasses already enjoyed.
“Oh!” A man with a freckled forehead waved to Bran. “Here to bring us another celebratory drink? I can’t hardly believe Earl Nathair has changed so much!”
His associates laughed and shook their heads as Bran lowered his grenades and put out a hand to keep Vera, Myles, and Neve out of sight, still behind the wall.
Vera put her guns on her hips and whispered to Bran. “Gave them high octane brew so they’d be pissed, aye? That’s not overly clever, but I suppose it’s done its job. The poisoners will have already moved into the main room of the facility.”
Bran did his best to hide his explosives with his position, but he was fairly sure the waterworkers wouldn’t have noticed if he’d wheeled in a cannon.
Proving his point, the freckled man fell onto his arse and set his cohorts to laughing.
“Eh,” Bran said to the drunks, “there’s a lassie that needs directions at the side door. Just there.” He jerked his chin across the room and winked.
The men traded jokes and wandered to where Bran had indicated.
Bran, Vera, Myles, and Neve took off in a flash of speed before the workers had any idea they’d been duped. Hopefully, they wouldn’t remember Bran if it came to questioning down the road.
A steely corridor led to a cavernous room with a huge container at its peak and gurgling pipes coming from everywhere.
“There.” Bran pointed at a woman in plain clothing standing by a valve. A bucket sat beside her feet and she was talking into a phone.
“We need Thane,” Myles said. “He could talk her out of this with that face of his.”
“Not every woman is just waiting for a handsome man to influence them, you know.” Vera glared.
“Not every man is like that either.” Myles crossed his arms. “But I’d guess the percentage is fairly high on both sides of the game. All sides of the game.”
“Quiet.” Bran’s head was aching. “We have to do this so, so carefully. It has to seem like the plan to poison the water simply didn’t work. That is wasn’t due to Dionadair rebels. We have to keep the woman from doing as she’s been ordered and make it look like there was some other reason for it.”
“An accident.” Neve wrapped her arms around herself, her gun tucked under an elbow awkwardly.
Sweat beaded on Bran’s temples. “Yes. We could grab her and dose her heavily with the Bismian. She might not remember our attack.”
“Not good enough.” Vera clicked her tongue. “If she does remember and describes us, it’s over for our Seer. And probably our Heir too.”
“So we take the bucket.” Neve eyed the metal container. “She’ll be too embarrassed to tell anyone the inanimate object took off on her, and she’ll disappear into the countryside to live with her spinster aunt.”
“What a story.” Vera raised her eyebrows.
Myles holstered his gun, flexed his hands, then shook them out. “What if she isn’t too shy to admit her mistake?”
“It won’t make a difference really.” Neve’s nose scrunched as she peered around the piping to see the woman. “She won’t see us. The drunks won’t have a good description on Bran. There’s not enough to point it at the rebels. Nathair has it in his head that we’re all violence-crazed like he i
s. He won’t consider a subtle maneuver.”
Myles kissed Neve hard on the mouth. “You are the sexiest thing.”
Neve fought a grin, then punched his arm.
Bran nodded. “The idea has merit. Now, who thinks they’re the fastest of us?”
“Not me,” Vera said. “Plus these boots make too much noise. We need the most quiet and the speediest of us.”
“I’m too clumsy by half,” Neve said, looking unashamed.
“I’ll do it,” Bran said.
“Nah. It’s me, man. I’ll go. I can be sneaky.” Myles began stripping off his gun belt. Bran took it from him and the colonial sped off.
Myles made it to a large vertical pipe right behind the woman. She pocketed her phone and turned away from the valve. It was now or never.
In a blur of movement, Myles ran to the bucket, lifted it, and rushed back. Then they all zipped into the corridor and paused, listening for the woman’s reaction.
She made a sound like a hiss and mumbled something Bran didn’t catch.
Myles made a face. “Son of a monkey and a donkey? Is that what she said? I don’t think that’s even plausible.”
“Go.” Vera pushed Bran and Neve forward.
Bran took the lead, and they didn’t stop running, bucket of Bismian in hand, until they’d reached a large bin outside the Bluefoot. He took the poison and hefted it gently into the rubbish container. But it could leak. Leaking would be very bad. “I’m going to wrap it in something.”
Looking around, he spotted a plastic tub beside the back wall, near a busted tire. Perhaps the place used the tub for bringing in meat joints. Vera helped him settle the bucket inside the tub and he screwed the lid on tight.
Out of the bin, he dusted his hands and nodded toward the Bluefoot. “I know the men who do the rubbish pick up here. They both cheat on their spouses and have hidden at least one body. I don’t think anyone will miss them if they accidentally get into that.”
Chapter 13
Ghostly
Aini’s body screamed as Jack helped her from the cell’s wall and out of those horrible ropes. Every noise echoed loud as a shout against the hard surfaces of the underground prison.
Flicking his cigarette, Jack said, “Behave, and we won’t have to do that again.”
Aini had never wanted to kick someone in the groin so much in her life. But she could barely lift her feet to follow him out of the cell. “Where are you taking me?”
Her legs crumpled, and her knee hit the gritty floor. With no emotion on his face, Jack helped her up. She braced herself on the wall and shook off his hold on her.
The hidden brick wall entrance slid open with a quiet groan.
“Your lad is dressing for the role he’ll play soon, so you’ve been promoted to a guest room.”
The passageway’s concrete stairs seemed to wind on forever like some abstract pencil drawing without color or depth. Aini’s stomach rolled and every bit of her hurt.
“A guest room, hm?” She commanded her mouth to give Jack a sarcastic grin. He may have seen her body break down, but he would never see her spirit crumble. “With a turn-down service? How about those little mints they put on pillows?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he scratched his chin. That ruby ring of his reflected the light at Aini. A plan blossomed in her head.
“You think you’re funny, do you?” Jack led her up the wooden stairs that smelled like rotting lemons.
Aini’s leg muscles spasmed and she fought to stay upright. “No. I just have a funny friend. He’s rubbed off on me, I suppose.”
For a second, she forgot where she was. A memory of Myles’s chalk adverts littering the old lab swallowed her. She remembered Father coming into the room, all pressed clothing and shiny shoes. Thane and Neve had been there too. They’d been knocking the moody mixer around and trying to get it to work. It was odd how a regular day could become an important memory. She could still smell the sugar heating in Father’s copper pot.
Jack was snapping his fingers in front of her nose. “Eh, girl. Don’t pass out on me. We’re almost there. I don’t wish to carry you. You’re all kinds of filthy.”
Aini blinked. She was tired. More than that. She was near exhaustion. “I think I need water. And food.”
“You do. You’ll get it. If you behave.”
The hallway led to another hallway and Aini could hardly take one step after another. Her plan. What was her idea? She’d already forgotten it. She definitely wasn’t operating properly.
Jack’s hands swung by his sides.
Ah. That ring.
If she keeled over, he’d have to lift her. She’d have a chance to touch the ring and maybe, just maybe, see a vision. And maybe it would give her an edge in dealing with this thug.
She dropped like a rock.
The carpet hit her cheek, and she had the briefest sensation of not really caring if she ever moved again at all. Then Jack’s hands were under her and lifting. She fought a shudder and tried to focus. Which hand? Which finger had the ring?
Her room from earlier was getting closer and closer. The door was a mere few steps away. It was now or never.
Blindly, she reached under her ribs and took hold of Jack’s hand. He glanced down at her, confusion washing his cold features, but before he could say anything, a memory embedded in his ring swept Aini into another country, another time, another life.
In a dark room, two very young boys with dirty faces stood beside a row of flour sacks. One boy had Jack’s too tidy dark hair.
The other boy stared up at the ceiling. “Don’t tell them, Jack. We can’t tell them where my da is.”
Jack’s gaze slid to the front door and five kingsmen burst through.
“Robin!” The first kingsman began trolling the store’s aisles. “Robin Smithstone. You can’t hide from us forever. We’ll burn it down if you don’t show yourself, then where will your son be?”
The boy beside Jack was shaking. Jack was not.
One of the kingsmen bent to look the boys in the face. He produced a very shiny penny. Greed—a strange color somewhere between gold and green—glowed around Jack’s fingers and suffused the dim shadows of the store. Jack had never seen a new coin.
“Now,” the kingsman said, “tell me where the man is hiding and you can have this penny. Hmm?”
The red stripes running down the kingsman’s black jacket reminded Jack of the blood on Henry’s cheek after their fight the first time they’d met. He’d won that fight. And he’d win this too.
“He’s up there.” Jack pointed at the hidden attic door, then held out his palm.
The other boy sucked in a breath and covered his mouth.
The lovely copper penny was warm in Jack’s palm.
Robin Smithstone yowled like a cat as they dragged him from the attic and toward the front door. Jack smiled and ran up to his friend’s da. Grabbed the man’s thin fingers. Smiled and whispered, “Sorry.” Confusion tangled the old man’s face as Jack jerked Robin’s ruby ring from his pinky and slid it onto his own small thumb. Jack watched Henry wipe tears and snot from his face.
“It’s good you said sorry.” Henry sniffed. “They’ll kill him now, you know. My da. They’ll kill him.”
Jack shut the door with his filthy little boot and grinned, his eyes chilling.
Aini dropped Jack’s hand, sick to her stomach. There was no goodness in this man.
“Getting fresh with me, are you?” Jack dumped her onto the bed and turned to leave.
“I feel bad for you.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. You saw some sad memory in my ring. My abusive da and my absent mother. And you think if you just listen to the evil man tell you about his childhood, he’ll come around. Cliché. Try again.” He leaned out the door and spoke to someone Aini couldn’t see. “Get a fire going in here or she’s going to die before we’re finished using her.”
Aini pulled the bed’s duvet around her shoulders. Her teeth chattered. “The onl
y thing I saw was your true self. Greed.”
Jack stared at the half open door, jaw tensing. Without a word, he disappeared down the hallway.
Another of his men came in, built up the fire, and brought her a tray. He sat the tray on the side table and shut the door behind him. The lock snapped into place, and Aini jumped.
After downing a glass of tepid water and nibbling a piece of buttered toast, she lay on her side and gave herself some time to simply cry. There was no shame in it. No weakness. She simply had to let the sadness out so she could be strong again. A deep, dark sleep crept over her bruised body and struggling mind. Her nap’s dreams were filled with hands made of light, of warmth and cold twisting into something solid she could lean against, something from which she could take comfort.
When she woke, the sun was still shining. She hadn’t slept for long. Blinking she looked around the room, then gasped. The sixth-senser ghost—the one who’d helped her—floated, faintly visible, beside the bed. Another spirit filled the space to her right. This ghost was a woman wearing a high, lacy Elizabethan collar that highlighted her throat’s dark bruises. She’d been killed on the gallows, it seemed.
There was no guard in the room so Aini spoke freely. “I want to thank you for delivering my message. Did you get to the rebels? And I should know your name. I’m sorry if I’ve been rude.”
The younger ghost smiled. “Bathilda. And this is Lady Margaret.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Aini sat up and pulled the duvet back. She rotated her feet and stretched her hands above her head. Her head wasn’t pounding and her arms and legs were actually working properly. “You healed me again.”
“We did.” Bathilda’s gaze shifted to Margaret. “I reported to the rebels. They are on their way here. Secretly, it seems. They were mourning you, Seer.”
Aini touched her chest, feeling her heart beat through her shirt. She wished she could hold all her friends in her arms. “Thank you.”
Lady Margaret cleared her throat. “The Heir has taken to the stage, Seer. We can…show you, if you like.” Her lips pursed like she hadn’t wanted to make the suggestion. Like the “showing” was something distasteful.
The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy Page 54