‘More like grinding my patience into dust.’
Callum’s eyes glinted with amusement, but they floated to the covered new scar in the centre of Kyan’s Wake one. A dot within a circle. His and Nicole’s bind. He also noted, but didn’t comment on, the hair tie of hers that was still around Kyan’s wrist beside his ancient bracelet.
Kyan picked up the champagne bucket and thunked it onto the table.
‘Why, pray tell, have you brought me a … fang? And – ugh – why does it smell like that? Kyan, really.’
‘Just look at it.’
Callum looked aggrieved but got up anyway, and within a moment he was frowning. His chest expanded on another inhale. ‘What is this?’
‘I thought it was a Vampire’s fang, but the creature had two rows of teeth so I realised it could be another one of the little experiments the Wake have been doing. This one was wild as an animal, near feral. Do you think it’s enough proof?’
‘A fang in a bucket? No.’ Callum tapped the table, pensive. ‘We’d need the operation exposed or, at the very minimum, the body itself to prove the differences. But still, who would that convince? A Finfolk isn’t likely to care if a Vampire now has two rows of teeth.’
Lynch would have been enough evidence if they’d been able to keep him alive. Maybe they’d have been able to understand what had happened to him if they’d managed to get his body to someone theycould trust. There had only been slivers of the Spectre left when Nicole had finished with him, but she had been able to glean images from the Spectre’s memories, revealing the location where he’d beenaltered. She’d shown Kyan before they headed to Lanhydrock and bound themselves together.
‘How many creatures do you think they’ve done this to?’ Kyan asked, hands clamped on the cool edge of the table.
‘I don’t know, but it’s safe to guess that this is a newer development. We’ve only been coming across more malignant creatures lately, no?’
Kyan nodded.
‘Well, while you’ve been doing mission after mission, I did some research.’
‘I wasn’t doing that many missions on purpose—’
Callum waved a hand, his eyes suspicious. ‘I’m not criticising. They’ve been keeping you busy.’
‘Yeah, well, this might throw another spanner in the works.’ Kyan pulled out his phone and showed Callum the photo he’d taken of the markings on the warehouse floor.
His friend’s expression smoothed free of any emotion.
‘Can you read it?’ Kyan asked.
‘Where was this?’
‘Where I killed the Vampire. I found it written in the blood of a human sacrifice.’
‘Asacrifice? What is this, the first millennium?’ Callum took the phone, giving him a reprehensive look. ‘You’ve forgotten your ogam?’
‘That’s really what you focus on here?’
Callum sighed and looked at the picture. When he stilled, Kyan’s hackles rose. ‘It’s a call to the Hunt.’
‘The Wild Hunt?’ Kyan examined the bloody lines again. ‘How is that supposed to work?’
Callum stared at his painting for a moment, lost in calculation. ‘Creating more hostile creatures would bring the Hunt,’ he realised.
‘Wait, you think the Wake orchestrated this sacrifice and let loose the mutated Vampire on purpose?’ Kyan asked.
His friend turned to him, eyes dark and serious. ‘Where we deal with the physical forms of dangerous creatures, the Hunt cleans up their souls so their energy doesn’t linger and cause more … problems.’
Warnings and urges prowled through Kyan’s blood. ‘Problems like what?’
Callum shrugged. ‘Who knows. Negative influences on creatures? The risk of humans sighting the supernatural? The Hunt must do a good enough job that we never find out.’
‘Have you ever seen any proof of it?’
