The auction’s artefacts varied from the trove-worthy to the mystical. She glimpsed hoards of cursed Roman coins, a sixteenth-century Witch’s athame, and a La Tène shield that rivalled the Battersea one with its ornate bronze repoussé swirls. There were torcs, just a few, and other pieces of ancient jewellery embedded with glinting jewels. But as she strolled through to check, none appeared to be Kyan’s.
Unveiled supernaturals wove through the space. Warlocks and Witches, even a Selkie that Nicole identified by the marine scent of her skin. Though she was in her human form, she retained the pebbled white and grey of her seal origins in stunning vitiligo, her eyes large and dark as the depths of the ocean. A Bòcan – a mischievous hobgoblin, who wasn’t as small as humans believed – lingered near an ancient armband decorated with amber beads. They were startlingly attractive, with sharp ears strung with studs.
There were more supernaturals, many sophisticated and dangerous. Nicole would have had to engage with them to figure out their natures, but wealth poured off them all.
She knew her mother had bought from many auctions in the past – always with a fake identity – and couldn’t help but imagine how well she would have moved through this crowd. Nicole didn’t even want to appreciate it after the news about Verin. It had burned into her with a pain that singed, leaving her slightly shaky and more wary. She tried to corral it so she didn’t appear suspicious.
The next room was filled with chairs, images of the artefacts slowly scrolling past on a large screen, a dais ready for the auctioneer.
Nicole took one of the night’s pamphlets as her father approached an attendant waiting on the door.
‘We need to speak to whoever’s in charge,’ he said, flashing the card.
The attendant turned her head slightly as if listening to an order whispered in her ear. Then she pasted a pleasant smile on her face. ‘Of course. Please come this way.’
She led them from the room and down a dark, tastefully decorated corridor to a sleek gold lift, before selecting the top floor.
It took them up swiftly, then opened to unveil a grand room and bar, the wide rooftop terrace open to the night, supernaturals milling about with drinks.
‘This way,’ the attendant said, leading them to a set of double doors carved with the unicorn of Scotland. The wood was so highly polished it looked like a real, gleaming coat, the noble spiral of its horn torquing up, as sharp and deadly as it was mystical.
The attendant knocked and opened the door, to reveal the thief.
Seated at a desk, a great oil painting of Edinburgh’s castle behind him, he was so much younger than Nicole had expected.
He looked to be in his thirties. His eyes roamed over them with the perusing glance of a connoisseur capable of spotting treasure a mile off. His hair was brushed back, adding to his elegant style and echoed by an expensive suit that disguised his rangy build, but it was a mercurial shade of brown that made her wonder if he was showing his true features or was somehow disguising them. He was handsome, but it had an edge that reminded Nicole of a sliver of obsidian.
The room had a snug old-world air. Kelpies were carved into the black marble fireplace and Scottish thistles into the dark panelling.
‘Please, sit,’ said the thief, gesturing to two dark green smoking chairs opposite the desk. ‘What can I do for you this evening?’ Herested his chin on one hand, his other around a glass of amber liquid.
Nicole couldn’t get a read on what he was; the antiquities on the low-lit shelves around the room gave off enough supernatural energy to disguise it.
‘This,’ said her father, showing the little calling card.
Nicole sank into the right-hand chair, while Kyan remained standing.
‘Ah, it seems my ego has got the better of me once again.’ The thief’s lips quirked up. ‘Which treasure would this be?’
‘A torc that belongs to me,’ Kyan added. ‘I want it back.’
A glint of intrigue entered the thief’s dark gold eyes.
Her father adjusted his suit jacket to take a seat. ‘Perhaps you’ll permit us to browse your collection. We’d be happy to buy it off you.’
Buy it?
Nicole knew her mother had amassed a great deal of money in her long life, but enough to buy something like this? Something the thief now knew was more valuable? She schooled her expression to not outwardly cringe.
‘I have many torcs in my collection, it’s a hazard of the trade.’ The thief smiled. ‘But I would imagine something like that would not be for sale.’
‘What do you want for it?’ Kyan asked.
Always blunt and honest. Nicole almost smiled.
The thief’s eyes slid to Kyan. ‘I don’t sell items to the Wake.’
Kyan’s shoulders tensed. ‘The Wake’s not buying it. It’s mine.’
