The Singer (25 page)

Leo said, “Our house was targeted by a group of Grigori that belonged to Volund.”

A reaction, finally. One eyebrow lifted. Leo might have been the one speaking, but Gabriel was looking at Malachi when he said, “Istanbul is Jaron’s territory. It has been since he spread from Persepolis.”

Malachi answered the unspoken question. “Not anymore.”

“Where is my brother-in-law?”

Leo and Malachi exchanged glances.

Finally, Malachi said, “We don’t know.”

“The watcher of a scribe house lets his house burn, set on by Grigori outside their known territory, and he does not report it.” Gabriel’s voice almost sounded amused, but Malachi could sense the man’s tightly leashed tension. “In fact, he doesn’t report in at all. He disappears with the previously unknown mate of a fallen brother, and no one knows where they are.”

Malachi’s heart raced. Apparently, Max was right. The Irin council really did have eyes and ears everywhere.

“Needless to say,” Gabriel continued, “I am surprised to see you looking so very much alive, Malachi of Sakarya.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m still surprised she let me go.”

“
Let
you go?” Renata’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s not some despot. You wanted to go. You went. We’re not military, like scribes.”

Mala signed something and Renata interpreted. “Mala says we’re also not as organized or efficient.”

Ava leaned back in her chair as they sat in the small restaurant beneath the room Renata kept in Bergen. “It probably also helped that Sari and Damien appear to have reconciled.”

Mala snorted and began signing again.

“Yes,” Renata said with a laugh. “Very loudly.”

“I don’t even need to speak sign language to get
that
,” Ava said. “But yes, I don’t think they’re noticing much about anything except each other at the moment.”

It was nice to see. Painful, but nice. Everyone was happy for them. Damien hadn’t slept a night in the guesthouse since the night they’d argued there. Argued and not returned. Now Ava’s nights were guarded by a series of friendly scribes and singers who watched over the house while she slept. She could hardly begrudge Damien his time, and it made her early nights less noticeable to the others. She escaped into dreams. It was none of their business how often.

They sat near the window, not chancing the freezing temperatures outside. The window was cold enough. A few tourists still wandered the streets of the charming Norwegian town, taking pictures of the bright houses and soaring, snow-covered mountains.
 

Winter had descended on the fjords, and though the small valley where Sarihöfn lay was protected from the worst of the elements by Sari’s magic, Bergen was not shielded. It was a bone-chilling cold that Ava hadn’t experienced for a few years, though it wasn’t anything she could forget. She looked with longing at the visitors loading skis into cars, wishing she had the time to join them.

But, as Renata reminded her, this was work. Not fun.

Mala and Renata had fallen silent, sipping their coffee and allowing Ava to listen. Other than brief snatches of conversation, she’d been scanning voices for hours. Most of it was still meaningless babble to her, but she was beginning to recognize a few common words and phrases in the Old Language.

Humans, she realized, were more than a little repetitive.

Worry. Worry. Longing. Joy.

A frustrated man stormed past. His voice felt like anger. She caught the word for “wife” in his thoughts, but not much else.

Worry. Worry. Joy. Contentment.

Love her.

Happy.

Stop. Must stop.

Understanding came in flashes. The drone of the whispers never ceased. Adults were anxiety and longing. Children were laughter, but simple worry was still there. Names flashed. Voices rose and fell.

Ava rubbed her head. In the safety and silence of Sarihöfn, she’d forgotten how exhausting people could be. Luckily, both Mala and Renata hummed low repetitive tunes that blended into a kind of white noise. If she’d heard them in isolation, they would have driven her crazy. But among the throngs of other voices, the background music helped her focus.

…he comes…

Where? Here? Now?

…pretty, pretty human…

Her ears perked at the odd tone of the whisper. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the single voice that had mentioned the human.
 

…work… morning…

So much meaningless babble. She couldn’t wait to understand more than just—there!

…human …want…

It was faint and scratchy. Discordant. Just like the Grigori she remembered from Istanbul.

“I’ve got one,” she said softly, closing her eyes. Mala and Renata were silent, but she could hear their humming stop. Their inner voices jumped, alive with curiosity. Excitement.

“Shut up!” Ava said. The humming started again as she tried to track the voice. It was moving away. Ava stood and grabbed her jacket, desperate to find it.

I’ve got you, asshole. No humans for you today.

She bumped into two people near the door, but she didn’t apologize. She walked out into the snow-covered streets, searching for it, hoping that Renata and Mala were following. Not paying attention to anything but—

“Got you,” she whispered when her eyes fell on him. Like all his kind, he was beautiful. Golden-brown hair shone in the low sun. He was laughing, flirting with a woman in front of a hotel who looked at him as if he’d hung the moon in the sky along with all the Northern Lights. If Ava didn’t know what he was, she would have stopped and stared, too.

Ava paused at the corner and turned to Renata and Mala, who hung back, careful not to get too close. “Him. On the corner in the blue sweater.”

“Oh yes,” Renata said with glee, “I see him now.”

Mala signed and Renata said, “Do you hear any others?”

She tried to focus again, narrowing her mind to the area around the small hotel. “I think… there are some in the hotel, too. Two more voices. It’s hard to say for sure.”

“That would make the three Sari heard about. Hunting on the ski slopes, it looks like. Tourist areas are always popular. Makes women disappearing much harder to find if they’re not in their regular routine. This is good, actually. It means they’re not here because of anything but the tourists. It’s no wonder with this mild weather we’re having.”

Ava said, “This is mild?”

Mala just grinned and shook her head. Renata said, “Only in Norway.”

Ava murmured the shielding spell and happily slammed the door shut. She took a deep breath and felt immediate relief. The world around her muffled and her vision cleared. Her eyes returned to the Grigori, who was helping the woman load two sets of skis onto the top of her car.

“So, what are we doing with Prince Charming there?”

Renata and Mala exchanged a flurry of signs before Mala nodded and Renata said, “I have all my gear at my place. I’ll follow them up the mountain. Skiing is the perfect cover.” She smiled. “Snow. Dust. It’s easy to lose yourself on the trails.”

“You’re going after all three by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. You and Mala hang out here until I get back. Then we’ll return to Sarihöfn in the morning.”

“You have my number if you need help?”

Renata gave her an indulgent smile. “Trust me, I’m looking forward to this. Humans have their fun…” She waved at a car full of skiers as they walked back to Renata’s flat. “…and we have ours. Mala’s just jealous right now because she doesn’t ski.”

Mala gave Renata a sign that needed no interpretation.

“What do you do when you’re not here?” he asked.

She stared into the dark branches overhead. Her head still ached, but she couldn’t remember why.

“I don’t know.”

He took his arms from around her waist and put both palms at her temples. She closed her eyes and felt the soft whisper of his power as he traced spells on her skin. Slowly, the pain began to recede.
 

“Whatever you are doing, it hurts you.” There was disapproval in his tone.

“But then I come here, and you make me feel better. I’m fine now.”

She was. The pain was gone, and in its place was a reassuring warmth. The sounds of the forest began to creep in. Low rustles and bird calls. Wind in the trees. They were lying on a bed again, but this time it wasn’t in the meadow. It had been drawn farther into the forest. She could hear water flowing in the distance.

He tucked her head on his shoulder and lay back, looking up into the trees as they rested. He lifted one arm, and she could see the marks there, silver and gleaming in the moonlight.

“You made more.”

“What?”

“When you sang to me. They grew. I noticed it later.”

She lifted her head and frowned. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good, I think.”

“Oh.” She lay back down again. If it was good, then she’d sing some more. “What do you want me to sing for you?”

“What do you remember?”

She closed her eyes and let her mind loose. The pictures fell into her memory, like photographs scattered across a table. She focused on one and smiled.

“We were near the ocean once. There were lanterns, and they floated into the sky.”

She sang softly, and as the old words left her mouth, she could see them take flight, winging their way to his mind. She reached down and felt for his hand. She knit their fingers together, and she could feel the warmth and magic flow between them.
 

“Ava, look.”

Her eyes opened and she looked down to where their hands joined. She saw it. The spells on his arm creeped up and over, curling into themselves as if drawn by an invisible hand. She watched them, still singing, and when she finally fell silent, the marks remained.

“I remember when you sing to me,” he said. “My mind. My heart.” He smiled before he kissed her. “You’re bringing me back to life.”

She smiled and leaned forward, craving another kiss.
 

There was a rustle in the forest and a blast of cold air.

His eyes narrowed and swung toward the disturbance.

The sound came again. Louder.

He squeezed her hand. “You need to wake up.”

“What?”

He sat and pulled her up with him. “Wake up, Ava.”

Fear clutched her throat. His name came to her. “Malachi?”

He shook her shoulders. “I’m not there. I’m not there, and there’s danger.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Wake up, Ava. Wake up
now
!”

“Malachi!”

She gasped, calling out his name as she sat bolt upright in bed. Renata’s flat was pitch-black, but Ava could hear someone struggling in the corner. Hissed voices and the rasping whispers that haunted her nightmares.

Grigori were in the room.

She heard a crack and a thud, then Mala stepped into a shaft of light, brandishing twin daggers that seemed to glow. She stalked toward Ava with death in her eyes.

“Mala?”

The Irina opened her mouth, but no sound came. It was enough to make Ava open her senses and listen.

Ava scrambled away from the hissing whisper she felt at her back just in time to escape the grip of the soldier who snuck from behind. He muttered a curse before he rolled away, dodging the silver daggers Mala threw at him. Ava kicked out, catching his knee with her heel. He grunted, still trying to remain quiet. The Grigori rolled into the darkness and Mala followed.
 

Ava yelled out, “Mala, lights?”

Two clicks of Mala’s tongue told her yes. She felt for the switch on the wall and flipped it up.

The smell of sandalwood filled the air, and the window to the bedroom was open. A flicker of the curtain as freezing air blasted into the room. Then another flicker as a shadow darted in the corner of her eye. The Grigori attacked silently, grabbing her neck as he tackled Ava to the ground. He forced a hand around her throat and pressed, cutting off both her voice and her air. She could hear another soldier climb in the window and run toward Mala.

The helpless rage filled her. His body trapped her on the ground. For all her training and preparation, she was no match for the large male. Her heart raced as his palm pressed harder. Her breath was running out. She would pass out soon, and there would be nothing to stop them.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes. Then the blackness grew and spread as the whispers in her mind grew louder.
 

Do not fear the darkness.

Ava closed her eyes.

A rush of wings and feathers from the corner of her vision. A rising shadow. Tall, as if a dark mountain had come to life, he loomed over her, cloaked in the void. A soughing breath stirred the black feathers that drooped over his hood. He was nothing. As if the stars had been snuffed in the night, he bore no face behind the droop of his black cloak. A nightmare. A monster. He leaned closer, forcing her to look. Forcing her to face the secret—