“You can see how powerful they are. The Irina, I mean. An Irina singer at the height of her power, trained by her elders, can wield frightening magic. With a word, they can change the course of the wind. Render a strong man weak or a weak man strong—”
“Break a stick in half and then mend it?”
He nodded. “All Irina have different powers. Seers. Healers. Elemental magic. Some of that is natural and some depends on how they train. In the past, they used their magic for mostly creative endeavors. Healing. Building. Teaching the young. Scientific discovery. These were always their greatest strengths. The more… martial magics… were not valued.” He smiled. “Many of the older Irina derided offensive spells. ‘Male’s work,’ my grandmother would sneer at my father and me. All Irina knew some protective spells, of course. And many to help themselves blend in with the human world, but it was the Irin scribes’ job to protect them. And for our part, we didn’t encourage our mates to learn offensive magic. Why would they need it? They had us. And we…” His voice grew hoarse. “We would never leave them unprotected.”
A low anger began to smolder in her gut. “Except you did.”
“We did.” He braved her eyes. “And we learned how desperately wrong we were only after we lost everything.”
“Not everything,” she said, trying not to taste the bitterness on her tongue. “You and Sari still have each other. Lots of people—most of the Irin—lost their mates.”
“I’m one of the lucky ones.” A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “We aren’t exactly a peaceable pair, but then, we never have been.”
“Will she ever forgive you?”
“I don’t know.” Then his eyes gleamed and his smile spread. “But I’m tired of being patient. And as I give Sari what she needs, so she will give me what I need. If meeting you has taught me anything, it’s that change is possible. And there are powers at work that we may never understand. We lost half our race during the Rending. Then we—Irin and Irina—allowed this wound to fester. We’re dying from within, and it must stop. Change is no longer only possible, it’s necessary for survival.”
“Do you think they’re ready for it?”
“I don’t know. But look at you, Ava.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Everything in our writings, in our history, tells us you shouldn’t exist. And yet, you do! Though your mother is human, you hear the voices of the soul. Your words hold power. You mated with a warrior in my house. You are an Irina.” Damien turned and stared out the window toward the large house that dominated the valley. “Change has already come. They just don’t know it yet.”
Chapter Three
Cappadocia, Turkey
“I’m a what?”
Malachi was sitting in a room with Rhys and the old man called Evren. Both wore looks of confusion as they tried to ascertain what had happened to Malachi.
“An Irin scribe,” Evren said patiently.
“And the Irin are descended from… angels.”
“We are the race formed when angels fell from heaven and mated with human women. Heroes of old. Some would call us demigods, though we are not. We are half human, half angel. There have been generations of us. A separate people, so to speak. The angelic race.”
“But we’re not angels.”
“No,” Rhys said. “Angels are frightening creatures, and you don’t want to meet them.”
“But…” The memory jolted him. “I think I have met one.”
Eyes darkened to near black, then a glowing gold as the human mask dissolved. Jaron’s shoulders grew wide and thick. His frame lengthened… almost seven feet.
“Yes,” Rhys said, sliding forward in his seat. “You have. Do you remember?”
A faint gold shimmer covered his skin as the mask of the harmless doctor fell away and the heavenly being emerged. His hair grew longer… thick ebony strands brushing past his shoulders. The bronze skin of his torso glowed in the afternoon light, and raised talesm rose like shimmering brands on his skin.
Malachi’s eyes blinked back into focus. “I was with her. I had to protect her, but he didn’t hurt her, and I was confused.”
Rhys narrowed his eyes. “We were all confused. What else do you remember?”
Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her. Remember.
“He told me there were thousands of us and only one of her.” He looked up in confusion. “There’s only one of her? What does that mean?”
“We’ll explain that another time,” Evren said. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes and no. There are pieces I remember. Odd things. I knew I was something different as soon as I woke up. A… scribe, I suppose. I knew my father— Is my family still living?”
Rhys shook his head. “No. You have no siblings and your parents both died many years ago. Ava is your only family other than us.”
Ava. The name fell into his mind and filled it. It brought the memory of air tinged with cloves and roasted hazelnuts.
“Who is she?”
The old man looked at him, pity in his eyes. “She is your mate. You remember nothing of her?”
“My mate?” Not a wife. More than a wife.
“Your mate. Your reshon. It is a sacred union.”
“Reshon?”
“Your souls were created for each other. And when you marked her with magic, they bonded.”
“Where is she?”
Evren and Rhys exchanged a look. Rhys said, “We don’t know, but we’re going to try to find her. We will find her.”
She wasn’t here. He felt as if he were stumbling through the dark, looking for something just out of his reach.
“Malachi,” Evren asked. “When you woke, you were like this?”
Malachi frowned. “I was by the river. There was nothing around. But I followed the water and found the farm.”
“The old retreat,” Evren said. “He woke near the old retreat. I think when he came back, he was reborn in the exact place he was born the first time.”
Rhys said, “You think Ava—”
“It must have been. I don’t know how, but it is the only explanation.”
“No Irina has the power to—”
“No Irina is like Ava. She has no training. She has never been told what she may not do, so who knows what she is capable of?”
Malachi broke into their quiet conversation. “You’re telling me I died?”
Evren and Rhys turned to him.
“I died?” he asked again. “Truly? I died. And I came back to life?”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing. I remember nothing. Just her voice on the wind and the stars overhead. I’ve been getting flashes here and there, but I don’t remember her. How could I forget her?” He felt torn. Incomplete. And it wasn’t just the memories he was missing. “And you think she did this somehow?”
Evren said, “We don’t know. Not really. But there is no other explanation. Your brothers saw you die. Saw your body turn to dust. Your mate saw you die—felt you die.”
“But why would Ava be able to—”
“She said the words,” Rhys said. “The words she had heard her whole life. From the souls of everyone who mourned. She came to me before she left. Asked me what it meant. Vashama canem. Come back to me.” He turned to Evren. “I had no idea. How could I?”
“There was no way of knowing she could do this, Rhys. No way—”
“Wait!” Malachi felt a chill creep along his skin. “You’re telling me she spoke this command and I answered. Even from beyond death?”