The Singer

by Elizabeth Hunter

“Tell me everything.”

  VI.

  Oslo, Norway

  Brage lounged on the cold roof of Volund’s house near the waterfront. He watched the cruise ships come in and saw his brothers head out, following the scent of a human female as a shark scented fresh blood.

  He waited.

  He’d fed again when he arrived in the city. There were already forty brothers in the house, which had been converted into apartments decades ago before the waterfront redevelopment. Normally, it was mostly empty. Now it held the burgeoning swarm of Grigori soldiers Volund had sired. Soldiers who were beginning to make waves among the human authorities.

  Police had come by the house the day before, responding to complaints from the neighbors. Loud parties and women’s screams. Brage had been able to assuage them. After all, it wasn’t as if the women were screaming in pain. The officers left with embarrassed grins, and Brage had taken out his anger on the back of one of his younger brothers. They were all told to be more cautious, but Brage knew it was useless.

  He wondered why Volund had sent so many. After all, he’d killed the scribe the first time in Istanbul with half the men he had here. It was only a matter of herding the woman and her Irin mate to the right location. He knew they were in the city somewhere.

  “Brother?” A young scribe shivered at the door to the stairwell.

  “Yes?”

  “There is someone here to see you.”

  Brage frowned. “Who?”

  The young soldier blinked in confusion. “I… I don’t know.”

  “What?” Brage stood, walking toward him, but stopped when he saw the unassuming man coming up the stairs. The middle-aged man in glasses put a hand on the Grigori’s shoulder and the young man turned, leaving Brage alone on the roof with his visitor.

  He sat, recognizing the angel’s disguise from Istanbul. If Jaron wanted to harm him, he would already be dead.

  “I know who you are,” Brage said.

  “It’s good that Volund has some intelligent offspring,” Jaron said as he tossed back the cover on one of the patio chairs. A flurry of ice fell to the ground.

  “What do you want?”

  “Why are you still hunting her?”

  Brage frowned. “Why do I do anything?”

  His father asked it of him. It was not within his power to refuse.

  “Fine.” Jaron sat back, still wearing his human facade. He walked in the guise of a fatherly middle-aged man in spectacles. Not too old. Not too young. A confessor. Trustworthy. Despite knowing it was false, the facade still put Brage at ease.

  “Tell me why Volund hunts her,” the angel said.

  “I do not know.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Brage shrugged. “He says she belongs to him. Other than that, it is none of my concern.”

  Jaron smiled. “In a way, he is not wrong.”

  “Then why do you protect her?”

  “Why does your father only tell you half-truths?” Jaron countered. “For though the woman is his, she is also mine.”

  He closed his eyes and forced himself not to sigh. It would be taken as a sign of disrespect toward the angel. Talking in circles. Why did the damn ancients have to talk in circles so much? Was it too much to ask that one of them give him any kind of answer?

  “Half-truths?” Brage said. “I am sure Volund tells me as much as you tell your sons.”

  “I tell my children only what they must know.”

  “Then we understand each other.”

  Jaron laughed. “No. You do not understand me at all. But then, you cannot. Is it true that he gave you Grimold’s blade? A heavenly weapon to kill an Irin scribe? It seems excessive. But of course, you failed last time, did you not?”

  The spike of anger was quick and hot. And Brage knew that Jaron had caught it, for the human facade wavered in that moment, and the glowing gold eyes of the angel flashed.

  “Why are you here, Jaron?”

  “I want you to leave the woman alone.”

  “You know I cannot.”

  “She is something you would not wish to harm.”

  Brage narrowed his eyes. He had his own suspicions about what the woman was, but they were based on whispers and rumors, like so much in his world. And if both Volund and Jaron claimed her…

  “What is she?” he asked.

  There was silence. Brage wondered if Jaron would respond at all.

  “She is under my protection,” the angel said. “You will not harm her.”

  “I don’t intend to. Volund wants her alive. Though I will kill her mate. Again.”

  “Her mate interests me only so far as he benefits her.”

  “Then you will not interfere?”

  “No.”

  “Do you vow it?”

  Jaron leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Does your father appreciate your audacity?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then he is a fool.”

  Brage said nothing.

  “Fine,” Jaron said. “I will not interfere with your mission, as long as you do not harm the woman.”

  It was the best that Brage would do under the circumstances. Jaron did not rise, so he dared another question.

  “Is she what I think?” he asked. “What the heretics claim?”

  “Yes.”

  His cold heart quickened. “Truly?”

  “And no.”

  Fucking angels.

  Brage curled his lip and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Jaron was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  She was still cautious around him. Still hesitant as he held her hand and walked into the scribe house.

  Was the caution a result of his reappearance or because of the encounter with the frightening creature who had given her a vision? He couldn’t read her well enough to know yet. Some things were achingly familiar, but others still confounded him.

  Wary smiles and respectful nods greeted Malachi as they walked past the dark entryway and back toward the kitchen. It might have been the middle of the night, but the house was clearly on alert. Malachi spotted Damien, Rhys, and Lang strategizing over a map of the city, which had been spread out over the kitchen table. Sari and an Irina elder he didn’t know were with them.

  Rhys and one of Lang’s scribes were putting red and yellow dots all over the paper. The rest of the gathered company nodded at them but did not interrupt the conversation.

  “Ava,” the old woman said softly, walking over to greet his mate. “I heard. I am… astonished.”

  And pleased, from what Malachi could gather. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled and grabbed Ava into an embrace.

  “Thank you, Orsala.”

  “Have you told Brooke yet? Does everyone know? I only heard from Sari a few hours ago.”

  “It just happened yesterday. And we…” He saw her cheeks flush a little. “We needed some time alone.”

  “Of course, daughter.” Orsala turned to Malachi and took his hand in hers, though he kept one hand firmly anchored in his mate’s. “A blessing,” she said. “A miracle sent from heaven.” There were tears in the old woman’s eyes. “How can we know the purpose of the Creator? And yet we rejoice in it. I am so happy for you both, Malachi.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  The others were still quietly arguing over the map.

  “—follow what I’m trying to say, Leo. The red is a confirmed attack and kill,” Rhys said. “The yellow are for attacks that were stopped, but the Grigori wasn’t eliminated.”

  “So many,” Sari said. “Lang, this is far more than average, correct?”

  “Yes. Activity has picked up over the past year, but the majority of these attacks have been in only the past couple of weeks.”

  Damien asked, “Do we think there is any chance this increase in activity and the exposure of Sarihöfn are not related?”

  Everyone was silent.

  Malachi stepped forward. “There are few coincidences in the world. It’s
possible, but I don’t think it’s likely.” He glanced at the map and moved closer, still holding Ava’s hand. “Tell me more about Volund.” It was Volund’s child, Brage, who had killed him, but there was little Malachi remembered about the powerful Fallen angel.

  Lang said, “As far as we know, Volund still has one of his primary bases near Göteborg, which gives his soldiers easy access to the continent and a steady stream of tourists, whom his men usually target. He’s been building in power for centuries. We believe he took out the major power in Russia in the 1920s, and he appears to have connections with the lesser Fallen in Spain and France.”

  Leo leaned forward and frowned, staring at the map. “Have you talked to Maxim about what he’s heard?”

  Lang nodded. “Your brother has been an unexpected font of information over the past few years. I don’t know who he knows—”

  “It’s better you don’t ask,” Damien said. “I never did when he was in my house.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Lang continued. “The sudden absence of Grigori last summer fits what you and Max have said about him making a move in Istanbul.”

  “The Istanbul offensive makes no strategic sense to me,” Sari said, still staring at the map. “Why Istanbul? It’s far away from his power center. It would make more sense to approach from the north, in Russia. Or from the west.”

  “Remember, milá, in some ways the Fallen are as unpredictable as the humans. They’re often creatures of impulse.”

  “Particularly Volund,” Lang said. “And from what we know of him, he is a grudge holder. Istanbul could have been a personal vendetta.”

  Damien shrugged. “From what I know of Jaron, I can imagine the two did not get along. Jaron was vicious, but deliberate. A planner.”

  “The complete opposite of Volund, in other words,” Rhys said.

  “And Jaron has a connection to Ava,” Malachi said. “We don’t know why or how, but he protected her in Istanbul, in his own way. And…” He glanced at his mate, but she nodded at him, so he continued. “And he appeared to her again more recently. In a dream.”

  “When?” Damien stepped forward. “At Sarihöfn? Was he able to find you there? Is that why—”

  “I don’t know,” Ava answered. “I haven’t remembered the details of my dreams about him until the one last night, though I’m fairly sure I’ve seen him before. He was… cryptic.”

  “How surprising,” Rhys muttered.

  “I’ve been talking over the vision with Malachi to try to make sense of it, but a lot of it is confusing. I… I can try…” She was clearly uncomfortable with so many eyes on her.

  Malachi gave her hand a squeeze, and she looked to him again. He nodded to her, offering encouragement. After she had explained what happened at the sing with the other Irina, he’d been awed. But the vague memory of her voice singing to him crept into his memory. It had been the same night he’d noticed some of his talesm had reappeared under his skin. There was power in her voice. She was only touching the edges of it. He hoped, now that they were together again, that she could reach her full potential. That they both would.

  “Tell them. Show them,” he said. “There is no shame in trying.”

  “I can try to sing you the vision so you can see what I saw,” she said, almost as if she were running out of breath.

  “Like you did at the sing?” Sari said. “That was amazing.”

  “What is this?” Lang asked.

  “Would you sing for us, sister?” One of Lang’s scribes asked from the edges of the room. He appeared to be quite young and more than eager to hear Ava’s song. “Would you?”

  Lang smiled at Ava. “Most of our scribes are young. They have never heard Irina song before. Only heard stories.”

  Orsala smiled. “Ava’s song is like no other. You would be spoiled by her vision.”

  Malachi could feel her turning in on herself, shrinking from the attention.

  She said, “I don’t know if it will work again. It might not.”

  “This was a vision from Jaron?” Damien asked. “Like the one you had in Istanbul?”

  “Yes,” Malachi said. “It might have something to do with what is happening now.”

  “Try, Ava,” Orsala urged her. “Only try.”

  She was pale and nervous. Malachi stepped behind her and put his arms around her waist, holding her to his chest as she faced the room of staring people. He could hear her before she started. Could feel the wave of power pass through him as she opened her mouth. There were no words at first. There was a soft hum and an unsure melody, simple and achingly beautiful. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly and steadily, willing the calm from his own body into hers.

  It grew in his chest and moved down his arms. He could feel the marks he’d given her alive beneath him. Malachi dropped his head down, eyes still closed, and put his lips against the back of her neck as she sang. The moment his lips touched her skin, he felt it.

  Like a current connecting, power surged from him and into her. She’d told him what was in the vision, but this time, he saw it for himself. It flashed in vivid color across his mind.

  Two eagles, circling and attacking each other.

  Hot blood sprayed down along his skin. He could hear it. He could feel it.

  He heard the growls of the wolf at his feet and the eerie laughter of jackals in the bush.

  Watching. All were watching as the fierce birds ripped at each other, screaming in rage.

  A plummet to the earth.

  He felt the wound as if the bird had ripped open his own chest. A blade of sheer agony pierced his heart as he heard the echo of the words in her mind. Jaron’s words, not hers. The voice of the Fallen gave him chills, and his mating marks pulsed in warning.

  “I will tear the threads of heaven to return. And you will help me, Ava.”

  The monster called his mate by name, and the vision broke off when Malachi felt a roar erupt from his chest. His eyes flew open and she was there, holding his cheeks in her hands and shouting—

  “Malachi!”

  Rage washed through him like a churning river, like a flame ripping though dry brush. He wanted to hunt what stalked her. Wanted to wipe it from the earth and bathe in its blood. The fury coursed through his veins until Ava put her lips on his.

  He took them. Digging his hands into the soft curve of her waist, he clung to her. He banded his arms around her body.

  Malachi felt hands on his shoulders, breaking into the trance between them. Voices became clear.

  “Leave him. Leave her. There’s no way—”

  “Did you see that? I’ve never seen light like that. It looked like fire from the inside out.”

  “Malachi.” Someone pulled at his arms. “Let her go. She can hardly breathe, Malachi.”

  “No.” Ava pulled away from his kiss with a gasp. “I’m fine. He’s fine. Malachi?”

  He snarled at those surrounding them, and they stepped back. Then she pulled his face down to hers and pressed her cheek to his.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Fine. Safe. You’re here. We’re safe. It was just a vision. Not real, Malachi. It wasn’t real.”

  He reached down and pressed her hand over his heart where a phantom pain still lingered. “Hurts. Did it hurt you?”

  “No. I didn’t see it that way. I’m not hurt.”

  “He wants you.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming. “Wants to use you, Ava.”

  “You won’t let him, will you?” Her voice was calm, and he clung to that. “We won’t let him use us.”

  “No.”

  “And neither will our friends.”

  As violent as his reaction was, Ava was safe. They were surrounded by allies. She was safe. He forced himself to take a deep breath. His talesm still glowed with light, as did Ava’s mating marks. In fact, as he glanced around the room, every one of the Irin was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Rhys grinned. “That was different.”

  Sari said, �
�It was similar to the vision she shared with us at Sarihöfn, but this one was far more violent and powerful. I would guess that having Malachi back is multiplying her power.”

  “Two birds…,” Lang said. “Volund and Jaron?”

  Damien nodded. “I think it’s clear that some war is between them now. There were others there, watching. Did anyone else see that?”

  Orsala nodded. “And there were jackals. Scavengers. Waiting to see who the winner is? To pick at the bones of the defeated?”

  “Is this what is happening in Oslo right now?” Lang asked. “Is all this Grigori activity a result of two of the most powerful Fallen angels in history fighting? That… can’t end well.”

  “And I hardly think the council will be much help,” Damien said. “According to Leo and Rhys, there are increases in Grigori activity all over the continent and they are being ignored. Who knows what’s happening in the rest of the world?”

  “Whatever is happening in Vienna, we need to deal with the problem in Oslo right now,” Rhys said. “Analyze Ava’s vision later. If so many Grigori are hunting in the city, they have a base. They stay together when they’re not feeding. They would have… a house. A warehouse, possibly. Somewhere that a lot of them could be hidden. We need to find it and destroy them in their nest. Fighting all these individuals as they attack is not solving anything.”

  “So you’re proposing aggression?” Lang asked. “Not just defense, but offense?”

  Rhys paused. “I know it’s not the official policy, but—”

  “Just clarifying, brother,” Lang said. “You won’t get an argument from me.”

  “Nor me,” Damien said. “And technically, I’m still your superior.”

  “So we find them,” Leo said. “Take them out where they sleep.”

  Malachi said, “And we do it now. It’s near dawn. They’ll be hunting right now, but they’ll be sleeping at dawn. If we pull everyone in, find where they’re taking shelter and strike quickly, we might be able to stop this.”

  Orsala said, “They won’t expect it. This is one of the things the Irina have learned. The Grigori expect Irin to be defensive, not offensive. They won’t be expecting an attack from you because it’s not officially sanctioned.”