Vasu was delighted by the angel’s trickery. Svarog wasn’t an archangel. Like Vasu, he’d been quite young when he fell. And unlike many of his brethren, he still enjoyed the pleasures of human women. His progeny were widespread among Central and Eastern Europe.
“You double-crossed him. I’m delighted.”
“I knew Jaron would kill Volund,” Svarog said, looking out the window. “I never doubted that. And when he did, I was not going to lie among his sacrifices. My sons herded Barak’s heretic children here. Then they returned to their homes. I would not waste my men for Volund’s mad quest.”
“And”—Vasu crept to Svarog’s back, leaning his chin on the other angel’s shoulder—“now that he is gone, it does leave such a delicious vacuum of power.”
Svarog stared out the window into the cold grey Viennese morning. “So it does.”
“And what will you do with it?”
“Nothing.” Svarog paused. “For now… nothing.”
Vasu stepped back and smiled as he shifted away.
“Liar.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
AVA AND MALACHI SAT in Damien’s study three days later with Damien and Sari. Renata, Max, Rhys, Leo, and Gabriel were also there. Orsala and Mala were still on the way from Prague.
Kostas was nowhere to be found.
“Where is he?” Rhys asked.
Max said, “He’s taken his sisters and the women who were in Prague. They disappeared the night after the battle. I don’t know where they went. He left Sirius and some of his other men here in the city to try to round up as many of the Grigori children as they could.”
“They just left?” Leo asked.
Malachi wondered if Leo was more concerned with Kostas or his lovely sister.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Trust does not come overnight.”
“And what does the council say,” Damien asked, “about the battle of Vienna?”
“We won one battle, but some act as if we won the war.”
Malachi shook his head but said nothing. He shouldn’t have expected miracles, even when they’d appeared in the sky over a major European city.
“And the kareshta?” Ava asked.
“They are drafting a mandate,” Gabriel said. “It’s still being debated, but it looks as though the scribe houses will be joining the hunt to find as many kareshta as they can. The elder scribes are not all in agreement, but the elder singers are unanimous. By next week, the daughters of the Fallen will be under the protection of the Irin race.”
At least there was that. Malachi knew that ambitious watchers could use that mandate to go after the Fallen, interpreting the “protection of the kareshta” to mean freedom from the tyranny of their sires. He exchanged a quick glance with Damien and knew his watcher was thinking the same thing.
“And the free Grigori?” Max asked.
Gabriel’s mouth firmed. “Like I said. Trust takes time.”
“And us?” Sari asked, reaching for Damien’s hand.
Gabriel smiled. “You know politicians. I expect any resolution will be months—if not years—away now that the Irina have their voice in the Library. Until then, our sisters will do as they want.”
Max smiled. “Just as they always have.”
“Good,” Renata said. “I for one have things to do.” She looked around the room. “I can’t say that it’s been fun. But… I’ll see you when I see you.” Then with one lingering glance at Maxim, Renata left the room.
Max bit his lower lip but said nothing.
Finally Damien spoke. “Are my scribes ready to return to their house?” he asked. “The brothers from Cappadocia have kept our fire burning, but Svarog’s sons still live, and we have work to do.”
Malachi was ready. So ready. Ready to hide away with Ava. Ready to rid his mind of the nightmares that met him every time he closed his eyes. For the first time since he’d returned, Malachi wanted to forget. But he knew the memories of the tiny lives he’d snuffed out would live with him for the rest of his days. He wanted to flee the city and never return, but he wasn’t the only one who mattered. He looked at Ava, and she nodded.
“Ready, Watcher,” Rhys said.
“Ready.” Leo and Max joined him.
Damien looked at Malachi. He took Ava’s hand and nodded.
“We’re ready,” Ava said. “Very ready to go home.”
“And my mate?” Damien asked Sari with a smile.
“I can’t leave Ava all alone with you males, can I?” Sari said. “Let’s go home, Watcher. As you said, we have work to do.”
Ava pressed her face into Malachi’s shoulder, and he brought his hand up to cup her head, holding her close.
He wanted to return to Istanbul. But no matter where they were, with Ava, he was home.
Chapter Thirty
“HOPE AND PURPOSE,” he said quietly as they lay in bed.
It was early and the first call of the muezzin snuck in through the open window. Winter had passed. Istanbul hovered on the edge of summer. They woke every morning together, and Malachi never failed to ask Ava her plans for the day.
She had never been in Istanbul in the spring. It was beautiful. It felt like home.
He brushed the hair from her face, and Ava forced herself to open her eyes. She was lying nestled in the crook of his arm, one hand resting on his chest. She could feel his stubble catch in her hair and the warm, solid beat of his heart under her hand.
“What about hope and purpose?”
“It’s what we were missing. What we got back when the Irina returned. And what will make us better as we look for the kareshta.”
Things were changing. Maybe not as fast as Ava liked, but change was coming. Damien and Sari were regularly in Vienna, though Malachi refused to go back. The watcher and his singer had returned the night before with more news about debates in the council and a new air of vitality in a city that had once lost its passion for anything more than the status quo. Irina were visible again.
There were even a few reports of what Rhys called the Irin baby boom. Families were reuniting. Young scribes and singers meeting and mating. With all the changes, a new generation had begun. Ava hoped it was a safer and healthier generation that what had passed.
For Malachi, the ghosts still lingered. She saw the slight flinch when he spotted a group of children in the street. The shadows when he remembered what he’d been forced to do. The well of grief he carried seemed endless some nights. It pained her far more than any scar he wore on his body.
“The Irin needed hope,” she said.
“Everyone needs hope.”
Ava said, “And purpose? Protecting humans—”
“Is important. But empty. The Irin lived for a race we could never be a part of.”
“Do you have hope?” She would battle an angel for this man. Walk through the darkest forest of grief. Give up her own life if she had to.
But she could not force his eyes to see the hope she kept wrapped in her heart if he didn’t want to see.
“Talk to me,” she said. “Please.”
“I have hope, reshon.”
“I’m scared sometimes,” she confessed. “You scare me.”
She pressed on even when she felt his body tense. “Not because of what you might do to others. I trust you more than anything. But what you might do to punish yourself for things you couldn’t prevent.”