The Seeker

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Meera crawled between the pews toward the Grigori with the gun. She’d unbalanced him, but the spell only lasted so long. She needed to get the gun.

  She heard quiet scuffling on the other side of the church and a strangled cry before the scuffling went quiet. Meera didn’t stop to think or look. Rhys was a skilled warrior. Four Grigori were probably very little trouble for him, but Meera wasn’t accustomed to so many surrounding her at once without guards. She could hear one scrambling along the pew next to her. She spotted the gun sitting on the tattered carpet just as she saw a hand reaching down toward her.

  She rolled to her back, grabbed the arm and pulled it toward her, slamming the Grigori’s nose into the back of the pew before she sank her teeth into the man’s forearm.

  “You bitch!”

  She reached for the handgun, and the cool metal touched her fingertips. She hooked her finger around the trigger guard and spun the gun into her hand, sweeping her arm up and pointing it at the Grigori whose blood was spraying over her from a broken nose.

  Without hesitation, Meera aimed the gun at the center of the man’s chest and pulled the trigger. The shot hit her target and he fell forward, his shoulders hanging over the back of the old wooden bench.

  Meera scooted under the pew, rolling toward the incapacitated Grigori before she pushed herself up and peeked over the benches.

  Rhys was in the center aisle, a Grigori clutched by the hair, his dagger flashing down as golden dust rose around him in the flickering light.

  She saw a movement to her right. It was the first Grigori she’d knocked over.

  “Domem man!” The man froze.

  Rhys ran to her, leaping over the pews and reaching for the man she’d shot. He was already beginning to rouse himself. Gunshots couldn’t kill Grigori unless they pierced the spine. Rhys grabbed the Grigori by the shoulder, flipped him over, and slammed his silver knife into the back of the man’s neck, releasing his soul for judgment.

  “You all right?” he shouted.

  “One more.” Meera didn’t have knives and she didn’t particularly want any. Violence, even necessary violence, made her ill. But she was profoundly glad when Rhys walked over and finished off the Grigori who’d almost shot her.

  Rhys reached out and took the gun from her hand. “Are there wards around your house?”

  Meera nodded.

  “Then let’s go.” He hooked an arm around her neck and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go before more come. We need to call Roch. This is far worse than we thought.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “He hides on the river where the water bends to—”

  The Grigori had died seconds before he could reveal anything important. Rhys wondered if that was the exact reason two of the soldiers had hung back. Did Bozidar know what Meera could do? It was an unnerving thought.

  Vasu knew.

  Suspicion licked at Rhys’s mind, but he didn’t want to accuse the angel. Not unless he was sure.

  He knew Meera was always going to be a target, but he felt wholly unprepared to guard her on his own, even in her cozy house with all the wards refreshed. He’d called the New Orleans scribes and asked them to patrol the neighborhood for the night, though he’d avoided telling them exactly where Meera’s house was.

  He was becoming nearly as paranoid as Damien and Gabriel. He trusted no one but his brothers. He wished he could spirit Meera away to Istanbul or pack her off back to Udaipur.

  Something very big and very bad was coming, and it wasn’t paranoia if they were really after you.

  “Rhys.” Meera slid a hand along his shoulders. “Calm down. No one is going to get through mine and my father’s wards. I don’t even feel anyone close.”

  What about Vasu?

  “It was too close in the church,” he said quietly.

  She sat across from him at the small kitchen table while a pot of soup simmered on the stove. “Don’t do this.”

  He wiped a hand across his forehead. “Then tell me how I’m supposed to react.”

  “You’re supposed to have confidence that I can defend myself.” Her voice was low and steady. “You’re supposed to remember I’m a very powerful singer with defensive spells I’m well practiced with. That I was born of and trained by two warriors and have good situational awareness.”

  “He almost shot you. I didn’t even sense them.”

  “That’s partly a consequence of the spell I was using, and I should have warned you about that,” Meera said, rising to check the soup. “It’s geared toward Grigori, but it can have a muddling effect on Irin as well. You’ll be more aware next time.”

  “Next time?”

  She turned to him with a grave expression. “You won’t lock me in that fortress. I won’t allow it.”

  Twin instincts battled in his heart. He wanted to protect her desperately. For the first time he truly understood scribes who had wanted to lock their mates up in retreats before the Rending.

  If she was guarded.

  If she was away from danger.

  If if if…

  “I would give you anything,” he began. “But Meera—”

  “Stop before you make a very big mistake.” She turned off the stove and stepped toward him. “I have agreed to take you as my mate, not my keeper. I have no keeper. I have no master.” Her voice vibrated with barely controlled anger. “And I will never take one. Not even one designed by heaven. So stop that train of thought before it even starts, Rhys.”

  “You’ve been a target your entire life. You’re going to be an even bigger target once you become the librarian of Irina martial magic.” He stared at her. “Don’t you have any fear at all?”

  “Of course I do, but if you’re wondering about tonight, no. I wasn’t afraid in the church. I don’t operate like that. I would be afraid if I didn’t know what to do, but I did know what to do.” She turned back to the stove. “Also, Vasu didn’t even show up, so you know I wasn’t in any real danger.”

  The angel suddenly appeared, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs. He looked like a teenager again. “That’s true.”

  “You.” Rhys gritted his teeth. “Is he going to just show up like that everywhere we go now? Like an annoying stray cat? What do you know about this angel, Vasu?”

  Vasu slid off the counter and shifted into a large gold-and-black striped tiger before he padded to Rhys and bared his teeth.

  Meera kicked her foot back, making the tiger grunt and turn. “Stop. Don’t be annoying, Vasu. This house is too small for that form.”

  The angel shifted into a medium-sized cat with grey and ochre markings Rhys thought might have been a clouded leopard. The leopard sat on the table in front of him, flicking an ear and staring.

  Meera shoved him. “Go away. You’re just trying to annoy him now.”

  Vasu bared his teeth. Rhys bared his right back. Petulant? Perhaps. The angel was acting like a child, and Rhys had suspicions.

  “What do you know about Bozidar?” he asked the cat under his breath. “Is this you? Why is he showing up now?”

  The leopard said nothing.

  “What are we going to do about Damien and Sari?” Meera asked.

  “Pick them up in the morning and take them back to the haven,” Rhys said. “At this point I’m relieved they’re coming. They’ve fought more angels than anyone else I’ve known, and Damien wields a black blade.”

  Meera nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

  Rhys could feel her sorrow like it was sitting under his skin. “Meera, I know you hated what happened back at the church. I know you’re not eager for conflict. But think of it this way—if we can kill Bozidar, we free his children.”

  The tension in her forehead relaxed. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  “This angel has thousands of children scattered across this part of the world. Free from his influence, many of them might choose to live peaceful lives. Fighting and killing this angel could free thousands.” And rid the world of one of the
most vicious angels in history.

  “Vasu?” Meera called.

  The angel appeared in his teenage form on the counter again. “Yes?”

  “Do you know this angel, this Bozidar?”

  The young man swung his legs. “A little.”

  Liar. Rhys could see it in his face. The angel was hiding something. What a surprise.

  Meera asked, “And? What do you know? Is he an ally of yours?”

  “No.” Vasu shrugged. “Kill him. I have no loyalty to him or any other Fallen.”

  “He’s not an ally?”

  Vasu laughed. “Bozidar doesn’t have allies. He has minions. He only aligns himself with others until they’re not useful to him anymore. Then he usually kills them.” The angel watched Meera from the corner of his eye. “His death would sorrow no one, not even his human consorts.”

  Rhys narrowed his eyes on Vasu. “For once I agree with him.” But why do you want this angel dead?

  “Fine.” She reached up to a shelf where she grabbed three bowls. “Then we’re all in agreement. We must kill this angel.”

  Rhys saw the look of triumph in Vasu’s eyes, but Meera’s back was turned.

  What are you about, troublemaker?

  Not that he objected to killing Bozidar. Rhys had been telling the truth. Killing the angel would free thousands of Grigori and kareshta. That was purely good.

  But there was nothing pure about the expression on Vasu’s face in that moment.

  “Vasu,” Meera asked, “are you staying for dinner?”

  Rhys glared at the Fallen and shook his head.

  Vasu turned to him and smiled. “I would be delighted, Meera Bai.”

  Damien and Sari were standing on the edge of the sidewalk at the airport in the morning, two tall and lethal sentinels in a river of unsuspecting humans. Damien’s long hair was twisted at the back of his head, and Sari’s blond hair flowed around her shoulders. They were both wearing sunglasses and had a foot on their luggage, watching the cars that drove past.

  Rhys pulled up in Meera’s compact and crawled out of the driver’s seat. “You two look like European rock musicians.”

  Damien frowned. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” He put his hand on the small of Sari’s back. “We tried to pack light, but it is a formal mating celebration, so we brought more than usual.”

  Sari hooked an arm around Rhys’s neck. “Congratulations, brother. I’m so pleased for you. Meera is an incredible woman.”

  He opened the trunk of the car and loaded Sari’s suitcase. “Slight change of plans for your visit. Still doing a mating ceremony with all the formalities and rather epic food, but we’re also hunting and killing an archangel while you’re here.”

  Damien looked up from his phone. Sari visibly perked up.

  “Interesting,” she said. “That’s much better than formal dinners.”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain we’re not getting out of the formal dinners,” Rhys said. “We’ll just be wearing weapons while we eat.”

  “Bozidar?” Damien threw his suitcase in the trunk and climbed in the back seat. “Malachi mentioned growing activity in your reports, but there wasn’t any mention of the angel himself.”

  Rhys got in the driver’s seat while Sari sat across from him. They quickly merged into the exiting traffic from the airport. “Meera and I were followed last night. The Grigori who attacked us said Bozidar was already in the city.”

  “Anything more than that?” Sari asked.

  “I think Vasu has orchestrated all this, but I’m not sure why.”

  “Him again?” Damien muttered. “That angel needs a hobby.”

  “He’s oddly attached to my mate,” Rhys grumbled. “Future mate. And she doesn’t hate him, so I’m making an effort not to throw daggers at him when he shows up.”

  Sari smiled sweetly. “Rhys, I never thought I’d see the day you were mated. I was quite certain you were too cranky for any woman, but I can see Meera has softened you.”

  “Do be quiet, or I’ll sic Meera’s annoying angel on you.”

  “Yes,” Damien said. “I see the glow of love around him. An almost Zen-like peace. It’s extraordinary.”

  “Listen,” Rhys said. “You both just came off a plane, so I know you’re not armed. I’ve been itching to stab something since last night. Please, please give me an excuse.”

  Sari looked over her shoulder. “He’s really got that diplomatic mindset now, doesn’t he? He’s going to do so well in Udaipur.”

  “Almost as well as you do in Rěkaves, my dove.”

  Rhys smiled. “And how is your mother-in-law, Sari?”

  “Probably as well-armed as yours.” She scratched his cheek. “You should keep the beard. I hear they’re all the rage in Udaipur.”

  “Tell us more about Bozidar,” Damien said. “What has prompted this move?”

  “I don’t know anything for certain, but Roch—one of the scribes in the haven—has been getting reports from various scribes scattered around this area. There are quite a few brothers not attached to either the Houston or the New Orleans house, and they’ve been noticing growing activity for a few weeks. Which, according to Meera, was right around the time Vasu found her here in the US.”

  “If this is some conflict between two Fallen, why are we getting involved?” Damien asked.

  “Because we don’t know for certain if that’s the reason,” Rhys said. “Bozidar might simply see an opportunity. A city with no real watcher and a rich hunting ground of tourists. It’s to the New Orleans scribes’ credit that the city has been peaceful so far. They don’t get many attacks.”

  “Or do they and they’re simply not noticed?” Sari asked. “New Orleans has had several natural disasters in the past twenty years, has it not?”

  “That’s a good point. The city has a large tourist and transient population.”

  “So this problem may have been growing for some time, just going unnoticed by human authorities.”

  “Anything is possible, but activity has definitely ratcheted up in the past few weeks, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  “You always were a suspicious one.” Damien tapped him on the shoulder. “Causing problems wherever you go.”

  “If my watchers would give me more peaceable assignments, I might take a vacation.” Rhys glanced in the rearview mirror. “Why did you send me here, Damien? Was it to find the Wolf, or was this an elaborate matchmaking scheme?”

  “Are you complaining about the results of either?” Sari asked. “As far as I can tell, you’ve found a legendary warrior with a trove of Irina martial magic, discovered your reshon, and will probably kill an angel before this is all finished.” She clapped his shoulder in a friendly pat worthy of a heavyweight wrestler. “All in all, one of the most successful missions we’ve ever orchestrated.”

  “That did not answer my question.” Rhys glanced in the rearview mirror, but Damien had his eyes on Sari, watching her with a smile.

  “Take us to meet your woman,” he said. “We’ll plan for battle in the morning, but tonight we should celebrate.”

  Maarut had driven into the city to take Meera out to the haven, so Rhys drove Damien and Sari to the edges of the wards, passing the old house at the bend of the river. The old man was gone, but a dog perched on the edge of the porch. His tongue hung down and his tail wagged as Rhys’s car drove past.

  Patiala greeted them at the edge of the wards with a wave from the back of a small four-wheeled vehicle they used on the farm.

  “Sari.” She dismounted from the four-wheeler and walked over to embrace the taller woman. “Gabriel’s fist, it’s so good to finally meet you in person.”

  “My friend, I am full of joy for you and Maarut.”

  Patiala smiled at Rhys. “It was a good recommendation. I knew they would be suited from what you said, but to be her reshon… It was far more than we could hope for.”

  “Well, that settles that.” Damien nodded. “You and Meera were definit
ely set up.”

  “So you’re feigning ignorance of this?” The corner of Rhys’s mouth turned up. “I can’t be angry. Could you?”

  “Considering how many matings my mother tried to arrange for me, I want to say yes, but she’s your reshon, brother. There is no greater happiness on this earth.”

  Sari climbed back in the car after a quiet exchange with Patiala, then with a softly whispered spell, they drove into the haven, Rhys shrugging off the now-familiar feel of old earth magic that guarded the property.

  They drove under the oak trees, now even more decorated with colorful banners and flowers. Someone had created a spell that made tiny gold petals fall from the trees on either side of the alley.

  “What joyful magic,” Sari said with a smile. “Rhys, this is stunning.”

  “Are you regretting our quiet mating in Norway, my love? It was nothing like this.” Damien chuckled. “Had we gone back to Rěkaves—”

  “There would have been ceremonies for days,” Sari said. “Rhys, one of the sabetes found her mate last fall. She was the eldest instructor and Katalin insisted on a full mating celebration for her.”

  “The castle and village were partying for a week,” Damien said.

  “Over a week,” Sari added. “Nine days for the formal celebration.”

  “It was fun.”

  “It was a lot of work,” Sari said. “And all the children had special dances during the feast.”

  When Sari or Damien talked about the Grigori children they were fostering at Rěkaves, their manner changed completely. They doted. That was the only word for it.

  “Well, I have a feeling that pomp and ceremony will be my good friends going into the future,” Rhys said. “My mother will find all this most amusing.”

  “Are they here yet?”

  “They arrive tonight.”

  He pulled the car up to a field that had been designated for vehicles and got out, searching for the woman at the center of the maelstrom. He saw Meera on the back porch of the house, talking with her father.

  Heaven above, he adored her.