The Singer (23 page)

“I could eat more cake.”

Karen said, “You can always eat more cake.”

“Then I was smart to fall in love with a baker.”

A knock came at the door. Ava took the opportunity to distract herself and walked to answer it. She cracked open the door and saw the unexpected sight of Sari on the other side. Sari never came to the cottage, and she certainly never did it looking nervous. But there she was. And she was definitely nervous.

“Um…” Ava blinked and opened the door wider. “Hi.”

“May I come in?”

Ava felt Damien behind her. She backed away and let him hold the door.

“Sari?”

He looked as shocked as Ava felt. Even after the sing, when they seemed to stop antagonizing each other, she never visited.

“Sari!” Renata, clueless to the tension or deliberately ignoring it, called out to her friend. “Come in! Wine or coffee?”

“
Kaffe,
thank you.”

“Of course.”

Karen rose to fill another coffee cup as Damien stood motionless at the door. Finally, Ava stepped forward and closed it.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked under her breath. “She’s not the queen of England.”

“She came to my door,” he said, his voice tinged with confusion. “With… all of you here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get over it.”

“I’ll explain later.” He nudged her toward the table where Sari had sat. “Maybe.”

Damien’s eyes burned into Sari as he sat across from her; Ava saw a smile lifting the corner of his lip.
 

“My dove,” he finally said, and Ava could almost see Sari flinch at the endearment. “What brings you here—to my door—tonight?”

“You know…” Sari sipped the coffee Renata put in front of her. “This is
my
land. My guesthouse. So technically, I don’t think this is your door.”

“I believe that’s what they call ‘splitting hairs.’”

Astrid looked amused. “Well, this is entertaining, but I do think there might be some larger purpose to this visit than just coffee and cake.”

“There was a group of Grigori spotted in Bergen,” Sari said.

An entirely different tension fell across the table.

“How many?” Damien and Renata both asked at once.

“Three that we know of. But I’d not be surprised if there were more. There’s an Irin couple who lives there, among the humans. No children. They watch for us.”

Ava leaned over to Karen. “Bergen is the closest town to here, right?”

“The closest one of any real size, yes.”

Renata said, “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go, too,” Damien said.

“No,” Sari said. “This is our territory. Renata will take care of them.”

“Sari, this is no time for—”

“Besides”—she held up a hand—“I’d like you and Bruno to start doing patrols around the perimeter of the haven. Orsala has sensed some outside magic, and she wants us to be careful. Some protective spells written on the trees would be appreciated.”
 

“Fine,” Damien said in a clipped voice. “And Bruno and I will start patrols. It’s only three Grigori. I’m sure Renata can handle that on her own, anyway.”

“You just wanted to steal my fight,” Renata said with a grin.

“Obviously.”

Sari glanced at Ava. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any threats?”

“Uh…” Ava looked around the table, confused. “Should I have?”

Sari shrugged. “You’re a seer.”

“I’m not any good, though.”
 

Bruno snorted.

“No really, you can ask your grandmother,” she said. “I was trying to do… the thing I did the other night at the sing. And I couldn’t. So I don’t know if I’ll see any trouble coming. If there is any coming.”

Everyone just kept looking at her.
 

“Is there… some trouble coming?”

“Trouble is always coming,” Renata said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t be too eager,” Sari said. “We don’t want them to know they’re close to anything important. Draw them away from the city, if you can.”

Damien said, “And try to find out who they belong to. I know Grigori in the territory generally belong to Volund, but we had some surprises in Istanbul. Powers may be shifting.”

“Powers are always shifting,” Sari said.
 

“Change is constant.” Damien stared at his mate. “And healthy.”

“According to you.”

“You can’t stop this,” he said quietly. “You never could.”

“I can try.”

His voice was low and coaxing. “You shouldn’t.”

Ava said, “Well, obviously we’re not talking about Grigori anymore.”

Renata piped up. “I want to take Ava to Bergen.”

“Absolutely not,” Damien and Sari both said at once, then turned to each other in shock.

“You don’t think she should go?” Sari asked.
 

“No.”

Ava was tempted to butt in. They were talking about her like she wasn’t in the room, and she really wanted to go. Killing—or helping to kill—more Grigori soldiers was what she’d been waiting for.
 

But she was too curious about the exchange to interrupt. Sari and Damien both stood and glared at each other.

“But she’d be a tactical advantage,” Sari said. “I’ve heard about her range.”

“She’s too young. And untrained,” Damien countered.

“She’d be with Renata.”

“She would still be vulnerable.”

Ava said, “Wait, I’m confused. Is Sari arguing for or against me going with Renata?”

“Shh!”
 

That came from at least three people, but Sari ignored everyone except Damien. “Are you telling me it wouldn’t be worth the risk?” she hissed, her face pale. “To have an intelligence advantage like her skills in the field—protected and at a distance from combat—are you telling me you wouldn’t risk that?”

Astrid slapped a hand over Ava’s mouth before a word could escape. “
Do not say a word,
” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Damien said quietly. “I wouldn’t risk
her
. Not anymore, Sari.”

“But…” Sari’s eyes shone. “It makes the most tactical sense.”

“
Milá
…,” he breathed out. “I learned the hard way. Not everything is about tactics.”
 

Ava didn’t know how to describe Sari’s expression. It was pain. Anger. Relief. Rage. It was everything rolled into one, but Ava had cracked open the door to Sari’s inner voice and listened. And the voice inside cried out.

Vashama canem.

Reshon.

Reshon.

Reshon.

The pain of Sari’s yearning was like a punch to the chest. Ava gasped and felt Astrid flinch. She wondered if the healer could sense Sari’s pain, too. It didn’t matter, because in the next moment, they were gone. Damien had walked around the table and grabbed Sari’s arm, marching them both out into the cold night. The door to the cottage slammed closed.

Silence.

“So, I’ll take you to Bergen,” Renata said. “Mala can come with us and guard you. It will be a good first mission.”

Karen glanced nervously at the door. “But Rennie, don’t you think—”

“They’ll sort it out.” She waved a careless hand toward the door. “And I’ll convince them both. You don’t really think they were talking about Ava, do you?”

Ava didn’t. Not for a minute.

She was running through the forest, laughing. Running. Playing. He was behind her, and he was laughing too. She darted to the left, but he caught her, grabbing her with both arms and tackling her to the soft forest floor. They rolled across leaves and moss, which were verdant with life. The birds sang overhead and the new light of a crescent moon shone down.

“Can we stay here forever?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He looked confused for a moment. “I… don’t know.”

“What if we didn’t wake?” she whispered, smoothing a lock of hair from his forehead as he braced himself over her. “What if we stayed here?”

“We can’t, Ava.”

“Buy why?” Something dark lurked at the edge of her vision. Some sadness waited there. She knew if she woke it would find her.

“I have things to do.” He frowned. “I think. When I am not here, I have things I must do.”

“Things more important than me?”

“No. I think… I must find you.”

She smiled. “You already found me.”

“No, Ava.” His eyes were clearer. His mouth firmed. “I must
find you
. So you know.”

“So I know what? I don’t understand,” she said.

He lost focus. Confusion swam in his eyes. “Kiss me, my Ava.”

“Always.”
 

Their lips met, and everything fell away beneath the moon.

Chapter Thirteen

The blood pumped in his veins as he ran through the eerily familiar streets of Budapest. The scent of sandalwood trailed after the fleeing Grigori, and he followed it, turning down dirty alleys in dark corners of the city where the smell of humanity stained
 
the air.

 
The soldiers had been attacking four nameless girls. Leo and Phillip had dragged the women away, allowing them to escape, while Malachi subdued the four Grigori. By the time the first was dust, no human was there to witness it.

It was the fifth that Malachi was chasing.

The brown-haired soldier had slashed at the sensitive skin near the small of Malachi’s back and then made his escape, and the blade had almost found its mark. But Malachi dodged at the last minute and his
talesm
—including the new ones he’d inked the night before—pulsed as the adrenaline flooded his system. The scent of his own blood mingled with the stale odor of beer, cigarettes, and urine. He ran, his legs eating up the ground, his feet pounding over the cobblestones.
 

He ran, and he felt alive.

A flash of his dream the night before.

Ava.

Now that he knew her name in his dreams, he couldn’t seem to stop saying it.

Ava.

She said nothing, gasping when his mouth left a trail of kisses down the center of her body.

Her taste…

Hands gripping his hair, twisting the roots as he feasted on her. He felt the pain dimly, so focused was he on the pleasurable task in front of him.

Her pleasure, for as long as she could stand it. He felt it build in the tension of her hands, the quiver of her belly, the soft cries that escaped her lips. He was relentless, pulling away to watch her fall over the edge, only to return and chase her back up the hill, pushing her toward another climax.

Finally…

“Come back to me,” she panted. And he came, sliding up her body, taking her mouth with his as he surged inside her, following her ecstasy.

The grip of her flesh on his. Her hands still twisted in his hair. Her thighs held his hips captive as they moved together.
 

Fast.

Faster.

Her grip didn’t loosen. She arched back, baring her neck as a breath tore from her throat.

“Ava,” he groaned, hiding his face in her neck.

“You…” The grip of her fingers loosened in his hair, and he pulled back, bracing himself over her as her fingers stroked his forehead, curling around his ear, tender in their exploration as he slowed the relentless pace of their lovemaking.

“You,” she whispered again. Their eyes met, gold and grey. The tips of her fingers traced his lip.

It was a dream. But not a dream. A dream had never felt so real.
 

“Blast!” The pipe caught Malachi in the face as he turned the corner. His cheek sliced open, and he saw stars as the Grigori swung again. Malachi ducked and decided he was tired of running. The Grigori danced in front of him, his clothes still rumpled from the human women’s hands and his quick flight. His hair hung over his eyes and a deep cut was already healing on his unearthly face. He had the thin, ethereal beauty of so many of his kind, ironically so like the angels the humans depicted in art. Delicate, almost boyish.

Malachi was not fooled.

The soldier danced in front of him, quicksilver over grit. Malachi felt like a slow brute with his heavy fists and thick muscles. The Grigori was faster than him. He’d have to be to get the jab in that he had, even now, when Malachi wasn’t at full strength.

They said nothing, both taking the measure of each other. The Grigori’s glance flicked over Malachi’s shoulder, then he feinted right. Malachi caught the look and slammed into the man’s body as he tried to slip to his left.

The Grigori might have been faster, but brute strength still won when it found its target.