“Text Sirius,” Kyra murmured in a daze. “Kostas is horrible about keeping his phone on. Just horrible.”
Ava turned and leaned against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the ground.
“I don’t hear any humans outside.”
“This is an office building,” Leo said, still texting. “It’s nighttime, Ava.”
Oh, of course it was. The moon was already in the sky, peeking through the clouds that had cleared away. Ava realized that none of the lights were on in the room. When they had entered, it had been daylight. How long had the battle raged? She couldn’t grasp it. Hours? It hadn’t seemed like hours.
Leo let out a relieved breath. “The council is safe.”
Ava didn’t care about the council anymore.
“Sari called Damien. She’s taking Malachi back to their house, then home.”
“Okay.” She got to her feet and started to move the furniture from in front of the door.
“Ava,” Leo said. “What are you doing?”
“I want to go home.”
“There may still be Grigori—”
“Then I’m taking my broom handle”—she picked up the stick that was lying on the ground—“and I’m going home, Leo.”
She could feel it building. Ava didn’t want to break down in front of Kyra or Leo. She wanted solitude and Malachi.
“Okay, okay.” Leo jumped to his feet. He started to help her clear the door. “Let’s get you home.”
WHEN they reached the flat in Judenplatz, Malachi was waiting on the steps of their building with hollow eyes and a black cat sitting near his feet. Rhys stood over him, haggard but wearing a smile.
“Go,” Leo said. “I’ll get Kyra back to Damien and Sari’s.”
Ava looked at Kyra, who nodded swiftly.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Call me when you get back so I know everyone’s safe.”
Ava walked over and Rhys gave her a quick hug.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
“I will be.”
“I’ll leave him to you.” He bent down. “He was protecting the Irina. And… the children. You know—”
“I know.”
Her mate hadn’t only killed soldiers.
Then Rhys, Leo, and Kyra ambled into the night and Ava held out her hand.
Malachi took it but didn’t stand. He didn’t look at her or embrace her.
“Go away, Vasu,” Ava said.
So ungrateful.
The cat sauntered off, then turned.
They’re dead, you know. You’re safe now. Jaron made sure of it.
“Really?”
Truly.
“Thanks. I guess… thank you.”
You’re welcome. I’d forgotten how entertaining humans can be. I’ll see you again, Ava.
She said nothing more to Vasu. Ava pulled Malachi to his feet and led him up to their apartment. When they got inside, she removed his clothes. He was wearing jeans; someone had thrown a jacket over him and pushed boots on his feet. The shirt under it was stained with blood.
Ava tore it off, searching for wounds.
“Not my blood,” he said quietly. “It’s not my blood.”
She broke.
Pressing her face into his chest, she sobbed. Great, wracking, painful cries of relief and agony over the lives lost. For what she had done. For what he had been forced to do. He put tentative hands on her shoulders, but he did not embrace her.
“Ava.” His voice sounded more fragile than she’d ever heard before. “I need to get clean.”
She led him to the bathroom and stripped the clothes off them both. She would throw them away in the morning. Maybe she would burn them. Ava stood with Malachi under blistering hot water until it ran cold. She washed his hair for him and cleaned the dust from every inch of his skin. Then she led him to bed and crawled under the covers.
Neither one of them slept, but they held each other until dawn. And when the night had passed and Rhys had called to check on them both, Ava returned to him. Sometime after she heard the humans rouse in the streets below, she slept.
“I’M sorry,” he whispered, clutching her in the forest as night birds sang overhead. “I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her neck as she held him.
The forest was darker than it had ever been, though the oppressive fog around them had lifted. No moon shone in the sky above. The earth they rested on was bleak and cold.
“It’s so dark,” he said, his powerful body curled into her, shivering. “Why is it so dark?”
“It won’t always be dark,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair and down his neck, feeling the strength of him more powerfully for the way he bared himself to her. “I promise. The moon will come out again.”
He said nothing, but allowed her to hold him.
“It’s okay,” she said, over and over again. “It will be okay.”
She held him in the night, comforting him when she felt his shoulders shaking.
“You found me once,” she said. “Do you remember? I was broken. You picked me up and you carried me.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me you would never leave me again.”
“I’m tired, reshon.”
“Rest then. I’ll hold you.”
He relaxed into her arms.
“Remember,” she whispered, “it’s only when the night is darkest that you can see the light of the stars.”
He stretched her out and there was a soft blanket beneath them. The forest became a refuge, and she saw some of the sorrow leave his eyes.
“Sing to me,” he asked her.
So she did.
VII.
“THERE YOU ARE.”
Svarog turned when he heard Vasu’s voice. The house in Wieden was empty. Had been empty for years, though Vasu had heard that the angel had kept a home and a mistress in the city at one time. He’d enjoyed tweaking the noses of the Irin Council—even if the council hadn’t known it—only a few blocks from the famous Naschmarkt of Vienna.
Vasu wore his most comfortable human guise, a lean form native to the Indian subcontinent he called home. He was ready, so ready, to return to the warm climes of his home in Chittorgarh. He was ready to come out of hiding.
“And there you are, old friend,” Svarog said. He’d taken on the appearance of an urban gentleman. His suit cut was immaculate. But then, Svarog had always liked his luxuries. “I knew rumors of your death must be exaggerated.”
“Aren’t they always?”
“It appears so. Both you and Barak were a surprise.” His voice dropped when they spoke of the fallen archangel. “Jaron kept his allies close.”
Vasu smiled. “Volund could have learned a lesson from him.”
“Volund,” Svarog growled, “was too proud to learn from anyone.”
Vasu leaned against the banister in the spacious entryway. “And where are your children, my friend? I did not see Svarog’s sons in the midst of battle.”
The angel turned. “Where were Volund’s?”
“Dead in Oslo.”
Svarog raised a steel-grey eyebrow. “Exactly.”