“And the Fallen?”
“The Fallen are an abomination in every sense,” Damien said. “Beings meant to serve who repudiated their Creator and desired to rule. They didn’t leave, because they sought to conquer. They saw humanity as sheep. Lesser beings. They break every law of the universe, simply by their rebellion. The Fallen cannot be trusted. Their very presence on Earth is evidence of their dishonor. That is why their children are cursed.”
“The Grigori,” she said.
“Yes,” Malachi drew her closer. “They became predators like their fathers, the Fallen. They prey on the humans we seek to protect. It has always been so.”
Ava asked, “How many fallen angels are there?”
“We don’t know,” Rhys said from the desk. “There are nine prominent ones, scattered across the globe. Each rules over an area, but there are minor Fallen as well. They kill each other off occasionally. Fight their own wars, which we only pay attention to when it affects us or the humans.”
Leo muttered, “It’s not as black and white as you all believe. There are variations. Subtle shifts in power that—”
“We all know your fascination with them,” Rhys said. “Trying to understand the Fallen doesn’t make them any less evil.”
Leo and Maxim simultaneously bared their teeth, and Malachi was reminded, again, how young the two cousins were. Only around two hundred, they were babes when the Rending happened, hidden by their mothers somewhere in the cold North. No one knew how, exactly, the boys had survived. They had been delivered to a scribe house in rural Finland weeks after their families had been destroyed.
“Fallen society is, in its own way, as complicated as ours,” Maxim growled. “I’ve studied it. Jaron is—”
Malachi finally broke in, exasperated by the bickering. “Can we please stop the history lesson and return to how we’re going to protect Ava?”
Maxim said, “I’m just saying that Jaron is not easy to classify. The fact is he had access to your mate for weeks when no one suspected him. He could have harmed Ava at any time, but he didn’t. Clearly, he has some interest in her that is not wholly understood. It may be beneficial for her to meet with him and try to get more information.”
“It’s not safe,” Rhys said. “He may have not moved then, but how do you explain the clear aggression in Kuşadası? They were trying to hurt her. Or capture her at the very least.”
“Malachi,” Maxim asked. “You said the Grigori in Kuşadası looked like Brage?”
He nodded. “Not the captain, but the rest of them were lighter skinned and light haired. Most likely not Jaron’s children. More Northern-looking. Maybe Volund’s or Grimold’s, if I had to guess.”
“And Brage has been seen in Istanbul,” Leo said. “With an angelic blade.”
Damien nodded. “In Jaron’s territory. He may have other alliances. We may be seeing a move from the North that would upset Jaron’s rule here in the region.”
Rhys asked, “A coup? Volund moving against Jaron, and using his most trusted Grigori to kill him? He could have been the one to give him the blade. There were rumors he had one.”
“They all have them,” Maxim grumbled. “Don’t let the council in Vienna fool you.”
Damien barked out a reprimand in the Old Language, and Maxim shut up.
“If there is a coup in the works, then having Ava collect more information from Jaron could be crucial,” Leo said. “She’s smart. And she’s in the perfect position to—”
“She’s not a bloody soldier!” Malachi said.
“And I’m not a china doll, either.” Ava stood, looking around the room, glaring at every man in sight. “You guys keep talking about me like I’m not here. Enough.”
Malachi stood with her. “Canım—”
“I’m going to the garden to think for a while,” she said. “Alone. I need some quiet, so don’t follow me. Any of you.” She left the room, and Malachi could hear her climbing the stairs, all the way to the roof garden that looked toward Galata Tower.
He turned to Rhys. “Are there security cameras up there?”
“Yes.” His brother clicked a few times on the computer, then tilted the monitor toward Malachi. “She’s covered from every angle. And the alarms will go off if there is any movement on the sides of the house.”
He pointed toward Rhys’s chair as Maxim and Leo drifted from the room. “I’ll watch her. At least give her some privacy.”
Rhys looked like he wanted to object, but a quick word from Damien called him from the library, leaving Malachi alone with only the image of his mate in black and white, staring off into the distance with haunted eyes.
Maxim crept into the library an hour later, at sunset, as Malachi was watching Ava.
“You have a lovely mate, brother.”
“I do.”
“An unexpected blessing to our kind.”
Malachi had the urge to cover the computer so his fellow scribe could not see her. But Maxim only glanced at Ava briefly before turning to Malachi.
“He was with her for weeks, and no harm came to her.”
His voice held a warning note. “Maxim…”
“I believe there is something happening,” Maxim said. “There are shifts in Vienna. Then Ava appeared like this. Strangers are showing up in Istanbul. So many rumors among my associates. I hear them, Malachi. I know everyone thinks me a gambler and a rogue, but—”
“Max—”
“Something is happening.” He leaned forward. “And I think she is the key. There is something she is or has that Jaron has an interest in.”
“Of course he does!” Malachi finally burst. “She’s the first new Irina in centuries! However she came to be, she could be the key to restoring our race. And if the Irin are made whole again, the Fallen could be conquered.”
“Is that what we’re truly fighting for? Don’t be like Damien and follow the Council blindly.”
Malachi narrowed his eyes. “You speak rashly, Scribe. And you make assumptions that betray your years.”
“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t see things. Damien is wise, but he never questions orders from Vienna.”
“And you question them too often.”
“I only seek to see our people whole again,” Maxim said. “We are constantly at war, but where are the Irina? Why are there none on the council any longer? When did the future of our race become the will of eight old men? There are too many secrets.”
“The Irina retreated of their own will,” Malachi said. “Were we to force them to stay?”
Maxim sat back, no argument rising to his lips as he turned his eyes back to Ava. “She is the key. And Jaron showed her no aggression. She should meet with him and find out why. He is not an unreasonable creature.”
“He’s a Fallen.”
“Now who’s making assumptions?” Maxim said. “You admitted that the angel was helping her cope with her abilities before we knew what she was. Perhaps there is more to him than you think.”
Malachi sat back, staring toward the screen. Ava wrapped her arms around herself as the evening breeze picked up. A slight shiver shook her frame. He immediately rose to go to her. She’d left her sweater in their room.
“I must go,” he said. “We’ll talk more later.”
“It’s really rather simple,” Maxim said as Malachi reached the door. “Why don’t you ask Ava what she wants to do?”
He turned. “She’s mine to protect.”
The young scribe shook his head. “She’s all of ours to protect, brother, but she has a will of her own. Ask her.”
Malachi went to their room first, grabbing a blanket from the closet before he climbed the twisting staircase to the tiled garden on the roof. The sun was setting over the city, and the sky was painted a lush golden red. Ava turned when she heard him, then silently held out her hand.