Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) (28 page)

“You can make me viewable. You have to really love the power and let it consume you.”

She licked her lips, realizing how dry her mouth had become. One of the outlaws should’ve given her some water. “You want me to concentrate, then.”

“Yes. You have the time to learn while the gang is assembling.”

“Why haven’t you taught Clark?” Her husband would’ve told her if he had that ability.

“Clark thinks of this as a curse. He would hate learning more about it. He hates himself for drinking the tonic. You don’t—you’d revel in the power, wouldn’t you?”

She could control ghosts. Anyone who passed could be brought to life, and if they couldn’t be, they could still be with her in death. After her uncle’s years ran out, she’d still have him with her. “Teach me, Eric.”

The ghost grinned. “Close your eyes and clear your mind.”

Amethyst drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried not to think about anything.

Sweat still coated her skin. Insect bites itched across her body; the rest of her didn’t hurt so much thanks to numbness.

“Think about me,” came Eric’s voice. “Go into the other world. Make me real there and I’ll be real here.”

She pictured the realm of endless sand, and opened her eyes to be greeted by the red-gold sky. No Eric, no spirit waiting for her saving touch. How could she use that space to make a ghost real?

She took a step forward and the sand turned crimson, shifting beneath her foot, like the sand on any beach. Her uncle had rented a beach house every summer when she was growing up, but he’d stopped when she was around twelve, when his leg bothered him more. They’d spent hours by the waves building castles or sculptures of her face.

Amethyst crouched to build a replica of Eric, but the grains slid between her fingers. She could spit on it to make it pack more, but that would be a lot of spit.

Sometimes, they had written messages to each other in the sand.

Amethyst drew a stick figure of Eric in the dry grains.

“Eric Grisham,” she whispered. Could that have worked? He said the powers came from her concentration. She closed her eyes again and breathed through her nose, feeling the way her lungs expanded and constricted.

Warmth spread from her heart, a different warmth than the western sun that made her boil. It crawled across her limbs, and the pains faded as her skin tingled. Life. Thickness. Hardness.

Clark had described returning to reality as a jerk, but she soared. She leapt off the sand and catapulted herself through the space until she felt the dirt beneath her feet. She opened her eyes to face Eric.

Smiling, she lifted her hands and rested them against his cheeks. Her father’s face would feel smooth or rough, depending on when he’d shaved, but Eric felt more like a feather, yet solid. He was neither cold nor hot, but there.

“I found it,” Amethyst whispered. Tears blurred her vision. “I found that concentration.”

Top Hat Terry, the man who’d risen off the grate to meet her, rubbed his hand over his chin. “You’re sure that map’s drawn right?”

“I’m positive.” Eric grinned. He hadn’t stopped grinning since Amethyst had presented him with solidity. “I’ve never mistaken calculations before. Numbers are my specialty.”

“You’ve been dead for how long?” Short Man asked. “You said it was like eighteen years.”

“And I’m still going strong.” Eric thumped his chest over the gaping hole where his heart had resided. “That’s an exact map of what the Hedlund Barracks look like. This plan of attack is perfect.”

“Have you ever led an attack before?” Amethyst asked. “I thought you were just an inventor.”

“Who better to lead a revolt than a man of science?” Eric puffed his torn chest.

Top Hat Terry turned the map Eric had drawn to face him on the table. The rest of the hill’s gang members, thirty-six girls and boys, crowded around the room. “You let us gather our troops and we’ll follow your attack plan.”

They should obey Eric since he was paying for the operation. “We’ll be all set tomorrow?” They had to get Clark as soon as possible.

Top Hat Terry scratched his scalp. “We’ll need a few days to gather everyone.”

“But we need to get Clark
now
. He’s chained up!” She clenched her hands into fists. “This is all about rescuing him.”

“And putting a dent in the army,” Eric interrupted. “What they’re doing to the people out here is against humanity. We’ll have to abide by time if we want this done right.”

“Brass glass,” she snarled at him. Why did he have to be right? They were a team of outlaws, a ghost, and a girl with powers. They should’ve been unstoppable.

“Mr. Treasure!” Steven Smith’s wife rushed into the office, her face flushed and hair falling loose from her bun to stick her to cheeks.

“What is it?” Jeremiah rose from behind his desk to grab his neighbor’s arm. “Mrs. Smith, has someone been injured?”

“I was in the garden.” Mrs. Smith sank into the chair and fanned herself with her apron. “A steamcoach came up the road. It’s got that nasty captain in it, and
him
.”

“Captain Greenwood.” Jeremiah scowled. “Who else is with him?”

“Mr. Horan,” she hissed. “The rancher, not the senator.”

Earlier that summer, the neighboring rancher nearby had tried to steal her husband’s farm. Clark had persuaded Steven Smith to sell his property to Garth for protection. They’d rented the farm from the Treasures since then.

“What does he want?” Jeremiah poured her a glass of water from the pitcher near his desk. “Stay here. I’ll see what they need.” He should get his wife, but Alyssa did whatever was needed during the day while he tended to the never-ending paperwork. No wonder his father enjoyed having his son run the ranch.

Jeremiah stalked to the front door as it slammed open to Captain Greenwood, his swollen face flushed and his eyes bugging.

“Where is she?” the captain bellowed.

Jeremiah stopped, his fists at his sides so he wouldn’t reach for a weapon. “Who?” They couldn’t want Mrs. Smith. She didn’t do much more than tend his garden and look after her family while her husband farmed. “You want Alyssa?” He ground his teeth. “She’s not yours to get, Greenwood.”

“Where is your sister?”

“Amethyst?” Jeremiah leaned back. “Senator Horan has her. I was notified of that most graciously.”

“You stole her back. You or one of your men.”

“My men?” Jeremiah lifted his brows. “My
men
work this ranch. We don’t have time to kidnap people.” The captain’s words thickened in his brain. “You don’t know where my sister is.”

“We can’t believe she could’ve run off. Someone took her,” Captain Greenwood huffed. “The army contacted your uncle, but the invalid hasn’t been in contact with anyone other than his nurse, and he’s been under house arrest. It had to be you.”

The walls crept toward Jeremiah. His sister should’ve been safe enough, considering she’d been arrested for conspiring with Clark against who-knew-what. The whole matter was ridiculous, but until his father could figure it out, Jeremiah had to go along with the army to protect the Treasure name.

Amethyst was gone.

“She vanished from the army? Did one of your men get her? Did someone touch her?” Jeremiah lunged forward, his fist raised.

“Oh no.” Captain Greenwood backpedaled, lifting his hands. “We know it was you. You can’t touch me, boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” Jeremiah spat. Clark wouldn’t have hesitated. He wouldn’t have refrained from pummeling the captain.

Four soldiers marched into the hallway from behind the captain. Rancher Horan followed, laughing.

“Get out of my house,” Jeremiah growled. “All of you. We need to find Amethyst. She’s a Treasure. Anyone could’ve kidnapped her to get to my family.”

“Your family isn’t that important,” Rancher Horan chortled, “and this isn’t your house.”

“Amethyst has been kidnapped!” Didn’t they understand? She could be tortured, or perished.

Captain Greenwood snorted. “By you. Arrest Jeremiah Treasure in the name of Senator Horan and Hedlund.”

“Arrest me?” Jeremiah pushed off the soldier who grabbed his arm. “This is ridiculous. On what grounds?”

“You broke the law by freeing your sister.”

“I haven’t seen Amethyst! I didn’t
free
her.”

“Tell that to my brother.” Rancher Horan grinned. “You committed treason. Everything you own—which is everything in the Treasure name—is forfeit.”

“By order of Senator Horan,” Captain Greenwood said, “everything you own now belongs to Hedlund for Senator Horan to distribute as he pleases.”

“No!” Jeremiah jerked away from the soldiers who surrounded him. He’d been so careful to protect his family’s name. The government had to know he didn’t help his sister—unless, Senator Horan set it up to look as if he had. Amethyst might still be a prisoner with them.

Rancher Horan clapped his hands. “Guess who my brother gave all the land to?”

Jeremiah blinked at him.

“Guess who he gave
everything
to?”

What did any of that matter? His family needed to be safe. They would arrest Alyssa because she’d agreed to sign her life away with him.

Amethyst had better be safe, or Jeremiah knew it wouldn’t just be he who would be furious. Somehow, having Clark angry seemed much worse. They’d grown closer than Jeremiah and Amethyst ever had. Part of him admitted he was glad she had a brother to protect her.

Amethyst sat on the hill with her legs folded, her eyes closed, and her hands resting on her knees. That warmth came as the sounds of people faded. The sun didn’t feel so hot. Temperature vanished to leave her cocooned in nothingness.

Something stirred in her belly. Had the coarse bread she’d eaten upset her stomach?

Amethyst cleared her mind again. It happened faster each time she practiced, and she recognized how much she did love that power. It gave her a strength wealth and fame never had. The warmth spread quicker through her essence as if it loved her back. She let it pool in her feet and work its way up, soothing her muscles. She would need to be rejuvenated when the gangs met at Eric’s lair. Since they would be close to her father’s ranch, she might be able to sneak a few words to Jeremiah, depending on how many guards the army had left there.

The warmth worked its way toward her head and paused again in her belly.

A baby.

Amethyst gasped, ripping out of the trance to press her hands against the skin there. She and Clark had married in the summer, and the season had turned into autumn. She counted the months in her mind. It had been three months since their marriage, but they’d used protection. Clark knew about those things and so did she, from whispers and giggles in the city. He wouldn’t have let that happen until they were ready.

“We will have to arrive in the night.” Eric floated toward her.

Amethyst blinked, finding tears in her eyes. She’d never imagined being a mother. Certainly, she’d known it was her duty to breed high-society ladies and gentlemen. Proper ladies only had a few children—her parents had been in vogue bearing three. Her children would attend the best schools. They would know their manners for when she took them to galas. They would someday marry and repeat the cycle.