Ava turned to look around. All the humans that had been in the vicinity—groundskeepers, carriage drivers, a few tourists—were gone. She was alone with the fallen angel in the long black overcoat who called Jaron his brother.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why were you pretending to be a cat?”
“Why not? Cats are very unobtrusive. I often pretend to be a cat.”
“That’s…”
“Ingenious?”
“Weird.”
A smile lifted the corner of his lips. “You are amusing. I can see why Jaron and Azril are interested in you.”
“Does Jaron know you’re here? How did you find me?”
“I followed your taxi after I left the scribe. He is very angry with you.”
“I bet.” Ava took a deep breath, reassured that the angel didn’t seem to be trying to kill her. “You must run really fast as a cat.”
“No, I took the shape of a bird when you entered the automobile.”
“Of course you did.”
Ava started walking toward the church. Vasu fell in step beside her.
“You’re not really going to leave Vienna, are you?” He sounded as irritated as Malachi had. “It will ruin everything. And I don’t like being here.”
“Vienna?”
“It’s very cold.”
“What am I ruining? Jaron’s plans to use me as bait to draw Volund here and use the Irin to help kill his enemy?”
“I believe Jaron has every intention of killing Volund himself. The Irin are only useful to take care of the Grigori and lesser angels. You would be no match for Volund.”
“There aren’t any Grigori in Vienna.”
Vasu’s mouth ticked up at the corner, and he looked past her. “Are you sure?”
She smelled it when the wind kicked up. A hint of sandalwood on the air.
“What have you done?” she hissed. “Did you lead them to me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Grimold’s sons have been trailing you for days.” Vasu opened his jacket and Ava saw a row of silver daggers. “Come, Singer. Choose your weapon. Or have you learned to fight with magic alone?”
She ripped two daggers from his coat and turned to scan her surroundings. The cemetery was still utterly empty except for the two men who stood at the end of the row, black against the limestone path. Ava turned and saw two more.
“They’re tracking me?” she asked.
“There are two more by the gate where you entered. How fast can you run?”
“Not fast enough.” She began whispering a spell of protection around her mind. She was mostly immune to Grigori seduction, but she didn’t want to take any chances. “If they’re just tracking me—”
“No.” Vasu cocked his head. “They want you. For what, I don’t know.”
Ava started running. There would be few taxis this far out of the city center. But the tram line ran near the main road. If she could get out of the gate…
“What are you doing?” Vasu ran beside her. Or did he? The Fallen didn’t even look like he was moving, but… he was.
“Trying to escape. I’m not stupid; it’s six against one. Are you going to help me or what?”
“I can’t really do anything to them unless they attack me. And they won’t attack me. It wouldn’t be courteous.”
“Must be nice!” She could hear their steps coming closer. “Listen,” she panted. “Really nice to meet you, but I’m kind of fighting for my life here, so if you’re not going to help—”
“If you promise to stay in Vienna, I will help.”
“What?” she rasped out a breath. “You too?”
She cursed the immortal lives of stubborn men everywhere.
“I want this to be over. I want to go back to Chittorgarh.”
“I don’t know where that is, but… fine. I’ll stay here.”
“You vow this?”
“Yes!”
“Excellent.”
Then Vasu grinned—actually grinned—and it was brilliant, beautiful, and utterly cruel. Her body came to a halt and Vasu came behind her.
“Turn.”
Ava spun and the two Grigori soldiers were right on top of her. The spell came to her mind immediately.
“Shanda vash,” Ava whispered, and she felt and heard the whisper of Vasu’s voice overlaying hers.
The Grigori soldiers didn’t just stop, they flew back as if thrown by an invisible hand.
“Man.”
“Good,” he whispered in her ear. “Now sing with me.”
He whispered again, and she moved, racing toward the Grigori, both blades in her hands. She could feel Vasu like a shadow at her back.
Magic hummed in her veins as she whispered the next spell. “Ba dahaa.”
Both men screamed, clutching their temples in agony as she leapt on them.
“Now,” Vasu whispered, and she kicked one in the side, her body reacting as if she were a trained soldier. The thought was in the back of her mind that she wasn’t entirely in control of her body, but when she heard the shouts of the other Grigori and the approaching footsteps, she ignored it.
“Now, Ava!”
She twisted the head of one Grigori to the side, plunging the silver dagger into his neck. He began to dissolve beneath her, even as his friend tried to roll away.
Vasu pushed her toward him, whispering another spell in her ear.
“Zi yada,” she hissed and the soldier froze.
These weren’t Irina spells. Had nothing to do with what she’d been taught, but Vasu whispered them in her ear, the formless mass of him at her back, and she repeated his words, the dark power in her rising to the surface.
Not Irina magic. Fallen magic.
It came as easy as breathing.
“Kareshta,” Vasu murmured as she plunged the dagger into the neck of the second Grigori. “Beautiful.”
He rose as she did, turning and stripping off her coat so she could move. Her black shirt clung to her body like a second skin, and Ava ran toward the men who would pursue her, gold eyes flashing in rage, with Vasu pressing against her back.
They killed my son in front of my eyes… the last thing he saw was animals raping his mother.
Constance’s pain was all she could hear as she threw her remaining knife, catching a Grigori in the eye.
“Zi yada!”
The Grigori collapsed to the ground and froze.
Another knife was in her hand, pressed there by Vasu’s hand.
“Again.”
Another dagger flung. Another bleeding Grigori on the ground.
He writhed as Ava ran to him, Vasu her shadow and the dust of the first two Grigori coating her lips.
The rage took her, spurred by the angel’s voice in her ear.
“Kill him.”
Ava didn’t kill him cleanly. She stabbed the soldier in the gut twice, slicing up to his throat, slashing it as his blood spurted over her and tears ran down her face. Vasu’s voice still whispered in her ear.
“They killed your sisters. Take your revenge. You deserve it and more.”
She felt her gorge rise as she flipped the man over and stabbed him in the back of the neck.
“No more,” Ava groaned.
“Finish it.”
She plunged the blade into the neck of the fourth Grigori and waited, her hand frozen as the gold dust began to rise around her.
Vasu was in front of her, crouching down with fire in his eyes.
“The other two fled.”
“Okay,” she sobbed.
“That was beautiful, Ava.”
Then Vasu leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips.
The magic left in the space of a heartbeat, and Ava crawled to the bushes near an overgrown grave and threw up everything in her stomach. Vasu watched her with a curious expression.
“What do you feel? Guilt?”
“I don’t know what I feel. I want to go home.”
“Hmm.” He stretched out next to her on the gravel path, ignoring the
grit that must have embedded in his palms. He didn’t move like Jaron did. This creature was at home in his body. “Where is home to you, I wonder? Not America.”
Malachi.
Malachi was home. Wherever he was. However angry he was with her or she with him, Malachi was home, and she needed him.
“Fine,” Vasu murmured. “I’ll take you to the scribe.”
A tug in her belly, and then they were in the entryway of Ava and Malachi’s apartment. She’d lost her coat. Her hair was tangled around her face, and she was covered in blood.
“Ava!” Malachi ran toward her, eyes on the angel who held her.
Vasu winked out of sight, and Ava collapsed.
“What happened?”
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, but Ava put her hand on the doorjamb.
“Shower. I have to get it off.”
“Is this your blood?” His voice was panicked.
“Their blood. Their dust.”
She licked her lips and tried to spit out the grit that had collected there.
“Who was that?”
“Vasu. Jaron’s brother.”
“Did the Fallen do this to you?”
“Grigori,” she whispered as he opened the shower door and started stripping the bloody clothes off her. “They’re here.”
SHE curled into his chest, trying to crawl into as much of his heat as possible. Malachi had already called Damien and told him about the attack at the cemetery and Vasu’s appearance. Rhys was digging into anything he could find on the archangel from the Indian subcontinent who was supposed to be dead.
“He wasn’t dead,” she whispered into his chest. “He… helped me. It was like he was in my body.”
“In your body?”
“No, that’s not right. More like he was… behind me maybe. Pushing me. I felt him with me the whole time. I moved so fast, Malachi. I’ve never moved that fast on my own. And he whispered spells to me. Magic I’ve never heard before, but it worked. Using those spells was as easy as breathing.”
Malachi was silent for a minute, but his arms never left her. He’d wrapped himself around her and was holding her as if she might fall apart.
When Ava closed her eyes and remembered the blood spurting from the Grigori’s throat, she felt like she might.
“But this Vasu didn’t hurt you?”
“No, he helped. And the minute I thought about you, he brought me back here.”
“So he could have taken you from there at any time?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“If he wanted to help you, why didn’t he just take you away immediately? Bear in mind, I’ve never heard of a Fallen who can transport others, only themselves, so this might be unique to him. I don’t know his power.”
“I don’t think he wanted to take me away. I think he was curious.”
“Curious?”
“He made me promise to stay in Vienna, because he didn’t like the cold. I have a feeling whoever Vasu is, Jaron is still the one in charge.”
“He made you promise to stay in Vienna because he doesn’t like the cold?”
“Yep. Whatever Jaron’s plan is, this Vasu guy wants to get it over with.”
“This sounds like a very odd angel.”
She nodded. “He was the cat.”
Malachi pulled away. “What?”
“The black cat who wandered in here? That was him.”
Malachi cursed long and low.
“Hey, at least he got me to promise to stay in Vienna, right? You should be happy.”
He squeezed her more tightly. “I don’t care where we are. I only want you safe.”
Ava’s love for him was an ache in her heart. She kissed his chest, over his heart. Up his neck. Trailing her lips across his jaw.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
“Ava—”
“Please. I need you.”
He met her mouth, his arms everything warm and real and safe. She was back at the cemetery, looking at the statue of the lovers, but it was Malachi who held her. Malachi who needed her. Malachi who was everything…
Everything.
She pushed him to his back, and his fingers dug into the small of her back as she crawled over him. When she sat up, he followed her, rocking up to take her mouth as Ava straddled his lap. She could feel him, hard and real beneath her, not a lover made of stone, but a man burning for her.
“Malachi.”
“Want you,” he breathed out, burying his hands in the waves of her hair, still damp from the shower. Her skin felt clean, but she hadn’t felt whole again until he touched her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as she felt the magic rise. Her mating marks began to glow in the dark room. His talesm shone with a silver light.
“Reshon,” she whispered. “My reshon.”
“Ava.”
She threw her head back and felt the magic take over. The song hung in her throat, ready to be released.
Malachi put both hands on her cheeks, turning her face to meet his kiss. He drew back with a groan, the dark fire burning in his eyes.
“I’m ready,” she whispered. “So ready. Please, let me sing to you. It’s time.”
Her mate wrapped his arms around her waist and nodded.
“Sing.”
Chapter Nineteen
VOLUND LIFTED HIS HEAD and raged against the heavens, shattering the frozen valley where he rested. A chasm split the earth, raining water, ice, and mud into the rift that formed beneath his feet.
“NO!”
The blood boundaries were falling. He could feel the power of his old rival’s blood twine within the blessings of the Forgiven.
Jaron was winning.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the black sun rise as light and dark magic melded together. And as the moon’s shadow covered the sun, the light from the stars hidden for a thousand years blinked to life.
“Do not fear the darkness.”
His scream reached the heavens.
MALACHI lay in thrall to his mate. Rising above him, Ava was a vision in the dim room. Her hair damp against her shoulders, her skin dewy from the warmth of the shower and their shared heat. He braced himself, not knowing what to expect. Though he knew some of the traditions—the songs and litanies she had learned—the mating ritual happened only once in a scribe’s lifetime. In this moment, he was as innocent as Ava.
He felt rather than heard when she started to sing.
“My beloved comes to me as the ground beneath my feet
Steadfast and faithful
The heavens direct our path…”
The words of the Old Language rose from her throat, her lips carefully forming the angelic tongue. Halting at first, then clearer as the magic took control of them both. Ancient instinct took over. He pushed the shirt she was wearing up and over her head, desperate to see his own vow written on her skin.
I am for Ava.
He released a breath when he saw it. Part of him was still transfixed every time it appeared over her heart. His finger traced the words he’d written. A memory locked in the black vault of his mind.
For her, my hand and voice.
For her, my body and mind.
Her strength in weakness.
Her sword in battle.
Her balm in pain.
I am hers.
Hers to cherish.
Hers to hold.
Hers to command.
The world around him ceased to exist. There was no city. No war. No angels or brothers or elders. Nothing could distract him from the purity of her voice. Her mating marks gleamed in the darkness as she continued to sing.
“My beloved holds me as the sky holds the moon
Vast and eternal
Our union is without end…”
Ava pushed his shirt up and over his head so they were both bare before the other. Her voice rose and fell as she sang the words legend said were given by the Forgiven to their children. The vow
s that bound them, not only in this life, but the next.
“My beloved warms me as the sun warms the earth
Sweet and rich
Our love mirrors the heavens…”
He felt the magic swell. The small electric lamp by the bedside flickered out and the only illumination was from the small window and the spells that lit their bodies. Tugged from his chest, the power spread over his skin, lighting his talesm prim, both old marks and new, before it traveled up and over, like a thread of quicksilver under his skin.
Malachi burned for her.
“My beloved is my own
First before others.
Before the bond of kin
Before mother or father
Brother or sister
Before the angelic host…”
He could feel her voice swell, reach a crescendo.
“This day I make my vow
I pledge my soul’s magic to my beloved
In time of joy
In time of grief
In darkness and light
In life and death
This day I promise…”
And Malachi waited to hear the words she would give him, the words he would carve into his own skin in the ritual room, marking his body and heart as hers for all time. The words he would wear for the world to see that his mate had claimed him as her own.
“I promise,” Ava whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “to love you and protect you in every way I can. I will not let fear rule me. I will trust you with my heart and my song.” He heard her choke back tears, and he pressed her cheek to his as she continued. “Because I called you in the darkest night of my soul. You heard me and you returned.” She brushed a kiss across his temple. “You are my home.”
She sat back and framed his face with her hands, looking into his eyes as she whispered, “Da livkara bavatara ma.”
This scribe belongs to me.
The force of the mating spell drew a groan from his throat as it hit him, powerful and sweet. Ava’s magic was blinding light edged in darkness. He closed his eyes as his back arched and the fire burned beneath his skin.
“Ava!”
“Stay still.” She braced her hands on his shoulders as he leaned back and let the power of it wash over him. “Don’t move. I can see them.”
“I can feel them.”