“The kareshta?”
“Part of breaking down walls is finding these women you’ve seen in Jaron’s vision. We find them, we kill the Fallen who fathered them, and they will be free.”
An odd expression crossed her face.
“What?” he asked.
“I think I’d better cancel that beach shoot in Spain. I don’t think taking pictures of girls in bikinis is quite as important as saving the world.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“And we need to complete the mating ritual. I’ll talk to Orsala about that too.”
Malachi stopped laughing. “No.”
SHE was angry with him, but he could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was Ava with even a fraction less power. Eventually, yes. When the current battle was past. When they’d gone back to Istanbul and were able to rest. Then she could complete her half of the ritual.
“I cannot believe you’re being so stubborn about this.” She railed at him as they entered Damien and Sari’s home. “Why do you even get a vote? This is my magic.”
“Well, since I’m the one who has to tattoo the mark for it to be permanent,” he said flippantly, “then I suppose you have no choice.”
“I can always start singing when you’re asleep. I’d be halfway through by the time you woke up, and you know you’d go along with it.”
He stopped so abruptly she ran into his back. Malachi spun and gripped her shoulders.
“Don’t try to manipulate me. If you did that—if you denied me even a moment of hearing your mating song—I don’t know if I could forgive you, Ava.”
She flushed. “Malachi—”
“Don’t make threats about something that important. I would never do that to you.”
He could see angry tears in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them back. “But you’d deny me taking that step? Deny my own promise to you?”
“You know why.”
“Because it’s not safe? News flash: We’re in a millennia-long war that shows no signs of dying down. There will never be a time when it’s totally safe.”
“She’s right, you know,” Rhys said from the doorway of the library.
Malachi said, “Shut up, Rhys.”
“You’re the ones making a racket in the hallway when I’m just trying to work.” He shot a charming smile at Malachi’s mate. “Hello, Ava, you smell amazing. The ritual baths suit you.”
She smiled back. “Thank you.”
He put a hand over his heart. “I would never deny your mark. Malachi is an idiot.”
Malachi leaned against the wall. “I have now detailed fifty-seven specific and effective ways of killing you, Rhys. Would you like me to start listing them?”
“No need. I’m fairly sure your mate is thinking up a comparable list for you right now.”
Orsala shouted from inside the library. “You’re like children! Bicker bicker bicker.”
Ava said, “I keep telling them—”
“You’re as bad as the rest of them, Ava.”
Malachi, Rhys, and Ava wandered into the library where Orsala was reading a scroll.
“Don’t threaten your mate,” she chided without looking up. “You would be furious if he did that to you. Rhys, stop antagonizing your brother. Malachi, stop being a stubborn know-it-all. I may have liked you better when you didn’t remember anything.”
Rhys knocked Malachi’s skull with a fist. “There’s still plenty of patchy spaces up here, Orsala.”
Malachi punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
Ava wandered over to the old singer. “I’m sorry. He’s driving me a little crazy this morning.”
“That’s their job, dear. Sari’s grandfather was a menace.” She looked up with a smile. “And yet we love them. What are you doing this morning?”
Malachi sat next to Ava and threw an arm around her shoulders. “We were hoping to speak with you privately, as a matter of fact.”
Orsala’s keen eyes grew even sharper. “Does this have something to do with your grandmother?”
Ava nodded.
“I knew it.” Orsala said, “Rhys, that trip you were going to make to the archives. Do it now.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Muttering about bossy women, the other scribe left the room and shut the door.
“Before we start with anything else,” Orsala said, “Ava and Rhys are both correct, Malachi. You need to complete the ritual. Now is as safe a time as any. There is little Grigori activity in the city, and Ava has become known to the Irin hierarchy. Rumors about her history are starting to circulate. She is quite obviously mated, but for the two of you to reach your full potential together, you need to be marked. It might also hasten the return of your power, which we need.”
He looked down at his chest. “She sings to me. It’s helping.”
“It’s not enough.” The old singer leaned forward. “Stop being so stubborn! Let her protect you too. That is what the mating bond was intended it to be.”
“I lost everything when I returned to earth. Ava was all I had. She says I help her remain sane against the voices? Her voice is the only reason I didn’t lose my mind when I lost my memories.” He felt Ava’s hand curl into his, and he squeezed it tight. “Do you truly not understand why I don’t want to take a chance?”
“You are holding her back if you don’t. And holding yourself back as well.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth again. “Just think about it. Don’t hold your mate back because you allow your fear to rule you. Now is not the time for defense, but offense.”
Orsala’s words were a mirror of his own. Only she was challenging Malachi personally, not the Irin race as a whole.
And Malachi had no defense.
Damn.
“YOU already know that my grandmother is Jaron’s child.” Ava started the story after Orsala had called for coffee. “But… she is also Volund’s mate.”
Orsala sat back and her mouth fell open. “Heaven above.”
Malachi kept his arm around Ava’s shoulders.
“It was not by choice,” she said. “Volund took her from Jaron’s protection. He raped her.”
“And he marked her?” Orsala said.
Ava nodded. “He wanted to know if it was possible.”
“It is.” Orsala blinked. “But there would have been no need for it to be violent. Volund is an archangel. He could have seduced—”
“He didn’t,” Malachi said. “I didn’t see the vision she sent Ava until afterward when she shared it with me, but it was not a seduction. Volund wanted to terrorize her, and he did.”
“I suppose…” Orsala’s face was bleak. “I’ll admit I suspected something of that nature, though I never imagined rape.”
“What do you mean?” Ava asked.
“Your blood.” She shook her head. “It never made sense for you to have so much magic with so little of your blood angelic. The Grigori sire children with human women, and they are not magical. Geniuses, yes. Great artists who are often unstable. Not like you. But you’re not a normal Grigori—or Grigora in this case—child. You don’t have one angel in your line, but two. Your great-grandfather and your grandfather. And both are archangels. It changes things.”
“How?” Malachi asked.
Orsala looked at Malachi. “Do you remember when I had Rhys get the copy of Gabriel’s Old Tales for me?”
“Back in Istanbul. Yes.”
“The fairy tales?” Ava asked.
“They’re not fairy tales in the human sense,” Orsala said. “These are more like… legends. Folk tales, I suppose.”