On a Clear Winter Night: An Irin Chronicles Short Story (2 page)

Bruno winked. “Of course.” He sniffed the air. “Oh, gingerbread…”

He wandered toward the back of the house and the kitchen with the gingerbread while Ava shifted on the couch again.

So hard to get comfortable…

“Why did Bruno say the babies would be doubly blessed if they were born at midwinter?”

“It’s tradition,” Malachi said. “Any birth is very lucky. But babies born at midwinter are doubly lucky.”

She frowned. “But it’s the middle of winter.”

“Exactly. The winter solstice is the shortest day of the year. So for the first part of their life, every day after their birth is just slightly longer than the last. A little more light every day as they grow.” Malachi shrugged. “It’s just superstition. It’s the opposite for babies born in the Southern hemisphere during June.”

“Weird. But kinda wonderful, too.”

She leaned against his shoulder as Malachi began to rub the small of her back.

“Oof.” The football game in her belly started up again.
 

“Soon,” he whispered.

“Soon.”

“Come, little babies,” he crooned, putting a warm hand on her belly as the twins rocked and rolled. “
Baba
wants to kiss you.”

He took Ava’s breath away. After all the trauma of the last two years, she’d had no idea how he would deal with the realities of fatherhood. He had mental wounds she couldn’t even imagine. But Malachi was eager to meet his children; Ava was the one who often felt unprepared.

“You’re going to be such a good dad,” she said.

He smiled. “But I have not been such a good mate, I think. Tomorrow, I get you a Christmas tree. And we will decorate it together. And when our children come, they can lie under the tree and look at the lights and the beautiful glass ornaments you have been looking at in the village.”

The smile almost cracked her face. “Malachi—”

“But you do not need to give me any presents,” he said as he kissed the top of her belly. “I think you have that covered, canım.”

“I love you so much.”

“Just promise me… no silly stories about angels with wings.”

Chapter Two

MALACHI AND BRUNO STOMPED THROUGH the woods behind the house, looking for the perfect Christmas tree for his mate. He felt foolish that he’d overlooked her need for such human traditions as a tree and gifts. Brooke, the young teenage Irina who lived at the Karlštejn haven with her mother, had followed along with them, loping over the snow-covered hills with the ease of a country child.

“I used to walk like that,” Malachi said to Bruno.

“Oh?”

He nodded. “My mother was German. We lived in a village there for most of my childhood before we returned to Turkey. There were forests all around us.”

“And you’ve been a city boy since then?”

“I suppose so.”

“Ava…, “ Bruno started. “She likes the country, I think.”

Malachi went alert. Did Bruno know something about his mate that he didn’t? Was Ava unhappy in a massive city like Istanbul? He knew Karen and Ava spoke often.

“Yes,” Malachi said. “She does like the country.”

“But I think she often becomes frustrated with the pace here,” Bruno said, smiling. “She must be bored.”

Malachi relaxed. “She’s anxious for the children to come.”

“I can only imagine.”

Brooke yelled from up the hill. “I think I found one!”

She stood above them, waving with a giant grin on her face. The girl had been born in America and had lived among humans for the first part of her life. She’d probably celebrated Christmas, too.

“Shall we go see?” Malachi said.

“I think we must,” Bruno said. “I have a feeling Brooke is far more of a Christmas tree expert than we are.”

They followed her footprints in the snow. The sturdy fir tree she was standing next to didn’t reach over his head, but it was well-formed with short springy needles and a cheerful shape.

“This will make a good Christmas tree?” Malachi asked, walking around the fir.

“Yep,” Brooke said. “I already checked. No bare spots. Well, one little one here, but we can put that against the wall.”

“So we simply cut it down?” Bruno asked, reaching for the axe. “How do we stand it up?”

Brooke twisted her mouth in concentration. “I’m sure there must be tree stands in the village.”

“We will cut it down and drag it back,” Bruno said. “I’ll clean it while you two go into the village for a stand.”

“And lights!” Brooke said. “We have to have lights.”

“Yes,” Malachi said, “but we must let Ava pick out the ornaments. Glass ones, I think. Those are the ones she’s looked at.”

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Brooke clapped. “I was looking at them last week when we went into the city. They’re all hand painted and have the most beautiful colors…”

Hearing Brooke chatter about the human holiday reaffirmed that Malachi must not have been paying attention to Ava’s needs. Surely, anything that elicited this much excitement in a girl who’d only lived part of her childhood among humans must have been very important for someone like Ava who’d lived with human traditions her whole life.

Doubts began to eat him again. Most days, Malachi felt only elation at the thought of becoming a father. His own father had been a great man. His mother, a gentle force of nature. Like the forest, he thought, looking around the snow-dusted hills. His parents had been like the forest. Solid and safe. Sheltering him from the turmoil that must have hunted them as it did all singers and scribes.
 

Theirs was a society that existed constantly in war. Would his children know nothing else in their long life? What could the Irin be if they were not at war with the sons of the Fallen? Some nights he woke in a cold sweat, certain he’d be unable to protect them.

Brushing those fears to the side, Malachi held the treetop as Bruno cut the base, then he grabbed the lower branches and dragged the tree back down the hill. Brooke’s laughing voice was the only sound for miles.

HOURS later, Malachi was chopping a pile of wood and waiting for his mate to return from the hospital in Beroun. Astrid, the healer Ava had first met in Norway, was also a medical doctor and the only person Ava would allow to deliver their babies. It was the reason they’d driven two days to reach the small haven in the Czech Republic.

So far, Astrid had reassured them that everything with the babies looked normal, but Malachi still worried. Part of him would have liked to force Ava into a human hospital, but he knew that the bombardment of soul-voices from the humans would drive his mate mad if she was in too much pain to block them out.
 

Her shields were very strong, but not instinctual like those born and raised Irina. She still had moments—especially if she was tired or sick—when her control over her abilities slipped. His mate was plagued by headaches if she went too long without contact from him, but she’d insisted on going to the local hospital without him.
 

Malachi probably frightened the nurses when he accompanied her for their weekly ultrasound. Last time, he’d been forced to leave his knives at home.

He saw the old Range Rover pull into the driveway just as he finished the last of the pile. He’d also scraped the thin layer of snow from the front walkway so Ava would not slip.
 

Malachi was told this much snow early in the year was unusual for Bohemia, but he wouldn’t complain. Ava enjoyed it and it made her pale cheeks pink.

The first time he’d noticed her losing weight, he’d had to smother a jolt of panic. He had flashbacks to the wan faces of the human women impregnated by the Fallen, their Grigori offspring—mostly male—draining them of life even before they were born.

My son is not Grigori. My daughter is not
kareshta
.

Astrid had reassured him that Ava was as healthy as anyone carrying two babies could ever be. Children stressed the body, and two caused more stress than one. She hadn’t put on much weight during pregnancy, but not everyone did. Irina had very high metabolisms. The paleness was a result of morning sickness. She would be fine. The babies were fine.

“Everything looks good!” Ava called out as Malachi put down the axe and jogged toward them. “They’re already playing football again.”

Astrid came up behind her and draped a scarf over Ava’s shoulders. “Stay warm, California girl.”

“I’m fine.”

Malachi tugged the scarf more tightly around her and enveloped his mate in a hug. He felt the children kicking against the firm muscles of his abdomen. “Behave,” he said firmly to his mate’s belly.

The babies ignored him.

He put a hand on her and traced a soothing spell over her belly. It calmed the children a little bit.

Heaven, to have that kicking coming from inside! Malachi couldn’t imagine. It was bad enough when she snuggled into him at night and he could feel them kicking against his back or side, like tiny birds battering their cage. It was amazing they hadn’t broken anything.

“Not long,” Astrid said. “She’s already dilated.”

Malachi looked up with a jerk. “What? It’s too early, isn’t it?”

“Relax.” Ava took his hand and pulled him toward the house. “Not for twins. Twins usually come early whether they’re human or Irina births. Right, Astrid?”

“Yes,” the healer said. “And she could be dilated for weeks without anything happening. It’s nothing to be worried about. I was expecting her to deliver before midwinter, to be honest. Anything after thirty-six weeks will be fine.” Astrid walked up and patted Malachi’s chest. “And let us not forget their father is a very gifted scribe who is covering his mate with protection, and their mother is a very powerful singer who will be singing over them with her own magic.”

“And they have the best doctor in the world,” Ava said.

Astrid smiled. “That goes without saying.”

Malachi said, “Ava, are you sure—?”

“No hospital,” she said. “I told you, I’ll only go if Astrid says I absolutely have to. Hospitals are horrendous for me. You know that.”

“I know.” He ushered her into the warm house, his arm still around her. “I have a surprise for you, canım.”

“What is—oh!” Her face transformed. “Malachi!”

Brooke and Bruno had spent the past hours cleaning and trimming the tree, propping it in the bright red base they’d purchased in the village before they’d strung it with tiny white lights.

“Do you like it?” Brooke came running and gave Ava a sideways hug. “We found it today and Bruno cut it down and Malachi dragged it back and I put on all the lights. We got a few ornaments, but we saved them for you to put on. And you can get more of the pretty glass ones at the market! What do you think?”

He watched her as she took in the tree and the lights. Would it be enough? Should they have picked a larger tree?

“You guys, it’s perfect,” Ava said, her voice already sounding watery. “Oh my gosh, I’m going to cry again.”

Everything made her cry these days. Movies. Taking pictures. A good joke. Sentimental magazine advertisements.

Everything.

“This is so lovely,” Astrid said. “Don’t cry, Ava. Why don’t more Irin homes have a holiday tree during Midwinter? We should. It’s a beautiful symbol.”

“It’s perfect,” Ava said, sniffing. “Oh, Malachi, I love it. I can’t wait to get more ornaments.” Her hand came to her abdomen and she rubbed small circles.
“You guys have to come out already. Your daddy got you a Christmas tree.”

MALACHI watched Ava, Brooke, and Candace, Brooke’s mother, as they decorated the tree later that night. They didn’t have any of the intricately painted glass globes that Ava had been looking at, but they had cheerful red and green balls, and Karen had gathered her crafting supplies and spread some of the glass beads she’d collected on the table by the fire. The women were twisting wire and beads into stars and diamond shapes while Malachi watched and Bruno cooked chili in the kitchen.

Ava was laughing and teasing Karen about her superior beading skills. Candace and Brooke were telling Christmas stories from when they lived in Virginia. Malachi saw his mate glancing up, searching for him as she worked and laughed. The simultaneous air of vulnerability and steely strength marked her expression as she stretched up and rubbed her back.

He was her slave.

A fierce wave of protectiveness threatened to overwhelm him. Malachi had the urge to pick up his daggers and patrol the house. He wondered whether that damned fallen angel, Vasu, was still checking up on Ava.
 

Maybe he should have demanded all three of his brothers join them for Midwinter. Damien and Sari were at the scribe house in Cappadocia with Orsala, but he should have insisted on the rest of his brothers joining them. Max, Leo, and Rhys didn’t have anything better to do. And were he and Bruno really strong enough to protect the house? What if—
 

Astrid banged a tall mug of mulled wine in front of him and sat on the other side of the table.

“You’re brooding.”

Malachi frowned. “What?”

“Are you still worried?” she asked more quietly.