‘I don’t understand,’ Nicole said, backing out of the secret corridor. She heard no breaths, no heartbeats. There wasn’t anythinginthere, but somehow the whole room was saturated in jarring, triggering scents. Her power twisted and shuddered, the sensation so unnerving she backed up a few more steps.
‘The paintings,’ Kyan realised, his body rigid behind hers, fighting the same urges. ‘They must be painted with the essences of dangerous creatures. There’s a different imprint on each of them, no doubt to stop an Empyreal walking down this corridor.’
Her father searched the panelling after an irritated glance at the unconscious thief. ‘There must be a key slot somewhere to hide them.’ He ran his hand down the wide seam of the hinged painting. ‘There’s nothing. I’ll go in. Stay here.’
Nicole nearly found herself protesting as he hurried down the corridor and she tried to suppress the unnatural churn of her body still trying to identify the invisible threat.
Her father didn’t waste any time: evidently, he’d got the codes for the safe, too. They were elaborate, each one bleeping green before requiring the next. Nerves pulsed with her heart the more he had to enter. Any wrong digit might call a host of security on them, stop them from being able to leave—
Then the safe swung open slowly.
‘That’s it,’ Kyan said beside her. ‘That’s the one.’
Nicole’s lips parted in awe.
The golden necklace was so much bigger than she expected. It sat on a pedestal, spotlit when the door opened. She could barely look at the rest of the glinting treasures. Something about the torc stole every ounce of her attention.
‘My god,’ she breathed.
She wanted to stare and stare and stare at it. If you didn’t study the period, life during the Iron Age sounded near barbaric, almost nothing separating it in the mind from the Stone and Bronze. They were ages that might conjure mental images of huts and little else. But this –thisrevealed the true craftsmanship of the time. Looking at it convinced her of a lost line of Irish royalty, of Druids and gods and a sky glinting with the bright, ancient magic of stars.
Her father stepped in and took the torc.
Nicole held her breath, not sure what she was worried about himdoing until he strode back towards them and passed it to Kyan. She felt him relax as something complicated and almost guilty relaxed in her too. Kyan hid the torc in the bag beneath his suit jacket and then they were out of the office.
No one stopped them.
No alerts had been tripped.
When they came into the night, rain glittering on the asphalt, Nicole realised that the only reason they now had a two-thousand-year-old artefact – the second goddess-blessed item they needed – was because her father had revealed a true sliver of the dark powers he’d hidden from them her whole life. Without it, they wouldn’t have stood a chance at retrieving the torc.
But she couldn’t help but feel like the consequences could damn them all.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Bells
BELLS AWOKE ON A SHIVER, EYES FLUTTERINGOPEN TO THEcanopy above her.
Her thoughts were muzzy, her mouth metallic, her eyes sticky with tears and slightly swollen from the news about Verin. Part of her wished she’d Seen it. Had been able to be there with him, even if he couldn’t see her, but she’d taken a heavy sleeping tonic that night and Saw nothing.
Swallowing, she pushed up, a headache pressing at her vision. The time on the ornate table clock told her it was ten thirty. The others wouldn’t be back yet.
When she came out into the suite, it was dimly lit and empty. She hurried to the thoroughly locked door and unlocked it, only to dash across scratchy carpet like a spy to the neighbouring room.
Bells knocked, her head tipping up as Callum opened it immediately, still wearing a dark, stylish outfit from earlier in the day.
‘News?’ he asked in that low purring voice.
‘Er – it was interesting.’
‘Just as mysterious as your brother. Let’s talk in your room.’
They headed back inside and when she glanced over her shoulder, Callum was spreading out on the couch.
Bells went to the window to look out over the dark city, all spires and stone. She stroked the sleeping head of the Tène on her wrist that pulsed with a gentle warmth.
‘I didn’t See anything that makes sense.’ She sighed. ‘Another death,another creature calling the Hunt, but this time I woke too soon. Sometimes I think it would be easier, better, to be an Empyreal like the others if I can’t have visions of the future.’
