Rhys and one of Lang’s scribes were putting red and yellow dots all over the paper. The rest of the gathered company nodded at them but did not interrupt the conversation.
“Ava,” the old woman said softly, walking over to greet his mate. “I heard. I am… astonished.”
And pleased, from what Malachi could gather. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled and grabbed Ava into an embrace.
“Thank you, Orsala.”
“Have you told Brooke yet? Does everyone know? I only heard from Sari a few hours ago.”
“It just happened yesterday. And we…” He saw her cheeks flush a little. “We needed some time alone.”
“Of course, daughter.” Orsala turned to Malachi and took his hand in hers, though he kept one hand firmly anchored in his mate’s. “A blessing,” she said. “A miracle sent from heaven.” There were tears in the old woman’s eyes. “How can we know the purpose of the Creator? And yet we rejoice in it. I am so happy for you both, Malachi.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
The others were still quietly arguing over the map.
“—follow what I’m trying to say, Leo. The red is a confirmed attack and kill,” Rhys said. “The yellow are for attacks that were stopped, but the Grigori wasn’t eliminated.”
“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.