‘Here I thought Empyreals weren’t supposed to have their own treasures.’
‘Please,’ Nicole cut in, ‘we want to keep it safe.’
‘It’s quite safe. Besides’ – the thief held up his hand, revealing a missing pinkie finger – ‘a Tène is infamously difficult to get past. I paid the price. I’ll be keeping it. But I am curious as to the provenance of the piece. Where, exactly, did it come from? Who made it? I’ve long wondered.’
It was made by the hands of an Irish god, could hold the blood of a goddess, and could remake the world as we know it.
‘It’s a family heirloom,’ Kyan said instead.
‘I see.’
‘How exactly didyoufind it?’ Nicole asked.
‘I have a skill. Call it a blessing, call it a curse.’ The last word had a ring of darkness to it that caught Nicole’s attention. ‘But I keep my favourites. I suppose I have more in common with a Tène than I thought.’
She took a breath, uncertain how to continue. People had died for this, and if they weren’t faster, more might.
‘How about I pitch you a few ideas,’ her father said.
The thief pursed his lips. ‘Why not? Drink?’
‘Sure. Why don’t you two wait outside,’ her father suggested to her and Kyan. He looked the picture of ease, legs crossed in the chair beside her, picking something off his three-piece tweed suit. He nodded to her slightly, signalling with one look:I’ll handle it.
Only that made Nicole rise.
‘Thank you for your time,’ she said.
Her mind churned as she left the room and walked to the rooftop, while Kyan paused at the bar.
The whole balcony was warded, the barrier of it gleaming with an iridescent shimmer that reminded Nicole of Lawna’s shields. She relaxed slightly, knowing it would hide them from anyone outside, even if Luca was still dutifully working on his CCTV blocking.
But these wards still let in the fresh air, chilled up here, thanks to the hilltop placement of the city, and she willed it to clear her head.
Below spread an unimpeded view of Edinburgh: the clocktower’s glowing face; the castle lit in the distance; the deep navy sky above, and the gold and amber lights in the buildings blanketed between. Spires sliced up here and there, gothic imprints against the skyline.
Kyan brought her a cocktail, standing to her left with his body angled to see the rooftop, the skyline, and the door.
Nicole took a sip, focusing on the bitters and coil of orange, the heat at the back of her throat.
‘What do you think he wants?’ she asked quietly.
‘I don’t know,’ Kyan said, brooding over the Scottish night. ‘I shouldn’t have come. Clearly, it’s a problem. Rightly so, with the Wake.’
He reached up to tug momentarily at his dark curls, as if still unfamiliar with them. The scent from his open collar was warmed by the heat of his body and she took a deep breath, his presence alleviating the sense of a ticking clock that had only grown louderwith Verin’s death. She glimpsed Bells’ small black bag, which Kyan had slipped over his shoulder inside his jacket, for if –when– they left this place with the torc.
Nicole looked out at the low moon. ‘He – he’s not what he seems, I think, my father.’
Kyan’s eyes met hers.
‘Do you know if he’s a Death Seer?’ she asked quietly.
Perhaps Kyan had picked up on a nuance she’d missed after so long hunting creatures. After the Druid’s revelations – Kyan’ssister, she reminded herself – Nicole was even more certain her father was hiding something.
Kyan waited a beat, then shook his head. ‘I had my doubts. But it’s his secret to tell. I’m sure he’ll admit it when he’s ready. There are many reasons someone might hide an aspect of themselves. But in my experience, it’s either because they’re ashamed, or they don’t want others to know how dangerous they are.’
She nodded, taking a forced sip.
Kyan’s fingers hovered at her back. She focused on the ghost heat of them, and wanted to lock herself with him in the decadent hotel room and just pause the world, the onslaught of revelations. Not do or think anything.
