“I guess,” Aini said. “But should I bring the knife and the brooch?”
With paint-stained fingers, Myles drummed a beat on his thighs. “I say hide the goods. That way, you’ll have something to bargain with.”
“I have to show them the knife. If I’m going to get any information out of them, I have to do that at least. But I can hide the brooch.”
Thane pocketed his phone. “You’re sure I can’t talk you out of this?” His voice was cold as the dull morning after a great party.
“You know I have to do this,” she said, quiet and sure.
“Aye.”
It almost sounded like he’d given up. She tried very hard not to let his lack of faith crush her determination to find a way out of this mess, a path back to a life with her father.
Myles marched into the hallway, Neve following him. Thane stayed behind, an unreadable look on his face and his hands in his hair. He’d put on a thin and wide-necked, ivory sweater, and for once, his trousers weren’t well on their way to totally unusable.
Remembering how she’d tripped in the vaults, Aini tied on a pair of flat boots. “Myles,” she called out to him, “being knocked unconscious is not something to ignore. I wish you’d stay home.”
“No chance. Besides, I heard you were hit too. A mugger, right?”
“Yes.”
“You need all of us,” Myles said. “End of discussion.”
“You sound like me,” Aini mumbled.
“I know. So bossy and sensible. Neve,” he said, his voice echoing down the hallway outside her door. “Say something I can turn into a dirty joke. I’m not feeling like myself.”
Shaking her head, Aini dislodged the loose floorboard near the foot of her bed. Thane’s gaze burned the back of her head, but he stayed quiet. Aini’s childhood diary sat inside the hidden spot beneath the floor, dusty and full of forgotten, naive poetry. She took the brooch from the vanity and nestled it beside her diary. The board back in place, she stood and dusted her hands.
Fighting panic, she took a slouchy sweater from the armoire and slipped it on. Thane lifted the bog oak knife from the bed, sheathed it neatly, and handed it to Aini. Like Thane had done before, she tucked the weapon into the waistband of her leggings. Her dress slid easily over it, and the sweater covered its odd shape pretty well. Her mind wrapped around a new list of things to do. None of them were simple.
Number One: manage not to panic and get to the club without anyone seeing the weapon.
Number Two: show the rebels the artifact.
Number Three: keep eyes on the exit and listen to what they had to say.
Number Four: use the information to develop a plan to help Father. Even if he had done something unthinkable, he was still her father.
“Are you coming, Thane?” she asked, walking into the hallway and working the words so they didn’t show how much she wanted him to say yes.
Without a word, he came up behind her, his warmth a solid comfort at her back. He held up a finger for her to wait, then ran through the kitchen. His boots pounded up the lab stairs. A minute later, he returned with a flat bag sort of thing with a strap and buckle. He lifted his shirt and secured the bag to his side, buckling the strap over the distractingly nice lines of his bare stomach.
“What’s that?” Aini asked as they trailed Neve and Myles outside.
Talking in whispers, Myles and Neve passed under the skinny maple at the base of the townhouse’s front stairs.
Thane smoothed his hair—a valiant, yet fruitless move—and regarded the rising moon before opening his mouth.
Aini raised an eyebrow like a weapon. “Save it. I know what you’re going to say. The less I know the better. You know I’m not okay with that answer.”
Thane shook his head and chuckled.
But she actually trusted him. The fact didn’t sit easy on her shoulders. He was a rule-breaker, her opposite in so many ways, but his crooked path put him by her side. He cared for her, for her father, for Myles and Neve. He’d proved it. When he broke rules, it was for a good reason.
Thane clenched and unclenched his fists. His boots splashed through a shallow puddle left by the street cleaning machines. Aini sidestepped the murky water. The moon’s blue light oozed off everything—the flat pavement, a tall street lamp missing its bulb, the massive wall that surrounded Greyfriars Cemetery. The quiet between them grew, the weight of it pressing on Aini’s chest. It was so obvious he wanted to say something, but was afraid to do it.
“Thane, just tell me.”
His eyes widened. “I said, the less you know—”
“I’m not talking about whatever you have in your little bag there. I’m talking about the other thing you need to spill.”
He swallowed and stared at the pavement. “There’s nothing.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll understand. You’ve been amazing about all my secrets.”
“It’s not that easy. I…I want…” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“When you’re ready, I’m here,” she said. “And I’m not telling anyone. Not about the gambling or the Campbells or Bran. Don’t worry.”
Speeding up, he mumbled something like “…probably shouldn’t be…”
Aini pulled on his sleeve. “Come on. It can’t be that big of a deal. Not after all this.”
Wincing, he said, “Ha. Right. Well, when we finish this mad quest you’re on. Maybe…maybe I can tell you.”
He probably had a gambling debt. Or public fighting on his record. Both. She didn’t like it, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t trust him in important ways, ways that mattered.
They caught up to Myles and Neve. Myles had linked arms with Neve, but she detached from him and slowed to walk beside Aini.
“What will we do if you have trouble getting into the club again?” Neve asked. “Will they be looking for you?”
Aini shrugged. “They told me to bring the knife. I bet they’ll find me.”
Darkness swamped the street. The stillness crept along Aini’s scalp. The nearby grocery’s windows were black, the fruit and cereal left alone in the night. A car drove by, its engine whining about the hour.
“It’s not open,” Thane said as they neared the club.
No music drummed from the interior of the former cathedral and no light spilled from the stained glass window above their heads.
“It’s WAN.” She’d forgotten this was Weekly Address Night, when everyone gathered around the TV to listen to the latest mandates from the king. There was a new one, something about marriage between English and Scottish citizens. Ridiculous.
She led the group to the door.
Thane touched the place where his hidden bag hung around his body, and curiosity nudged Aini. She tied her questions up inside her and ignored their struggle for freedom.
Myles noticed Thane adjusting the bag though. “What do you have there, big man?”
Eyeing the club’s gothic, arched door, Thane said, “Our escape plan.”
“Um...” Myles ran a hand over the geometric designs on his bright blue shirt. “Care to explain?”
“Later, pal. Let’s get this over with.”
Myles began singing another Mint song. “Be brave, bind boring burdens blue…”
“That one truly makes no sense,” Thane said. “Blue? Really?”
Myles crossed his arms. “You know nothing about poetry.”
Aini put a hand on the door knob. “Should I knock or...”
Rolling his eyes, Myles kicked the door open and Neve squeaked in surprise.
“Subtle,” Aini said.
Myles grinned with all his teeth.
Thane pursed his lips and nodded. “Well done, colonial.”
The inside of the club smelled like old cigarettes and sour beer. It wasn’t nearly as sexy without all the fancy lights and wild music.
“Hello?” Aini called out into the darkness, walking quickly toward the stairs that led to the room where she’d met Vera and Dodie.
A m
an burst from the corner and threw a sack over Thane’s head.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ATTACK
AINI’S HEART JOLTED. SHE started toward Thane. Myles and Neve shouted, and rough hands grabbed Aini from behind. Thane called her name and almost managed to toss his attacker over his shoulder, even with the sack over his head. People came out of every shadow, every corner. They snatched Neve and Myles, covering their heads with burlap like they had Thane. Aini caught one frightening flash of her friends, faceless, before she too was blinded. Myles’s muffled and creative swearing echoed in the empty club as they dragged them back toward the door.
The night air hit Aini’s forearms and an engine rumbled nearby, its smell of petrol and oil strong. Hands pushed Aini into a vehicle of some sort and onto a cold seat. The antique knife poked her back and began to slide out of her waistband.
Someone who smelled strangely like horse and sea air began to tie her hands with scratchy twine. Her pulse rammed against her wrists, neck, and temples like her blood wanted out, and the knife, pressing painfully into her spine, didn’t make things any better.
“Sorry for the treatment.” The man’s voice was gravelly and calm. “But we know you and yours are fighters. We need you to come along nicely, then we’ll have a good talk at the end of this.”
He pushed her farther down the seat.
“Easy,” she snapped, kicking out in his general direction. Something hard blocked her foot, most likely a gear shift or console.
“Aini?” Neve was suddenly beside her.
“I’m here,” Aini answered, hating the fear in her own voice.
The vehicle’s door slammed. Another opened. There was grunting, and the car or truck or whatever they were in moved around with all the activity. The radio blared guitars, a measured drumbeat, and a woman’s soaring voice. She guessed their abductor was coming around to the driver’s side.
“This is one heck of a welcoming party,” Myles said from behind, making Aini jump.
“You’re here too?” she asked, her hands like ice.
“Myles.” Thane’s voice, coming from beside Myles, eased her heart a little. “Stay quiet. Don’t give them anything to use against you.”
“What are you, some hostage situation expert?” Myles said. “You’d think being every girl’s wish on a four leaf clover would be enough.”
“Shut it, colonial. Save your nonsense for later. He’ll be back in here in a breath.”
The door of the vehicle they’d been tossed into creaked open. The seat eased toward the driver’s side, and the same man said, “Comfortable? Good. Now keep still and everything’ll be all right. Just taking a wee trip.”
Aini’s eyes strained to see in the dark of the black-dyed burlap bag. “Are you Dionadair?” The blood rushed away from her face. A memory of gunshots exploded through her mind.
Neve made a little noise and bumped her shoulder.
The man laughed. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you? That’s good.”
“Why?” Aini wiggled her hands to loosen the ties’ hold on her wrists.
“Keep quiet.” Thane’s voice was low and strained like he was in pain. “Please.”
“You might want to listen to your friend,” the man said.
The vehicle lurched and turned. Aini leaned into Neve. Sweat covered Aini’s palms and back. She bounced an impatient foot on the floor as the axles croaked. The sounds of traffic faded, giving way to the hush of speed on an open motorway. She curved her thumbs toward her pinkies to make her hands as skinny as possible and tried to ease them out of the twine.
“Behave,” the driver said quietly as the truck sloped downward like they were taking a roadway junction off the motorway.
Aini froze, the memory of gunfire popping through her mind.
What felt like years later, the vehicle rumbled to a stop.
“All right, beauties,” the man said, clicking the locks.
His movement shifted Aini on the seat. His accent was light like Neve’s, and his voice was annoyingly cheerful considering he’d just kidnapped them. The twine bit into Aini’s wrists as the man cut her free.
“You may take your hoods off now,” he said.
Aini’s vision took a second to clear as she removed the bag and adjusted the knife so it wasn’t jabbing her as badly. They’d parked in a grassy area, spotted with boulders and surrounded by fields. A road ran between the nearest field and the next. Their kidnapper, a short man with a large forehead, cut Neve’s ties and climbed out of the truck.
As he took the sacks off Thane and Myles, he leaned across the back seat and said, “Don’t get any ideas about fighting or running.” His pocketknife made quick work of their ties. “There are a good number of people in that barn who do both those things better than any of you.”
Thane’s face was full of murder as he slid out of the truck, Myles next to him. Thane’s eyes narrowed at the fields, the fences, and the sloping ground surrounding a huge barn.
Aini scooted across the seat and out of the truck behind Neve.
Under the dusky light of the half moon, a three-story, stone barn huddled like a grave marker against a rolling hill. Windows glinted every few feet along the walls and a set of double doors sat at the base. The roof, made of wood shingles, slanted up into the star-sprinkled sky.
“Oh, nearly forgot. I need your mobile phones,” the man said.
Thane pulled his out of a back pocket, pushed a side button Aini was fairly sure didn’t exist on her phone, and threw the device against a rock at his feet.
Her mouth dropped open. “What did you do that for?”
The driver raised his eyebrows and mumbled something.
“We’re not going for a picnic with these people, Aini,” Thane hissed.
She handed her phone over, still intact. “I realize that, but what if we get away? Don’t we need to be able to contact people?”
“The risks outweigh the benefits.” Thane watched the kidnapper pick up the broken phone.
The man marched toward the massive barn, his arms pumping at his sides.
Behind Myles and Neve, Aini walked close to Thane. “Do you have any idea where we are?” The darkness in the barn’s windows made her walk even closer.
“We traveled mostly east. A bit north.” Thane looked right and left over moonlit fields of waving winter barley almost ripe and ready to harvest for whisky. “We’re nowhere near a town of any size, I’d say. Farms for miles.”
He glanced at the man leading them, then jerked her to a stop. “I have to talk to you.”
“What?” she asked. “Now? I thought you wanted to wait to talk after we’d met with…them.”
“Aye. But that was before they brought us way out here. I don’t know, I’m not sure…” His eyebrows furrowed, and his knuckle rubbed over his lip.
“What’s wrong?” Her heart tapped an impatient rhythm on her ribcage. “Other than the obvious.”
The driver waved. “You two.” He and the others had reached the double doors and a woman in a short dress and tall combat boots held the entrance open wide.
Thane growled in frustration.
“Now.” Their kidnapper pulled a gun from his belt. “I’d like to keep this pleasant, as I’ve been ordered, but I’ll do what I must.”
He corralled them into the barn.
In air scented with musty straw, mud, and machinery oil, electric lanterns shone from the hand-hewn beams crossing the impossibly high ceiling. Thick climbing ropes, knotted in places, reached down to the wide planks of the barn’s wooden floor. At the far left side, four circular, black and green targets hung on the wall, flanked by row upon row of guns and knives in every shape and size. Guns had been illegal, for anyone besides kingsmen, since the last uprising over twenty years ago. Of course, some rural people still used them for hunting, hiding them away when anyone came around. Father had told her all about it. Maybe these were for hunting? She squinted, eyeing their black shapes.
They were for huntin
g all right. But not for deer or birds.
On the right of the barn, colored hand and foot holds dotted the wall. Near the door, a black cage of barbed wire surrounded a raised, rubber mat floor. Three jumbled pairs of boxing gloves lay scattered within the cage, dried blood marring the surfaces.
Neve rubbed a hand over her arm like she was cold. “What is this place?”
“Dangerous,” Myles said. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
A set of metal stairs led up the side of the barn to a landing where a table with tubing, jars, and scales sat. A lab.
Below and beyond the small landing, a crowd of men and women sat on benches and stools and chairs around long wooden tables. There had to be over three hundred people dressed in everything from ragged trousers and T-shirts to suits and ties. Every face turned. Young. Old. In between. Aini recognized three people immediately.
Red hair, round glasses—Owen, who’d come to the townhouse with an apology. Barrel chest, bulging eyes—Dodie. Black hair piled high, combat boots, dress, and a curvy figure—Vera. All three had the same wide mouth. The room tilted. They reminded Aini of the man in the visions from the brooch and the knife.
Snarling, Myles jolted toward Dodie.
Thane’s hand landed on the back of Myles’s shirt, stopping him. “Whoa, colonial.”
Myles whirled his arms around but didn’t break Thane’s hold. Thane said something in his ear, and Myles stilled, grimacing. Thane released him, and Myles straightened his shirt, his eyes throwing knives.
Dodie stood, his mouth parting to speak, but Owen rose and pushed him back into his seat.
“We’re very sorry, friend,” Owen said to Myles, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.
Aini’s heart pounded in her ears. Every pair of eyes searched her face. She lifted the bog oak knife and held it out. “Is this the weapon you wanted to see?”
The room held its breath. Owen stepped forward and touched the hilt. His brown-orange irises developed a feverish sheen.
“Why is this so important?” she asked. Somebody say something. “Whose knife is it?”
“Your father knows,” he whispered.
The Edinburgh Seer: Edinburgh Seer Book One Page 14