Chapter Seven
Kyan
EMPYREALS DIDN’T SUCCUMB TO ILLNESSES OR INFECTIONS.
After their first transformation they didn’t even age, unless they allowed themselves.
There weren’t often complications in a transformation that would delay a return to their usual form, but if there were, they were treated as a prime specimen of whatever creature they’d become.
Despite this, the Wake had them checked out every year in a full-body workup, examining their hormones, their Influence and abilities, their physical fitness, and, Kyan supposed, their mental state.
He’d never given much thought to the process, naively believing the Wake wanted to make sure he and the others were in top condition.
But standing waiting for the clinicians to arrive, Kyan wondered if they’d been doing these yearly checks to gather information on how Empyreals worked; what made them tick.
And if that was being used against them by the people they were supposed to trust.
Kyan swept his eyes over the testing room, looking for anything similar to Nicole’s vision of Lynch’s mutation. But the circular symbol she’d seen on the doors to those rooms was on almost every door in their buildings.
Nothing here seemed out of the ordinary.
The room had a glass wall on one side, with a matching glass door that led into other examination and scanning rooms. It had a clinical, almost futuristic feel, with a small podium in the centre he’d soon be standing on for scans.
To the left, two bookshelves were set in the wall, but otherwise, it had the same computers, lab tech, and minimal colour scheme that characterised almost every building of the Wake’s.
His eyes snagged back on the bookshelves, wondering if there would be information there about mates.
The concept had dogged him as much as the espionage.
Empyreals weren’t supposed to have mates, or at least, the fact that they could form that bond had been hidden from them.
If the Wake knew, it was unlikely that they’d have information about it here, but …
Kyan stalked over, discovering tomes on supernatural anatomy and a medical textbook on Empyreals.
The concept of having a mate had reordered his life.
He’d lived millennia thinking he’d be alone and now he had Nicole, and their bond was so precious and so mysterious, he wanted to know how to keep it safe.
Perhaps it would explain his shorter fuse, lack of patience, and the stress tapping at his temples.
He ripped out a book about another creature he knew formed that bond, and felt a new, oily concern that the Wake might have gleaned all this information from creatures against their will in these strange experiments.
He forced his eyes to read.
HORMONAL CHANGES CONSIST OF AN INCREASE IN EQUIVALENTS TO DOPAMINE AND SEX HORMONES.
WHEN PARTED FROM THEIR MATE FOR EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME, THEY DISPLAY SYMPTOMS SUCH AS IRRITABILITY, AND HEIGHTENED SEXUAL AND PROTECTIVE URGES.
WHEN TOGETHER WITH THEIR MATE, MANY CREATURES REPORT A FEELING OF DEEP, INNER CALM—
‘Kyan.’
Kyan snapped the book shut with a seismic boom and straightened from his concentrated hunch.
Dr Welden stood in the doorway, his brows raised slightly.
Kyan pressed his lips together, shoving the book back on the shelf.
‘How are we today?’ the doctor asked. He was followed in by some lab techs who took up their stations.
He was an older man, somewhere in his fifties, with a kind face and pale skin that saw too much time indoors. They’d met before, and Kyan had never sensed anything awry, but the Wake were nothing if not adept at keeping up appearances.
He knew the stages of this process and could hide his new mark by Influencing everyone here. But once they did his scan and bloodwork, it would show up, so he had to stop the process before it got that far.
‘Fine. Thanks.’
Forcing himself to relax, Kyan stripped off his shirt and stepped onto the slightly elevated podium, allowing the techs to stick on the sensors monitoring his heartbeat and blood flow.
Meanwhile, another Empyreal was brought into an adjoining medical room, giving Kyan a look of unveiled dislike through the glass.
He had pale blond hair, shorn short, his white skin tanned.
There was bulk to his body, but it looked to be more for show, less for mobility.
Kyan had had it beaten into him years ago that mobility was just as important as muscle.
He couldn’t remember the other Empyreal’s name, just knew he was one of the wannabe alpha types he avoided, so chose to ignore him as the techs gestured for Kyan to step onto the portable treadmill they’d pulled out.
Soon, Kyan was wearing an altitude training mask and running at top speed.
Then came the methodical process of hauling extra heavy weights, of press-ups that had the floor zooming closer and retreating again until he was sheened in sweat and his chest heaved with exertion.
But at least he felt in control. Right up until he thought of Nicole.
One stray thought and his body was reacting, his mind spiralling.
He caught his scowling reflection in the glass and realised the other Empyreal had been using his workout as a competition.
An idea trickled through Kyan’s mind as he hauled his body up and down a pull-up bar, or struck punching walls loaded with sensory probes to record his strength.
While he trained, the doctor went through the usual questions about his latest hunts, any wounds, how they’d healed.
The Wake liked to keep detailed knowledge of all manner of things Empyreals could heal from: Svora poison, knife wounds to crucial organs, the regrowth speed of any severed limbs.
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 the Dante painting 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 the Dante painting. 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.
Could Logan be 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 their mates, 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 I have a 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.