‘Hi, Nicole,’ the lecturer said with a smile. Her accent seemed to be a mix of American and Scottish. She leaned across the desk to shake Nicole’s hand, her eyes a sparkling, cornflower blue. ‘I’m Dr Kaner, but call me Chloe.’
Nicole instantly liked her and the familiarity of being back in an academic environment filled her with warm relief. She sank into the opposite chair, its cushion slightly squashed, and set her bag on the floor, Verin’s book inside.
They went through a few fake formalities based on what Nicole had lied about in her email. She’d claimed she was looking into masters programmes at different universities and was interested in Scottish history.
She lied flawlessly through it, wishing she didn’t have to. The yearning for a calm enough life where she was studying for joy momentarily cinching her throat.
Soon enough, they got to the grit of it.
‘So, you wanted to talk about different areas of Scottish history, particularly the Picts?’ Chloe asked, a pen hovering over the pad on her desk.
‘Yes, I thought you’d be the best person to come and talk to about them.’
Chloe smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘Well, I do have a bit of an obsession and you’re in the right place.’
Nicole had done some research on the obscure Scottish people but it consisted of whatever she could cram on a spotty internet connection and no recent access to a library.
‘I’d just really love to hear an overview from you about why you study them. What do you think makes them so unique as a society?’ Nicole asked, not needing to fake the urgency and intrigue in hervoice.
Tell me anything that could help me reason with a Pictish Empyreal manipulated by a supernatural organisation.
‘Oh, well. One thing that’s always fascinated me is their name. It wasn’t what they called themselves – it was a name first given to them by the Romans in the third century. In Latin,Pictimeans “the painted ones”, for their distinctive blue tattoos.’
Intrigue or instinct ran down Nicole’s spine. So much of her life and the secrets of creatures had been hidden in artwork …
‘These tattoos, were they believed to have magical properties at all?’ Nicole asked. ‘I’m just thinking for the, er, socio and religious dynamics in the society, of course.’
‘Well, there’s very little information about them, unfortunately.’
‘Did they have kings? Leaders? What did they think about battle, and oaths, and – honour?’
‘Is your dissertation leaning towards kingship?’
‘Well, I’m just trying to get a rounded view to help decide.’
Chloe nodded approvingly, though it was evident from the light in her eyes that she could talk about this for hours. ‘Well, there were many kings of the Picts, some written about in the Irish Annals.’
Irish … Nicole tucked that away for later. ‘So—’
Her next question was swallowed by the door opening behind them. Nicole twisted, part of her expecting Kyan to have arrived early from the almost silent boot tread.
But someone else blocked out the light of the doorway, dressed in tactical black.
Alexander.
She hated the fear that shot into her throat. Hated that as he came for her and she stood quickly, upending the chair, she wasn’t prepared.
And then his hand was around Nicole’s throat.
‘Hey!’ shouted Chloe. ‘Get off her!’
Nicole’s feet left the floor and the wall met her back as he slammed her against it. Stars danced in her vision as the breath ripped from her lungs.
Nicole swung her legs up to kick him between his. It gratified something in her to see him jolt – evidently he was still a man beneath the mutation, and not just a killing machine.
But he was too strong. Far too strong. And already Nicole could feel darkness creeping in. She wrapped her legs around his waist to try tostop gravity tightening his grip. But his physical power and the blankness in the eyes near hidden by the slash of his mask was sointense—
She reached for his face to try and dig her fingers into his eyes. He slapped her hands away so she scrabbled with his wrist to claw beneath the leather to skin, hoping contact would give her a vision that would save her, wishing she could will herself to transform.
