“This way, then.”
It was early summer and the middle of the week. There were a number of tourists, but most seemed to head toward the beach or the restaurants. Only a few stopped to hire a phaeton to take them up the mountain, and even fewer looked ready for the steep climb through the town and up to the Monastery of St. George. As Ava and Malachi started out, they were alone. Leo stayed near the terminal, watching for any visitors, per Malachi’s request.
“Are you ready?” he asked as they headed up the hill. “It’s not a short hike.”
Ava took a deep breath as they stepped away from the crowds. “Trust me, this is just what I had in mind.”
Her expression began to clear the farther they got away from other people. They walked through a neighborhood filled with luxurious mansions on their way toward Luna Park.
“Your house in L.A.?” He nodded toward one mansion. “Is it grand like this?”
“My mom’s house?” She shrugged. “It’s bigger. Carl likes people to know how much money he has.”
“You don’t have your own home?”
“No.”
They kept walking. Malachi wondered what it would feel like to live in a grand home. The retreat where his parents raised him in Germany was simple, and scribe houses were more like monasteries. The most well-appointed rooms were reserved for the books, scrolls, and tablets, not the scribes who copied or preserved them. He knew some Irin lived with more wealth, those in cities who worked in human businesses. After all, the retreats and scribe houses had to be supported financially, but Malachi had never had the head for human business. His life had been protecting the accumulation of knowledge until it had been about avenging his parents’ deaths. He didn’t know anything else.
“Tell me more about this organization you’re after, Mal.”
He wasn’t prepared for the question. Luckily, he’d rehearsed an answer that morning while he was waiting for her to wake. “They’re an organized, international criminal enterprise that specializes in human trafficking. They’re very secretive; you won’t find much about them online. Officially, they don’t exist.”
“Really?” Her voice had that distant, skeptical tone again. “No international task forces? Interpol? United Nations?”
“Governments don’t want to acknowledge things they don’t know how to combat. It makes them feel helpless.”
She raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses. “So why are you guys after them? I’m assuming your company is being paid.”
Curious woman. Curious, bothersome woman. The surge of reluctant admiration annoyed him. “Let’s put it this way—they’ve hurt some very powerful people in the past. Those people want to make sure it doesn’t happen again, and they’re willing to put their resources behind our company to take care of them.”
“You mean kill them?”
“Ava, I don’t—”
“‘My dagger hungers for your neck.’” She mimicked his voice from the night before. “Who talks like that? I’m assuming you were threatening his life.”
They were past the houses now, on the edge of the park. Pine trees lined the road along with fluttering scraps of ribbon and cloth, markers left by the pilgrims who’d traveled the road before them. Ava didn’t look at him, but he knew she was waiting for his response.
“Yes, I was threatening him. According to the law, he is not a criminal, but he kills and kidnaps with impunity. What should our response be if one of them threatens an innocent person?”
The color on her cheeks was high, and she was starting to breathe more heavily the longer they climbed.
“But you’re not police. You’re not military. Basically, you’re out for revenge on these guys.”
“We’re keeping them from hurting more women and children. Is there something wrong with that?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Her fingers trailed along the brush, twisting around one particularly long ribbon that was tied to a low branch of pine. “What are these? What are they for?”
“They’re prayers. Pilgrims tie them as they walk up to the monastery. Most of them are from women who want children. The monastery is associated with fertility.”
He saw her pause, her fingers twisting around a ribbon, clutching it for a moment before she released it and continued walking.
Malachi saw the quick crease between her eyebrows, and his fingers ached to smooth it.
“Do you want children, Ava?”
She glanced at him, surprised. “None of your business.”
“You’re right.” He swallowed back a frustrated curse and kept walking. “It is none of my business. I apologize.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t have them.” Her voice was soft, but he caught the words muttered under her breath anyway.
He stopped, turned. “Is it because of your health? Your… headaches?”
“We’re not talking about my headaches,” she said with a glare before she marched off the path and into a stand of trees.
Malachi watched her, confused for a second before he followed. “Ava, where are you going?”
She was still walking, ducking under low branches as they walked over the forest floor covered with pine needles. He could barely hear her steps as she headed even farther off the path, toward a rocky outcropping that overlooked a desolate beach.
“Ava!”
She stopped. Turned. And pointed a gun at his chest.
“Why don’t you stop lying now, Malachi?” she asked softly, her voice chilling him to the bone. “And start telling me the truth about your ‘organization’ and who really hired you?”
Slowly, he brought his hands together in front of his body, subtly tracing the talesm prim on his wrist. The old spells took hold, covering him with magic. “I can explain.”
“Good. Start talking.”
“Please put the gun down.” He was more concerned about her injuring herself or some random hiker than he was himself. “Ava, please put the gun—”
“You are not ordering me around, Malachi.” Her hands didn’t tremble on the weapon. She stood in a ready stance, obviously well-acquainted with the weapon. “You’re not being honest with me. I can tell when you’re lying.”
“Really?” he stepped closer. “And how do you know that, Ava?”
“I just do.” Her eyes were cold. Nothing remained of the teasing, friendly woman he’d come to know.
“Ava, please,” he repeated her name again softly. “Put the gun down. Do you really think I would hurt you?”
For the first time all day, he saw her expression crack. “I don’t know what to think.”
“I have been with you for over two weeks. If I wanted to hurt you—”
“Who hired you, Malachi?”
“—I could have done it. But I won’t, because I don’t want that.”
“Just tell me who you’re working for.”
He took another step closer, holding his hands out. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t!” Her voice rose. “Why don’t you take this opportunity to explain it to me? That seems like a good idea when I have a gun pointed at your chest!”
“Please, Ava—”
“Stop saying my name like that!” Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. “You’re a liar. And I trusted you.”
He shook his head. “I would never hurt you.”
“You already have!”
“Ava, put the gun down.”
“Just tell me what is going on!”
“Don’t you understand I can’t!” he shouted, then muttered a frustrated curse under his breath.
As soon as the words left him, her mouth dropped open. Ava froze. The hand holding the gun sank and the weapon fell with a soft thud on the pine needles. Malachi dove for it, grabbing it to put the safety on, only to realize it had been on safety the whole time.
“Ava, what on earth—?”
“What did you just say?” she whispered.
“I said what on earth—”
; “Before.” She was taking rapid breaths. He looked up from the gun. Her eyes were panicked; she was reaching for him. He had to back away. “What did you say before, Malachi?”
He shook his head. “What?”
“Before!” she shouted with a choked sob. “What was it? Please!”
She looked ready to collapse. She was trembling, tears rolling down her face, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Ava, I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Please.” Her face crumbled. “Just tell me what language it was. I heard you. Just… just tell me I’m not crazy.”
Malachi wanted to grab her. Calm her, but he couldn’t. She was wearing nothing but a tank top. She’d taken off her long-sleeved shirt halfway up the mountain. And his touch would hurt her. No matter how much he wanted, he would never—could never…
He finally registered what she’d said.
Tell me what language it was.
He’d cursed in the Old Language. Most people never even noticed.
Her eyes pleaded with him, and her shoulders shook. “Tell me I’m not crazy, Malachi.”
“Ava, did you…” He drew in a quick breath as the pieces began to fall into place.
The headaches. Her nervousness in crowds. His instincts had warned him, but everyone said it wasn’t possible.
‘I heard you…’
Malachi shook his head.
Defeat washed across her face. “Please… I’ve heard it for so long.” She fell to her knees. “I just need to know—”
“What language are you talking about, Ava?” He knelt cautiously next to her, still stunned. Ava shook her head, eyes glassy and dazed.
“My whole life…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “They called me crazy. And now I’m imagining it out loud. I am—”
“This language?” he asked softly, whispering in the ancient tongue of the angels. “Ava, is this the language you’re talking about?”
She gasped and clutched the front of his shirt. “Malachi?”
He continued in soft words he knew she couldn’t understand. “Where have you heard this, beautiful one?” Malachi lifted trembling fingers to a curl of her hair, then he asked in English again. “Where have you heard this, Ava?”
She clutched his shirt tighter. “Everywhere,” she choked out. “I hear it everywhere!”
He shook his head, disbelieving. “It can’t be.”
“Every person. All over the world. I hear them, Malachi. In my head. The same language, over and over.” Her tears kept falling, and she wouldn’t let go of his shirt, almost as if she was afraid he would run. “I’m crazy. I know it. I told myself if I could just figure out what they were saying, it would make sense, but—”
“You’re not crazy.” Malachi lifted a tentative hand to her cheek. He had to know. “You’re not crazy, Ava, you’re—”
He broke off when she leaned her face into his hand, resting her cheek against his frozen palm.
Ava whispered, “You make the voices go away.” Then she closed her eyes, let out a soft breath, and Malachi felt her.
The rush of energy filled him, lifted him. His heart raced as the force of it elevated him. Malachi lifted his other hand to her neck, tracing the ancient letters over her skin, watching as the faint golden glow illuminated in the shadow of the pines. A choked laugh bubbled up in his throat and Ava’s eyes flickered open. His hand traced lower, brushing over her bare shoulder, down her arm, and everywhere his hand went, her skin gave off a faint, shimmering gold.
“You’re not crazy.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his fingers touching—actually touching—her. “You’re not crazy, Ava. You’re… a miracle.”
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispered.
“I don’t know, either.” The contact was intoxicating. Malachi trailed his hand up her arm again, finally cupping her face in both hands.
“Malachi?” The frown was back, but this time, he let his finger smooth away the line between her eyebrows.
“Irina,” he breathed out, then his lips lowered to hers. The first brush of his kiss was soft and testing. Reverent. But Ava didn’t faint. She leaned closer, and Malachi was lost.
His hand slid around to the nape of her neck to hold her as he let himself linger at her mouth. His other hand slid down her arm and around her waist, pressing her closer as he deepened the kiss. Her mouth moved against his, searching. Then he felt her hands.
He pulled away, groaning, “Yes.”
Her hands came around his neck, fingers lacing together as she held him against her. Malachi’s mouth fell to her neck, pressing kisses against the soft skin there as she laid her cheek against his and held him close.
“Closer,” he murmured. “More.”
She left one hand at his neck and brought the other to his cheek, stroking the rough skin there. “Malachi?”
“Touch me, Ava.” He kissed up her neck and over her jaw, searching for her mouth. “Please. It’s been so long.”
His rough hand stroked the small of her back, over her shirt, then he let a finger slide under the edge. She didn’t faint. Didn’t grow weak. Instead, the energy he felt from her seemed to surge wherever their skin touched. He slid his hand under her shirt, pressing it full against the small of her back as Ava let out a breathy moan.
“So good…”
He captured her mouth again, his tongue tracing along her lips until she opened to him. He slid closer. Tongues and lips. Her teeth scraped against his lower lip.
More.
More.
Her mouth was as eager as his when she pressed closer, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck as they knelt under the trees. Her knees buckled and he laid her down on the soft bed of needles, rolling on his side and bringing her with him, never breaking her glorious hold.
“Ava, Ava, Ava,” he whispered against her lips. He let one hand trail down her arm, tracing along her skin, feeling the rush of magic that followed. “You’re a miracle.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but don’t stop.”
“I can’t stop. I don’t want to ever stop.”
Her hands were brushing over his cheeks again, her fingernails scraping against the stubble. He’d forgotten to shave that morning. Usually he never thought about it, but he did now. He wanted nothing between her skin and his. He let the hand at the small of her back rise, fingers trailing up her spine as she pulled away and arched her back with a moan. He kissed her neck. Her shoulder. The delicate skin over her collarbone.
“Ava, wait…” He groaned. “We have to stop. I don’t want to, but—”
“No.” She was trembling in his arms. “More.”
“This is—”
Just then, she let out a shudder that racked her whole body. Malachi felt her heave a great sigh, then she stilled, going limp in his arms. He pulled away, panicked for a moment until he saw the deep breaths she was taking. He put his ear to her chest; her heart was strong and steady. There was a peaceful smile on her face. He gently laid her back on the bed of pine needles and pulled off his shirt, tucking it under her head. Then he lay on his side and stared at her.
Malachi brushed tentative fingers over her arm, still disbelieving what he saw with his own eyes. The gold glow was there, if anything, brighter than it had been at first. He scrolled letters over her, brushing spells across her skin to aid in rest and health. To give her peace of mind and sweet dreams. The breeze swept over them both as they rested in the dappled shade that overlooked the sea.
Ava rested, and Malachi watched.
A miracle.
A mystery.
Malachi hadn’t seen one in over two hundred years.
Irina.
Chapter Eight
Ava woke slowly. Her eyes were stiff and heavy with exhaustion like she’d never known before. She stretched her legs, moving languidly in the cool sheets that smelled of lemon and… Malachi?
She forced her eyes open, blinking as she looked around. Early
morning sun spilled across the sheets, crisscrossed by shadows from the wooden blinds. She was alone in the room, but it wasn’t hers. A thousand mornings waking in foreign rooms had trained her. Her bag would be in one corner. Her phone by the bed. Shoes set by the door.
This room was not hers.
It was dominated by a wall of bookcases. On the bookcases were volumes of paperbacks, hardcovers, and more. Intricate, leather-bound tomes. Books in boxes. Even a few scrolls. And the walls that didn’t have books had art. It was a small room, narrow and long, but packed with traces of its owner.
It was Malachi’s room. It had his smell. Even more, there was a certain odd balance and masculinity to it that reminded her of him. Simple and bold at the same time. At the foot of the bed, Ava noticed some books had been pulled out. She crawled that direction, unwinding the sheet that covered her.
How had she gotten here?
She searched her memories, but they were fuzzy. Her whole head was fuzzy, an odd feeling for her, though not entirely unpleasant. Usually, Ava woke restless. She rose with the feeling that she was already behind in… something. Some task had escaped her. Some memory forgotten. If she was in a hotel, early morning voices whispered to her, almost always in a hurry.
Rush rush rush.
Mornings for Ava were manic.
But this morning…
She took a deep breath and leaned against the wall where the large bed had been pushed and looked around again. The room almost reminded her of a dorm room. A small desk was in one corner with a computer on top. Packing boxes were stacked in another. She saw a narrow door she suspected was a closet.
Or a bathroom.
She jumped up and ran to it, disappointed when she saw all the clothes. Luckily, another glance to the right revealed a narrow door open to a sliver of a sink. With a sigh of relief, Ava walked in and took care of her most urgent concern, looking around for a moment as she sat.
If this was Malachi’s room—and she was almost certain it was—how did his shoulders fit through that door? Did he walk sideways into his own bathroom? And that shower was ridiculous. Did he crouch in it? His scent was stronger in the bathroom. As she was washing up, she picked up a bar of soap.
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