The Scribe (29 page)

“And their children?” Ava’s voice wavered, and Malachi took her hand when her eyes filled with tears. “You said some were destroyed, but the Irin are still here. Even with the Irina mostly gone—”

Damien broke in. “The Creator took mercy on the mates of the Forgiven and on their children. He protected the offspring who were not destructive. Allowed them the strength and knowledge of their fathers, but on the condition they would watch over this new race of humans. That is where we came from, Ava. We are of the race of angels. Neither wholly human, nor wholly heavenly. The Irin were meant to guide humanity and guard it. Servants on Earth as our fathers were servants in the heavens. That became our purpose.”

“And the Fallen?”

“The Fallen are an abomination in every sense,” Damien said. “Beings meant to serve who repudiated their Creator and desired to rule. They didn’t leave, because they sought to conquer. They saw humanity as sheep. Lesser beings. They break every law of the universe, simply by their rebellion. The Fallen cannot be trusted. Their very presence on Earth is evidence of their dishonor. That is why their children are cursed.”

“The Grigori,” she said.

“Yes,” Malachi drew her closer. “They became predators like their fathers, the Fallen. They prey on the humans we seek to protect. It has always been so.”

Ava asked, “How many fallen angels are there?”

“We don’t know,” Rhys said from the desk. “There are nine prominent ones, scattered across the globe. Each rules over an area, but there are minor Fallen as well. They kill each other off occasionally. Fight their own wars, which we only pay attention to when it affects us or the humans.”

Leo muttered, “It’s not as black and white as you all believe. There are variations. Subtle shifts in power that—”

“We all know your fascination with them,” Rhys said. “Trying to understand the Fallen doesn’t make them any less evil.”

Leo and Maxim simultaneously bared their teeth, and Malachi was reminded, again, how young the two cousins were. Only around two hundred, they were babes when the Rending happened, hidden by their mothers somewhere in the cold North. No one knew how, exactly, the boys had survived. They had been delivered to a scribe house in rural Finland weeks after their families had been destroyed.

“Fallen society is, in its own way, as complicated as ours,” Maxim growled. “I’ve studied it. Jaron is—”

Malachi finally broke in, exasperated by the bickering. “Can we please stop the history lesson and return to how we’re going to protect Ava?”

Maxim said, “I’m just saying that Jaron is not easy to classify. The fact is he had access to your mate for weeks when no one suspected him. He could have harmed Ava at any time, but he didn’t. Clearly, he has some interest in her that is not wholly understood. It may be beneficial for her to meet with him and try to get more information.”

“It’s not safe,” Rhys said. “He may have not moved then, but how do you explain the clear aggression in Kuşadası? They were trying to hurt her. Or capture her at the very least.”

“Malachi,” Maxim asked. “You said the Grigori in Kuşadası looked like Brage?”

He nodded. “Not the captain, but the rest of them were lighter skinned and light haired. Most likely not Jaron’s children. More Northern-looking. Maybe Volund’s or Grimold’s, if I had to guess.”

“And Brage has been seen in Istanbul,” Leo said. “With an angelic blade.”

Damien nodded. “In Jaron’s territory. He may have other alliances. We may be seeing a move from the North that would upset Jaron’s rule here in the region.”

Rhys asked, “A coup? Volund moving against Jaron, and using his most trusted Grigori to kill him? He could have been the one to give him the blade. There were rumors he had one.”

“They all have them,” Maxim grumbled. “Don’t let the council in Vienna fool you.”

Damien barked out a reprimand in the Old Language, and Maxim shut up.

“If there is a coup in the works, then having Ava collect more information from Jaron could be crucial,” Leo said. “She’s smart. And she’s in the perfect position to—”

“She’s not a bloody soldier!” Malachi said.

“And I’m not a china doll, either.” Ava stood, looking around the room, glaring at every man in sight. “You guys keep talking about me like I’m not here. Enough.”

Malachi stood with her. “
Canım
—”

“I’m going to the garden to think for a while,” she said. “Alone. I need some quiet, so don’t follow me. Any of you.” She left the room, and Malachi could hear her climbing the stairs, all the way to the roof garden that looked toward Galata Tower.

He turned to Rhys. “Are there security cameras up there?”

“Yes.” His brother clicked a few times on the computer, then tilted the monitor toward Malachi. “She’s covered from every angle. And the alarms will go off if there is any movement on the sides of the house.”

He pointed toward Rhys’s chair as Maxim and Leo drifted from the room. “I’ll watch her. At least give her some privacy.”

Rhys looked like he wanted to object, but a quick word from Damien called him from the library, leaving Malachi alone with only the image of his mate in black and white, staring off into the distance with haunted eyes.

Maxim crept into the library an hour later, at sunset, as Malachi was watching Ava.

“You have a lovely mate, brother.”

“I do.”

“An unexpected blessing to our kind.”

Malachi had the urge to cover the computer so his fellow scribe could not see her. But Maxim only glanced at Ava briefly before turning to Malachi.

“He was with her for weeks, and no harm came to her.”

His voice held a warning note. “Maxim…”

“I believe there is something happening,” Maxim said. “There are shifts in Vienna. Then Ava appeared like this. Strangers are showing up in Istanbul. So many rumors among my associates. I hear them, Malachi. I know everyone thinks me a gambler and a rogue, but—”

“Max—”

“Something is happening.” He leaned forward. “And I think she is the key. There is something she is or has that Jaron has an interest in.”

“Of course he does!” Malachi finally burst. “She’s the first new Irina in centuries! However she came to be, she could be the key to restoring our race. And if the Irin are made whole again, the Fallen could be conquered.”

“Is that what we’re truly fighting for? Don’t be like Damien and follow the Council blindly.”

Malachi narrowed his eyes. “You speak rashly, Scribe. And you make assumptions that betray your years.”

“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t see things. Damien is wise, but he never questions orders from Vienna.”

“And you question them too often.”

“I only seek to see our people whole again,” Maxim said. “We are constantly at war, but where are the Irina? Why are there none on the council any longer? When did the future of our race become the will of eight old men? There are too many secrets.”

“The Irina retreated of their own will,” Malachi said. “Were we to force them to stay?”

Maxim sat back, no argument rising to his lips as he turned his eyes back to Ava. “She is the key. And Jaron showed her no aggression. She should meet with him and find out why. He is not an unreasonable creature.”

“He’s a Fallen.”

“Now who’s making assumptions?” Maxim said. “You admitted that the angel was helping her cope with her abilities before we knew what she was. Perhaps there is more to him than you think.”

Malachi sat back, staring toward the screen. Ava wrapped her arms around herself as the evening breeze picked up. A slight shiver shook her frame. He immediately rose to go to her. She’d left her sweater in their room.

“I must go,” he said. “We’ll talk more later.”

“It’s really rather simple,” Maxim said as Malachi reached the door. “Why don’t you ask Ava what she wants to do?”

He turned. “She’s mine to protect.”

The young scribe shook his head. “She’s all of ours to protect, brother, but she has a will of her own. Ask her.”

Malachi went to their room first, grabbing a blanket from the closet before he climbed the twisting staircase to the tiled garden on the roof. The sun was setting over the city, and the sky was painted a lush golden red. Ava turned when she heard him, then silently held out her hand.

He went to her, sliding behind her on the chaise where she sat and pulling her back into his body as he wrapped the blanket around them both. Ava leaned against him, their earlier argument seemingly forgotten as she took a deep breath and tucked her face against his neck.

“What were we fighting about before?” she asked quietly.

“You going to Jaron’s office? All of us speaking for you, instead of with you?” He tucked a curl behind her ear as the breeze tossed her hair into his face. “Or me stupidly not telling you the implications of coming back here together?”

“To be fair, I probably would have run screaming at the thought of a lifetime commitment, so I understand why you didn’t.”

“I think the phrase ‘stupidly in love’ applies. I’m very out of practice handling women.”

He felt her laugh against his skin, and she turned until she’d wrapped her arms around his waist as he laid back.

“I don’t need to be handled. Just informed.”

“I’ll remember from now on. I promise.”

Night descended, cool wind sweeping up from the water and over the city as lights lit up the evening sky. The cries of the muezzin came and went, echoing from all corners before the call to prayer drifted into the night, leaving them in a cocoon of darkness and warmth as they huddled together.

“There’s no going back,” she finally whispered. “I know that. I…I don’t even want to. You were right about what you said before, even if the truth hurt. I was alone. Plus, I’m stupidly in love with you, too, so I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.”

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest with joy. “I love you, Ava.” He squeezed her tighter.
Reshon
.

She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, and Malachi suspected she’d heard his soul speak the word. She’d probably been hearing it for days. Weeks? And despite that, she’d stayed with him. He’d been a fool to doubt her.

“But if these are my people,” she started, “then this is my struggle, too. My responsibility.”

“Don’t—”

“I want to meet with Dr. Sadik. With Jaron. Maybe he knows where I came from. Maybe he knows what this all means. Why those Grigori were after me. I know you always suspected him, but looking back, I never felt unsafe. I could hear his voice, Malachi.” She turned her face up to his. “And I know he didn’t mean to harm me. So, why? If he was only a predator, why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want to find out. And I also want to know if he was telling the truth about there being others like me.”

Malachi sat up. “What do you mean, others?”

“He’d said he’d helped others with my same symptoms. Maybe he was lying, but maybe he was telling the truth. I didn’t hear any dishonesty in him. And if there are others out there, other women like me…”

“There could be more Irina,” he said softly.

“It’s possible. We still don’t know why I am the way I am. Where my powers came from. But maybe Jaron knows.”

“But would he tell us?”

“He might not.” Ava shrugged, and a glint of excitement lit her eyes. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

The waiting room looked like any other waiting room of any other office in the city. Bright. Modern. Framed art on the walls and an efficient secretary quietly making calls.

Malachi thought nothing had seemed as menacing. He abhorred masks. And that, no matter what Ava thought, was what this office was. A few minutes later, a cheerful nurse poked her head in.

“Ava?”

“Hello,” she said, rising with Malachi’s hand grasped in her own. “Good to see you again.”

“So happy to see you back. How did you like Cappadocia?”

The two women chatted as they walked down the hall and were ushered into a comfortable office. Malachi’s daggers burned against his skin. He would be able to reach them in seconds, even though they would do nothing against a fallen angel. His brothers surrounded the office building, watching from all angles while Malachi and Ava were inside.

A few minutes later, a seemingly harmless middle-aged man entered the office. His green eyes flicked to Malachi for a moment before he greeted Ava.

“My dear,” he said warmly. “So good to see you back. And this is your friend you were telling me about?”

“Yes, my… fiancé.” Ava glanced at him, but Malachi didn’t take his eyes off the doctor. The disguise was seamless. He could sense no extraordinary power from the creature. No flicker of otherworldly strength. No wonder they’d all been fooled.

The angel, pretending to be harmless, held out a hand. “So good to meet you, Mister…”

“My name is Malachi,” he said, ignoring the offered hand. “And you know what I am.”

A slight waver in the mask. “You’ll have to pardon me, but—”

“We also know who you are,” Ava said quietly. “So no more lies. No more disguises. Let’s speak plainly… Jaron.”