On a Clear Winter Night: An Irin Chronicles Short Story (4 page)

“Use what?”

She felt a shadowed hand press against her belly. It was warm. He smelled of the earth and green things. Of spices and rain.

“Sleep, daughter of Jaron. Their time draws close.”

When she opened her eyes, Malachi was quietly opening the door to their library bedroom.

“Ah, sorry,” he whispered. “I was just checking on you. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“No, come here.” She patted the side of the bed.

“Bad dreams?”

To tell or not to tell about Vasu’s visit? She had to think about it some more. She didn’t want to think about Vasu right now.

“Do you know the spells to write for the babies?” she asked, still half asleep.

Malachi stretched out on the bed beside her. “I do. I have studied them from books we had in the Istanbul scribe house. I wish…”

“You could talk to your father?”

“Yes. In times like this, I miss my father more than I can say.”

“I understand.”
 

Malachi helped rearrange the pillows under her belly, then laid his arm across her middle and rubbed large circles over her abdomen. Ava leaned back into his chest and felt him kiss the curve of her neck.

“I don’t know why you’re worried. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

His hand paused. “I hope so.”

“Tell me about your father.”

The circles started again, Malachi sliding his hand under her shirt so his skin was next to hers.

“He was a very strong man but very funny. Everyone loved his sense of humor. Bruno reminds me of him a little bit.”

Ava smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. But he was not as loud.”

“I don’t think anyone is as loud as Bruno.”

Malachi’s chest shook quietly. “My father was very caring. Very affectionate. Completely besotted with my mother. I would have been spoiled horribly as a child, but he put a stop to it. There was only one other child in our village, you see. And she was five years older. So it would have been easy for me to be indulged. But he was a very disciplined man and insisted that I must be, too. I think that’s one of the reasons we moved to Turkey.”

“So you weren’t spoiled?”

“Yes. We moved to a village with more children. My mother missed her home, but it was a wise decision.”

She drew a deep breath. “That’ll be a challenge with our children. Everyone will want to make them happy.”

“Leo will be the pushover.”

“I don’t know. Damien might be the stealth softie.”

“Yes, you may be right.”
 

Her whole stomach tightened with a strong contraction. She’d been getting them for days. Astrid said they could mean anything. They could continue sporadically for weeks or she could go into true labor tomorrow. Malachi buried his face in her neck and hugged her shoulders.

“My
reshon
,” he whispered as she sucked in a tense breath, “I would bear this for you if I could.”

“That’s not the way it works,” she said when she was able to breathe again. “I’m okay. What’s the spell that feels like a spiral? That one helps.”

“It promotes focus,” he said. “The books say that one will help you during labor.”

“That’s good.” She was feeling sleepy again. “You’re going to be a great father. The best.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and I can prove it. One, you had a great dad, so you’ve seen it done right. And two, you’re a wonderful husband. You take very good care of me, so why are you worried about what kind of father you’ll be? You’ll be even more protective of your children.”

He was quiet a long time. “And you don’t ever worry about me with the children? After what happened in Vienna?”

“Malachi.” She tried to turn, but she couldn’t move. She was so big and awkward. She reached back and put her hand on his cheek. “No. Never. I never worry about that. Because you are my
reshon
. Don’t forget, I haven’t only seen your face, I’ve heard your soul. I know how deeply you love them already.”

She felt him relax behind her, only to start when the front door slammed.

“What the—”

He was reaching for the daggers on his side table when a booming voice yelled, “Happy Midwinter, sisters!”

Ava looked up at Malachi, whose scowl had turned to a smile.

“Is that—?”

“Merry Christmas, too!” a similar accent yelled. “Max, there are no presents under the tree. Aren’t there supposed to be presents?”

A sardonic British voice replied, “Not if no one has bought any yet. Do you think they magically appear?”

“Well, we
are
magic.”

A jumble of voices came in greeting as the three new voices were joined by the familiar throng.

“Canım” —Malachi looked down with a happy smile— “I believe we have been invaded.”

Just then, a silence fell in the entryway, and Ava heard the reedy voice of an old man who couldn’t have been more welcome.

She and Malachi both smiled.

“Evren.”

Chapter Four

MALACHI HAD NEVER IN HIS LIFE been more relieved to see the old scribe. Evren rarely left the ancient scribe house in Cappadocia. Most seeking Evren’s wisdom came to him. But when Malachi saw the wise old man, he almost fell on his knees in thanksgiving.

“Brother,” he said, bending to embrace him. “You have come to us and we are blessed.”

“Brother Malachi.” Evren patted his cheek. “I only hope I am welcome. Your brothers mentioned flying here for Midwinter, and since I had not had a chance to speak with you about the birth of your children, I asked to accompany them.”

“You are welcome,” Ava said from behind him. She’d wrapped herself in a throw from their bedroom and her hair was tangled, but when she waddled toward Evren, her face glowed. “
Very
welcome. Thank you for coming to visit.”

“Ah, sister.” Evren embraced her gently. “Your voluminous blessing has never felt more voluminous, has it?”

Ava laughed. “I’m so ready to get these kids out of here.”

Malachi saw the babies jostling in her belly, clearly excited by the familiar deep voices of his brothers, who had spent most of Ava’s pregnancy shouting at her abdomen “to talk to the babies.” Max and Leo were already hovering over Ava, barely keeping their hands off her belly. Rhys gave her a gentle hug, then backed off to speak to Astrid.

“My
reshon
.” He walked over, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her. “You are the most understanding of women. Back, back, back.” He shoved his brothers away and led Ava to the sofa. “You will smother her.”

“We missed you,” Max said, stretching his giant frame out on the rug by the fireplace. “It was boring in Istanbul without you, so we decided to come here.”

“And who is watching the house?” Malachi asked.

Rhys sat in a chair by the tree and batted a red glass globe like a curious cat. “Damien and Sari brought Mala and Orsala from Cappadocia to the city. Get them out of Cappadocia for a bit. I think Mala was getting edgy. They’re keeping an eye on things.”

Malachi relaxed. Grigori activity in their section of Turkey had been quiet, but it was always a risk. And with many humans fleeing war on Turkey’s borders, that meant thousands of vulnerable humans could be prey for opportunistic sons of the Fallen. Damien, Sari, and Mala, however, were more than a match for any Grigori foolish enough to try to infiltrate Istanbul.

He turned to Max. “Heard from Renata lately?”

Max shrugged and said nothing, which likely meant the nomadic Irina was still in the wind. Malachi didn’t know what to make of their relationship, so he didn’t ask. He was simply happy to see them all. He put his arm around Ava and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you happy?” he asked quietly. “More people means more—”

“Noise. And voices. And stomping feet on the stairs. And mouths to feed.” She looked up and grinned. “But it also means more people I love are here to celebrate with us. I’m happy. This is the best, babe.”

“I’m glad.”

THAT night, while Karen roped Max and Leo into meal preparations for Midwinter, Ava and Malachi met with Evren in the library. The old scribe pulled out a carefully wrapped leather-bound manuscript and opened it in front of Malachi.

An old ache eased in Malachi. “The
Hokman Abat.
”

“I have brought you my own copy. There are notes written in the margins, but we’ll go through all the inscriptions and possible variations. The sections on Irina birth and twin births I must confess to have not studied as closely because, of course, my mate was only having a son.”

“Wow.” Ava leaned closer and looked at the well-worn book. “So this is like… a childbirth manual for Irin dads?”

“Of course,” Evren said. “For scribes, there are many tasks during the labor process. The spells are quite intricate.”

“I have studied what I could,” Malachi said. “But I am greatly relieved to have a scribe with practical knowledge to advise me before the birth. We should start right away. That is, if Ava can spare me.”

“Of course!” She was smiling, and Malachi could not interpret the expression on her face. It was surprise, perhaps? A hint of amusement.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I love that the Irin have a birth manual for fathers. That’s so cool.”

Evren frowned. “Are you saying there is no similar manual for fathers in the human world? Granted, there are no spells that human men can do, but surely they have specific tasks while the mother is in labor.”

“No,” she said with an amused smile. “None that I know of.”

“That’s shocking,” Malachi said with wide eyes. “How did fathers know what to do?”

“A few generations ago, human men weren’t even expected to be with their wives while they gave birth.”

Malachi must have looked horrified because Evren patted his shoulder.
 

“I think it is very different for women now in most of the world,” Evren said.

“Were these humans under the impression that their women spontaneously reproduced?” Malachi sat up straight. “That is absurd.”
 

Humans never failed to amaze him. Malachi could acknowledge that he never paid much attention to their mating or child-rearing habits, but he had no idea how a male could leave his mate unprotected while she was physically vulnerable. What if an enemy attacked during the hours of labor? Perhaps they had other security measures in place Ava didn’t know about. That had to be the case.

“Luckily,” Evren said, “you are having Irin children, not human children. While the labor will be difficult, I will help Malachi to perfect his spells to ease as much of your pain as possible and protect your children when they are born.”

“Thank you, Evren.” She hoisted herself to her feet. “I have a feeling you’re going to be buried in here for the rest of the day, so I’ll go help in the kitchen. Enjoy your book.”

Malachi sprang to his feet and helped her to the door, then whistled for Rhys, who was lazing by the fire.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Ava sighed as Rhys jumped up. “I’m having babies, not gradually turning into porcelain.”

Rhys took her arm. “Are you sure they’re not ducklings inside you? That’s a formidable waddle, my dear.”

“I can still hurt you, Rhys. All I’d have to do is sit on you at this point. You wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.”

MALACHI and Evren studied and practiced his spellwork for days while Midwinter feast preparations swirled around them. As the hours passed and the solstice drew near, snow fell heavier outside the house, and Malachi saw Ava’s usual enthusiasm narrow into an exhausted, steely focus. She slept often and ate little. She liked being in the middle of the feast preparations, but she didn’t join in the conversation.

He knew in his gut that the children would come soon.

When she slept at night, she only dozed, and he knew she dreamed without him. Often, he would catch her dozing in a chair in the middle of the kitchen or on the couch and he’d have to scoop her up and take her to the library where he could watch her. The irregular contractions continued to come, but never progressed into true labor.

By the time Midwinter came, the forest around the house was blanketed with a thick layer of snow and the house was decked with holly boughs and candles. The Christmas tree, which had seemed so foreign to him at first, blended with the traditional Midwinter decorations and made his mate smile every time she looked at it.
 

Bruno had brought another table in from the barn where he did his woodworking, and the dining room stretched into the sitting room. All the furniture had been pushed back to the walls and the tables were piled high with fragrant soups, roasts, and savory pastries. The seven-branched candlestick they would light with short beeswax tapers was placed in the center of the table where it would burn until there was nothing but seven small flames to join the sacred fire Bruno kept burning in the meditation room.

It was every Midwinter feast he’d ever had, but better. Because for the first time, his mate and his brothers were together. His children would be born in a blessed house, surrounded by those who would give their lives for their protection.