‘I should have expected they’d come after him,’ Kyan said, running a hand through his hair and fisting it.
‘No,Ishould have,’ Callum said. ‘The private menace told me to stop bothering him. I should have stayed.’
Kyan had told Callum of the goddessblood; that Alexander wasthe Huntbringer. That the Druid girl claimed to be his sister, and that the Fomóiri were the ones running the Wake.
He’d never seen such cold rage in his friend’s eyes. A dozen emotions had flitted through them before they winked out like the cosmos, a kind of hollow, immortal darkness replacing it. Concern had stirred in Kyan’s stomach.
‘Did she say anything else?’ Callum had asked, his tone – off.
Kyan had assured him there was nothing more, but Callum had been silent for so long Kyan had grown concerned. Even now, a wicked echo still radiated off him like a forcefield as his mind worked.
The question remained: was Verin killed because he was helping them, or because he was onto something?
‘You might want to check on Luca,’ Kyan said quietly, concerned for the Nazen. ‘Elisabetta, if we can.’
‘Someone is killing anyone that gives us information,’ Callum said darkly. ‘I’ll check on them. I know some people in Italy.’
‘If the Wake are onto us to this degree, why wouldn’t they have tried to stop us? Hauled us in already? Why kill the people we move on from?’
‘They’re playing a game a few millennia in the making,’ Callum said, scanning the room again. ‘They always have. To have survived in secret since the time of the gods …’ There was that wipeout of rage again, the pulse of power and fury.
‘I hate games,’ Kyan said. It was one of the many reasons he hadn’t got as involved in court life as he could have when he was young, back when he hadn’t had any real idea of the horrors awaiting. Games were murky. Manipulative. He preferred to know who wanted him dead, so he could face it head on. Not scheme and wait and wage wars that killed countless innocents.
Callum made a thoughtful noise. ‘I know. It’s a good thing I play them well enough for the both of us. Speaking of, you should see this,’ he said, leading Kyan back into Verin’s adjoining lab room.
The scent of blood and astringent cleaning concoctions stung his nose. While there were many books and scribbled notes, one book lay open atop the others, its gilding and Irish designs drawing Kyan closer. He looked down at the illustrated three drops of blood.
Then Callum nudged the book aside to reveal that underneath it was a message written in blood.
DIVINO ARTISTA: A MASTERPIECE IN BLOOD.
‘Divine artist,’ Callum mused behind him. ‘Verin referred to the blood from the painting as a masterpiece.’
‘Do you think this was him trying to tell us he’d figured out it was goddessblood?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Callum mused. ‘But we can’t leave it here.’
Kyan nodded, and while Callum distracted the crew, he took the book and wiped away the message with bleach.
There was only one thing to do: avenge him.
Verin hadn’t deserved to die like this.
Neither had the Druids.
Neither had Nicole’s mother.
And Kyan knew exactly who he’d offer the Wake’s head to when he finally cut it off.
But first, they had one last item to find and ten days left to do it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Nicole
THE HOTEL NICOLE’S FATHER HAD CHOSENWAS A HISTORIC,indulgent location on one of Edinburgh’s sloping streets, known for its supernatural guests and discretion.
Tonight, they were going to need it.
