The Potion Diaries (23 page)

‘Sam, we’d better go,’ says Kirsty.

‘At least give me a couple more minutes alone with my daughter before you head off?’

Kirsty holds up two fingers –
two minutes
– and then spins on her heels.

Dad looks over at me and sighs. ‘Look, I’m not going to lecture you any more about the mountains. But your mother and I think it’s a shame about the Patels. I preferred it when they were around to keep an eye on you. That you guys were looking out for each other.’

‘I know, Dad, but—’

‘Wait, I wasn’t finished. We’re proud of you, Sam. Really proud. You’ve already done so much, and the whole family believes you might do this thing. Even Grandad. But it’s not just us. The world is behind you now, Sam. Even the press, after seeing the challenges you’ve overcome so far. You’re the underdog, and this time, the underdog is going to win. So let’s make sure we see this whole thing through. Kick some synth butt for us, okay?’

I nod, trying not to cry. He pulls me into a bear hug, and eventually pushes me away, but not before a last kiss on the forehead. ‘I’ll get this paste back to the store. It’ll be waiting for you. We all are. Stay safe, my heart.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Samantha

W
E LEAVE THROUGH THE KITCHENS of the hotel, out into a back alley where a flatbed truck is parked. I cringe when Kirsty makes me hide in a tiny crawlspace between several large boxes on the bed of the truck. She and Dan hide as well, and it gives me a little comfort to know their journey will be as uncomfortable as mine.

She’d explained the plan to me earlier. There are only a few mountain passes that will be accessible enough for me to climb with zero training. But not only does Kirsty know that – Emilia knows it as well. If abominables are the right ingredient and she knows that’s where we might be heading next, we have to cover our tracks as much as possible. She would expect us to transport to the mountains, or fly, so we’re taking the long route. When I’m finally able to escape from the back of the truck and stretch my aching limbs, we’ve arrived at a bus station.

And I’m so glad we choose the long way. By the time we arrive in the bustling town of Pahara at the base of the mountains, there’s a high wind blowing, so strong that the airport and main transport portal are both closed. The wind buffets the bus, but the driver navigates the climbing, twisting roads with ease. Maybe a little too easily. I huddle into my down jacket and grip the armrest, praying the bus doesn’t skid around the next mountainous bend and just tumble off the side completely. No matter how unsafe I feel, the seats and aisle are so packed full of people and bags – I swear I even saw a chicken – that there’s nowhere to escape even if I wanted to.

It felt really odd to be buying thick winter clothing in Loga, where the temperatures hovered between hot and boiling, but now, as I look outside, I see how necessary it had been. Snow covers the ground and delicate fingers of frost spread across the base of the windows. Locals we pass on the road are wrapped up in fur-trimmed hoods. And we haven’t even reached the start of our trek yet.

Kirsty has already called ahead and lined up our very own Sherpa who will lead us up the mountain. He won’t take us directly to where an abominable might live though. Kirsty and I are agreed that meeting an actual abominable is not on the agenda. Though naturally reclusive, they’re fearsome creatures. Sightings are rare, and often end in a gruesome manner. Recently there’s been a spate of attacks, as it becomes more and more popular to climb the mountains. Talenteds checking ‘adventures’ off their bucket lists.

No, all we need is a patch of their fur, and for that, we need to find a cave or a rock where an abominable might have stopped for a scratch. This is the beginning of summer, so the abominables should be shedding. If they’re not, we’re in trouble.

Despite the precautions we’ve taken to cover our route, I wonder if any of the other teams will be here. Kirsty seems to think I’m the only one who has a feel for the ingredients, but putting the combination together wasn’t so hard. Arjun and Anita know about the abominable – maybe I will see them there too? My heart aches with guilt, although it’s mixed with the tiniest spark of hope. Hope that they will forgive me. And the Zs have all those researchers working for them. Surely one of them will have figured it out.

Kirsty’s done this trek before. She’s known for it; it’s her signature. So for once, I feel totally confident in the fact that we’re going to get this ingredient without much trouble. The bus pulls up to its first stop at a village halfway up the mountain. Thankfully, the majority of people get off here. Just beyond is the official entrance to the Wilds and we have to show our passes.

Kirsty puts her legs up on the now-empty seat between us. ‘Not long now,’ she says. She tosses a bottle of water to me, and another to Dan. ‘Drink up. You need to stay hydrated up here. You’ve had a slow adjustment to the altitude – yet another reason why we chose the bus instead of flying. Anyone who flies – or worse, ports – up here gets the most terrible altitude sickness, especially if they go out on a trek right away. At least we’ve had a slow build. Ideally, we’d spend a couple of nights in this village, but we don’t have that luxury.’

A gust of wind rattles the bus on its (probably) rusty axles, and Kirsty grins. ‘Well, hopefully this weather means that some of our competition has been stranded. The next bus up isn’t for another twenty-four hours, and hopefully we’ll have the fur and be back down the mountain by then.’

‘How close do you think you are to the cure?’ Dan has been interviewing me on-and-off on the way up. ‘After the abominable, what’s next?’

This is the question I’ve been asking myself. I spend every spare moment writing in my diary, working through my suspicions about ingredients and my own gut feelings. The physical act of writing, of putting pen to paper, helps me solve problems my brain can’t work out on its own. But formula after formula has flowed out of the pen and onto the page, and none of them feel right. I can’t put my finger on the next thing. ‘I’m not sure. We’re close, but not there yet.’

Kirsty tells me to cut myself some slack. ‘You’ll need all your energy for the climb,’ she says. ‘Save your brain and get as much rest as you can.’

But by the time the bus pulls up to the lodge where we’re going to launch our expedition, it’s clear our efforts to be alone have failed. Zol stands outside, red in the face and yelling at some poor Sherpa.

The bus doors open, and his screams jump in volume. ‘We paid good money, and we’re going up the mountain tonight! Do you see these passes? Do you see them? It’s not our fault that the ports closed just before our guide arrived.’

I grab my bag down from the rack above my head. By the time I look back out the window again, the shouting has stopped. But still, my heart catches in my mouth. If Zol is here, that must mean Zain is too. That’s when I see him: he’s wrapped in a snug-fitting bright red jacket, trying hard to calm his dad down.

At that moment he looks up at the bus, and sees me staring. A blush immediately rises to my face and I turn away.

I shuffle off the bus, lagging behind Kirsty. I’m hit with a blast of cold air, and I’m thankful for it, if it gives me an excuse for the redness in my cheeks. The Sherpa who Zol is arguing with sees Kirsty and races over to her, bowing deeply. She bows back. Then they embrace.

‘Jedda!’

‘Kirsty, miss, it is our honour to have you back here again.’

Kirsty smiles warmly. ‘No, no, the honour is mine.’ She raises an eyebrow at Zol. He’s obviously not feeling the cold – in fact, it looks as if steam is going to pour out of his ears.

Jedda shakes his head slowly. ‘He wants to trek in the mountains, but even with his pass I cannot let him through without a guide.’

Fearless as ever, Kirsty laughs while looking at Zol. ‘Are you serious? You’re thinking of going up there without a Sherpa? That’s madness.’

Zol crosses his arms. ‘Our guide couldn’t make it up through the storm. But my son and I have enough Talent between us that we don’t need help in these mountains.’

‘Talent only goes so far up here. Altitude does crazy things to magic. I’d be more cautious if I were you. Why not take another?’

‘Because there
is
no other Sherpa, you blasted woman. For some reason this godforsaken place only has one at the moment.’

Dan stands directly behind Kirsty, taking notes on a pad and paper.

‘Who is that?’ Zol asks.

‘That’s Dan. He’s a journalist from
The Novaen Times
.’

‘You brought a journalist up here? Are you mad? As soon as he posts anything online, that insane woman Emilia will know where we are.’

‘We thought it better to have someone along to tell our side of the story. And don’t worry, he’s not stupid enough to geotag his posts up here.’

‘That’s still a ridiculous risk!’ splutters Zol, but Kirsty ignores him.

‘Jedda, about the other Sherpas?’ she asks.

The man shrugs. ‘It is Summer Festival. Most have gone home to celebrate with their families. One is currently up at base camp. I am only here because you reserved me, Kirsty miss. Abominable season doesn’t start for another two weeks. It is still very dangerous on Hallah.’

Hallah. The great mountain, and the first in an immense range that stretches across the northern border of Bharat. A good potential home for the elusive abominable. I look up for the first time and really take it in. The little lodge is perched at the bottom of one of the main routes up. The mountain looks far away from here, and I can hardly believe I will be walking up there soon. The thought is enough to take my breath away.

‘I told Master Zol that he could wait two days for the other Sherpas to come down, but he does not want to. And, if I may say, it would be best for all of you if you went as a group together. It is safest that way.’

‘No!’ I shout, before I can even think. But my protest is almost drowned out by Zol’s own.

Kirsty is silent though. Then she nods. ‘Fine, yes. It is safer that way.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I say to Kirsty. ‘You don’t want to co-operate with the Patels but now it’s okay to team with ZA?’

‘You don’t know what it’s like up there, Sam. The mountain can turn on you in an instant. It is so much safer in a bigger group.’ She looks past me, at Zol and Zain. ‘Look, no one likes this arrangement, but we’ll go up to base camp together. Then we can go our separate ways, and ZA can use the Sherpa who is up there. Deal?’ She extends a hand to Zol.

He doesn’t take it. ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘But the journalist stays behind.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Samantha