Renata watched the family that night at dinner. Max had made a stew he’d learned from his uncle, a typical warrior’s meal with boiled meat and potatoes and root vegetables. It was perfect for dinner, and the little family wolfed it down. Renata had peeked at their stores. They’d been existing on canned meats and beans and flour they’d probably scavenged from the house. Though all of them were thinner than they ought to have been, Zana was nearly gaunt. It was obvious he’d been going without food so Thawra and Evin could eat.
“What did you do?” Renata asked quietly as they were finishing their food. It was the first time she’d spoken to Zana since she’d called him a monster and tried to kill him. “Before the war. Back in Damascus. What was your profession?”
He smiled a little. “I was a carpenter. I worked for myself, which let me avoid most people.”
Grigori, like Irin scribes, could not sustain contact with humans without draining them of their life force. But while Irin scribes had magic to help their control, Grigori were given no such knowledge by their angelic fathers.
“Did you do some work on the porch?” Max asked casually. “Over on the east side? I noticed some of the wood was different.”
“I did,” Zana said. “I found some lumber in the barn last summer and decided to replace a few of the railings.” He glanced at Renata warily. “I didn’t think anyone would mind. They were loose. I didn’t want anyone to fall. And we’d taken some food from storage in the house.”
“It’s fine,” Renata said absently. “Thank you for fixing it.”
“You’re most welcome.” Zana reached over and used his napkin to wipe Evin’s cheek. “Drink all your milk, bug.”
“It tastes funny,” Evin whispered.
“It’s different because it’s fresh,” Zana said. “But fresh is better. It will make you strong.”
Max reached for Renata’s hand under the table.
Thawra tapped the table and signed, Zana is very gifted. He was more than a carpenter. He was an artist. He sold a table for one hundred forty thousand pounds once.
“What was that?” Max asked. Renata translated for him.
Zana laughed ruefully. “It’s a good thing I changed our money to gold. That much in Syrian pounds wouldn’t even buy the lumber for that table anymore.”
Max asked, “Where you able to bring some money out?”
Zana nodded. “I have some savings. I always kept gold. I’ve lived too long not to know how quickly things can change. But we have no papers, and I’m sure any gold I exchange would not be the correct value on the… informal market. So I’ve tried to save as much as possible.”
Max glanced at Renata. “I think we can help fix the papers situation.”
She nodded. “Max is very good at that. Scribes need new papers regularly for brothers who have outlived their current documents.”
Thawra and Zana’s eyes went wide. “What?” he asked. “You can get us papers?”
“I’ll give you Austrian citizenship,” Max said. “They’re an EU country, so you’ll have options. I have plenty of connections in Vienna that can help. And health insurance cards, of course.”
Thawra slapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t stop the choking gasp that came from her throat. Tears of relief fell from her eyes and she started to shake.
Evin cried, “Mama, what’s wrong?”
Zana threw his arms around his mate. “Thawra, shhh.” He looked at Max with fierce eyes. “I can pay you.”
“You don’t need to pay him,” Renata said. “Your family needs help. We can’t solve the problems of the whole world, but we can do this. With papers, you’ll be able to find work. Carpentry is a skilled trade. You can get Evin in school. Thawra can have proper health care for her and the baby.”
Max squeezed her hand. “Save your money, Zana. This is simply the decent thing to do.”
Renata noticed Evin close her eyes and press her fingers to her temples. Her little face was scrunched up.
Poor thing.
Not only hearing voices, but also the emotions of those around her. No child should have to sort through the complex emotional maze in the kitchen. Renata rose and held out her hand.
“Evin, come with me for a moment, will you?”
Zana asked, “Where—?”
“Don’t worry. I am going to teach her a simple shielding spell I learned at her age. One little song. It will help with the voices. It might also help shield her from emotional waves. I don’t know for sure as I’m not an empath, but we can try.”
Evin’s small forehead was furrowed. “What’s an empath? I don’t know that word.”
Thawra signed, Are you sure?
“About the voices? Yes. It’s very simple. I’ll work on more complex spells for you and the baby later. But for now, I can teach her a children’s song that will help with the voices. The emotional shielding, I’m not sure about, but I’ll look.”
It was past time she refreshed herself and delved into the well of memory she’d spent half her life developing. She knew there were spells she’d learned for Chamuel’s daughters. That was part of an archivist’s job. She just had to find the trigger to remember them.
Renata led Evin back to the library and sat next to her on the couch.
“Okay, I’m going to teach you a little song, and I want you to sing it just like I do. It has to be exact. Do you think you can do that?”
Evin nodded. “I’m very clever.”
Renata smiled. “I know you are.”
Even reached out and took her hand. “You’re loud.”
Renata blinked. “What?”
“You’re very loud. You have…” Evin squeezed Renata’s hand and sucked in a breath. In a heartbeat, her little face crumpled. “They hurt your heart too,” she said as tears ran down her face. “Like Mama. They hurt your heart too.”
Evin’s small hand clutched hers, and Renata was torn between pulling back and comforting the child, who had started to sob. A moment of hesitation and Renata pulled Evin into her arms, wrapping herself around the little girl who cried as if her heart was breaking.
“Pull back, Evin. Do you know how to pull back?”
Evin pressed her cheek to Renata’s and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Renata gasped as the pain struck her chest. Without thought or will, the past rose up and stabbed her, sucking her into a howling storm of memory as the child clutched her neck.
There was laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine.
Lights and singing.
Then the screaming came.
Her mother’s gut-wrenching sobs.
“The children! Renata, where are the children?”
Wails and the sickening scent of sandalwood and blood. Her father’s groan of anguish.
“It can’t be. It can’t be. No, it cannot be.”
“We were gone.” Balien’s hollow voice. “I left them. I left them alone.”
Her father’s soul.
Silent.
Her mother’s soul.
Silent.
The last roar of her lover’s voice.
“Renata, you must run!”
Then silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Let me die. I do not want to live. Let me die with them. Let me die and go to them. Give me peace.
A sickening whisper in her mind. “There is no peace now.”
Renata felt the scream rip from her chest as raw sorrow sprang from her mind and into the dusty air of the library. In the distance, she heard running steps and could only think of Grigori running up the stairs. She fell to the ground and felt the little girl crouch beside her.
“I’m sorry,” the little girl whispered again. “I’m sorry.”
~ 10 ~
Max burst into the library and came to a halt, not understanding what he was seeing before him. He’d heard the child crying. Heard Renata’s screams.
His lover was writhing on the ground, curled into the fet
al position as the little girl knelt beside her. Evin had her hands on Renata’s cheeks, and tears poured down her face, which was set in grim determination. The child looked up as soon as Max and Zana ran in.
“Evin, what are you doing?” Zana yelled at his daughter.
Max knelt and lifted Renata in his arms, but Evin kept her hands on Renata’s cheeks.
“The sick”—she sniffed through her tears—“it had to come out. Her heart was hurt.”
Empath. Max could see the little girl’s skin growing pale even as her golden eyes glowed brighter and brighter.
He said, “Evin, her hurt is too much. You need to stop.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can make it better. Someone has to make it better.”
Max heard someone else come in the library, but he couldn’t turn from Evin’s eyes.
“Let her go.” It was a woman’s voice, rasping and unused. “Evin, let go.”
The little girl shook her head. Max held Renata in one arm and gently took Evin’s small hand from Renata’s skin.
“Let go, little one,” he said. “She’s lighter now. Can’t you feel it?” Maxim did. The spiked energy that always emanated from Renata had softened under the little empath’s hand.
Thawra came and knelt by Evin, pulling the child into her embrace and pressing Evin’s face to her neck. “Shhhhh.” The mother made some sign at Zana, and the Grigori took off down the hall.
Renata was unconscious, her body limp and heavy. He could feel the glow of her magic resting within her, and for the first time in a long time it felt… tired. Not extinguished, but dimmer. He lifted her and sat on the sofa, pressing kisses to her forehead and writing spells on her forehead.
Peace. Hope. Love.
He wrote those simple spells in the Old Language over and over across her forehead.
Peace. Hope. Love.
Max couldn’t think of anything more elaborate than that.
Peace. Hope. Love.
Finally, she let out a ragged breath and curled into him.
“Rest, my love.” He held Renata and looked to Thawra and Evin. The little girl was limp and drawn, far paler than she should be. “What does she need?”
“These,” Zana said from the hallway. He was carrying…
“Is that a box of crayons?”
He set them on the ground beside Thawra and took Evin from her arms. Shoving aside the woven rug on the library floor, he took a crayon from the box, shoved it into Evin’s hand and laid her gently on the ground.
“Draw it out, ladybug.”
“No paper,” Evin whispered.
“Draw on the ground.” Zana smoothed back her hair. “Don’t worry. It’s a strong mountain. It can take the memories.”
Thawra lay beside her daughter and held her from behind as Evin’s small hand began to move.
Was this how Evin exorcized the emotions she took from others? Max watched in wonder as the black crayon began to move across the plaster-covered floor. He couldn’t take his eyes away as angry black lines raked back and forth. Slashes and swirls of black, the crayon pressed so hard it broke in Evin’s hand. Zana didn’t flinch, he simply handed her another crayon, this one in charcoal grey.
Color touched her cheeks as the picture began to form.
Evin propped herself up on one arm. Then two. She reached for another crayon.
Deep blue joined the swirls of grey and black.
Amethyst purple to deepen the night sky.
Thawra and Zana backed away as Evin regained strength. The little girl crawled across the floor, entirely focused on the picture forming beneath her. Zana held his arms out and Thawra went to him. They sat on the ground, their back against the sofa, watching their daughter create a dark masterpiece on the ground.
Deep umber slopes beneath a jewel-toned sky. Black swirled with grey swirled with white. Evin glanced over her shoulder at Max and reached for the dark green, leaning close and concentrating on the drawing that took shape on the ground. The little girl leaned back and nodded. Then she bent down again and scraped at something with her fingernail. Reached for the gold. The silver crayon. The grey again. She added details with all the furrowed concentration of a master.
By the time she finished, her face had lost the drawn appearance and only appeared tired.
Zana went to his daughter. “Enough?”
Evin nodded silently.
“Take her in the living room,” Max said softly. “I’ll bring Renata up to her bedroom in a minute, but I want everyone in the house. It’s too cold in here.”
Zana nodded and lifted Evin in his arms. The little girl wrapped her arms around her father and laid her head on his shoulder. Her bright gold eyes locked with Max’s.
“She’ll be better now.”
“Thank you, Evin.”
He had a feeling Renata would be having a conversation with Zana and Thawra as soon as she woke. A young empath could easily hurt herself by taking on too great a sorrow, and Renata’s sorrow was incredibly deep.
Max stood and finally saw the drawing that Evin had created on the floor of the library.
She’d drawn a mountain that rose high among a rolling range of snow-covered peaks. The deep blue and purple sky was clear and studded with bright gold stars where the little girl’s fingernail had scraped away the darkest colors. The storm Evin drew swirled around the slopes of the mountain, as violent as the howling wind outside. Black and grey joined by silver-toned ice that beat and battered the angled heights.
But though the storm swept the slopes, the bottom of the mountain sat wide and sure in a valley bathed in moonlight. Deep green trees covered the mountain, partly shielding it from bitter wind.
The mountain rose in the night sky, steady and unmoved despite the violent storm that battered it.
Oh, my love. Max kissed Renata’s forehead. Your strength humbles me.
He walked around Evin’s drawing and back into the house. Zana and Thawra were arranging blankets and pillows under the tree for Evin, who smiled into the rafters, pointing at the brightly colored stars decorating the ceiling. Thawra and Zana hovered over her, making their own bed near the fire. Max could hear the wind battering the old house, but nothing creaked or moaned. It was as steady as the mountain it rested on, rooted in the love and magic that had built it.
Max walked up the stairs and into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
He woke to the feel of soft lips pressing kisses to his chest. Max opened his eyes and saw Renata, bright-eyed with a mischievous smile curving her lips.
“Shhhhh.” She nodded toward the door. “We still have company.”
There were no shadows in her eyes. No worry marring her forehead. She slid up Max’s body, wearing nothing but her skin, and took his mouth, luxuriating in his sleepy kiss as she shoved his pants down his hips.
“Naked,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you naked.”
“Yes.” He bit her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. “I’m getting that.”
He rolled to the side and kicked off his pants, running a hand down her back and over her bottom before he hitched her muscled thigh over his own to open her. He was already hard and aching, but all he had to do was catch her scent for that to happen. What heated his blood that morning was the lightness in her eyes.
Renata smiled against his lips and hummed happily as Max slid into her. She curled her leg around his hips and rocked in an easy, sleepy rhythm as they made love in the cozy warmth of their room.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Happy Midwinter.” Her eyes sparkled. “I thought this was a good start to the day.”
“This is the best start to any day.” He voice was rough. “I want to wake up with you every day.”
She bit his chin. “How about most days?”
A grumble.
“And,” she said, “on the nights we aren’t together, I will dream-walk by your side. We’ll meet each other in our sleep and love each other there, even when we
’re miles apart, my love.”
His heart was so full he couldn’t bear it. Dream walking was a special magic reserved for mates. Only mated scribes and singers had the ability to meet each other in dreams, their souls touching even if their bodies were apart. He rolled Renata to her back and sank into her, their easy pace forgotten. He needed her. Needed her laughter and her heat and the brightness in her eyes. Needed the peace of her presence and the comfort of her hand.
“You are my mate,” he said, taking her mouth in a hard kiss. “You are my mate, Renata of Fatima.”
Her lips were flushed with pleasure, swollen from his kisses. Her breath came in quiet pants as he drove her body to climax.
“You are my mate, Maxim of Riga,” she breathed out. “I will have no other.”
“I will have no other.” He heard the quiet catch of her breath. “I want no other but you. Forever.”
Her body tightened around him, and her back arched in pleasure when she came. Max drove into her, biting the pillow beside her instead of shouting his pleasure when he climaxed. He let out a long breath and fell to the side, gathering Renata to his arms, locking their bodies together.
“I want to stay in bed all day,” he said.
“We have guests.”
Somewhere below them, the smell of baking bread and the sound of bright voices drifted up the stairs.
“Hang our guests,” Max said. “They know where the food is.”
Renata ran her fingers through his short hair. “Is Evin well?”
He nodded. “What did she do?”
“It felt like someone lancing an infection,” Renata said. “It all poured out. And it hurt. So, so badly.”
He hugged her closer.
“But then it was gone. And… I don’t know. Things feel clearer. The pool is still filled with water, but she cleaned out the leaves and muck that had fallen in. I can see the bottom now.”
Max kissed her forehead. “I’m glad.”
“You know we can’t really hide in bed all day, right?”
He lifted his head. “There’s a washbasin in the corner. We’ve made do with worse amenities over the years.”
She laughed, truly laughed, and he fell in love with her all over again.