“Yes, but it also leaves a lot to be desired, considering there is no check on the council’s power,” Leo said. “Corruption is inevitable.”
“It’s inevitable in any government, Leo.” Malachi took the turnoff from the highway. They were only half an hour outside the city that governed the Irin people. He knew that he must have been there before, but he didn’t remember it. It all looked foreign. He felt as if he were stepping into an alien world, and he had no idea who was a friend and who was an enemy. Instinct told him that nothing in Vienna could be taken at face value, including the intentions of the scribe they were meeting.
He knew little about Gabriel except that he was Damien’s brother-in-law, and it was possible that Damien’s actions had led to the death of Gabriel’s mate. Hardly surprising the two didn’t get along. Gabriel also worked for Konrad. And Konrad sounded like someone Malachi might agree with.
But then, politicians were liars. That, he knew, was true of every race.
Compulsion.
The very word made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Tell us more about the Irina in Vienna,” Malachi said.
Max and Leo had been chatting in Russian, but they switched back to English. “The Irina who have been out publicly are those whose mates are very pro-compulsion. They’ve been talking about ‘tradition,’ but there’s little traditional about their conversation. They’re talking about other Irina as if they were the enemy. Talking about ‘the good of our children’ and ‘meeting the needs of our scribes.’ Acting like all they want is to be protected. The few Irina I’ve met would spit in their faces.”
“So the Irina are back, according to them, and eager to go into retreats again? I find that hard to believe.”
“Those speaking publicly claim to speak for their sisters, but we have no idea where they’ve even been hiding for the last two hundred years.”
Max said, “There are rumors that some of the old council hid their wives and wouldn’t let them leave their homes. Claimed it was for their own protection. This happened for years. Then a few started coming back to the city. Now, there is a small Irina presence, but it’s still very quiet. Out of the public eye. Nothing like what it used to be, according to the older scribes. But it’s Vienna, so they’re safe.”
“And now we have the complication of Ava, as well,” Leo said.
Malachi glared. “Ava’s not a complication.”
“She is in the sense that we still don’t know where she comes from.” Leo’s voice was logical, but his words scraped Malachi’s nerves. “And the council will want to know. Have you heard from Rhys?”
Rhys had rented a car and driven ahead to Vienna days before. He’d told Malachi and Leo he needed to check in with a few “associates.” Plus, he was the one arranging a meeting with Gabriel since the two scribes had always been friendly.
“No.”
“I need to go,” Max said. “I’m meeting with a few people here. I think Ava and Damien came through the city on their way to Sari. I’m going to try to get more information in case Gabriel can’t or won’t tell you what he knows.”
“Good luck,” Malachi said. “Keep us updated.”
“Call me after you’ve spoken to Gabriel.”
Leo put the phone away and silence filled the car.
After a few minutes, the lights of Vienna shone in the distance and traffic started to thicken.
“You know I didn’t mean ‘complication’ in a bad way, don’t you?” Leo finally asked.
“I know.”
“It’s more hopeful than anything else, isn’t it? Finding Ava.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that if Ava was out there for so many years, then that could mean there are others we don’t know about, too.” The longing in Leo’s voice was almost painful. “There could be other Irina out there. Not only the survivors of the Rending, but others.”
Malachi shrugged. “It’s possible. They’d be outsiders, though. Different from the humans around them.”
“Ava said that the humans thought she was mentally ill,” Leo said quietly. “They thought she was crazy.”
The mere idea infuriated him in a way he couldn’t articulate.
He said, “If there are other Irina out there—lost Irina—”
“We need to find them.”
The call came through only minutes after they’d checked into the Irin-friendly hotel near the city center. It was a boarding house, set over a handsome kaffeehaus lined with wood panels and buzzing with activity from young patrons. There was a message from Rhys telling them that Gabriel would meet them at a different coffee house near the archives. Leo and Malachi quickly stowed their weapons and made their way across town.
Most of the Irin buildings were in the oldest neighborhoods of Vienna; handsome baroque facades hid offices that most humans would simply assume belonged one of the many corporations or international organizations that made Vienna their home. It was a diverse city, the perfect place for the Irin to hide. And the archives themselves, where Rhys was doing research, were mostly underground, centralized during the late medieval period when the city walls were built.
Leo spotted Gabriel the moment he walked in, and Malachi followed his gaze. Nothing about the Spanish scribe was familiar to him. He had average looks, and his dark suit gave the impression of an ordinary businessman out for a late lunch. Only those who looked closely might notice the edges of tattoo work that peeked above his collar, which was hardly unusual anymore for a man who appeared to be in his late twenties.
But Gabriel was far older. And the wary dark eyes that finally met Malachi’s over the French newspaper made that clear.
Leo and Malachi sat down at Gabriel’s table, which was in a corner, isolated from the busier tables in the room. Still, Malachi looked around cautiously.
“The owners are Irin,” Gabriel said quietly, putting down the newspaper and leaning back. His English was softly accented but precise. He did not offer any greeting. “You are some of Damien’s scribes.”
“We are,” Leo said. “I am Leo. This is Malachi.”
“The Istanbul house burned,” Gabriel said. “It was noted with some interest here in the city, even though the cause was determined to be accidental.”
Malachi spoke. “It wasn’t.”
“We didn’t really think it was,” Gabriel said.
Malachi wondered who the “we” referred to. Gabriel and his employer, the Elder named Konrad? The council as a whole?
Leo said, “Our house was targeted by a group of Grigori that belonged to Volund.”
A reaction, finally. One eyebrow lifted. Leo might have been the one speaking, but Gabriel was looking at Malachi when he said, “Istanbul is Jaron’s territory. It has been since he spread from Persepolis.”
Malachi answered the unspoken question. “Not anymore.”
“Where is my brother-in-law?”
Leo and Malachi exchanged glances.
Finally, Malachi said, “We don’t know.”
“The watcher of a scribe house lets his house burn, set on by Grigori outside their known territory, and he does not report it.” Gabriel’s voice almost sounded amused, but Malachi could sense the man’s tightly leashed tension. “In fact, he doesn’t report in at all. He disappears with the previously unknown mate of a fallen brother, and no one knows where they are.”
Malachi’s heart raced. Apparently, Max was right. The Irin council really did have eyes and ears everywhere.
“Needless to say,” Gabriel continued, “I am surprised to see you looking so very much alive, Malachi of Sakarya.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m still surprised she let me go.”
“Let you go?” Renata’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s not some despot. You wanted to go. You went. We’re not military, like scribes.”
Mala signed something and Renata interpreted. “Mala says we’re also not as organized or efficient.”
Ava leaned back in her chair as they sat in the small restaurant beneath the room Renata kept in Bergen. “It probably also helped that Sari and Damien appear to have reconciled.”