The next day we went to Edinburgh by train, since Alice was still too knackered to drive.
As the shuttle bus into town pulled away from Carvell, the familiar lasso sensation in my stomach was so tight I actually vomited into a pick ’n’ mix bag. My vision went black, and I passed out for several seconds, during which time I had incredibly vivid hallucinations about illuminated manuscripts and wooded glades. Screaming started up in the darkest recesses of my mind; a high, female shriek of pain and fear, growing louder and louder the further away from the campus I got.
Finally the invisible tether snapped and I came back to myself, but my heart was pounding fiercely, the creeping tide of a headache lapping at my temples. I guessed this answered the question of whether two rubies had more power than one; I was left shaking and acutely fearful over what would happen if I tried to leave for good.
Did Sister Maria know we were investigating the Carvell curse? Is that what she wanted from me all along? Is that why she was allowing me to leave campus without choking me to death?
In any case, I’d warned Alice and Hafsah about the effects of the lasso, so they watched the whole thing unfold with an almost comically casual apathy that frightened an old man a few rows behind us.
An hour later, we were on the Royal Mile. Edinburgh was all rain-slicked cobbles and smoking chimneys, wonky stone townhouses and faded storefronts painted in siren red and forest green and thistle purple.
Torquil’s Tomes was a rabbit warren of a bookshop nestled on one of the side streets. It spanned over three floors and a low-ceilinged attic, little corners and nooks created by the too- many bookshelves. All the wood in the shop was painted a wine red, and the carpet was a faded brown.
Alice had been there several times since she was a kid, and I practically heard her bones sigh as soon as we walked in. Nostalgia misted her eyes, warming her usually hard facial features into something sweet and childlike. I could’ve watched her like that for hours. After the pain and fear of the last few days and weeks, she deserved the soft glow of contentment.
While Hafsah and Alice browsed the literary fiction, I approached the front counter, feeling like a mother on an outing with her sullen teens.
A jolly-faced man with a ginger and grey bread and thick-framed glasses beamed at me. He all but glowed with sheer delight that someone had entered his shop.
‘Afternoon. I’m the eponymous Torquil. How can I help yous?’
Before I could even respond, Alice chimed in without looking up from the copy ofThe God of Small Thingsshe was flipping through. ‘Well, she’s a jock, so she could do with an explanation as to what a “book” is.’
There was no venom in her words, just a lightheartedness I liked on her. I nodded earnestly. ‘And it would help if you defined the word “eponymous” while you’re at it.’
Alice snorted, and Torquil looked momentarily dumbfounded until he realised we were kidding. ‘Oh, ha ha, very good.’
‘She’s actually a bigger nerd than me,’ Alice said, laying down the Arundhati Roy and picking upThe Secret History, which I was surprised she hadn’t read already. ‘Seriously. She wears tracksuits completely unironically, and yet she can quote Baudelaire. Like, in French.’
I angled my face towards the door so she wouldn’t see me blush.
Torquil smiled tightly, as though he had no interest in being in the middle of our banter but didn’t want to lose our custom. ‘So are yous just looking then, or . . .?’
‘Actually, it’s a particular author we’re looking for,’ I explained, grateful to be back on track. ‘A guy called T.A. Renner?’
Hafsah was gripping a bestseller table tightly, as though about to faint at any moment. Her Pikachu backpack had sloped off one shoulder, and her eyes were squeezed shut.
Alice nudged her upper arm, whispering, ‘You okay?’
Hafsah nodded jerkily. ‘I just get overwhelmed sometimes. I’m gonna wait outside.’ She stumbled out on to the street, fingers clicking at her sides, and Alice looked after her worriedly. It was nice seeing her like this; the kind-hearted soul at her core finally able to surface. It pained me that it wouldn’t last. Not unless we found the book.
But Torquil frowned. ‘Never heard of a T.A. Renner. What sort of thing do they write?’
‘Oh, just some super mainstream stuff about how to split your soul in two using ancient blood rituals.’ Alice’s delivery was flat and deadpan, but it made me laugh.
‘Let me just have a look,’ Torquil said, typing the name into a fat beige computer that moaned in protest. ‘Renner, Renner . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Nope, nothing.’
‘Nothing as in, nothing in stock in this shop?’ I asked.
‘I mean nothing as in I cannae even order it in. The fellae doesn’t seem tae exist.’
I glanced over at Alice. We exchanged grim looks.
After purchasing a few books to make up for tormenting the poor chap with our terrible in-jokes, we headed out to check Hafsah was okay.
‘Yeah, my senses just get overloaded really easily,’ she said, fiddling with the straps on her backpack. ‘New sights, sounds, smells.’
‘Is that because of the ritual?’ I asked.