Chapter Fifty-Nine
Nicole
THE HOTEL NICOLE’S FATHER HAD CHOSEN WAS A HISTORIC, indulgent location on one of Edinburgh’s sloping streets, known for its supernatural guests and discretion.
Tonight, they were going to need it.
Each room was an experience in luxury: deep mahoganies and four-poster beds, tapestries, and layers upon layers of silken fabrics.
They’d all managed to get rooms on the same floor, including a suite.
But the suite’s living area, with its bronze tones and blood-red sofa, faded to nothing when Callum and Kyan arrived to share their news.
‘Verin’s what?’ Bells whispered, fingers wrapped around the Tène on her wrist, the little beast stirring from sleep at her spiked heartbeat.
She sat on the couch between Nicole and Remi. Dylan and their father to the right, the latter in an armchair, the former standing beside an antique dresser.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kyan said. ‘I know you were growing close to him.’
A hot band of emotion seared Nicole’s throat.
Remi put her arm around Bells’ shoulders. ‘Who would do this?’ she asked.
‘The Huntbringer,’ her father said. The word held a small eternity of rage.
Kyan nodded. ‘That’s our guess.’
Panic flared in Nicole’s stomach while her father stared at the wall.
The Wake had killed someone else.
No matter how fast she moved, or how many items they gathered, the Wake were right on their heels, if not one step ahead.
To think, the same killer had hurt Lawna.
Remi had confirmed she was all right, resting and safe, forced to take it slower since Hearthea didn’t heal instantly like Empyreals.
Nicole forced down the nausea at the memory, the increasingly tight band around her heart, and the crackle of pure, trapped rage.
Logically, she knew those feelings wouldn’t serve her, or Verin. But—
‘He left this beneath this book,’ Kyan said, handing Nicole the book and his phone to show her the picture of a bloodied message.
DIVINO ARTISTA: A MASTERPIECE IN BLOOD.
It must have been because he’d figured out that the blood was divine. But, seeing her mother’s phrase, her gaze snapped to her father.
It was so much like Westmoore’s death.
Kyan had stopped Logan. She’d stopped Lynch. Too late, but she’d done it.
But at what cost if the Wake had assassin after assassin to send?
‘We’ll avenge him,’ Kyan promised.
As she met his eyes, the vow in his burned dark and eternal.
The same emotions were reflected in every person in the room, including Remi, who watched Bells with concern as she sniffled quietly.
Her father stood. Rage gleamed off him. He’d known Verin the longest. Had trusted him enough that they had gone to him in the first place.
‘We’re close,’ he said, ‘and they know it, which is why they’re getting antsy.’
‘I agree,’ Callum said darkly, looking pensive in the shadows.
‘So, we make sure that we get this torc and harp piece tonight, and then you three’ – he nodded at Nicole, Kyan, and Remi – ‘will head to Skye tomorrow and search for Scáthach’s weapon and the last of the harp. Then we’ll have everything Freya told us to find.’
‘Except Alexander,’ Dylan said quietly.
‘We’ll have him too if we can find the Gáe Bolg,’ Callum promised.
‘Have you got everything you need?’ her father asked Remi.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My dad and I found photos of the harp bridge and made a replica to swap it out. They’ll figure out it’s not the right one soon enough, but not before we’re long gone.
It’s being stored by an archaeological organisation just outside the city while they continue to run tests on it.
We should be in and out easily with Dylan’s Influence and can meet back here afterwards. ’
‘All right,’ her father said. ‘Then Kyan, Nicole and I will go to the auction to get the torc.’
‘What about me?’ Bells asked, looking between them all.
Quiet rang through the room.
‘You’re probably best staying put, love,’ their father said.
‘I’ll stay with you,’ Callum said absently.
‘But I want to do something,’ she said, wiping away her tears, the Tène on her wrist a glinting luxury in the dim light. ‘I can’t just sit here. Verin was murdered!’
‘Then you can try to locate the Hunt for us in a vision,’ their father said. ‘If we know where it is, or know what’s happening with it, we’ll know how close the Wake might be to whatever they’re planning.’
She seemed unappeased by this answer, but any argument she might have made was interrupted by Dylan who’d gone to the bar table and was piling glasses on the small coffee table before the fire.
He began pouring enough drinks for them all, even Bells.
‘Dylan …’ Nicole began.
‘Verin,’ he explained as he filled their glasses. ‘He – he liked the look of this stuff, even though he never drank it. We’re going to toast to him, and then we’re going to burn them to the ground.’
He put down the decanter, all their glasses sloshing with amber liquid. His jaw was tight, emotion burning like fire in his eyes.
Nicole reached for the first glass.
The others each followed. Then, as one, they toasted to Verin. They drank. They said goodbye.
And they promised vengeance.