The Singer (10 page)

He nodded. “Our mothers were twin sisters. Most Irin couples only have one pregnancy, but twins do happen. It’s considered a great blessing. Our mothers were very close. Max and I were born within months of each other, so we’re really more like brothers than cousins.”

“Always a competition?”

“When we were younger. Not as much now. We’re very different.”

“Max is… intense.”

Leo smiled. “He’s very passionate about the future. He questions everything, especially the politicians.”

“It’s good that someone does.”

“And I know he desperately wants a mate,” Leo said in a quieter voice. “We all do.”

“It must be frustrating.” Malachi knew that Irin males couldn’t touch humans. He had no desire for anyone except Ava—even though he barely remembered her—but for unmated males like Leo and Max…

Malachi saw a faint tinge of red on Leo’s cheekbones. “I believe that heaven has already chosen my
reshon
. I must simply be patient and wait for her. Though human females are… tempting. I cannot lie.”

Malachi stopped his practice and put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “She will be worthy of your patience, brother.”

“Thank you.” Leo pointed back to the paper he’d been using. “Your letters are well formed. I really can’t help you any more with them. I can answer any questions you have about the tattooing, but I suspect your muscle memory will hold true in the ritual room, as well.”

“And you’ll be there?”

“I’m not your father, but we don’t do our first
talesm
alone, so yes.” Leo smiled. “I’d be honored to witness for you. It won’t be too much. Just the
talesm prim
to activate your magic and call on our forefathers’ magic, then the basic protection spells and a few others. You’re a good runner already—very fast—so I’d focus on eyesight, reflexes, and protection from blades. Those would be the most important if we encounter any fighting. After that, you can improvise spells as you need them. You’ll find all the basics in that book.”

Malachi paged through the book for a moment, then looked up. “Thank you, Leo. You’ve been very patient with all this.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both read in silence a bit longer, then Malachi said, “Rhys told me when I first started watching Ava, before I knew she was Irina, that you were the one to help me guard her.”

“I was.”

“Would you tell me about her? Can you?”

Leo smiled. “Of course. I liked Ava very much. Even when we thought she was human.”

“What is she like?”

“She’s… unpredictable. She never really does what you expect.”

Malachi frowned. “Oh?”

“But then, looking back, you aren’t surprised at all.”

“Why not?” He listened, rapt to hear any crumb of who this woman was. She’d captured Malachi’s heart without him knowing anything about her. He wanted to. Desperately.

Leo continued, “I think it’s how she throws people off. By being unpredictable. She likes to keep others off-balance so they don’t look too closely.”

That made him smile. “She doesn’t like being the center of attention?”

“No, definitely not.” Leo grinned, then his smile fell. “Ava is, more than anything, a survivor.”

“What do you mean?”

“She had to be. She heard voices her whole life—like the Irina do—but she didn’t know what they were. Her parents thought she was mentally ill. I think she still thinks that sometimes. She makes jokes about being crazy.”

“I think I remember that,” he said, recalling the password he’d typed into her computer.

“You hated it; I could tell. Max and Damien say she’s actually very powerful. They think it’s because she has so much power bound up from living a life away from magic. I always thought it was because she’s not like other Irina.”

Malachi frowned. “What do you mean?”

Leo shrugged. “Her parents are human. We never did figure out where she came from, but biologically, she shouldn’t be Irina. I mean, Irin are not entirely human or angel. We’re different. And Ava is definitely like us, but we can’t figure out how a human could become Irina.”

The answer seemed obvious to Malachi. “A lion doesn’t become a wolf, Leo, no matter how it might want to be.”

“So?” Leo crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It means her parents are Irin. They have to be.”

The blond man smiled. “Our records—everything we could find about them—say they’re not.”

Malachi frowned. “But humans don’t give birth to Irin children.”

“No, they don’t.”

“So if they produced Ava, then they’re not human.”

“But they’re not Irin. We have a record of every Irin child ever born. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s keeping records.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Malachi murmured.
 

“What’s that?”

Malachi looked around the room filled with scrolls and tablets. Books and boxes were hidden in every corner. He turned back to Leo and said, “We’re an ancient race of angel and human hybrids that has lived under the nose of humanity for thousands of years.”

“And?”

“We may be good at keeping records, but we’re also good at keeping secrets.”

I.

Göteborg, Sweden

It wasn’t often his father called him to appear in person. But given the task Brage had just accomplished, it could hardly be said he was dreading the appearance. He strolled through the Götaplatsen, ignoring the human women who cast longing looks in his direction. The package his father was expecting rested safely at his side.

The blade from Istanbul had been found. A heavenly blade. It was one of only three that Brage had ever seen. The only one that had been in his hand. It would be nothing to human eyes. Dull. Devoid of decoration or flourish.
 

But to one of heaven’s children, it was a treasure beyond price.

Countless hours searching through mud and shit, through rotten food and human waste, and he’d found it. Or, his brothers had while he directed the search. They didn’t question him; few Grigori lasted as long as Brage. At nearly three hundred years old, he was almost as strong as one of the Irin he despised.

Fucking scribes with their fucking honor. Their fucking magic and mates and foolish sentimentality. They, like he and his Grigori brothers, could rule the humans if they wished. Rule as the ancients had.

Brage stopped in front of the Poseidon statue and waited to feel him. He only waited moments.

There.

The soldier’s eyes closed, and his mouth dropped open as the wave of fear and adoration swept over him. The cynical soldier disappeared, and the child leapt to the surface. Brage wanted his father’s approval. Needed it. Would do anything, kill anything, steal anything to get it. He longed for the love of this creature, as if the lack of it would damn him.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Hello, Father.”

“Brage.” The stunning man appeared at his side. The humans around him would notice nothing. They would have no memory of the angel appearing, for he had always been there. No side-glance or double take. The handsome man in the double-breasted suit and overcoat stood next to another man who could be his brother.

Brage knew Volund appeared that way purposefully. If the angel had been speaking to one of his Russian or Turkish brothers, Volund’s appearance would have reflected their appearance, just as his blond hair and vivid green eyes reflected Brage in that moment. It appealed to the human side of the Grigori. Their vanity. The younger and more foolish soldiers believed this resemblance indicated some particular favor when they saw it. Brage had thought so himself when he was young.

“Do you have the knife?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I want you to keep it.”

Brage worked to conceal his surprise, but it was useless. Volund knew him intimately. Like any of his blood, the angel could read his children. Read their moods, feel their fears, find them if they tried to hide. There were no secrets between the Fallen and their offspring. There was no place that Brage could hide, and for that reason—and many others—he didn’t even try.

“I assumed you would want it back.”

Volund turned to him, the edge of a sneer twisting his perfect lips. “That was when I thought it had done its job.”

Brage said nothing at the harsh words. He did not know what his father spoke of, but knew Volund would offer no more information than was necessary. It was useless to ask. Brage would be told only enough to complete his task.

He bowed his head and said the words that had kept him alive for three hundred years. “Father, I am yours to command.”

There was a pause as Volund considered him. In the silence, Brage listened to the hum of the humans around him. The cheerful chirp of women and children. Music played in the background. It was a sunny day, even if it was cold. The humans were enjoying the weather.
 

Brage had no part of their world. He existed in it as a predator. A lion culling the weakest of the herd.
 

Volund tilted Brage’s head up with one finger. “The female’s Irin mate is alive, Brage.”

Brage dared not contradict the angel, though he wanted to. He’d felt the knife pierce the scribe’s spine. Saw the golden dust rise in the air. He had fallen in the water when the woman had screamed. The woman, he’d been told, was “only a human,” but valuable for some reason. He knew his father lied. The burst of magic when the “human” woman had screamed was unmistakable. She was Irina.
 

Or something far more frightening.

“I do not know what to tell you, Father. I killed the woman’s mate. I did not lie to you.”

“I know you didn’t.” Volund’s voice was no longer angry. His hand stroked over Brage’s cheek, soothing his child. “She is quite unexpected, isn’t she? I’m trying not to kill you for failing to bring her to me. I know you are the most skilled of my children.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“But you still failed.”

“Forgive me, Father.”

“I want you to find her mate. Find the one they call Malachi. He is of the angel Mikhael’s blood. A warrior by birth and destiny. And he has taken the female as his mate.”

The fiercest Irin scribes were from Mikhael’s line, and Brage knew from experience they were intensely protective of their mates.

“Do you have any information for me?”

Volund’s mouth formed a pout. “Jaron has concealed her from me, but if you find the scribe, you will find the woman.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Kill the scribe… again. Bring the woman to me. Do not fail this time.”

Tears of gratitude slipped down Brage’s cheeks. “I will find her and kill him.”

“Or die trying.”

Brage bowed his head and made the vow. “I will kill the scribe and bring the woman to you, Father, or I will die in the effort.”

Chapter Six

“She wants to know what you can do.”

Ava blinked away from the aching memory of her dream the night before. She looked between her translator, the blond girl whose hair Sari had been braiding the previous afternoon, and her tormentor, the fearsome Irina named Mala whom she’d met the first day.
 

There couldn’t be two more opposite females on the planet. The girl, who had introduced herself as Brooke and sounded American, had the kind of blond hair that almost looked silver. Her eyes were a clear crystal blue, and she couldn’t have been more than twelve. She was slim and tall for her age, but her face still carried the rounded cheeks of youth. Her figure was just starting to develop, but she still sported lean muscle that marked her as an athlete.

“What do you mean ‘what I can do’? Like… my résumé?”

Brooke snorted and looked at Mala, who was running in front of them. Mala’s smooth skin glowed with perspiration, her long legs pumped up the hills and over the meadows as they ran through the countryside. She was dark-skinned and fiercely lovely in a way that made Ava envious. Her skin was the color of rich teak, and her hair was shorn close to her head in a cap that showed off her graceful neck and shoulders. She looked like she could have been featured in a fashion magazine, except for the vicious scar that ran from her jaw, across her neck, and down to her collar. But it was her eyes, twin pools of black fire, that made Ava want to photograph her.

Ava couldn’t help but feel thin and drawn between the two females who were pulsing with life. One young and delicate, the other vibrating with old power, they were opposite in every way the world might see. Yet something intangible bound them together. Brooke had been sent with Ava and Mala as a translator since Ava wasn’t fluent in signing.

“Not like your résumé,” Brooke said.
 

Mala didn’t even stop, just raised her hand over her shoulder and flipped through signs so fast that Ava could scarcely pick them up. Brooke didn’t seem to have a problem, though.
 

“She wants to know what sports you played in school. If you’ve taken any martial arts. Things like that.”