“And all you did,” she said, “was what you thought was best in a situation I should never have dragged you into. You were amazing. The way you fought. Your quick thinking.”
She wanted to kiss him. A terrible idea. But here he was, by her side, with his patience and his eyes going all soft and after what he’d suffered for her tonight and all he’d risked…
It was like a magnet sat in each of them. The pull grew stronger with every breath.
Making a noise in the back of his throat, Thane closed the short distance and cupped her chin in his long, taffy-sticky fingers. Heat bloomed over Aini’s cheeks as sparks ignited under her skin and spread down her throat. The scent of summer, embodied in fruit and syrup, soaked the air around them. His body pressed against hers and she was melting like chocolate.
Her heart boomed in her ears. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“No, hen,” Thane whispered, eyes half-lidded.
Gently, she pulled his hand away from her chin. “It was wrong. I am sorry.”
Thane’s eyes matched the sky’s light through the window. The sun was rising. “Aini, you’re so...good. I’ve never met someone so true to themselves. And you’re insanely brave, you wee fool.” A lightness rose inside her at the praise. Then a raw, vulnerable look crossed Thane’s features, the same look she’d seen flashes of ever since they’d taken Father. “You make me feel like some daft poet,” he said, smiling.
“Robert Burns wasn’t daft.” She grinned and raised an eyebrow.
“Not like him. A poet without any proper words...only the emotions to make me wish I had them. Where’re you bide in the world so wide, we wish you a nook on the sunny side, With a muckle of love and little of care...”
It was absolutely lovely, and she felt so much like he was a part of her life here now, that he understood her and what she was going through. She was so lucky to have him here. He was going to help her solve this and save Father. It was all going to be okay.
“What’s it from?” she asked.
He looked down, his cheeks going a little pink. “It’s a wedding blessing. The only pretty thing I know.” His black lashes brushed his glasses. “Aini—”
She couldn’t stand it anymore. Rising onto her toes, her lips stopped his words.
He kissed her back—a hard, pushing embrace—and a burn worked its way from his velvet lips, to her mouth, down deep into her heart. Each time he pressed into the kiss, a pulse of heat flared from her chest, all the way to her taffy-covered fingertips. Goosebumps trailed down her legs. Moving backward, she bumped into the table and tasted the taffy again in her mouth and his. She pulled back.
The Cone5, the ingredient that caused the enhanced color vision in the taffy, took effect. A halo of blue-purple shone around the edges of Thane’s hair. A teal-pink hue showed in the lines of the tattoos on his hands and in his glasses’ frames. Aini put a hand to her head. It felt light as feathers and all her worries dissipated.
Thane’s gaze flew over her face and hair and dress. “The colors…it’s…I didn’t think you could get any more bonnie, but this is—”
He eased against her, his calloused hands on her cheeks, then sticking in her hair. His flat stomach was hot through their clothing and Aini curled her fingers into the soap-scented fabric of his shirt. He tilted his head to the right, and their noses brushed awkwardly before he corrected, grinned against her mouth, and brushed his lips over hers. Aini’s pulse beat hard and fast in her throat. She pulled him closer, loving the feel of his breath, his teeth, the quick slip of his warm tongue over her top lip.
Neve hurtled into the lab. She’d changed into pajamas, and because of the taffy, her purple top glowed in three shades Aini didn’t have names for.
“The people from the club,” she said, blushing and looking from Aini to Thane and back again. “They’re at the door.”
Aini jerked away, head spinning. “They’re here? The Dionadair? How do they know where I live?”
Neve bunched her pajama top in her small, white hands. “Suppose they asked around about an Indonesian girl. Not a lot of those in Edinburgh. They’ve brought another man. Never seen him.”
The effects of the small amount of taffy began to disappear. Corpse-gray light dragged through the window and gathered in the corners of the lab. Aini shivered.
Thane had gone all still and quiet, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
Going to the sink, Aini grabbed a towel and ran it under water. “Should we…should we go talk to them?” She cleaned her fingers and handed the towel to him.
A muscle in his jaw moved as he rubbed the taffy off. “I’ll go.”
Following Neve, Aini started down the stairs. Thane trailed her.
“No,” Aini said. “This is my problem. You all stay inside and I’ll talk to them on the front stairs.”
“We’re here in whatever way you want us to be,” Neve said, stumbling over her words.
The light of early morning slid into the kitchen and along the hallway where it blended with the shadows. Aini’s mind was a buzzing whirlwind. She couldn’t contain the dangers she’d brought on herself. Telling Thane, Neve, and Myles about her sixth sense. She’d kissed Thane. He’d kissed back. They’d almost been killed by people who were now at her front door. And she was about to chat with them like it was normal as tea on a Henrysday afternoon.
Staring ahead, Thane set a hand briefly on her back. Neve took Aini’s fingers in hers and gave them a squeeze. The boys’ bedroom door was closed; Aini guessed Myles was resting. Soft music trickled from within as firm knocks at the front door echoed through the entryway. She nodded at Thane and Neve, and took a breath.
“It’s all right,” a crisp male voice said through the door. “We come to apologize.”
Thane laughed once, low and heavy with sarcasm. “Right.”
Unlocking the three bolts, Aini put a hand on the cool, bronze doorknob. Her heart clanked like a kicked tin can.
Thane’s phone hummed from his pocket. He took it out and mumbled something fierce.
Aini opened the door to Vera, Dodie, and a man in round glasses and a trim red beard. He wore a pair of striped trousers and a bow tie.
A slick of cold sweat covered Aini’s back and upper lip. “What do you want? I’m not giving you anything.”
The red-head held out a hand. “I’m Owen.”
“You’ll not touch her,” Thane spat.
“I can speak for myself, thanks,” she snapped.
Owen held his hands wide. “No worries.” His owl-like stare locked on Aini. “Vera and Dodie are my siblings. They made a mistake. They saw the Bethune brooch and…acted rashly. Our apologies.”
Aini kept a few feet of space between them. “We don’t want your apologies. I want to know what you know about this brooch and what my father might have to do with its history.”
Owen smoothed his beard. “Yes. Of course.”
Vera’s arrogance had fled her features. She watched Aini with rounded eyes, her hands clenched at her sides. “We think—”
Owen put a hand on her arm. “We believe our father and yours were close friends, associates.” Pushing his glasses higher on his small nose, Owen traded a look with Dodie. The big man still looked murderous, but that could’ve just been the way his face was made. Clearing his throat, Owen said, “We believe you may be…someone important.”
Thane snorted. “That’s specific.”
Neve stood behind Aini, her warmth a comfort against the cool dawn air.
Aini wasn’t about to play stupid games with these people. They might’ve thought of themselves as representatives for the Scottish people, some sort of vigilantes, but she’d felt that woman’s nails and heard the crack of that man’s hand on her friend’s jaw. They would’ve done worse if Thane hadn’t intervened. These rebels were the picture of danger, standing in the flesh on her front steps. They—or those like them—were the reason Father was suffering questioning somewhere. The Dionadair had probably coerced him into
doing something long ago. And now, instead of the Campbells simply leaving Father alone when he refused to help them, they had something to use against him.
She crossed her arms. “Explain.”
Vera stepped forward, and Owen rubbed his hands together. “If you are who we think you might be, find the knife,” Vera said.
“The what?”
“There is a legendary knife. And if you are who we think you are, you’ll be led to it.”
“Why would I care about some knife?”
Vera sneered. “Because the future of Scotland relies on it. As well as your father’s well-being.”
“What do you know about my father? Tell me.”
Owen rubbed his chin. “When you prove you are the one to find the knife, we will tell you everything.” He laid a hand on his stomach and gave a little bow. The three turned as one, walked quickly down the stairs, and disappeared into the lightening day.
Aini stood there, watching them go. “What? No! Tell me now!” She ran at them, but three sets of hands held her back. She turned to see all three apprentices. “What was that? What are they talking about? We have to go after them!”
“You should think first,” Neve said, her face drawn with lines of worry and fear. They went back inside and shut the door. Neve locked it. “Have you ever heard your father talk about a knife? Is there one around here?”
Thane’s forehead wrinkled and he took his glasses off, shaking his head. “They want a knife now? What in God’s name…”
Numb and lost, Aini walked through the entryway, passing Father’s glass-walled office. Their reflection looked eerily similar to a vision.
Aini froze.
The doors of her mind flew open.
“I did, Neve,” she said. “In the brooch’s vision. I saw a knife.”
Thane frowned, and Neve cocked her head. “How would they know you saw a vision?” she asked.
“Maybe that’s why they want the brooch so badly,” Aini said. “They’re aware of its embedded vision and want to know if I saw it.”
Thane’s boots knocked along the floor as he began pacing.
Thinking, Aini chewed the inside of her lip and leaned against the couch that framed the living room.
“Why would this particular knife matter to rebels?” Neve asked, her eyes red with fatigue.
Pausing, Thane shoved his glasses into his messy hair. Five dabs of taffy marked his collar. Aini flushed. Her fingerprints. He glanced from her to the prints. Looking down, he swallowed and continued pacing the wide, wooden floorboards.
She coughed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. Even if they somehow knew the brooch held a vision, how would they know what the vision showed? And why would they care?”
“Maybe if we go to sleep, our brains will figure it out for us,” Neve said.
She was right. No matter what they decided, their bodies needed sleep before they could do anything.
Neve said good night and went to bed, promising first to check on Myles. Switching all the house lights off, Aini followed in her wake, Thane behind her. Her feet were concrete blocks. She blinked, clearing her fatigue-dry eyes.
At the door to the girls’ bedroom, Thane put a hand out to stop her, his glasses on top of his head and tangled in his hair. The stubble on his sharp jaw had grown. In the hallway light, the tiny hairs glowed gold like the taffy they’d sampled. Aini didn’t need recreational candy to see the beauty in him. It was all there in his high cheekbones, bow-shaped lips, and those sea-storm eyes that, when they focused on her, smoothed a warmth over her heart, down her stomach, and below her navel.
“Aini, I should not have—”
She put a hand on his chest and his heart beat against her fingertips. Like her dress was made of lead, she felt so heavy, tired. “I know. The timing…but don’t think I,” she cleared her throat, “that I didn’t want…”
His lips quirked to one side and his eyes grew sad. “Go on to bed. I won’t bother you anymore tonight.” He looked toward the dawn streaming through the front windows. “Oh. Today.”
She laughed sadly. “I’ll set my alarm and get you up if you want me to.”
“Sounds good,” he said, but his tone sounded anything but good.
With a quick goodnight, she went into the bedroom.
Sleep didn’t want to take her away though. She rolled her mother’s wedding ring around her finger. Neve snored lightly across the room, the tiny, square skylight laying sun over her ever-present, painfully messy mound of pillows and blankets.
Aini picked up the brooch and thumbed the Latin words of the motto. How was she going to puzzle all this out? Would her life ever go back to normal? She turned over, carefully folding the end of her sheet over the duvet’s edge. Normal. What a beautiful word. She longed for her organized days of lists and rules that she could follow.
But she was a living, breathing joke. She’d been breaking the rules all along, being what she was, doing what she did. She was a fake, an illegal sixth-senser posing as a loyal subject who did as the law demanded. Pressing her face into the pillow, every bone in her body ached, longing, moaning for the simple life she’d somehow lost.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GUILT AND OATMEAL
THE LAB AIR COOLED Thane’s face. The place smelled like heated metal, oranges, and sugar. Like Aini. A pleasant shiver ran from Thane’s chest and down.
That kiss.
It shouldn’t have happened. His stomach clenched with the thought of her lips under his. He shoved the feelings to a far removed corner of his mind as he gathered ingredients from the mini ice box and turned on the stove. If he didn’t turn in a new recipe for weaponized candy to Rodric soon, his cousin would pay him a visit.
The traditional Scottish sweet called tablet normally consisted of nothing more than cane sugar, sweet condensed milk, unsalted butter, and a bit of fresh milk. But Lewis’s special formula negated the effects of certain other recreational sweets.
And that gave Thane an idea.
First, he could amp up the color-vision Cone5 taffy recipe—the stuff he and Aini had sampled during the kiss—and make a gas version so it’d be easily dispersible. When released, anyone in the area would see far too much ultraviolet, too much of every color in the spectrum. They’d be temporarily blinded by color. Unless they had also eaten the juiced up negating tablet Thane was about to create. It’d be perfect for undercover Campbell operatives.
Two recipes. Surely it was enough to get him off the black list with Rodric. And it wouldn’t be as bad as giving them the paralyzing stuff he’d crafted.
Yes. Two recipes should be fine for now.
If Thane turned it in.
As he stirred the pot of ingredients over medium-high heat, steam clouded his glasses. After twenty minutes, the mix’s color took on a golden brown hue. Removing the tablet from the heat, he stirred it vigorously, then poured it into a buttered baking tray. Before it could cool, he sprinkled Lewis’s canceling powder over the top. It was a combination of powdered sugar, a mild steroid, and a hormone that blocked the vision enhancement chemical in the taffy.
With the tablet complete, he attempted to focus on a formula to turn the taffy’s essence into a gas.
He swallowed, his heart as heavy as his eyelids. Aini had confessed her greatest secret. She was a Seer. And a good one, it seemed. What exactly had she seen on Thane’s necklace? His tongue tasted bitter. Served him right if she saw some painful secret, a clue to his true identity, in that vision of his childhood.
Rubbing his face harshly, he scratched out his formula, then started again.
His phone buzzed from the pocket of his pants. It was Rodric. He should report Aini right now. He should report this recipe. He hit the ignore button on the phone. For once, just once, he didn’t care about should. As if it’d heard his thoughts and had a mind of its own, his long-ago broken rib pinched his side. Rodric had cracked that bone, and here Thane was, basically asking for a repeat performance.
After f
inishing up in the lab, Thane hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. Weak light drifted from the front of the townhouse and lay in tattered strips along the wooden planks of the floor. Suddenly longing for comfort food, Thane switched the light on over the stove and started a pot of oatmeal cooking. His skin felt too tight. Too warm. Itchy. Like he wanted to crawl out of himself and be someone else.
His phone buzzed again. He tossed it on the countertop and kept stirring.
“If you whisk that oatmeal any harder, you’re going to dig a hole to Russia.” Myles raised his eyebrows as he ambled in. “Or whatever’s on the other side of the planet from here.”
The colonial started some coffee, then pulled out a chair and sat backwards in it. His face looked like Thane felt. Bruised. Knocked off kilter. An ill fit for the bones beneath it.
“How d’you feel man?” Thane poured the oatmeal into two bowls and threw some blueberries on top. “Your head aching?”
Myles accepted the bowl and added a boatload of honey. “I’m all right. Not too bad. You know your phone’s going off.”
Neve and Aini walked in. Neve was all in black, and Aini wore a short, blue dress that hugged her waist. Her eyes were big and haunted, circles ringing them. She’d not slept enough. And no wonder. Aini flipped the kitchen’s overhead light on and her gaze went from his face to his bare feet. Her eyelashes were black and thick and pure sexy. His heart clunked hard, just the once, under his breastbone. She blinked, and her apple cheeks darkened a shade.
Myles nudged Thane’s wrist with a finger. “Probably shouldn’t stare. They don’t like that.”
Thane swallowed and looked into his oatmeal, his face hot. “Shut your gob, colonial.”
Snickering, Myles bid the girls a good morning. Neve poured out some orange juice while Aini eyed the stairs to the lab.
“Neve, I’m going to need your help,” she said.
Neve sat beside Myles. “Aye. Course. To find that knife?”
The coffee maker let out a low screech and a puff of steam, its familiar finale. Aini handed a mug to everyone and took the chair between Thane and Myles. She braced her shaking hands on the cup, and Thane’s heart cinched in his chest.
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