The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four (49 page)

The boat chugged up the river for a few more miles, passing the house that Christopher pointed out, then Bruno cut the engine and the lights, letting the boat drift downriver as they got out the binoculars and cameras that Sari had brought. Christopher was tied up and stowed belowdecks while they made notes about the lay of the land and the buildings they could see. Bruno had agreed to take him to Kostas’s men in Budapest the next morning, but until then, the Grigori would be at their mercy.

The house wasn’t one of the historic buildings that dotted the small river towns but a starkly modern multistory complex that led up the steep riverbank and took advantage of the view. It resembled a hospital to Damien’s eye. One long building lay closest to the river, and he saw guards patrolling a hallway that ran the length. They didn’t carry firearms that he could see. They did carry knives.

He handed the scope to Sari. “The building along the bank, what do you notice?”

She took a moment. “Doors. Lots of them. It looks like a hospital or… an apartment building of some sort. They’re numbered.”

“I noticed that too.” He also noticed when her shoulders tensed. “What is it?”

She handed him back the scope without a word. Damien looked through it and immediately saw what had unnerved Sari. A child, a beautiful boy that Damien would place around four years of age, was walking down the dock that led out of the low apartment-style building. He was holding the hand of the guard and chattering. The guard appeared amused. Indulgent, even.

A door opened and slammed, drawing his attention.

“Damien, are you seeing this?” Leo asked quietly.

“Yes.”

A woman strode down the long hallway, her eyes searching out the windows. She paused, then something made her shout. She walked to the doorway, and Damien saw that she was hugely pregnant. Her dark eyes were black in a moon-pale face, but he could tell she had once been beautiful even if she was now wasting from the child she carried. She walked out the doorway and toward the guard and the boy.

She was unafraid. In fact, Damien would recognize the look on her face anywhere. It was the expression of a woman who’d been frightened and angry at the same time, the familiar look of a parent who couldn't find her child.

She bent down and took the little boy by the shoulders. It was then that Damien saw she wore long, opera-style gloves. They went over her elbow and disappeared beneath the light summer robe.

“Sari.” He handed her the scope. “You have to see this.”

She watched silently for a few minutes. Damien couldn’t see well, but it appeared that the figures were retreating.

“She’s wearing gloves,” Sari said. “Did you see how she touched him? She knows what the children are.”

“The boy,” Bruno said. “He was the image of her.”

“Do you think he belongs to her?” Leo asked. “Grigori mothers rarely survive their children.
And
she’s pregnant.”

Damien sat back and looked at the house. It was more than a house. It was a compound. A dozen guards that they had seen. More that he knew were unseen. Staff to clean the buildings. Gardeners to tend the immaculate landscaping.

“Other Grigori are here,” Damien said. “Females maybe? Who can help the mothers…?”

“What are you muttering about, old man?” Sari asked him.

“This is more than an angel with a few mistresses,” Damien said. “He has apartments for them. Staff to help care for the children, I am guessing. The guard was taking care of the child. Then he stepped back immediately for the mother when she called him.”

Leo asked, “What are you saying? This Aurel is one of the Fallen. He sends his sons into the city and surrounding villages to feed from the women there. That mother was
dying
. You could see it on her face. She—”

“We’re not changing the mission. Aurel must die,” Damien said. “However… this operation just became much more complicated.”

※

MILENA

M
ILENA
WATCHED
the lights of the boat as it turned and putted downstream. It was a fishing boat, one of the many that made their way up and down the river every morning and evening.

But she’d seen no lines dropping in the water and more than one quick flash of a lens pointed toward Aurel’s house.

“Milena?” Tomik had picked up Vaclav and was carrying him back to the children’s house. “Is everything all right?”

She felt the baby in her belly kick at his brother’s voice. She had just found out that morning. A boy, Aurel had told her with a smirk. She was going to have a boy for the monster. Just like her sister, Stefana, mother to the little boy Tomik carried in his arms.

“I thought I saw something on the river.”

“William and Benes are watching tonight. Nothing will come ashore. It’s probably just a fisherman. Maybe a curious tourist. It’s not as if Aurel’s house blends into the landscape.”

“You’re probably right.” She reached up and rubbed Vaclav’s little back, sliding her glove-covered hand under his sleep shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. It was the closest she could get without harm.

When she’d come in search of her sister, she’d had no idea she’d find an irrational shadow of the bubbly former athlete. They looked and acted nothing alike. Milena was the serious daughter. Stefana, the fun party girl. But they had always been close. Fun or not, Milena knew her sister would never be out of contact for so long unless something was wrong. Curious snooping had brought her to Aurel’s attention. The rest was unpleasant history she tried not to think about.

She chose to focus on the children.

Stefana was gone, her vibrant beauty fading like a withered rose in winter. She’d lost her grip on the last threads of her life only weeks after Vaclav had been born, all the while worshiping the monster who had killed her. Vaclav and the other little ones were all Milena had left. She trusted Tomik’s care for the children, but Milena was only another human, one of the nine who had come and gone in the five years she’d been with Aurel. Come and gone, usually because they’d given birth to children and could not bear to part with them. Those who had girls survived to bear another child, usually a son who slowly killed them.

Milena couldn’t explain it. But then there was much she’d stopped trying to explain. She only knew that the opera gloves Tomik had secretly bought for her were not a fashion accessory. They were the only thing that allowed her contact with the children who’d come to see her as a mother when most of theirs were gone.

“Milena?”

She turned toward William’s voice. “Is everything all right?”

She knew by the look on his face why he’d called her.

“Still?” She curled her lip in disgust and put a hand on her belly.

“There’s already a girl up there,” William said. “He may just want… an audience.”

Milena fought back the urge to vomit. She’d thought becoming pregnant with the monster’s child would stop his interest, but sadly she’d made herself too annoying to Aurel.

She’d managed to satisfy him without becoming pregnant for three years until finally her luck ran out. Her body’s stubborn refusal to get pregnant had made her noticeable to the man, and his triumph when she’d finally gotten with child was matched only by his smug satisfaction. He called her several times a week. At first it was to rape her again. Then to make her watch him rape others.

Oh, Aurel wouldn’t call it rape, and neither would most of the women. But Milena had seen through whatever strange spell he used. Her mind had never been under his power, not even when her body couldn’t escape.

Her baby—Milena refused to give him any ownership over her or her child—was due in another month, and she was almost as thin as Stefana had been when she’d had Vaclav. If she managed to survive her child’s birth, caring for him, even with Tomik’s covert help, would be impossible.

Milena had no joy in motherhood, only desperation. She loved her son. She adored her precious nephew. She loved all of them. But a clock was ticking inside her. She had to escape or she would die.

Then all of them would be at the mercy of the monster.

CHAPTER FIVE

S
ARI
watched her sister spar with Katalin, staffs crashing together as the two women fought. Mala shifted to the right and paused, her feet dancing lightly over the packed earth. Katalin was a patient opponent, the stillness of her stance concealing lightning-fast reflexes. Both women had stripped down to undershirts, and their arms were red with welts and scrapes. Sweat dripped off Mala’s face, and Katalin wiped her brow.

The feral expression on both their faces belied the friendly challenge the
praetora
had offered. “Sparring” might have been the intention, but the result was a pitched battle of staffs that had drawn the attention of the entire training courtyard.

Sari leaned against the wall and watched. Mala was the only one of her warriors who could occasionally best her with a staff, and that wasn’t often. Mala also appeared to have a slight upper hand in the match.

Was it smug to enjoy knowing she’d be able to beat Katalin? Probably, but she was fine with it. Especially since the thinly veiled barbs had not ceased since their arrival. Sari did her best to ignore Damien’s mother, but it was difficult at times, especially when the subject came to children.

The finest of Mikael’s line. The legacy of his forefathers.
That was how Katalin referred to her son. Like one of the Arabian horses she bred, Katalin expected Damien to continue the legacy to which she’d dedicated her own life. And that legacy included children.

“There are some magics that only belong to our line.”

She was talking about the magic that allowed Damien to command a heaven-forged weapon, but the implication was clear.

Sari was not of Mikael’s blood. She was a mutt. Her father, a blend of Chamuel and Mikael’s magic. Her mother of Ariel’s line. Sari took a bit of her magic from both, nothing like the centuries-driven breeding of Damien’s family.

And yet, looking around, Sari had to admit that Katalin’s methods were effective. Barbaric, but effective. The warriors she’d seen training were skilled, quick, and disciplined. They were trained and drilled in not only the ancient martial arts but also modern disciplines from all over the world. Sari saw krav maga and Brazilian jiujitsu. Judo, dagger fighting, and tahtib.

Mala and Katalin continued to beat each other, each gaining taps on the other, though the “taps” often drew blood. After twenty straight minutes of fighting, Katalin finally raised a hand.

“Draw.” She grinned and reached her arm for Mala’s, who grasped the offered forearm. Both singers bowed over their clasped arms before they released. “Well met and challenged, Mala.”

Mala signed and Katalin looked for Sari.

“She said thank you for the match,” Sari translated. “She has only had clumsy scribes to duel with since I’ve been gone.”

Katalin laughed and spread out a welcoming arm. “Please. Make use of the facilities here as you like and work with my warriors. They would do well to learn from you.”

As I can learn from them,
she signed.
Perhaps one of them can teach me a trick to best Sari, as she’s the only singer who can beat me senseless.

Katalin’s smile did not falter, but Sari was fairly sure her eye twitched.

“You have no mate?” Katalin asked.

Mala shook her head and signed,
I lost my Alexander during the Rending. He was in the same order as your son. Most of my blade training is from him.

Katalin nodded as Sari translated.

“An old discipline, but a thorough one. I can see the Egyptian influence in your staff fighting though. Your mother?”

And my father.

“You are of Uriel’s line, correct?”

Mala lifted her chin and nodded.

“If you have the desire to mate again,” Katalin said, “let me know. I have numerous warriors who are looking for mates. Your children would be magnificent.”

And with that, Katalin walked off and the crowd dispersed, not a one even blinking at Katalin’s statement, though Sari could see more than one of the males glancing at Mala with clear interest.

Mala’s eyes were saucers.
Did she just say that?

“Yes, she did.” Sari couldn’t decide if Mala looked more surprised or offended.

I am
not
a breeding mare. I don’t even know if I want children.

“If it helps, she sees everyone that way. I suppose you should be flattered to even be in the running for one of ‘her warriors.’ Especially without a drop of Mikael’s blood in your clan.”

Mala curled her lip.

“It’s a compliment, sister.” Sari couldn’t stifle the laugh any longer. Luckily, Mala began to smile.

She’s something else. I think she’s trapped in the thirteenth century.

“You think she’s that modern?” Sari asked. “You might be giving her too much credit.”

Can you imagine being her child?

“No. I’ve never been able to imagine it. The concept of
reshon
is foreign here. All marriages among Mikael’s house are arranged.”