The Singer (40 page)

“So many,” Sari said. “Lang, this is far more than average, correct?”

“Yes. Activity has picked up over the past year, but the majority of these attacks have been in only the past couple of weeks.”

Damien asked, “Do we think there is any chance this increase in activity and the exposure of Sarihöfn are not related?”

Everyone was silent.

Malachi stepped forward. “There are few coincidences in the world. It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s likely.” He glanced at the map and moved closer, still holding Ava’s hand. “Tell me more about Volund.” It was Volund’s child, Brage, who had killed him, but there was little Malachi remembered about the powerful Fallen angel.

Lang said, “As far as we know, Volund still has one of his primary bases near Göteborg, which gives his soldiers easy access to the continent and a steady stream of tourists, whom his men usually target. He’s been building in power for centuries. We believe he took out the major power in Russia in the 1920s, and he appears to have connections with the lesser Fallen in Spain and France.”

Leo leaned forward and frowned, staring at the map. “Have you talked to Maxim about what he’s heard?”

Lang nodded. “Your brother has been an unexpected font of information over the past few years. I don’t know who he knows—”

“It’s better you don’t ask,” Damien said. “I never did when he was in my house.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Lang continued. “The sudden absence of Grigori last summer fits what you and Max have said about him making a move in Istanbul.”

“The Istanbul offensive makes no strategic sense to me,” Sari said, still staring at the map. “Why Istanbul? It’s far away from his power center. It would make more sense to approach from the north, in Russia. Or from the west.”

“Remember,
milá
, in some ways the Fallen are as unpredictable as the humans. They’re often creatures of impulse.”

“Particularly Volund,” Lang said. “And from what we know of him, he is a grudge holder. Istanbul could have been a personal vendetta.”

Damien shrugged. “From what I know of Jaron, I can imagine the two did not get along. Jaron was vicious, but deliberate. A planner.”

“The complete opposite of Volund, in other words,” Rhys said.

“And Jaron has a connection to Ava,” Malachi said. “We don’t know why or how, but he protected her in Istanbul, in his own way. And…” He glanced at his mate, but she nodded at him, so he continued. “And he appeared to her again more recently. In a dream.”

“When?” Damien stepped forward. “At Sarihöfn? Was he able to find you there? Is that why—”

“I don’t know,” Ava answered. “I haven’t remembered the details of my dreams about him until the one last night, though I’m fairly sure I’ve seen him before. He was… cryptic.”

“How surprising,” Rhys muttered.

“I’ve been talking over the vision with Malachi to try to make sense of it, but a lot of it is confusing. I… I can try…” She was clearly uncomfortable with so many eyes on her.

Malachi gave her hand a squeeze, and she looked to him again. He nodded to her, offering encouragement. After she had explained what happened at the sing with the other Irina, he’d been awed. But the vague memory of her voice singing to him crept into his memory. It had been the same night he’d noticed some of his
talesm
had reappeared under his skin. There was power in her voice. She was only touching the edges of it. He hoped, now that they were together again, that she could reach her full potential. That they both would.

“Tell them. Show them,” he said. “There is no shame in trying.”

“I can try to sing you the vision so you can see what I saw,” she said, almost as if she were running out of breath.

“Like you did at the sing?” Sari said. “That was amazing.”

“What is this?” Lang asked.
 

“Would you sing for us, sister?” One of Lang’s scribes asked from the edges of the room. He appeared to be quite young and more than eager to hear Ava’s song. “Would you?”

Lang smiled at Ava. “Most of our scribes are young. They have never heard Irina song before. Only heard stories.”

Orsala smiled. “Ava’s song is like no other. You would be spoiled by her vision.”

Malachi could feel her turning in on herself, shrinking from the attention.
 

She said, “I don’t know if it will work again. It might not.”

“This was a vision from Jaron?” Damien asked. “Like the one you had in Istanbul?”

“Yes,” Malachi said. “It might have something to do with what is happening now.”

“Try, Ava,” Orsala urged her. “Only try.”

She was pale and nervous. Malachi stepped behind her and put his arms around her waist, holding her to his chest as she faced the room of staring people. He could hear her before she started. Could feel the wave of power pass through him as she opened her mouth. There were no words at first. There was a soft hum and an unsure melody, simple and achingly beautiful. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly and steadily, willing the calm from his own body into hers.

It grew in his chest and moved down his arms. He could feel the marks he’d given her alive beneath him. Malachi dropped his head down, eyes still closed, and put his lips against the back of her neck as she sang. The moment his lips touched her skin, he felt it.

Like a current connecting, power surged from him and into her. She’d told him what was in the vision, but this time, he saw it for himself. It flashed in vivid color across his mind.

Two eagles, circling and attacking each other.
 

Hot blood sprayed down along his skin. He could hear it. He could
feel
it.

He heard the growls of the wolf at his feet and the eerie laughter of jackals in the bush.
 

Watching. All were watching as the fierce birds ripped at each other, screaming in rage.

A plummet to the earth.

He felt the wound as if the bird had ripped open his own chest. A blade of sheer agony pierced his heart as he heard the echo of the words in her mind. Jaron’s words, not hers. The voice of the Fallen gave him chills, and his mating marks pulsed in warning.

“I will tear the threads of heaven to return. And you will help me, Ava.”

The monster called his mate by name, and the vision broke off when Malachi felt a roar erupt from his chest. His eyes flew open and she was there, holding his cheeks in her hands and shouting—

“Malachi!”

Rage washed through him like a churning river, like a flame ripping though dry brush. He wanted to hunt what stalked her. Wanted to wipe it from the earth and bathe in its blood. The fury coursed through his veins until Ava put her lips on his.

He took them. Digging his hands into the soft curve of her waist, he clung to her. He banded his arms around her body.

Malachi felt hands on his shoulders, breaking into the trance between them. Voices became clear.

“Leave him. Leave her. There’s no way—”

“Did you see that? I’ve never seen light like that. It looked like fire from the inside out.”

“Malachi.” Someone pulled at his arms. “Let her go. She can hardly breathe, Malachi.”

“No.” Ava pulled away from his kiss with a gasp. “I’m fine. He’s fine. Malachi?”

He snarled at those surrounding them, and they stepped back. Then she pulled his face down to hers and pressed her cheek to his.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Fine. Safe. You’re here. We’re safe. It was just a vision. Not real, Malachi. It wasn’t real.”

He reached down and pressed her hand over his heart where a phantom pain still lingered. “Hurts. Did it hurt you?”

“No. I didn’t see it that way. I’m not hurt.”

“He wants you.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming. “Wants to use you, Ava.”

“You won’t let him, will you?” Her voice was calm, and he clung to that. “We won’t let him use us.”

“No.”

“And neither will our friends.”

As violent as his reaction was, Ava was safe. They were surrounded by allies. She was safe. He forced himself to take a deep breath. His
talesm
still glowed with light, as did Ava’s mating marks. In fact, as he glanced around the room, every one of the Irin was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Rhys grinned. “That was different.”

Sari said, “It was similar to the vision she shared with us at Sarihöfn, but this one was far more violent and powerful. I would guess that having Malachi back is multiplying her power.”

“Two birds…,” Lang said. “Volund and Jaron?”

Damien nodded. “I think it’s clear that some war is between them now. There were others there, watching. Did anyone else see that?”

Orsala nodded. “And there were jackals. Scavengers. Waiting to see who the winner is? To pick at the bones of the defeated?”

“Is this what is happening in Oslo right now?” Lang asked. “Is all this Grigori activity a result of two of the most powerful Fallen angels in history fighting? That… can’t end well.”

“And I hardly think the council will be much help,” Damien said. “According to Leo and Rhys, there are increases in Grigori activity all over the continent and they are being ignored. Who knows what’s happening in the rest of the world?”

“Whatever is happening in Vienna, we need to deal with the problem in Oslo right now,” Rhys said. “Analyze Ava’s vision later. If so many Grigori are hunting in the city, they have a base. They stay together when they’re not feeding. They would have… a house. A warehouse, possibly. Somewhere that a lot of them could be hidden. We need to find it and destroy them in their nest. Fighting all these individuals as they attack is not solving anything.”

“So you’re proposing aggression?” Lang asked. “Not just defense, but offense?”

Rhys paused. “I know it’s not the official policy, but—”

“Just clarifying, brother,” Lang said. “You won’t get an argument from me.”

“Nor me,” Damien said. “And technically, I’m still your superior.”

“So we find them,” Leo said. “Take them out where they sleep.”

Malachi said, “And we do it now. It’s near dawn. They’ll be hunting right now, but they’ll be sleeping at dawn. If we pull everyone in, find where they’re taking shelter and strike quickly, we might be able to stop this.”

Orsala said, “They won’t expect it. This is one of the things the Irina have learned. The Grigori expect Irin to be defensive, not offensive. They won’t be expecting an attack from you because it’s not officially sanctioned.”

“And we are oh so very good at following rules,” Rhys said.

Everyone moved closer to the map. Malachi took Ava’s hand again, leaning in to survey the red and yellow dots. It was true, there were many. Too many. But somewhere in the forest of attacks, they would find a nest of enemies.

Which was good. Malachi was more than ready to kill something.

“An apartment building in the city center?” Sari said. “Would that be too conspicuous?”

“A hotel?” Leo offered. “If many of them have come in very recently, they might not have a house big enough. But a hotel…”

“It’s possible,” Lang said with a nod. “They would be inconspicuous. And there are many hotels near the larger tourist sites where they’ve been hunting.”

“A group of supernaturally attractive men all in one hotel would be pretty
darn
conspicuous,” Ava said. “I mean, it might still be an option, but I have a hard time believing they’d be able to hide for long. It would look like a convention of male models taking over downtown Oslo.”

Leo added, “I’ll try to get in contact with Max and his friend.”

Sari said, “We’ll start without them. Send out scouts. Find the Grigori. Find their base. We find it before dawn, and then we kill them all.”

Only three hours later, Leo received the call from Max.

“We’ve found them. It’s not good.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Ava had spent little time in Oslo, usually only using it as a jumping-off point for treks in rural Norway. The waterfront was something new. The normally bustling sidewalks of the Aker Brygge were silent at dawn. None of the tourist traffic was out, and the few boats that sat in port bobbed quietly in the frosty air. Tall buildings rose on one side while the frigid expanse of the fjord stretched out before them. It was foggy and near freezing, and Ava stood as close to Malachi as she could while they huddled in the alley with Maxim and Renata. Jeremiah and the other Oslo scribes were cautiously strolling through the area, trying to spot any lingering Grigori or humans. They’d found the body of one girl, dead from attack or exposure, they couldn’t tell.

“The police are noticing,” Max said. “The girls who are disappearing are not just prostitutes and drug addicts anymore.”

Lang said, “Grigori attacks prior to this have been unnoticed—mostly because the women survive and don’t remember exactly what happened coupled with the fact the Grigori prey on the most vulnerable on the streets. But this many in the city? I’m surprised it’s not raised a public panic yet.”

“The house is two blocks down,” Renata said. “We haven’t been able to get inside, but we’ve been watching. I would guess there are around sixty soldiers.”