He’d never found it nefarious until now.
‘You should ask him if he’s killed any other Empyreals lately,’ came the other Empyreal’s suggestion.
Ah. Now, Kyan remembered him.
His name was Logan, and just over a hundred years ago he’d been in Alexander’s circle.
The very Empyreal Kyan was portrayed as fighting in theDantepainting back in Estwood.
Kyan had killed Alexander at Lanhydrock at the behest of the Wake, when Alexander had resisted swearing any more fealty. Before that second oath, Empyreals could refuse to work for the Wake if they so chose, or if they came across a new Empyreal, they might leave them to their lives rather than bringing them in.
So Kyan had been ordered to hunt Alexander down and break his neck, as only one Empyreal could kill another. And that moment had been immortalised into a vision of hell in theDantepainting. A curl of self-loathing torqued through his stomach.
He’d dealt with Logan’s vitriol before and been unimpressed by his friends and their attempts to get a rise out of him. He briefly recalled it was Alexander who’d inducted Logan into the Wake and knew that could form a bond. Was it their insular circle that had kept him like that? A little too bloodthirsty; a little too eager for the hunt?
‘They play with their food,’ Callum had once said with distaste.
A theory plunged through Kyan’s mind.
CouldLoganbe the Empyreal that had killed Nicole’s mother?
Logan had been brought into the Wake before Freya was killed, which meant he’d worked with them long enough for the organisation to get into his head. Though, his aggression itself didn’t need much of a push, which was why when Kyan had pondered what other Empyreals he might be able to talk into helping them against the Wake, Logan hadn’t made the cut.
But if he was making jabs at Kyan for killing one of their kind and Freya had been one of them … it was unlikely he’d been the one to take her out.
Still.
Kyan stepped back onto the floor panel for the final stage of testing: the bloodwork he had to sabotage before the final scan. If certain elevated hormone levels were normal in creatures that had found theirmates, it was likely they would be present in Empyreals, too. He damned himself for not having paid more attention the previous times they’d taken his blood.
But, he could use this. He was already wound tight and spoiling for a fight.
And a fight would explain away the elevated levels.
‘What’s your name again?’ Kyan asked, barely giving the other Empyreal a glance as a tech strapped his arm with a tourniquet.
Logan bristled and brushed aside a tech, cables snapping off him as he shouldered through the adjoining doorway.
‘You know who I am, you just think you’re the Wake’s best. But I’ve killed more than you these past ten years.’
‘Keeping people safe isn’t a competition,’ Kyan said as they prepared the extra-strength needles and bottles. ‘It’s a duty.’
‘Ever get tired of spewing this nonsense? We’re the most powerful supernaturals in the world.’
Anticipation hummed through Kyan’s blood. He wasn’t one to lose control. He’d had that early urge beaten out of him with his older cousins, three of Ulster’s best warriors. His mother had taught him to channel his most intense emotions, and Scáthach had taught him how to hone those emotions into power.
He never lost it. He’d become known for his cool-headedness.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
‘At least Ihavea name,’ Logan spat. ‘Everyone knows you’re nothing but the Wake’s dog.’
Dog.
Hound.
It was so like the name Kyan had been given in Ireland all those years ago: Cú Chulainn, meaning ‘Culann’s Hound.’ He could only remember snatches of the day he was granted it. The fight for his life against a supernatural beast that had been deemed a guard dog. The great cracking snaps of its teeth, the flaying spittle, the mud against his face as he strained to hold it off him. And the transformation stealing through his seven-year-old body with all the force of the archaic starlight of the Empyrean.
Then the great acclaim that came: the new name and the pride of his uncle the king as he stood silhouetted against the sun, his cape gleaming in all its finery.
