The Potion Diaries (13 page)

As luck would have it, that’s when the bell rings for the first time that day. I snatch the paper from my mouth and yell out, ‘Excuse the mess but we’re just clearing up from—’

The words die in my mouth as I take in who has walked in the door. Zain Aster.

Blood rushes up to my cheeks and I am immediately annoyed with myself in case he mistakes my flushed look for being attracted to him. So I throw him a good scowl just in case.

To his credit, he flinches. ‘Hi, Sam.’

I move behind the counter, putting a big, solid object between us. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, which is so different from the school uniform I was used to seeing him in before he graduated. Purposefully avoiding eye contact until the last possible moment, I catch a glimpse of glamoured tattoos shifting round his bicep. If he were anyone else, I’d say they were cool, but I keep my mouth firmly shut.

Finally I make eye contact. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Nice store. I mean . . . I’m sorry about the vandals, I heard about that. Did they take anything important?’

‘No,’ I say, curtly. Zain jams his hands in his pockets and rocks slightly on his heels. It’s such a self-conscious move that I realise he must be nervous. I almost laugh, but quickly stifle the smile in case he thinks it’s
for
him, rather than
about
him.

‘Look, I came by to say sorry ’bout what happened. At the Rising. That wasn’t very . . . sporting of us.’

‘Yeah, generally cheating isn’t considered to be “sporting”.’ What century did he think he was from anyway? ‘But hey, you got what you wanted, I’m out – though I’m not quite sure why you’ve bothered to come all this way to remind me of that.’

I’m expecting him to turn around and leave now his apology is over, but instead he comes further into the store. He even dares to bend down and pick something up. If this counter wasn’t between us, I’d snatch it right out of his hands.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ I snap.

‘I’m just trying to help.’

‘I don’t need your help. Besides, I have it mapped out where each book was torn up and I don’t want to get the pieces mixed up.’ I don’t even know why I’m telling him this; I want him to leave but I can’t seem to shut up.

‘Look, I feel bad for what happened. Can I make it up to you in some way?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be on the Hunt?’

A flash of annoyance on his face. I finally feel like I might have got through to him.

‘Yes, I am. But we have our researchers working on figuring out what the next ingredient is after the merpearl and I wanted you to know that I tried to stop us blocking you at the Rising.’

‘And I’m supposed to thank you?’

‘Okay, whoa.’ He holds his hands up. ‘You don’t get it. My dad wants ZoroAster Corp to cure the Princess, no matter what. But I want to make sure she’s cured, no matter who does it. We should all have a fair shot. That’s why I came here, to tell you I’m sorry you’re out. And to ask for your help.’

‘Well the answer to that is no.’

‘Aren’t you going to hear me out?’

‘No. Why do you even want my help? Don’t you have your researchers to do that?’

He leans forward on the counter, and gives me a conspiratorial grin. ‘They’re all right but I think you’re better.’

I raise an eyebrow and lean away from him. His blue eyes are full of mischief, and he’s too close for comfort. ‘You do? Why?’

He laughs. ‘Come on, you’re a legend!’

‘No, my family is the legend. I’m just an apprentice.’

‘Don’t deny it. I saw the concentration-boosting mix you were making for that competition. I came by your school a couple days before judging to look at how the entries were going. You’re good. I don’t know why you threw the competition, but I know you’re the real deal. Look, I get if helping us is a step too far. But let me make it up to you for what happened at the Rising. I can show you around the main ZA lab if you want?’

Despite myself, I’m interested. A tour around one of ZA’s labs would be an incredible experience. Synth or not, I would give anything to see those mixers at work. It’s also very hard to get an invite – the labs are normally closed off to the public and the company likes to keep it that way.

But then I pull myself back to reality. ‘Thanks but no thanks. I’m not going to work for the synths. Ever.’ I suddenly feel self-conscious standing here in the rundown store, the ever-present reminder that this is what my life will amount to.

‘Sometimes I wish I could work more with natural ingredients.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, I mean, my dad trained as an alchemist but he rejects all the traditional ways in favour of the synths. He hates that we have to go out into the Wilds too. If he could stay in his office and pay someone to go, he would. He doesn’t trust me to go alone.’ A frown flickers on his face. ‘Plus, magic behaves differently out there.’

I shiver, despite myself. ‘I guess when you’re so used to relying on magic, you forget basic survival stuff.’

‘Something like that.’ His attention turns to a piece of crumpled paper on the counter. I’m aware of how close he’s got since we started talking. I could reach out and touch the line of his strong jaw if I wanted to. Of course, I don’t, but I feel almost as awkward as when I met the Queen Mother. Even at school, Zain always seemed more intangible than the Royals. But he’s not as perfect as I once thought. His hands are rough, and one finger is blemished by a nasty-looking chemical burn.

Witch hazel – to reduce scarring, blended with crushed anemone powder for skin reparation.

‘Wow, Wizard’s Beard? I didn’t think anyone stocked that any more.’

I look up sharply from his hands and see he’s studying the inventory list I’d been making before the Wilde Hunt started. This time he is close enough for me to snatch it away. ‘We don’t have it either. I’m making a stocklist.’

He’s barely listening to me though, because his eyes are cast upwards and a look of awe descends on his face. He’s taking in the shelves upon shelves of bottles, jars and ingredients that disappear up into the high ceiling. I turn around myself and look at it all, trying to imagine what it must be like to see it for the first time.

‘May I?’ he asks, gesturing to come around the back of the counter for a closer look.

I actually nod, because seeing Zain in awe sends a surge of pride through me that I can’t ignore – and I want him to be up close to really understand it.

‘And none of this is categorised magically? Or digitally?’

I shake my head. ‘No, it’s done by hand.’

‘Who maintains all this?’ he says, releasing a whistle of amazement.

I shrug. ‘I do.’

‘Wait, seriously? I was joking! I thought it’d be impossible . . .’

I smile. ‘I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.’

‘Clearly.’

I shoot another glare his way, but my face relaxes when I see that he is smiling. ‘It is tough,’ I say reluctantly. ‘But I work in the store every weekend so my goal had been to go through the shelves and take a proper inventory of everything. Hence the paper.’

‘Well hey, you got as far as W. That’s not bad.’

I shake my head. ‘No . . . M, actually. It was labelled as “Merlin’s Beard”.’

‘Oh, I see. I’ll help then. I’ll start up from Z and you can work your way down again.’

He seems totally genuine in his offer, but I’m still suspicious. ‘Won’t your dad be wondering where you are? What with the Hunt and all . . .’

‘Yeah, but he knows how to get hold of me. And my dad thinks I’m visiting Evie.’

It takes me a second, but the name clicks. ‘Wait, Evie as in Princess
Evelyn
?’ I can’t imagine being so close to a member of the Royal family that I could casually drop their nickname into conversation.

He winces. ‘Yeah. I saw her first thing this morning but she doesn’t want to talk to me. At the moment she just sits there. Staring at herself. It’s so strange.’

‘I’m sorry. I know you guys were good friends. Were you there when she . . . ?’

He nods.

My curiosity burns bright but I don’t pester him any more. I sweep my hair up into a bun and secure it with the pen that’s in my hand. ‘Right, well, look at the labels, write down what’s there and if there’s nothing in the jar itself then put the ingredient on a separate list for the next Finding.’

I search around the desk for another piece of paper for him to use, but he’s already started jotting things down on a fancy tablet that I’ve seen advertised on the casts but have no hope of ever affording. ‘I’ll flick the list across to your inbox when we’ve finished,’ he says, without turning around.

‘Um, thanks,’ I say. I force myself to move, rather than stare at the back of his head. Anita would jump to all sorts of conclusions if she was here, watching him casually help me with the inventory. And Grandad would kill me – and probably Zain too – if he found him in the store. But I realise I don’t care. He’s already picked up his first jar. I would be suspicious of his interest in the Kemi family stock, if I didn’t also recognise the meticulous – scientific – scrutiny and care he has that I have myself.

We settle into a comfortable rhythm, Zain checking the stock while I settle back down to my shredded book puzzle on the shop floor. He occasionally mentions something interesting he finds or lets me know what’s missing. He also talks about the stockrooms in the megapharmacies, and the braver I feel, the more I start to ask about ZoroAster. ‘I hope to work in Research & Development after I graduate,’ says Zain, after I quiz him about the different departments. ‘Researching new kinds of drugs, new formulas – there are so many places in the Wilds that not even Finders have dared to explore. With new, more advanced magic and technology, I bet we’d be able to find even better cures – stronger, faster, cheaper medicine for everyone. And who knows what new illnesses there will be in the future. Did you hear about that supervirus in Jung province?’

Words of agreement fill my throat, but I’m suddenly shy and don’t want to agree with him. We keep working along the stacks, until his chuckle disturbs me. I look over and glare at him.

He catches my eye and laughs again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, stifling his laughter. ‘I didn’t realise you had such a good singing voice. Big Damian fan, are you?’

I want to bury myself under the pieces of paper I’m holding. Then I can’t help but laugh too. ‘Oh god, I never know when I’m singing to myself! I’ll shut up.’

‘You don’t have to stop for me. If you’re embarrassed, I’ll start and you can join in.’ He sings another pop song, and not only is he handsome and smart but he has a great voice too. I could really hate this guy.

I’ve spent so long on the floor; I yearn to stretch my legs. I grab my notebook and head over to the shelves. The ladders are still in place from the last time I’d climbed them – Emilia hadn’t bothered with the stock, just the books. I nip up to the spot where I’d found the Merlin’s Beard, and make a start. The song’s refrain jumps into my head. But as I open my mouth to sing, I notice something strange. The remnants of a dust ring on the shelf. Two jars have been hastily pushed together to conceal it, but there’s slightly too much space between those jars and their neighbours. I move the jars back to their rightful positions and ponder.

Merlin’s Beard.

Merrimack plant.

So what would be between them? Then it hits me.
Merpearl.
Merpearl, that wasn’t on our shelves two days ago. Merpearl, that I failed to acquire at the Rising. Merpearl, the ingredient we’d had all along that someone had hidden so we wouldn’t succeed in the Hunt. And it isn’t hard to guess who the culprit is.

I trip down the ladders, mind muddled with absolute fury, and land next to Zain. He’s still singing, but he stops when he sees my face. He opens his mouth but I jump in before he can say anything. ‘Is that offer of a lab tour still on?’

‘Sure.’

‘Could we do it now?’

‘Um, I guess.’

‘Then let’s go.’

He carefully returns the jar he was holding to its exact position on the shelf. Then he follows me out the shop door. I stop to flip the sign on the front from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’, and slam the door shut behind me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Princess Evelyn

S
HE FELT HER HEART RACING WITHIN HER chest , but this time the feeling was pure agony. Why had Lyn not yet responded to her advances? Why did she still remain aloof? Did she not recognise the pain she was causing Eve; was she so cold-hearted and mean-spirited that she couldn’t see how every moment they were apart was tearing her to pieces?

Eve had laid out a beautiful dinner for two with her best silverware and gilt-edged china, hand-decorated with the utmost care. She’d issued the invitation herself, written in her finest cursive on thick cream paper embossed with her seal.

Yet the seat opposite remained empty.

A small box sat on Lyn’s place setting. Inside was Eve’s favourite merpearl ring. But she wouldn’t have the chance to propose, if Lyn never came. How could she refuse? This was cruelty, plain and simple.

An intense, real pain suddenly shot through the palms of her hands. She looked down and saw that she had been clenching her fists so hard her fingernails had pierced the skin and left little half-moon frowns, each of them stained red.