As one of the Empyreals ran for her, Bells threw the empty gun at his face and ducked, going for his waist, then changing last minute to grab the gun at his other hip and rip it from its holster.
But as she slammed to the floor and raised the weapon, the last thing she saw was the boot coming for her face, and the little golden creature on her wrist shooting off towards the attacking Empyreal.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Nicole
NICOLE’S HUNT DIDN’T TAKE HER FAR.
They hadn’t given her the target’s name, just their title and the fact that the Siren she was to hunt would be at the Natural History Museum at this time.
If the circumstances had been different, she might have been grateful that the Wake had located who the family needed to play the Dagda’s divine harp. Perhaps the descendant would have more information about where the other strings were, and she could find some way to fake their death and keep them hidden until she got out of the Wake’s clutches. But this mission suggested that the Wake knew what her family had been up to; what they sought.
What if Remi and her family had been interacting with the descendant all this time and had no idea? And, if they knew …
No, Remi would have said something.
It had to be someone who also used the Siren Archives, which just so happened to be hidden within the Natural History Museum.
Two great towers of warm, terracotta stone stood either side of the arched entrance to the museum. Its palatial shape and size in striking Gothic Revival and Romanesque architecture dwarfed the crowds. High above, the carved creatures on the building moved, prowling along their stone walkways.
London was busy and surprisingly hot, the streets and the great courtyard of the museum choked with humans. Nicole scanned themand breathed in, trying to sort through the complex threads of scent around her.
Sweat, coffee, and sugary drinks.
So many variations of perfumes and colognes.
Food from the trucks in the square.
Even the sun-warmed stone.
The sheernoisemade her pulse tick from overwhelm and a stress headache began a slow, sharp drive through her skull.
It was too much—
Focus.
Remembering Kyan’s lesson, Nicole pictured a gallery around her. Put each person, each scent, in a frame and pushed it away from herself. She didn’t jolt at the scream-laugh of a child, or the honk of cars in the stretch of road behind her, nor the dozens of people brushing too close, or the endless features and details.
She tuned into the Empyreal inside thatknewwhat she was looking for, even if there would be no kill scent to guide the way, only an uncanny awareness to other creatures.
There were supernaturals here, layered into the crowds, waiting for their own turn to get into the building that also housed a supernatural history wing. But she didn’t need to rifle through them all. She was looking for one person.
The Wake said she’d have to hunt the Siren through scent. She could recognise a Siren after being around Remi for so long, but being so close to the Archives, how could she be certain she’d find the right one, unless there was something else about them that would give away their identity.
Nicole began to wade through the crowd, realising how long it might take her to figure this out, and trying to ignore the burn of Alexander’s eyes on her back. He’d tailed her since the Wake’s car had dropped them off in the general location, and would be following her until she found the Siren. Then, he’d make sure she didn’t try to escape. Now, he stood like her jailer by the great gates that encircled the museum.
At least with this many people around and her new outfit, it made her less of a curiosity as she stood searching, and much easier to nab someone’s phone right out of their hands.
Nicole did so as she passed a human holding theirs up for a photo.With the sheer din of this many people, she hoped Alexander wouldn’t hear this.
The stranger’s outraged expression met hers, and she said, with a tone laced in Influence, ‘You lost it.’
They blinked, patting their pockets and searching their bag as Nicole continued to weave through the crowd.
Discreetly, and out of Alexander’s eyeline, she typed in her father’s number. As it began to ring, she scanned the crowd again, echoes of scent drawing her on.
If Dylan could call Callum, he’d know what to do. Perhaps she could fake the descendant’s death. There was no way she could kill the only Siren capable of bringing the Old Gods back and defeating the Wake.
