The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy

by Alisha Klapheke

  “Je ne parle pas l’anglais, pine d’huître.” Let the fool work on understanding that.

  Thane hurried to the cabinet the ghost had indicated. He knelt and slid the bolt.

  And there it was.

  The chunk of the Coronation Stone Nathair had tossed beside Thane in the back of the lorry on their way here from Inveraray. No wonder Thane had felt strange in this room. All along, it had been the stone. I’m an idiot.

  But what would happen when he brought the kings? Aini wasn’t here to command them. They’d simply rise up and fade again. They might go after the daft lad at the door. But that wasn’t enough.

  A tapping sound came from the windows, behind the partly closed curtains. Thane tugged one back. The sight beyond the glass took his breath.

  Chapter 15

  Old Magic

  Aini knocked on the door keeping her inside the room. “I need to use the wash room, please.”

  A Glaswegian voice came through in answer. She thought maybe Jack had called him Michael. “All right. Move away from the door, then.”

  She stepped back, feeling the chill of both Lady Margaret and Bathilda at her sides. They were invisible, both from her lack of Cone5 taffy and the spirits’ own waning strength, but Aini knew they were there. The feel of them reminded her of a trip she took with Father to Ireland. They’d gone swimming in a river-fed lake and every once in a while her toes would find a spot under the water that was cold as glacier run-off. That was what the air felt like now with her ghostly associates populating the room. There was also the herby, dusky scent that spoke of old magic.

  A sudden thought occurred to her and she nearly forgot her current plan. What if she smelled like that now? Thane had a bit of it. Ever since he’d made the Coronation Stone roar on Bass Rock Island. Maybe she had enough magic of her own to hold the aroma of the supernatural? She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. All she could do was shake her head at the impossibility of the entire situation.

  Here was a girl who wanted nothing more than to help her father run a boutique altered sweets business. Lists and ingredients. Timetables and sales calls. That had been her life’s trajectory. Or so she’d thought. Now, it was ghosts and prophecy. Spies and blood. Love and rebellion.

  The door opened a crack and Michael moved away so she could go into the hallway. He kept a gun at her back as she walked toward the wash room, beside the stairwell that could take her to the floor where the stone hid.

  She glanced at the stairs and wished she hadn’t.

  Michael frowned. “Don’t get any ideas now. I have my orders and you are expendable. Most already believe you’re dead. Let’s not make it true, hm?”

  The door to the toilets squeaked terribly as she pushed inside. The place was lit with chandeliers. What a waste. Aini stood in the first stall and crossed her arms, thinking. Now what? Michael wasn’t going to just let her waltz downstairs. She couldn’t beat him up. Hurt him, yes, but she wouldn’t win against a person obviously trained in violence. Kicking him between the legs would only serve to make life more difficult for her and wouldn’t get her to Nathair’s office unnoticed. Maybe he could be called away. She cocked her head at the toilet bowl. If there was a leak, he’d have to call it in. Maybe that would distract him enough to give her a minute to run? No. That was stupid. They’d have her again in minutes. She needed to be stealthy in this or she wouldn’t have any time in Nathair’s office to wait for Thane or to command anyone, ghost kings or otherwise.

  “Ideas, ladies? I’m open to anything.” She studied the air for glimpses of Bathilda or Lady Margaret.

  “Window,” a voice said in her ear. “Roof.” It was Bathilda. Her voice was the tiniest bell, the softest whisper. And even though Aini was beginning to think of this ghost as a friend, the sounds still gave her a distinct shiver right up the spine. The window. But there wasn’t a—

  Ah. Above the row of toilets, on the same side of the building as her room and Nathair’s office, a rectangular window was covered, mostly, by a sheet of thin, painted plywood. They’d boarded it up and tried to hide it. A sliver of light leaked through a spot where wet weather had bowed the wood.

  Aini cracked her knuckles. “Good try, boys. Good try.”

  She hefted her split skirt and stepped onto the last toilet’s lid.

  “If only I had Thane’s height,” she muttered, lifting up onto the tips of her boots.

  The edge of the wood left splinters in her palm as she pried it up and popped it off the window.

  Michael knocked on the door to the hallway. “Quickly now.”

  Sweating, Aini lowered the window’s temporary cover to the tiled floor. Then with a foot, she flushed the toilet as she cranked the window as far open as it would go. The rushing water mostly covered the squeaky window hinges and she began to pull herself up and out of the wash room.

  The inner courtyard was a long way down. Aini blinked at the distance, going a little dizzy. She wasn’t fully recovered from her wound. Her head felt like it might float away and an ache with claws dug at the spot the bullet had passed through. She wasn’t complaining though. Better to be hurting than dead and Bathilda had done a really fine job of healing.

  Scooting to the end of the window’s ledge, she reached out and up to grab the gutter. Using those tree-climbing skills from her childhood, she twisted and managed to get her feet under her before clambering up to the roof. In a crouch, she hurried toward the room where Nathair had the stone. At what she hoped was the right spot, she knelt and leaned over the gutter to peer in the windows. A green curtain blocked her view. She scooted over a bit to see through the slim part between the thick fabric, her knee catching against a tiny rock painfully. Ignoring all her physical problems, she squinted and tried to see inside the office. The partly cloudy sky threw reflections off the glass, making it really tough.

  “If Bathilda or Margaret were here, they could help me out…” She looked around hopefully, but no ghosts appeared.

  A shadow moved inside. Aini’s heart stopped. No. No. No. If she was caught, that would be the end of it. They’d torture her again. She could already feel the knife like it was in her skin. She could imagine Jack Shaw’s cold eyes and Nathair’s sneer.

  But when the curtains moved, neither of those faces appeared at the window.

  Thane’s mouth hung open, his hands loose at his sides and his sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  With a start, he glanced over his shoulder, then opened the window. “What in God’s name, hen? My girl. My love. What are you doing?”

  He was already partially climbing out and reaching high to help her inside the building. His hands were warm and steady. It nearly made Aini weep with relief. She’d thought maybe she’d never feel his touch again.

  Aini tumbled into the office, a tangle of limbs on top of Thane. Taking a breath, she smiled. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

  He ran a hand over her cheek and down the back of her head like he was trying to understand how they had managed this too. “I am.” He spread his fingers over the sides of her face and his full lips broke into a sideways grin. Unshed tears made his storm-gray eyes glisten. “And I’m so blessed to have you in my arms.”

  He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her well. She inhaled his clean and herby scent and gripped his hair so he wouldn’t stop. She felt him breathe under her, the muscles in his chest rising to meet her body. He found the spot below her ear. When he dragged his lips over the tender skin, she nearly cried out, completely forgetting where they were and what they should’ve been doing. She unbuttoned his shirt just enough to slip her hand over his collarbone. The wool of his tartan brushed the back of her fingers as she did the same on his other side. Her hands found his shoulders under his jacket and shirt and she curled her thumbs at the place where tendons and bone and muscle met. She drew her mouth over his throat and he made a deep, rumbling noise. Her cheeks and chest flushed hot. The power of his presence, as well as his body, surged through her, sparking through
her skin and blood and making her lightheaded. He was here. Alive. Loving her. It was a treasure and she would savor it for as long as she could.

  He kissed her again, more serious now, breaking now and then to look her in the eye or to sweep her back with strong fingers, to pull her closer. Shivers fell across her legs and she wanted to drink him in like water. The coiled power in his limbs. The heat of his chest on hers. Maybe it didn’t matter so much if they died after this moment. The perfection of this moment was worth it all. A glimpse of pure happiness.

  A loud knock sounded at the door.

  Aini gripped Thane tightly. Panic rose into her throat. “I won’t go back. I’m done with this. We do it our way.”

  Jack Shaw’s voice filtered through the air. “I’m sure you can wrap up your current meeting, my Heir, to see a very important, surprise guest, hm?”

  A string of polite-sounding French words came from a woman out there with Jack.

  Thane’s eyes grew. “Oui, mais bien sur.”

  “Who is it?” Aini stood and straightened her skirt. It was a ridiculous thing considering there was still a bullet hole in her shirt. “The stone is here. Did you know? Did Bathilda tell you?”

  “Who?” Thane reorganized his kilt and Aini didn’t even pretend not to watch that very carefully.

  “The spirit.”

  “Aye. She told me. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Then let’s get it. Let’s see what we can do with me here. Against him.” She glared in the direction of Jack’s voice. He kept knocking.

  “Our Heir is in love, you see. Yes, I’m sure you understand.” His tone spelled out his hatred of the French and whoever was out there with him had to be pretty thick not to notice.

  Wait. Jack said “in love” so he knew Aini was there. That was the only way his comment made sense. How did he know? Michael must’ve noticed Aini was taking too long in the wash room and found out she’d gone through the window. Why wasn’t Jack barging in here with that revolver and red silk coat of his to ruin the world?

  “Why isn’t he shooting at the door hinges right now?” Aini glanced at Thane whose gaze went from her, to the door, to the cabinet.

  “Because that’s the French queen’s sister out there. If she’s heard you pulled through—recovered from whatever fatal injury Nathair claimed you suffered in place of the truth—I don’t think she’d take you being shot that well. You are the leader of this rebellion they’re funding. Jack and Nathair know they need you to lie right at this moment. To cover all that up.”

  Aini rubbed her temples. Jack knocked. Again.

  “The earl will be with us shortly. I apologize sincerely for the interruption. I’m sure you’ll have ample time to catch up later on, eh?”

  “So calling up killer ghosts right now would be a bad thing,” Aini whispered. She took a seat at Nathair’s desk.

  “I’m thinking so.” Thane removed the chair keeping the door handle from moving and opened it up.

  A woman with honey-blond hair and a tiny nose smiled. “Enchante, Mademoiselle MacGregor.”

  It was indeed Lady Darnwell. Aini’s smile tugged at her cheeks. “It’s so good to see a familiar face.”

  The woman brought back memories of the simple life she’d had not so long ago. Of parties attended alongside Father. Meetings with Lord and Lady Darnwell near the fire at home. Teas taken in London.

  Jack Shaw’s gaze flicked from Aini to the Lady Darnwell. “Know one another quite well, do you?”

  “We do.” Aini moved a chair and gestured for Lady Darnwell to sit. The woman had to be curious about Aini’s scratched up knee and disheveled clothing, not to mention her miraculous rising from the dead.

  She swept into the room, nodded respectfully to Aini and to Thane, then settled herself. “As you know my husband and I are at your service. I am so glad to see you alive and well, Miss MacGregor.”

  Aini wanted to say Funny story, that. See this handsome incarnation of evil here rigged a plan to trick me using this man I love, the one who is supposed to be king. Complicated, eh? but she knew that wouldn’t really help matters. She contented herself with a simple “Thank you” instead.

  Lady Darnwell looked like she wanted to know the back story on that, but she had impeccable manners and moved on. “No one except him knows I am here right now,” she said. “The French queen must not show her support of your rebellion against King John outright. This must be done with a subtle hand.”

  “Aye. We understand that.” Thane stood beside Aini. It was so good to have him by her side. “And we are so grateful for the aid.”

  Lady Darnwell nodded. She studied Aini’s face. “I am so very glad the news about your death was false.” She glanced at Jack, who guarded the half-open door and ordered someone to get tea.

  Would it be smart to tell her everything? That Nathair’s men had shot and tortured her? That Thane hadn’t truly reunited with his father and the rebels were in two very opposing factions?

  A man brought in a tray and poured tea for everyone. “Earl Nathair will be here shortly,” he added.

  Thane was staring at Aini and she thought perhaps he was wondering the same thing: whether or not to tell Lady Darnwell everything. But if the French were nervous about supporting the rebels, such news would make them only more worried. They might pull back. No, it was better to seem a united front while Lady Darnwell was present. Aini sipped her tea with shaking fingers. Good thing she and Thane hadn’t used the stone. What a mess that might’ve been.

  Nathair blew into the room like a storm, reddish hair wild and eyes like a predator who’d cornered his prey. He recovered quickly, his features smoothing into a false blandness. “What’s this now? What a wonderful surprise. Lady Darnwell.” He bent at the waist and kissed her hand, then his gaze snapped to Thane, Aini, then the open window behind them.

  Thane’s nostrils flared. Aini knew very well Thane was fighting the sudden urge to throw the Nathair out the open window behind them. It would’ve been so easy.

  “Father,” he said through gritted teeth, “we were discussing the upcoming meeting with the Dionadair and Lady Darnwell arrived. It’s good to have her here. For the meeting. Although I worry for your safety, Lady Darnwell.”

  What was he talking about? “Why?”

  Lady Darnwell frowned.

  Thane looked at the stack of messages on Nathair’s desk. “Because we have word King John is on his way here. Now.”

  Aini grasped Thane’s hand, not caring what anyone thought about it. John was on his way here? The war was going to happen. “As in tonight? Or tomorrow? What is the timing? Do you know? And does he know what we’re planning?”

  “Mon Dieu.” Lady Darnwell crossed herself.

  Nathair poured a drink of whisky and offered it to the French queen’s sister. She took it and downed it in one swallow. “King John has a sizeable force. He obviously knows we are set to declare our independence from his tyranny. He stopped to rest and will most likely make it to Edinburgh by sundown tomorrow.”

  Aini chewed the inside of her cheek and Thane paced the tiny space between Nathair’s desk and the window. Several times, his gaze went to the stone in the cabinet.

  “But with the Coronation Stone and your…abilities…” Lady Darnwell’s eyes were as big as dark moons.

  Who knew if the curse would work against King John? It hadn’t worked against Nathair or Jack. Was it simply because they’d truly believed they were helping him gain the throne? Or was the curse a one-time event they’d spent on Bass Rock?

  Well, Aini wanted to appear strong and capable to this ally. It would do no good to make her doubt the risk she’d taken to support them. “Yes,” Aini said. “We do have power. Power the world has never seen. But we aren’t infallible. Undefeatable. We must prepare for this sudden attack, if that’s what this is.”

  “King John will commence negotiation first, I’m sure,” Lady Darnwell said. “He is a horrible man, but he has always tried to avoid war. It costs him g
reat bushels of his beloved money.” She smiled sardonically.

  “She speaks truth.” Nathair spun his glass on its edge, then stopped it with a quick hand. “What weapons do the Dionadair rebels have on hand?” His eyes zeroed in on Aini.

  She wanted to throw her chair at his face. But for now, they were allies. What a world. “Three hundred automatics. Two hundred grenades. A slew of lesser guns and explosives. Three-hundred-eighty Diondair.” She left off the number of converted Campbells and their kin. He would know that number already. They’d been his until recently.

  He nodded. “And we—the units here in Edinburgh—have twice that. Approximately. And the anti-aircraft the French so kindly gave.”

  Thane locked eyes with Aini, his aura burning, and a sizzle of heat ran over her body. Behave, body, she scolded herself. There was a war to fight. He pushed his glasses into place. “The Seer and I will go to the Dionadair and meet with them at their hideout, as planned.”

  That wasn’t Nathair’s plan. They were supposed to come here. But Aini knew what Thane was attempting. If he pretended the plan was for Aini and him to leave, it would be difficult to argue it in front of Lady Darnwell. It would show division. Nathair should fold to his unspoken demand and approve of this move in the best interest of all parties involved.

  Nathair and Jack both stared at Thane. “Aye,” Nathair said, rubbing his lip with his thumb. “Gilmerton Cove is a fine place for a discussion of war.”

  Aini sucked in a breath. He knew the location of the hideout. When had he found out?

  “We await your orders, Heir,” Nathair said.

  Thane took Aini’s hand, and started toward the door, but Aini had a sudden thought and stopped him.

  “Oh,” she said over her shoulder. “The Heir will of course need his Coronation Stone.” Palm outstretch and flat, she eyed the necklace sitting under the scar on Nathair’s neck.

  A grin twitched the corner of Thane’s mouth.