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 them and 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 sheer noise made 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 that knew what 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.
Maybe if she drew enough blood, or – she cringed – took one of their fingers, or something? Then Callum could spirit them away. Keep them safe.
She couldn’t go back empty handed without putting Kyan in mortal danger.
But as the phone went to voicemail and Nicole’s unease worsened, she staggered to a stop at the sight of a girl in the crowd.
A bolt of fear went through her heart.
The name came out as a whisper. ‘Remi.’
Nicole found herself jogging, weaving past people in her way. She had to get her out of here.
Her friend’s face lit up with happiness and confusion. ‘Hey! What are you wearing—’
Nicole grabbed Remi’s arms and crouched, pulling her low enough that Alexander would no longer see them in the sea of bodies.
This would buy her minutes. Maybe less.
‘Remi, you need to get out of here. The Wake found me, they have me on a mission to hunt the descendant of úaithne. They’re here somewhere and—’
Remi’s face went slack, her eyes filling with dread. ‘You – you’re supposed to do what?’
‘They want me to …’
The realisation was worse than the noise, the overwhelm.
There was no other Siren here, there was only Remi.
Because she was the descendant of úaithne.
The only person other than a god who could play the harp of the Dagda. Who had touched the death string and lived to play its song, only to shatter the windows out of a cathedral with its power.
The person the Wake had tried to kidnap days before, but failed.
Remi.
Of course.
What had the Muse and Westmoore told her? That it had taken a long time to get all the right people in place?
This was why the Wake had sent Nicole: because Remi was her best friend. Because she could get close enough to take the knife and—
No.
A crack of sadness, of regret, went through Remi’s eyes. ‘I didn’t want you to find out like this.’
Nicole shook her head, as if to rattle the thoughts back into place.
‘You can’t be. You would have told me …’
Remi’s full lips pressed in a tight line. ‘My dad’s kept it quiet his whole life. I was sworn to secrecy.’
This was the real reason Remi’s family also fled to Estwood for safety. Why they’d had Alexander attempt to assassinate Remi’s father years ago.
Nicole could never choose between her best friend and her family.
The woman had known, Nicole realised. That smirk on her face proved it. She’d known Nicole would fail.
She wouldn’t – couldn’t – reach for the knife sheathed at her thigh.
Her eyes burned, even as she looked through the sea of people’s legs, searching for a way out of this. A way to get Remi out of here. But the only way would be to make it look like Nicole tried to kill her, and failed. At least then she could ask to try again, or offer to hunt someone else.
Anyone else.
The phone in her hand had locked, now useless.
This was the only option.
‘Fight me,’ Nicole whispered, hauling her back up. ‘Remi, for god’s sake, fight me with everything you have. We need to make this look real.’
She shoved her friend backwards, inwardly cringing at the force.
Remi staggered, eyes full of wounded disbelief.
There was a strange type of bond with siblings that meant you knew you weren’t hurting one another if you ever fought – like in training, or even accidentally.
That you didn’t mean it. They’d trained together for so long it was an exercise.
But to hit Remi? To hurt her? When the stakes were so high and someone that could kill them both was watching?
Nicole had to suppress every part of her that rebelled. Because both their lives depended on it.
So she dived.
It was a dance. Remi was smooth in her movements. Nicole knew her friend favoured her voice but could still throw a solid punch. She knew Remi’s throat was her weak point; that a right jab there would stop her ability to loose certain immobilising sounds.
And yet even as the crowd caught on that something was happening and began to shout and point and stagger out of the way, Nicole couldn’t strike hard enough. A glancing grab there, a too-wide punch next.
But Remi also knew Nicole: knew that her body was her strong point, and after her transformation, her skin was near impenetrable, the muscles beneath steely.
She was holding back, too. Remi had an attack in her arsenal that could decimate Nicole’s heightened hearing.
It would hurt enough that Remi could get away, but she was resisting.
And they were running out of time.
Alexander would force her, or god forbid, take over this kill if she didn’t manage to get Remi out of here. They needed a distraction, now.
‘Remi, please—’
A flash of pain and grief went through her best friend’s eyes.
And in a brief, blinding moment, Nicole wished none of this had happened.
That they could have all stayed in Estwood.
That they could have continued their coffee mornings before classes, laughing themselves sick watching their shows.
Dreaming of being a part of a secret world that was showing them time and time again, it was impossible.
But even if Nicole never got to see her again, she would always, always, cherish the fact that for a few wonderful years, she had a friend.
Remi had taught her that it was possible to trust someone who wasn’t her family, and Nicole wasn’t sure that without that lesson, she would have been able to have any relationship with anyone else and feel the way she did for Kyan.
Then Remi let out a scream that tore through Nicole’s ears and promptly muffled them as they filled with blood.
Bright, crippling agony lanced through her skull. The horde of humans and supernaturals dropped or clutched their ears. A few people slumped to the floor, immediately unconscious. Glass shattered from every window and tore through their clothes.
Nicole barely had a moment to recalibrate before she felt herself being hauled up by her jacket and thrown in Remi’s fleeing direction. Alexander didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to. The message was clear.
Finish this.
Nicole staggered into a run despite her ringing senses and blurred vision, the sunlight knifing her eyes. She struggled to right herself as she leaped over and around humans.
Straight into the museum.
Remi ran beneath the great vaulted ceiling and the giant skeleton of a whale strung above. The interior was so beautiful Nicole would have stood here for half an hour if she’d had the time.
Instead, she bolted after Remi until her friend reached the grand steps up to the exhibits. There was an apology in her eyes as she spun, and blasted a note. Not towards Nicole, but up.
So the great skeleton came crashing down.
It seemed to fall in slow motion, the colossal maw of the animal outstretched as if it had come to life to devour her.
Nicole threw herself forward onto the stone floor, covering her head.
Her shoulders barked in pain as her back was whipped by the falling bones, the bare skin of her hands lashed and sliced.
Shoving off the debris and struggling up, Nicole bolted after Remi, barely knowing left from right. But she could scent her, still. That violet perfume and even the earthy scent of her lipstick, so subtle but distinctive.
Then her feet left the floor and the world went sideways. The force slammed into Nicole from the right and a wall slammed into her from the left, her head cracking against it as someone tackled her.
Magic, wind, white-emerald hair.
Nicole immediately went on the offensive as her vision righted, only to find—
The Druid girl pinning her, the cold sting of something at her throat. A knife.
‘I’ll help her get away,’ the Druid said.
Nicole felt the press of a ward around them, the shimmer of the Druid’s magic as she made sure they weren’t heard.
‘You can struggle to make it look real but you won’t win. I’m two thousand years older. Is Kyan in the Wake or with you?’
‘They brought us both in,’ Nicole panted.
The Druid cursed, deliberating. ‘If you get out, I’ll take you to your mother.’
All the heat, all the momentum drained from Nicole’s body.
Stars danced in her vision, turned it blurry.
Her question, when she asked it, was distant, thready. ‘What?’
She knew. Knew from the look in the girl’s eyes and the steady way she’d said it, that she wasn’t lying.
‘How?’
‘Get out and I can find you. I can show you.’
‘No, you tell me right now!’ Nicole grabbed a fistful of the Druid’s brown jacket. ‘How dare you try to do this to me? If this was true you’d have told me last time!’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no guarantee I can wake her!’
Wake her.
Was it possible? That her mother had been in some kind of sleep, for sixteen years?
Nicole started shaking her head.
‘I don’t believe you.’
But she did. Some tender, trembling, childlike part of her wanted to believe it was true.
That her mother – the semi-divine figurehead, the benchmark to which Nicole always measured herself, the omniscient immortal parent who’d guided her with her books and knowledge even through death – could still be alive.
That she could look into her face, her open eyes, hear her voice—
Something cracked in her chest from the pressure of this mission; the fear for her family’s safety. And now this true, deep, secret hope was being dangled in front of her as a sob latched in her throat.
It was cruel.
A dark flood of rage overtook her.
‘Get out of here,’ Nicole said, shoving her backwards. ‘Get out!’
Regret flashed through the Druid’s eyes, her lips tightening, but she backed up and ran.
Nicole stared, ears muffled, the world around her like some alien landscape.
She tried to get her mind to focus, but everything she knew was changing so constantly, so quickly, that she didn’t know what to do. Panic cinched her throat.
She had no ideas and it was going to ruin everything—
Someone grabbed her and Nicole whirled, struck.
Alexander.
She’d failed and he was dragging her back.
‘No!’ she shouted, kicking. ‘Wake up!’ She slammed her fists into his chest. ‘Think about what they’ve done to you!’
She wracked her mind for the words Dr Kaner had said, tangling her tongue around the sounds. She managed it, the strange approximation of a lost language.
There was a brief stilling of Alexander’s features, something like recognition in his eyes, as if for a sliver of a moment there was clarity. Pain.
Then he spoke.
But it was one word, drenched in Influence: ‘Sleep.’
There was nothing to stop it this time. Not her will. Not her power.
And no one to save her.
Not even herself.