The Potion Diaries (27 page)

‘Why don’t you think ZA can do it? You’ve got all the money and the Talent and your dad is some great mixer and
you’re
his apprentice and you’re top in your class in everything, studying at the best university . . .’

He looks up at me from beneath his dark brown eyebrows. He takes his hand away from mine, and I instantly feel colder. I wish I was brave enough to reach out and take it back. ‘Because while the researchers can help us find the ingredients, my father and I have to be the ones to make the mix. And both my father and I are frauds.’

I gasp, but the dam holding back Zain’s thoughts has burst now and he doesn’t stop. ‘My father’s no great mixer. My grandfather was the one with the brains, the big ideas, but he had too little Talent to be of note and too much Talent to be a great alchemist. He had this idea that ingredients could be made synthetically, so that it didn’t matter if you were Talented or ordinary – you could still learn to mix. He wanted to level the playing field.’

‘He didn’t level the playing field – he destroyed it and flipped it in the whole other direction,’ I interrupt, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

‘But that’s just it – he didn’t do it. Have you ever heard the story of how our company was founded?’

‘What, about how your grandfather, the great Zoro Aster, cheated his way to winning the Hunt and used the prize power to set up the company? Yeah, I’ve heard it.’

Zain has the good graces to blush, at least. ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you, to tell you the real story for so long. But even when we went to school together, there never seemed to be a good moment. You always avoided me whenever I was around.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I get it, I’m the enemy. But I don’t have to be. And I don’t think I am. Because a few years ago, on my grandfather’s deathbed, he told the real story – that he and your great-grandmother worked
together
on the last Wilde Hunt. There was one ingredient no one could find to save Queen Valeri II – a centaur’s eye. When it looked like they wouldn’t be able to develop the cure naturally, Zoro told Cleo about his idea for synthetic ingredients. And she came up with the synth version of the eye.’

‘No.’ I shake my head, his words hardly computing.

‘What?’

‘You’re lying. Grandad told me that Cleo created the potion, but Zoro stole it and passed it off as his own. He told everyone he’d used his new-fangled synth ingredients in making the potion. That’s how he won. He cheated.’

Zain’s blush turns into the bright red of shame. ‘My grandfather did a lot of things wrong but he wasn’t a thief. Your great-grandmother didn’t want to use the synth version of the potion, so Zoro submitted it. And the Horn turned gold. He used his winnings to set up ZoroAster Corp and he felt threatened by your family, so he cut the Kemis out. That was wrong. But I’m saying this because I know there’s no way my grandfather created that first potion on his own. They worked together – and I can prove it to you. He said your great-grandmother’s diary had a lock embedded with an amber stone. It was very unusual and caught his eye. How would I know that if my grandad hadn’t worked with her?’

‘Her diary is lost! You could have made up anything.’

‘I’m not making it up, Sam. Please, I need you to believe me. There’s no way my father and I are going to produce the right potion. But I can help
you
get there.’

‘So you can steal it from me? I think all this mountain air has gone to your head. I’d leave but there’s nowhere else for me to go.’

‘No, but I have money, resources . . .’

‘But your dad . . .’

‘Screw my dad! This is bigger than petty rivalries. We don’t have to be our parents, our grandparents. This is about saving Evie’s life.’

‘I have to get out of here,’ I say. I don’t know what I’m doing, but before I know it my boots are back on, I throw my jacket over my thermals and jump out of the tent. I walk a few steps away, knowing I’m trapped on the ledge but needing a breather.

‘What are you doing? Are you crazy?’ shouts Zain.

Outside, I take deep gulps of the freezing mountain air. I look up and stare at the sky. I’ve only had a few moments, when Zain appears beside me. ‘You’re shivering,’ he says. ‘Come back inside.’

But I’m not shivering, I’m stupefied. Out here, the night sky is as clear as I’ve ever seen it, and it’s so full of stars – I never imagined the universe to be so crowded. And so colourful. There are pinks and greens mixed with the bright points of light. A shooting star wends its way across the sky, thrilling me. ‘I dreamed of seeing a sky like this,’ I say. I think back to the stickers on my bedroom ceiling. ‘I never thought I would.’

‘I think there’s a lot you’ll achieve, if you put your mind to it,’ replies Zain.

I am cold now, and I let him lead me back inside the tent. My heart is screaming
lies, lies, lies
at Zain’s words. My head is asking why would he lie? Why does my grandfather hate synths, with a passion that borders on manic? Why does he hate the Wilde Hunts? He always says that the alchemists belong in the lab. But my great-grandmother conquered this mountain. She was an adventurer. I look at Zain and try to talk, but my voice only comes out as a whisper. ‘I still don’t know why I should trust you?’

‘Because I’m telling you the truth. This is the real me. I’ll prove it to you.’ He takes his wand out, turns it so that it faces him, and whispers a spell too quietly for me to hear.

‘What are you doing?’ I’m angry at him, so angry I want to storm off the mountainside, but I don’t want him to hurt himself by casting a spell, especially after what happened with his father’s ring. But what happens surprises me so much, I forget about my worries.

The glamours slowly slip from him, so skilfully applied I’d always thought he shunned that touch of vanity – apart from his tattoos. His jet-black hair – his signature – pales to a caramel brown, the light from the oil lamp giving it an almost golden sheen. The tattoos fade too, disappearing, and even his eyebrows shift slightly, losing their manicured edge and instead becoming something wilder, less tamed. He smiles at my wide-eyed stare, and I see that even his teeth have lost their perfect lines – one tooth now overlaps another, ever so slightly. But his eyes don’t change. They’re the same dazzling blue they’ve always been.

What can I say? He’s still beautiful.

His smiles wavers a touch, and I realise how nervous he is.

‘I don’t want to work against you, Sam.’

I don’t let him say much more, because before I think myself out of it, I lean forward and kiss him. Then I pull away, and he smiles.

I can’t look at him, but the sound of the wind outside is replaced by the beating of my heart, and the beating of
his
heart, which seems exponentially louder.

His fingers trace the contour of my neck, until they reach the base of my ear and embed themselves in my hair. He pulls me towards him and his kiss takes on a deeper urgency.

But then his nose brushes my cheek, and it’s an icy shock. The temperature has dropped considerably. When we pull away from the kiss, I can see his breath, warming the air between us.

I can’t help it; I have to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Oh, I don’t know . . . My first time kissing Zain Aster—’ he grimaces as I fake-swoon over his name, ‘and we’re stranded halfway up a mountain with the threat of imminent death hanging over our heads. Not quite how I imagined it.’

‘Hmm, I suppose I did think I would need to take you for dinner and a movie first.’

‘Well, if we ever get down from here, then you owe me.’

He smiles, showing off his slightly crooked teeth. ‘Definitely.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Samantha

W
E SPEND THE REST OF THE NIGHT shivering, huddled into each other, but only for warmth. Survival trumps romance. I know today is going to be another long day of hiking through the snow and my body is already protesting. By first light I want to get it over with. I can’t stay cooped up in the tent any longer.

My stirring wakes Zain. He looks over at me, and my eyes widen. It’s still strange seeing him without his glamours, and in the orange light of the tent it looks even stranger. He half-smiles, and grabs his beanie, pulling it down over his hair self-consciously.

‘Okay,’ he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ‘Let’s pack up quickly and then I’ll use one magic spell to try to find the way home. I think it’s worth ruining a wand for that.’

I’m already stuffing my sleeping bag into its sack, and then burying it deep in my backpack. We debate abandoning the tent; the loose guy rope ripped the outer sheet as it whipped around so ferociously in the wind. But there’s the unspoken reality that we might need it again – another night on the mountain.

I lace up my boots and exit the tent. The view stops me in my tracks. All around me, as far as the eye can see, the sun is rising over the magnificent peaks of the mountain range, casting pink, orange and yellow light on the snow. And in the furthest distance, I can see the tallest mountain in the world: Mount Oberon, dominating the skyline even here, in a skyline of giants. It’s rough, craggy, a jagged beauty.

Zain is packing up the tent behind me. ‘Sam, did you check through this cave yesterday?’

‘Well, not exactly . . .’ I say, not taking my eyes off the view. I want to drink it all in, as it might be the last chance I get.

‘Maybe there’s some abominable fur in there.’

I shiver, despite myself. ‘If you want to check, go ahead.’

He comes over, and puts both hands on my shoulders. I look up at him. ‘I will be no more than five minutes, okay? A quick check, just so that this doesn’t become a complete waste of search-and-rescue, and then we’ll start heading for home. No more detours. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

Even now, looking at the cave entrance, I have to turn my back on it. I remember the yawning noise I heard yesterday, and it unsettles me. What if it had been more than just the wind?

I prepare both of our backpacks, so that we can put them on and move the second Zain’s ready. I feel a little dizzy, light-headed. It’s most likely my body reacting to the altitude. I open the flap at the base of my backpack and pull out the squished red bag of potion supplies from the bottom. I need to chew a couple of coca leaves, as Kirsty suggested.

I’m about to put the red bag back when a movement from the side of the ledge captures my attention. It’s the snow. It’s crumbling over the edge.

‘Zain?’ I say over my shoulder. My first thought is that the ledge is disintegrating. But then something happens to change my mind. The reality is even more terrifying. ‘Zain?!’ I hiss louder.

‘Sam? What is it?’ I hear his footsteps echoing in the cave, pounding towards me.

But it’s going to be too late.

Because now I can really see what’s happening. An enormous hand – gnarled black fingers topped with long, razor-sharp nails – is creeping its way across the ledge. The fingers bury themselves into the snow, finding purchase.

Zain skids to a halt beside me. ‘What is it?’

I don’t answer, because as soon as he finishes speaking, he sees it too. He throws his arm in front of me, and we both take several steps backward. I don’t know how he thinks that arm is going to help. If what’s coming up in front of us is what I think it is, then we’re dead already.

Zain takes out his wand from where he holsters it, just underneath his arm. I hope he’s smart enough to remember he’s probably only got one shot in that thing, and then it’s spent. If he messes it up . . . did I mention already that it’s all over?

Another arm appears, and it is so long it appears almost double-jointed, twisted at unnatural angles. The snow clings to its fur, coating it like a jacket.

Then the head appears. No – not the head, a hump, a great length of shoulder that towers up above the body. Its eyes, when they do appear, are dark, small and round like marbles. The abominable sees us, and for a moment it looks as if it’s about to run away and leave us be.

Zain thinks the lump is the head. He thrusts his wand at the abominable, and before I can scream at him to stop, he’s blasted. The creature cries out in pain, but it doesn’t come out like a normal scream. It’s a screech as loud as a banshee, and I throw my hands over my ears.