“I have been trained by Volund himself.” He couldn’t help but boast. “First of the Fallen. Keeper of a guardian’s blade.”
Guardian’s blade, was it? That was something he’d have to look up. He remembered no mention of a “guardian’s blade” in Irin texts.
“It doesn’t matter what sword your master wields,” Damien said softly. “In a few minutes, you will be dead and the haven will be gone. So if you’ve called anyone, they’re wasting their time.”
A flicker in the man’s bravado. He had called someone. Undoubtedly, they were already on their way. From where, Damien did not know, but he had no time to waste.
The man smiled one last time. “Bookkeeper, you don’t know who I am.”
“No. It is you who don’t know who I am.” Damien lunged forward, dropping his knife and grabbing the Grigori’s raised left arm. Twisting the man’s arm around his own neck in a chokehold, Damien reached for a second knife with his left hand. One deep plunge in the kidney and the man slumped. The knife fell from the Grigori’s fingers, and his head fell forward. Releasing his arm, Damien took out the silver-tipped dagger in his right pocket and stabbed it into the man’s neck.
“I am Damien of Bohemia,” he whispered. “May your soul be judged fairly for your deeds.”
The dust rose, but Damien did not choke on it. A gentle breeze blew it from his eyes, and he turned to see Sari leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing.
“Yours must have been more talkative than mine.”
“He belongs to Volund, and he already called someone,” Damien said. “We need to begin the evacuation immediately.”
※
“This is my fault.” Ava sat at the kitchen table, racked with guilt as Damien watched Sari and her sisters sort out the evacuation of the haven.
Damien said, “No. You did nothing wrong. Mala is sure you were not tailed from Bergen. This is from some other crack in our defenses. It was… surprising. But we had become too complacent. It was probably inevitable after so much time. There have been so many who have used Sarihöfn as a refuge over the years. No magic is impenetrable. And with the Grigori becoming more aggressive, we should not be surprised.”
And Sari had warned them in time. Bruno was monitoring the roads to make sure no unexpected company arrived. Orsala’s wards were in place. There was no panic, only the sad melancholy of friends who knew they must part. This was not the first time a haven had been breached. This would not be the last.
Damien watched Sari delegate tasks to each person who came to her, making sure the families with children were prioritized. Only an hour after they’d killed the Grigori in the woods, those families had already been evacuated, which told Damien that escape plans must have been set in place long before.
“Fatima and Lionel have already made plans to go to the Caribbean. They’re simply moving up the timeline.” Sari leaned over a table, scanning a list that Astrid had given her. “Sorted. Sorted. Not. Karen, find out where Marie is headed. If she’s going to meet her mate, I don’t need to know where, but I need to know she has a plan.”
“Yes, Sari.”
“And find out if she made arrangements about the fund. If she’s going to be offline for a time, she needs to let her associates know.”
“Got it.”
Marie, Damien was guessing, was one of the computer-savvy Irina who managed money. He knew that in the modern world, it took an enormous amount of coordination and funds to hide so many. Papers and deeds needed to be forged regularly. Money had to be carefully managed because, though they’d had much time to acquire it, singers in hiding also had to spend an enormous amount.
Yet all this happened with a smooth rhythm that told Damien it had been coordinated and rehearsed down to the smallest detail years in advance.
She could rule.
Oh, yes, she could. She’d be quick to anger but slow to judge. She would see every angle before they could be argued away. More, she had passion. If the Irina needed anyone, they needed someone with passion. Sari needed to go to Vienna, yet he knew his mate had an instinctive aversion to politics.
“What will they do about money?” Ava broke into his reverie. “And the farm?”
He’d asked the same thing only an hour before. “There are humans Sari trusts who will take care of the farm. And they have saved money for hundreds of years. They will give money to families and individuals as they need it. They have enough.”
Not much extra, but enough.
“I have money. More than I need. If any of them—”
“Keep your money, sister. They will be fine.”
“They’ve planned for this.”
“Yes. After the Rending, we knew no place would be safe forever.”
They watched cars and vans pull away for hours as, one by one, the singers and scribes of Sarihöfn scattered across the globe.
He told Ava, “We’ll stay here a few days with Sari. We’re still deciding where our family will go. Sari and I have different ideas about what should happen now.”
He wanted nothing more than to keep his mate and her grandmother safe. At least for a time. He had bolt-holes and contacts all over the world. It wasn’t that he wanted to isolate her forever, but the thought of plunging back into battle when he’d just gotten her back did not appeal to him on any level.
Ava asked, “And me?”
“You’re coming with us, of course. That we all agree on. You still have many lessons with Orsala. And you’re part of our family.”
Ava didn’t look as if she believed him. “I’m not sure I’m a very safe person to be around right now.”
“Good!” Sari strode into the room. “Then my plan it is, Damien.”
“Milá…”
“I know you want to go someplace safe and hidden, my love, but I cannot agree.”
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know her capable of battle. He just wanted to enjoy peace with her a little bit longer.
Sari spoke to Ava. “I have taken care of my sisters. I have sheltered those who needed it. I have been peaceful too long. Give me an enemy to bloody my hands on.”
Peaceful? She called hunting a half dozen Grigori down in an Oslo nightclub peaceful? Damien frowned at his mate, but she ignored him.
He cleared his throat. “The Irina need—”
“We know what we need.” Now Karen was interrupting him. “And that is not to have others dictate to us. Bruno and I can take care of those who need shelter. There is a house that belonged to my mother outside Prague. It has been empty for many years. Bruno and I will create a safe place and let you know when it is ready. I am not a warrior. And my Bruno knows this. But your mate is, Damien. And you know that.”
Damien threw up his hands and let them make their plans. At the end of the day, this was Sari’s evacuation.
Mala signed to him from across the room. Sit down, Watcher. Let someone else take responsibility for once.
They’re not in the mood to listen to me anyway, he signed back.
Why do you think I’m sitting here and letting them do all the hard work?
Will you come with us? he asked. We could use your help in Vienna.
Is that where we’re going?
She’ll decide on it eventually. Maybe I’ll suggest we avoid it to hurry that decision along.
Sneaky.
I know what motivates her.
I need to go with Astrid and Karen. At least for a while. But I’ll keep Vienna in mind.
Damien nodded. Good.
Mala clapped at Sari to get her attention. I’ll accompany Karen, Bruno, and Astrid. Make sure the others are settled before I return to you.
Sari told the room, “Mala will go with them, as well, at least for a time. Has anyone been able to call Renata?”
“Candice was trying to call her mobile,” Ava said. “She’s not at her apartment in Bergen. She might still be in Oslo. Candice and Brooke are going to the scribe house there with Chelsea. Her mate is stationed there.”
Sari moved next to her grandmother. “We always knew this place could not last forever. Change has come. We are ready. Now let this quiet war end.”
※
It wasn’t until days later, on a quiet car ride to Oslo where they were going to meet three of his brothers who had traveled from Istanbul, that Damien understood just how much their whole world had changed. Ava and Orsala slept in back while Sari told him the news that had them rushing to the city days before they were meant to depart.
“Ava,” Sari said. “Damien, she’s even more than we thought.” She had slipped into Old Orcadian, which was as close to a secret language as they had.
Damien frowned. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”
“The call from Renata, the one that made me rush us to Oslo?” Sari seemed to stutter.
“Milá, what is it?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Damien, her mate is alive.”
Damien pulled the car over before he swerved into traffic. Luckily, none of the passengers woke. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not. Malachi is alive.”
Damien was stunned that the pain was still so strong. He had lost so many brothers-in-arms he could no longer count them. But Malachi’s death and Ava’s grief were still raw, bleeding wounds that reminded him too much of his and Sari’s past.
“Sari, whatever someone told Renata, I saw Malachi die. I know he is—”
“Alive,” she said. “According to Maxim, who is both your brother and his. Renata went to see the man herself because she didn’t believe him.”
Damien said nothing. Maxim was so far from fanciful he was a card-carrying member of the cynic’s society. Yet he had told Renata that Malachi was alive?
“How does Renata know it’s him?” Not that Maxim would commit such a cruel deception, but Damien had to know. “Had she met him before?”
“She’s seen pictures. Ava had pictures from—”
“Of course.” Ava was a professional photographer. Of course she’d have numerous pictures of her mate. She must have shown Renata at some point.
Hope and reason warred within him. “How can this be?”
“We know her power is different.”
“Are you saying she did this?”
“Malachi doesn’t remember much. But he remembers Ava’s voice commanding him to come back.”
“Commanding?” He realized he’d shouted it. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Orsala stir, but Ava and Mala were still sleeping. He put the car back in drive and continued. “What do you mean, commanding?”
“She used magic. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it. But she used the Old Language. Vashama canem. Return to me.”
“Return to me,” he repeated. “The mourning cry. She spoke it and he returned?”
“Damien, her magic—”
“Is not evil.” He glanced at her. “She’s not evil, Sari.”
“I know you like to think of the world as black and white, evil and good, but can we accept that it’s not that simple, Damien? Our sister is not Irina,” she whispered.
“I know what she does is not traditional magic, but—”
“Damien, no Irina would seek to bring anyone back from death. It is anathema to us. To ask for any soul to leave heaven when that peace has been granted them would be forbidden.”
“But is it impossible?” he asked. “Clearly not. There has to be a will behind the magic, Sari. You and I both know it. Perhaps we think it impossible because we know it is forbidden.”
“Or we think it impossible because it is,” she whispered. “For us. Perhaps her magic is not from the Forgiven at all.”
Damien fell silent.
“The Fallen don’t teach their offspring magic,” he said after two more exits had passed.
“They don’t. And an Irin scribe could never mate to a human with Grigori blood,” Sari said. “And fallen men don’t return from the dead.”
Yet suddenly all those things were possible.
“If it is truly Malachi,” Damien said, “if he is truly alive and Ava was the one to do it, then everything has changed.”
“I know.”
Damien took her hand and held it in his own. “Your quiet war has ended, my love. What this war is, I don’t think any of us can know.”
CHAPTER NINE
THEY met with the scribes from the Oslo house, and it had never been more apparent to Sari that the Irina needed to return. The young men of the house were in awe of her singers and even more taken with Candice’s daughter, Brooke. Some of them, their watcher told her, had never seen an Irin child.
They’ve come back. Do you think they’ve really come back?
“What have we done?” she whispered to Damien in the quiet of their room. “They’re like little boys.”
“Most of these men never had mothers,” Damien said. “Wait until you meet Leo, Maxim’s cousin. He is both the fiercest and the most gentle man you’ll ever meet. Ridiculous around women.”
“Of course he would be,” Sari said. The scribes did not socialize with human women. What would be the point when prolonged contact would only hurt the humans? “The boys here, they were so excited to think that we’d returned.”
“This is a young house.” Damien took a deep breath and pulled her closer, drifting toward sleep. “Other than Chelsea’s mate and a few of the older men, none of them have seen singers.”
Tears came to her eyes. Her sisters had become myths in their absence. Sari had known it would be a long road to bring the Irin race back together, but she’d had no idea just how rough it would be.
Damien was almost asleep, but Sari could not quiet her mind. “Reshon, I’m going down to the library,” she whispered, kissing him.
“Not too late,” he murmured. “Malachi in the morning.”
“I have not forgotten.” She slipped out of bed, covering him with the blanket before she pulled one of Damien’s sweaters over her comfortable leggings and shirt.
She passed the library, intending to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but she halted when she saw the watcher of the Oslo house, Lang, leaning over a map spread on the large wooden table.
“Good evening, Watcher,” she greeted him.
“A good evening to you, sister.” Lang’s smile was polite, but weary.
“I had intended to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb you. Perhaps I should find a book and—”
“Please.” Lang waved a hand. “Take anything you like. You won’t disturb me. I’m accomplishing nothing here; I simply cannot sleep.”
“I know the feeling.”
He nodded. “It sounds like reports of the evacuation have been favorable.”
“I’m only waiting for word from a few yet. The rest have checked in.”
“Remarkable.”
“We have had practice in hiding.”
A tinge of bitterness to his smile. “I know.”
“Did you lose your mate?”
“No. I had been pledged…,” he said. “We were not yet mated. She left after her village was attacked. I believe she is still alive, but I have no idea where she is.”
And though Lang looked as if he still longed for his lost lover, Sari had no intention of asking after her or even inquiring about her name. It was an unspoken rule of the havens. Those who wanted to be found were found. Those who wanted to hide were given their privacy. No one had the right to expose another.
“You have tended your fire well,” she said. “I have been a watcher’s mate for many years. I know a well-run house when I see one.”
“Thank you.” His cheeks tinged red. “I was worried you would think my men untried boys by their reactions earlier. They are fine warriors, each one of them, and will protect your sisters who shelter here as if they were the last Irina on earth.”
“Damien tells me we have made ourselve
s myths and legends,” Sari said. “I can hardly judge them for our absence.”
He nodded, then turned back to the map.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He frowned. “Grigori attacks in the city indicate an increased presence, but I cannot find a pattern to their attacks. We don’t have anyone stationed at the house right now who can hack into the police computers.”
“Ask Rhys, Damien’s archivist. He’s very good on computers. If my sister Marie were here, she could do it, but she’s meeting her mate somewhere in Southern Europe right now.”
“I’ll ask Rhys first,” he said. “Thank you for the advice.”
She examined the map. “You have some marked.”
“A few I’ve been able to confirm, but I know there are more.”
“And this is an increase?”
“Yes.” Lang glanced at her. “You seem… familiar with strategy.”
“I wasn’t simply a watcher’s mate, Lang. I was one of Damien’s warriors in London and Paris.”
“Truly?”
“Trained by Damien of Bohemia himself. But my sister Mala is more dangerous than me in the field.”
“I look forward to seeing her fight.”
“Only since you are fighting on the same side.” Sari leaned over the map. “I may be shit at polite conversation, but I’m quite good at chess. Now tell me more about the attacks you know of, and let’s see if a new pair of eyes can tell us anything.”
※
Her eyes were bloodshot when Damien found her before dawn, but an edgy, irritable part of Sari had eased. Damien came into the library, kissed her cheek, and handed her a cup of coffee.
“You stayed up all night.” He eyed the notes she’d scribbled on sticky notes at the edges of the map.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She sipped the coffee. “But can you call Rhys? We need him to hack into the police computers.”
“You will be his favorite person today. That’s like handing the man a new toy.”
Lang rubbed his eyes. “You have meetings this morning, and I have monopolized your time. My apologies, Sari.”
The Staff and the Blade Page 28
