Chapter Eight
Kyan
THE NAZEN WAS A SMALL ITALIAN MAN IN HIS EARLY TWENTIES, named Luca.
Kyan was knocking on his loft door – a battered-looking metal slab in the centre of a long hallway – when the creature arrived.
He had a bag of shopping under one arm and was in the process of shoving a fistful of strange sweets into his mouth while checking something on his phone.
At the sound of Kyan’s knock, and the realisation there was someone else in the hallway, his head snapped up.
Kyan got only a momentary look at the creature’s wiry frame, warm tan skin, and black messy hair before the Nazen dropped the bag and bolted.
He got a few feet before Kyan caught him by the scruff of his jacket, lifting him clean off the floor.
‘Look, it wasn’t me—’
‘I didn’t accuse you of anything,’ Kyan said, already exasperated.
But the creature reached up anyway to shock a bit of Kyan’s bare skin.
‘Calm down, Luca,’ Callum interrupted from the hallway behind them, returning from scoping out the rest of the building. ‘It’s just me.’
The Nazen twisted in Kyan’s grip and relaxed slightly, though his electric-blue eyes whipped back to Kyan, uncertain. ‘What about the big one?’
‘Ignore him,’ Callum said. ‘He’s a teddy bear. Kyan, put him down. You won’t run, will you, Luca?’
The words were a warning, and the Nazen knew it.
‘I have a name,’ Kyan said flatly, releasing him.
Luca landed on his feet, blue lightning-like flickers dancing along his skin.
Nazen were able to pass as human when their electric powers and charge weren’t making them too jittery. It was their eyes that usually gave them away: always a blue so pale it made you look twice.
‘Could have announced yourself,’ Luca said, fixing his shirt.
‘You’re telling me you don’t have cameras on this place?’
‘I do, but I was busy.’ He looked mournfully down to the dropped sweets.
‘I’ll buy you another pack,’ Callum said, throwing his arm around Luca’s shoulders. ‘Now, no time for chit-chat, I have a mission for you.’
He began to steer Luca to his loft door.
The Nazen had the good sense to show a flicker of apprehension, but it was swiftly followed by intrigue. ‘Oh?’
Ten minutes later Kyan stood with his arms crossed opposite a bank of monitors with Callum, while Luca began to hack into the Wake’s security systems.
The Nazen’s apartment was a sprawling industrial-style loft filled with modern art, and a few Old Masters’ paintings.
Code and security footage danced across the screens. Luca’s eyes fluttered as his mind hooked into the system and rewrote it, subverted it, or did whatever he needed to do.
Nazen didn’t all develop tech skills but some of them, like Luca, were basically able to become the tech and rewrite it to do whatever they wanted.
Sometimes it resulted in trickery: lights flickering in your house, laptops turning off at the chuckle of a passing Nazen.
Or they were the best electrician you’ve ever had.
Other times they became vigilantes, wiping out mortgages and shutting down sections of the dark web – exactly the kind of work that Callum knew Luca for.
‘Won’t the Old Bailey be warded against Nazen?’ Kyan asked.
‘There are many security protocols,’ Callum said while he watched. ‘But they’re not necessarily effective against him. He’s the best. But it made you cocky, didn’t it, Luca?’
The Nazen sniffed. ‘Callum found out they’d sent someone to take me out after I hacked into the Wake’s servers.’
‘I Influenced the Empyreal they’d sent to think they’d killed him, then spirited him away.’ Callum shrugged. ‘They can’t risk having someone out and about that would know how to break into their databases.’
‘Is this how you hacked my phone and knew where I was in Estwood?’ Kyan asked.
Callum’s lips curled up. ‘Perhaps.’
Kyan shook his head, refocusing on the screen. ‘How long does this take?’
‘You know the Wake have been around for, like, two millennia? It took me at least an hour last time,’ Luca groused, but there was unmissable excitement in his tone.
Kyan resisted the urge to pace and looked instead at the live recording of the Old Bailey on the other screen.
‘In the fucking law courts,’ Callum marvelled. ‘The arrogance.’
The words made Kyan wonder, not for the first time, why his friend was on this secret mission with him. Nicole had woken Kyan up to the machinations of the Wake.
But why had Callum agreed?
Back in Estwood, he’d cited the fact that the Wake had been lying to them and Freya had information he needed.
But there was more here, and it tugged at Kyan’s memories, reminding him of the rare times he’d seen Callum truly emotional.
The last time was when he broke Kyan’s already broken nose, again.
He couldn’t ask him now, but he would soon, and he wanted a truthful answer.
The plans for the Old Bailey stared at him from one of the monitors, as did the handsome facade of the building.
Once, it had been the site of the most vicious prison in London: Newgate.
It had been rebuilt in the early 1900s and a fashionable court building formed in its stead.
Now it wasn’t just the site for trials and human law cases, but supernatural ones too – another reason why photography was strictly prohibited inside during weekdays.
Couldn’t risk people snapping a picture of an Empyreal while they were gazing at the frescoes or elaborate marble detailing.
‘So,’ Callum said quietly, ‘do you want to talk about that little display of toxic masculinity back at the check-up?’
‘You told me to distract them.’
‘I did. I just didn’t expect you to be so … bloody about it. Brawls aren’t exactly your style.’
Kyan sniffed.
Callum grinned slowly. ‘As much as I’m enjoying this other side to you, you’re usually the one that breaks up the fights, not starts them.’
‘I know, I’m just’ – he pressed his lips together – ‘finding it difficult to remain clear-headed. Besides, he had it coming.’
Callum made a noise of agreement.
‘There’s definitely something here,’ Luca said, brow furrowing as the screen revealed what he was doing. Electric-blue lines lit up on the map of the building as he mentally scanned them. ‘Cameras, wards, and security points.’
‘Can you shut them off?’ Callum asked.
‘I can take over the feed as you walk along, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it up. I can’t do it if you’re in there for, like, an hour. Not with this system.’
‘So, we have under an hour,’ Kyan said. ‘That means we need to be very clear on what we’re looking for. But if it’s not the right location, then we’ve tipped them off to a breach without getting anything. And if they have other Empyreals guarding it, we have no idea if they’d let us in.’
‘Since neither of us knew about these happy little experiments in the first place, and you’re supposed to be their top hunter, who else would they trust with this information?’ Callum mused.
Logan came to mind, but then the sadistic alpha-wannabe would do anything if it made him feel powerful for ten minutes. Why trust such unruly, aggressive Empyreals? Unless the Wake were playing to their egos to keep them loyal?
‘What I can’t understand, is why they’re doing this to begin with,’ Kyan said.
‘Ah, that’s easy to answer,’ Callum said, taking a seat on one of Luca’s modern black armchairs that looked strung together with nothing but leather and sheer will.
‘Money. Power. Sex. There are thousands of reasons people do things like this. We just need to find out what they’re guarding and where the weak spots are. ’
‘There’s always a weak spot,’ Luca murmured in agreement.
The fact the Wake hadn’t trusted Kyan with this information told him one thing: they knew he’d disapprove, or be reluctant to join. But why was his opinion worth shit?
‘If no Empyreals are supposed to know,’ Callum began, ‘waltzing in there pretending to be Empyreal guards checking in might cause more problems than we want.’
‘So, we Influence anyone guarding the place?’
His friend hummed thoughtfully. ‘Might be our only option.’
‘Uh, you’ve got one big problem.’ Luca sat back, his eyes clearing of electricity as he pointed to a zoomed-in image. The carved and arched entrance of the building.
‘What are we looking at?’ Callum asked.
‘Those are not just sculptures of women,’ the Nazen said, highlighting the trio above the gated door. ‘They’re Babewyn.’
Kyan loosed a frustrated breath.
Babewyn was the old name for beings that guarded buildings.
Many humans knew about gargoyles, just not that they were real.
While they fed on the water that funnelled off a building and defended the structure from unwanted supernatural visitors in exchange, Babewyn were more difficult to pass.
They acted more like sphinxes. And this one seemed to be …
‘A record-keeper,’ Luca read, having brought up a webpage on the architecture of the building.
‘Called “The Recording Angel”. That,’ – Luca stabbed a finger at the central figure who sat with a mantle of stone over her like a cloak, concealing her face in dark shadows – ‘is going to log every supernatural that goes in the building.’
‘How do we get past it?’ Kyan asked.
He’d come across Babewyn before but never had a reason to need to circumvent them, considering the Wake were usually able to cover for him.
‘She controls all the stone in the building,’ Luca said. ‘If she doesn’t want you to leave, all exits will be blocked up. No way out.’
‘You’re supposed to be an expert at getting into places,’ Callum said. ‘Find something.’
‘Yeah, with modern tech, not the old-school stuff like gargoyles and grotesques. I’m practically a scientist, not a’ – he looked Kyan up and down – ‘fucking huge immortal assassin.’
Kyan’s lips flattened. ‘Is there some … artistic way to stop her?’
‘You mean, like, unmake her? I don’t know, I’m not an art historian or an architect. She was made by someone called Frederick William Pomeroy if that helps. Never mind, looks like he was human, so not alive to ask.’
No, but Kyan knew someone who was.