Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
TJ and Rowan’s sparring died down to a scuffle as the guest, Peabody, crossed the river with Holly.
He had just stepped out onto the muddy embankment, smiling and waving, when he fell back; Holly cursed and grabbed him.
He gripped her as if his life depended on it as they both slipped on the mud among the slick reeds.
Finally, with one look back to the burbling rush of the navel-deep water, and a gentle heave-ho from Holly, Peabody reached the crest, where Rowan and TJ grabbed the professor and hoisted him to flat ground.
The walk back to the castle felt quicker than the walk there, as Peabody, Rowan, and I fought for space in the conversation.
Peabody was the most anxious of us all, excited to get inside where, he said, he could properly catch us up on a book he was writing about the MacLaoch curse.
He thought the latest bit of “paranormal activity” in the field, as he called it, would be an excellent addition.
Holly corrected him, “It’s jus’ magic, Prof.
” She said it with a wink before she headed out back to the field, but not before she leaned into me. “Want me to take Bro with me?”
“Maybe,” I said then thought better of it. “Nah, I have a bone to pick with him. Then I’ll be out.”
Marion and Flora had brought tea to Rowan’s formal office and set it up on the round table behind the settee.
After putting back more cucumber sandwiches than was polite, I stood, hand on TJ’s shirt to pull him up too.
I explained that Holly had texted that the field was still growing, and I was eager to be up there.
There were just a couple more hours before the shit hit the fan with the Rembrandt, and the rest of the day and likely week would be toast. This was all true—plus I needed to chew my brother out.
Peabody held up a finger. He swiped his mouth with his napkin before popping up. “Before you go, I have a request.”
“How about at dinner? I’m assuming you’re staying with us?”
Peabody said, “Yes, but I’m hoping you can do this now. It’ll only take a moment, and I’d like to get it sent out in the afternoon mail.” He lifted a vial from his case.
“What’s this?”
“DNA!” he exclaimed with a jovial smile as if that explained everything.
Peabody handed me the vial to spit in, and I did as I was told. Peabody wrote on the lab’s plastic envelope as I said, “In the States, even our pets are getting in on the DNA analysis.”
TJ said to Rowan, “Bro, you should check it out, see what pedigree of asshole you are.”
Rowan smiled and responded, “No test needed. I know I’m the biggest asshole there is.”
Spoken like a man who’d spent his formative years prepping for the chief’s seat, then his early adult life in the RAF learning to command a fighter jet. I bit my lip. I missed him being in command of me—it had been too long with everything going on.
Peabody smiled, pulled out another DNA kit, and lifted it to Rowan.
“As a matter of fact, if you wouldn’t mind, Rowan, I have one for you.
Of course we know that your DNA concentrates right here on this very spot of land, but it’ll help to bring more MacLaochs into the fold if you make your DNA public so that your clan people can find you.
” He watched Rowan with that air of excited scientific inquiry, then smiled. “Plus, it’s heaps of fun.”
He put the box down in front of Rowan, who was wearing the mask of a man at his leisure. But I could see that beneath it he was being careful, watchful, and I thought I had TJ to thank for that.
Peabody turned to TJ. “Tiberius,” and I stifled a snort at his formal name and waited for him to attempt to drop his pants with Peabody.
TJ gave me a grin that said he was thinking about it.
Peabody continued, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.
I will order another one and take yours as well. ”
“That’s all right, Doc; my sister’s will do fine for the both of us. Plus, I know what kind of asshole I am. The likable kind.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, though his tone said he was ignoring the “asshole” banter, “but it’s always interesting to see what DNA each sibling picks up.
You’d be surprised at the difference even biological twins have.
This is more than what your makeup looks like in terms of geography.
This is a test I’ve devised to look at specific locales on the genome and analyze the alleles there. ”
I had a feeling he knew which part of Rowan’s and my DNA held Orabilia and Ormr.
TJ held up his hand. “Pass.”
Peabody nodded and let it go but then had an idea that illuminated his face. “I’m curious,” he said. Going to his equipment pile on the settee, he dug deep through the bags and cases to find the case holding his energy meter.
I grinned over at Rowan, who gave me a smirk back. One that said, if this didn’t fully convince Tee that we were knee-deep in supernatural energies, nothing would. Plus, I wanted to witness Tee’s first experience with Peabody’s energy meter.
“What’s that?” Tee asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
“It’s a real asshole meter,” I said as I stoppered my spit and sealed it into its plastic envelope. “Pants down and bend over, dickhead.”
Peabody dryly corrected, “That’s not where it goes.”
TJ glared back at me, and I responded, “Call my husband an asshole again, and I’ll use that energy meter as a suppository, so help me God.”
“Now, now,” Peabody interjected, “this is not going near anyone’s anus. It cost me several thousand dollars, and I’d like to keep it in its current condition as long as possible.”
TJ sauntered up to Peabody, rolling up his sleeves as if he were about to give blood. “All right, Doc, what’s this thing?”
Peabody gave him a glance as he took the meter out and started connecting the sensors and cords that looked to be miniature microphones.
At the round writing table, Peabody moved the overflowing platter of scones and sandwiches to the deep-set windowsill.
He came back and patted Tee’s arm. “Keep your sleeve down. There is no blood today. Just sit still and let me get some baselines to tune it, and then I’ll take yours.
” He gestured next to him. “Cole? If you will?” and I saddled up and held my arms out as if I were at the airport.
“That’s not necessary either,” he mumbled—the Baker kids were an active bunch—as he turned dials and opened his notebook to see my last reading. It was hard to be with him and his equipment and not feel like you had to do something.
“Now,” Peabody said, reading my low-level metrics, “we’ve got a slight mHz bump of energy; I take it that was the skirmish with Ormr, yes?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but it was a rhetorical question.
He continued, “Yes, of course, and I’ve still got to get out to the field to take proper measurements, but generally speaking, we’re on target,” he murmured, the meter between us was giving off a gentle mismatched ticking that got more clicky as he put his senor next to me.
I assumed it was in response to a rise in energy levels as it matched the triple dials on his meter.
The dials reminded me of old car fuel dials.
The wands in each jumped gently toward the quarter tank mark.
TJ was resting a butt cheek on the curved edge of the table, arms crossed, taking it all in. “So, what is that, like a metal detector?”
Peabody smiled at him and waved Rowan over.
“Similar! Only what we’re dialed in to detect is not metal but rather experiential energy that is left over from a tragedy.
These electromagnetic field meters have been custom-calibrated to detect frequencies that are much too small for the average device.
And energy that comes from high-voltage sources is not the same as the human body, especially the brain, when it experiences tragedy or is touched by death. The latter leaves an indelible mark.”
“So, you’ve got Cole’s. She’s got some shit, I’m sure, with that Viking dude, and what’s pretty boy here? Measured in nanometers?”
Peabody gave him a sad smile and looked back to Rowan who, hands in pockets, stepped up to the meter. I put my hand to his chest and went up on my toes, giving him a soft kiss; then I stepped back.
Peabody looked at him and asked quietly, “All right? Or shall we clear the room first?”
TJ scoffed and slid off the table. “Call me when it’s my turn.”
Rowan nodded at the meter and said, “Go ahead.”
TJ was halfway to the door when Peabody turned his meter on Rowan. The machine screeched, filling the room with its alarm and violent clicking before Peabody shut it off.
“I always underestimate your reading, Rowan. It did short out my meter the first time we did it, and I’ve anticipated that with updates since, but it looks as if I’ll have to unearth an old EMF meter that will likely be large enough to measure you.”
TJ looked to the meter, then to Rowan, then back to the meter; quieter and with a dark curiosity, he took Rowan’s place next to Peabody.
“What’s that mean?” he said, nodding to the meter. “When it’s up so high like that?”
“Simply registering a large load of energy. The kind of energy expulsion that comes from human death. Specifically, experiencing, in very close proximity, a death. Or multiple deaths.”
I spoke up. “Or in this case, also inherited deaths.” Orabilia had started the curse when she was forced to watch her beloved be killed with his own sword.
Peabody agreed then, happy to have a curious mind asking him questions.
“These here”—Peabody pointed then recorded Rowan’s metrics along with mine—“are the inherited energy readings; they have a lower, more of a deep thrumming, energy, the kind that is incessant and similar to those found in tectonic plates. These here are his experiential energies.”
“They’re all off the meter.”
Peabody smiled sadly, giving him a moment before he moved on to TJ. “Yes, now, let’s get yours! Isn’t this exciting? We’ll have two Bakers, or two Minory descendants, if you will, and what a magnificent addition to the research this is, isn’t it!?”
TJ looked at Peabody and smiled, but his brow furrowed before he looked over at me, like, Is he for real?
I shrugged. “It’s cutting-edge science, you’ll see.”