On a Clear Winter Night: An Irin Chronicles Short Story (3 page)

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the delicate woman who had become his life.

“She’s very strong, you know. And she’s in excellent health. I know you’re worried about her weight, but—”

“I would never ask you in front of her” —he switched to German, which he knew Astrid spoke fluently— “but the children… Their energy will be different. Their magic can’t harm her, can it?”

“As the Grigori harm their human mothers?” Astrid shook her head. “You have to remember that though she was raised human, Ava
is
Irina. Or
kareshta
. It doesn’t matter. Her blood is the same. Added to that, having two archangels in her genetic history makes her magic very powerful. She can handle this pregnancy, Malachi. The babies will not ask anything of her that she cannot give. You have no need to worry.”

He sighed. “I think that is impossible.”

“Probably.” She patted his arm. “Drink your wine. The babies aren’t coming tonight.”

“And you’re sure about the hospital?”

“For a hundred and fifty years, I delivered every baby at Sarihöfn in far rougher conditions than this, Malachi. There are two hospitals in easy driving distance, and I have more in my medicine cabinet to fight infection than I had in the whole of my infirmary a hundred years ago. If there is the slightest hint there is a problem with the babies, Bruno will get her to Beroun.”

He let out a slow breath. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“No, you’re being an Irin father.”

He gave her a grudging smile. “So we’re all like this?”

“You haven’t posted your brothers on the door and taken to wearing weapons to sleep. So you’re not as bad as some.”

“I was thinking about both those things,” he admitted.

“And yet, I am not surprised.”

Chapter Three

AVA LEANED AGAINST MALACHI, staring at the Christmas tree and listening to the bustle of activity as Karen, Bruno, Astrid, and Candace prepared for the midwinter feast. Irin lived all over the world, so midwinter celebrations were very diverse, but there were special songs and candlelighting ceremonies that were necessary for everyone.
 

It would be the first midwinter Ava spent with anyone besides Malachi.

“I love this,” she said. “This is so cool.”

“What were Christmases like when you were young?” He glanced over and smiled at Brooke, who ran up the stairs, laughing madly, with white flour covering her head as her mother chased after her, covered in flour herself.

Ava smiled at their retreating figures. “It was just my mom and me. She usually did something to make Carl mad so he’d go on vacation with his friends and leave us alone.”

“Theirs is… not a healthy relationship, canım.”

“Oh, I know.” She stretched her toes closer to the fire. “But it works for her right now. I’m not getting involved. And in his own way, Carl takes care of her. And me. I think he’s relieved I’m living in Turkey, though.”

“Is your mother still coming in February?”

“Yep.” She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. “I love the way you smell.” The babies kicked her stomach. “Oof. So do our kids.”

“Hmmm.” Malachi stared at the fire as it crackled and popped.

“What?”

“Maybe next year we should invite your mother for Christmas.”

Ava scooted up, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “You mean… in Istanbul?”

“Or Germany. We could spend midwinter in Istanbul and Christmas in Germany. Celebrate both holidays. Then Lena would be able to celebrate with her grandchildren.”

Ava started to sniffle again.

“What?” Malachi laughed and pressed her face to his shoulder. “No, not again. Stop, Ava. You cried at the tissue advertisement on the television the other day.”

“It was really cute!” She swiped at her cheeks. “And the mom was so sweet with the little boy and she just… I know. It’s ridiculous. Ignore me.”

He captured her lips and devoured them thoroughly. By the time he pulled away, Ava was breathless and her pulse was soaring.

“Never,” he muttered against her mouth. “Never will I ignore you.”

She slid an arm around his waist and pressed closer. “I
miss
you.”

Sex had become very uncomfortable a few weeks before. For two people who had such a strong physical connection, going without it was difficult. They could do other things, but…

Malachi leaned down and whispered, “We’ll have to be creative again tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “I enjoy being creative.”

“And as for the Christmas and Midwinter idea,” she said, “that sounds great. I’d love to do that. But I don’t mind having Christmas in Istanbul. Or we could go to Malibu to meet her there. But I want the babies to be able to celebrate Christmas too. There’s no reason we can’t do both.”

“Extra cookies.”

Ava perked up. “There are cookies?”

“I’m fairly sure I smell some right now. Do you want to go look?”

“Yes.” She held up her arms. “Okay. Hoist me up, babe.”

“Oooh.” Malachi stood and looked down at her, his hands on his hips. “I might need to call Bruno in to help with this.”

THAT night, Ava was put to work twisting the soft
kringle
sweet breads that Karen was making for Midwinter. She cut the dough at the table and twisted it into pretzel-like twists that would rise and bake in the oven. It was a tedious task, but she could listen to Karen and Candace talk while she worked and it allowed her to stay off her aching feet.

She looked up when Candace sat next to her.

“Hello,” the quiet American woman said. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Ready.” Ava had never felt particularly close to Candace, even when she’d stayed at Sarihöfn. The soft-spoken brunette had lost her mate eight years before Ava had met her. Perhaps Ava’s own grief at the time had been too new, but she’d avoided someone with wounds so similar to her own. “How are you and Brooke liking the Czech Republic?”

“We like it. Everyone is very friendly. Brooke is better with the language than I am. I still have trouble not thinking in English all the time.”

“So you were born in America?”

Candace nodded.

“And your mate was American, too?”

“Canadian,” she said quietly. “In Europe, the Irin travel so much, but in the Americas, villages were much more spread out. Ezekiel and I both came from very small communities. We didn’t meet until just after the Rending. It was during that period when Irina were disappearing everywhere. I felt so… lost. All my family was dead. A woman from my village said she knew of a way to Canada. Her son was there with his mate, and she wanted to try to find them. She was very old. Powerful. I went with her because I didn’t want to be alone.”

“And you met your mate.”

Candace nodded. The pain in her eyes was still so raw that Ava had to look away.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Ava said. “I need help.”

“Oh?” Candace’s green eyes lit up. “What can I help with?”

Ava put her hand on her belly. “Well… this, I guess.”

“Oh, but Astrid—”

“Is great. She’s delivered a lot of babies. But you’re the only singer I know who’s actually given birth.”

Candace smiled. “I suppose that’s true. I hadn’t thought about that. Zeke and I lived so quietly after… I grew up in a village with many births, so I didn’t worry when Brooke was born. I had helped other Irina give birth when I was young. I saw my grandmother have her second baby when I was only ten.”

Ava’s jaw dropped. “But—”

“Some Irin siblings are decades or even a hundreds of years apart. Women don’t lose fertility until they want to.”

“Whoa.” Ava tried to wrap her brain around it. “So your mother and her sibling—”

“It was a girl,” Candace said. “My aunt was ten years younger than me, but she was one hundred twenty years younger than her sister. Something like that.”

“Wow.”

Candace shrugged. “That was normal for us. Irina weren’t limited by time when they had their children. I was over two hundred when I had Brooke.”

“And you had her at home?”

She nodded. “Just me and Ezekiel. We were hiding then, and he never trusted human hospitals.”

“So…” Ava let out a long breath. “What am I in for?”

Candace smiled. “I think it’s mostly like human birth. Traditionally, Irina don’t use any drugs because the midwife or doctor will sing the pain away. Astrid is very good at it. It’s our own kind of anesthetic. It will still hurt—there’s no way to avoid that completely—but Malachi will be holding you, so—”

“Holding me? Holding me how?”

“A scribe sits behind his mate and holds her while she’s in labor. I know that’s not the normal thing for human hospitals, but it’s very comforting. It puts your mating marks against his. Very powerful magic. Orsala taught you the songs for the baby?”

Ava nodded.

“It’s the same for scribes. There are special spells Malachi will draw on your skin to help you give birth, and then those for the baby—babies!—when they are born.” Candace’s smile turned into a grin. “I’m so excited for you. Twins are so lucky.”

Ava spotted a problem immediately. “But has anyone told Malachi what spells he has to write? None of his brothers or his Watcher are fathers.”

Candace’s smile fell. “I hadn’t thought about that. And Bruno and Karen haven’t had a baby either.”

Ava felt a sense of panic. What if something went wrong because Malachi didn’t know the right spells? What if her songs for her son and daughter didn’t take because his half of the birth ritual wasn’t correct? Would their daughter be tormented with the constant voices that Ava had experienced from the time she was a small child?

“Ava.” Candace put a hand on her arm. “It will be fine. Orsala taught you the songs months ago. I’m sure someone taught Malachi, as well. He had his own father for many years. He probably learned them when he was young.”

“But what if he forgot?”

“Scribes don’t forget spells like that.”

Ava let out a slow breath. “You’re right. I’m probably worrying for nothing.”

“Everyone worries. It’s normal. Don’t panic. It’ll be fine.”

THE dream sneaked in on quiet cat feet until it sat in shadow across from her. Ava opened her eyes to see the darkness sitting in the armchair across from their bed in the cozy library where Bruno had set up a bed for them.
 

Before her eyes, the cat stretched and yawned, transforming into a lithe, dark-skinned young man with a flow of black and gold hair covering his shoulders.

Ava blinked slowly. “I told you to stop doing that.”

Vasu shrugged.

“Am I dreaming?”

“A bit.”

“Why are you here?”

The fallen angel glanced at her belly. “They are unique.”

A spike of anger. “They are none of your business.”

“You’re wrong.”

A flash of an old vision.

Two dark-haired children. A girl with a golden gaze, laughing as butterflies swirled around her. A boy, staring back at her with his father’s eyes. An ink-black jaguar curled around the children as a wolf and a tiger paced behind. The tiger bent to the girl, opening his mouth. The great beast closed his jaw around the girl’s nape gently as she continued to smile and pet its cheek.

Ava opened her eyes with a gasp. “Is it you? The jaguar?”

Vasu cocked his head. “I do not see what you do, Ava.”

Something about the vision set her at ease. Nothing about it spoke of danger. Vasu wasn’t a restful presence, but she’d never felt in danger around him. Well, at least not danger
from
him. Vasu putting her in danger out of curiosity or boredom was another question.

“
Why are you here
, Vasu?”

“Azril sent me.”

Ava sat bolt up and put a hand over her belly, ignoring the tearing pain in her back. “
No
.”

Vasu looked disappointed. “Really, Ava? You should know the angel of death doesn’t always portend the physical. Azril lives in the space between. Transition. He intends no harm to you or your children. He has been watching you. You know he still keeps watch over your grandmother.”

“Then why did he send you?”

Vasu cocked his head, as if listening to someone in another room.

“
Agatavyah boh
.”

“What?”

He frowned, as if still listening to someone. “Or…
ayatah agatavyah
if they are being stubborn.”

“Vasu, what does that even mean?”

“Ask Azril. If you call him, he’ll come. He just didn’t want to show up and frighten you.”

“So he sent you?”

“Yes.”

Ava felt herself falling back into sleep, even though she wanted to keep badgering Vasu. “I think… needs to rethink his messengers…”

“‘Please come’ and ‘Come quickly,’” Vasu said, his voice fading away. “He said you would know when to use them.”