The Secret (12 page)

“What is it?”

“I adore you, Ava. Your mind is fascinating. Your spirit humbles me. And your body feels as if it was made to fit my own. Even now that I have more of my memories back, my thoughts continue to circle you on a level that’s borderline obsessive.”

She blinked. “Wow.”

“Know that. Understand it, because I’m going to say something that will likely make you angry.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

“You need to stop fooling around and work on your magic.”

“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “But you said—”

“I know what I said. ‘Go at your own pace. No pressure.’ That was me being supportive and protective.”

“I like you being supportive and protective.”

“I don’t think you need me to be supportive and protective right now. I think you need a kick in the ass. Because the magic I just felt has nothing dark or evil about it. You’re scared of something that doesn’t exist.”

Yeah, okay. That made her a little mad. More than a little. He didn’t know what she saw. Had no idea the shadows she felt lurking on the edge of her mind anytime the magic drew near.

“Until we know where my power comes from—”

“Ava, we may never know.” He sat up and she followed him, facing each other on the rumpled bed. “We could search the world, question your father, wring answers from a fallen angel, and there is no guarantee we’ll ever know why you were able to call me down from heaven. Or why you can show others things like the face of Death itself. We may not know any of it. Ever.”

She had nothing to say, because he was right. She hated it, but he was right.

“What we do know,” he continued, “is that your power is unique. It could be an incredibly potent weapon against those who want to hurt you. And you need to learn how to wield it like you just did with me.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his naked body.

“Okay, maybe not
just
the way you did with me. You know what I mean.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the wall, unnerved by his honesty.

He was right. She’d felt the power when it left her. Felt the echo of it come back when they made love. It wasn’t the dark shadow she’d felt in the past. The dark edge was still there, but it hadn’t hurt Malachi, so she knew it wasn’t inherently bad.

Could she use it to hurt?

Undoubtedly.

But she could also use it to heal. Her mate was in temporary pain, but his magic had been given a huge boost with the restoration of part of his
talesm
. The Old Language Orsala had taught her bent to her will, taking on her magic before she spoke it into life and power.

She had done this.

And she knew she could do it again.

Ya davarda, reshon.

It was a command. She’d told him to remember and he’d remembered.

How did Irina not become intoxicated by this power?

ORSALA examined Malachi’s arm, lifting it to search every inch of the
talesm
that had reappeared.

“And these are what you remember?”

“As much as I can remember, yes. They feel right. If that makes sense.”

“It does. These are your original marks. I can see the progression in expertise.” She touched the skin that had already healed at his wrist. “A young man’s marks here, for certain.” Her finger passed over his forearm and elbow as Ava watched anxiously from her chair in the library. Rhys sat next to Ava as Orsala inspected Malachi in the full light of the window. “And then as we go up the shoulder… Yes, an obvious progression. You could be rather dramatic when you were young, yes?” She smiled at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

A faint flush stained his cheeks. “I was not always the most rational when choosing my marks.”

Rhys said, “Still aren’t.”

“Shut up, Rhys.”

“I can see a hotheaded boy in this arm,” Orsala said, patting it. “But also the beginnings of a passionate, protective young man.”

“Thank you.”

Orsala turned to Ava, smiling. “You did this.”

“I did.”

Rhys nudged her arm, catching her eye with his mischievous smile. “And then they celebrated after. Loudly.”

Malachi sent his friend a smug smile as he pulled on a shirt. “Jealous.”

“Obviously.”

He crooked his head and Rhys abandoned his seat next to Ava to go lean on his desk.

Orsala said, “I’d caution you to go slowly. When you unleash that level of magic, you’re going to exhaust yourself. And each other.”

Rhys couldn’t smother the laugh.
 

Orsala narrowed her eyes at him, unable to hide her own smile. “While I’m sure some might find it amusing,” she said, “I’d warn you to take your time. And also accept that one spell might not continue to be effective in the same way. It may be that a simple command to remember no longer works at some point. But you’ve taken the first step. You’ve started to heal each other.”
 

Orsala reached down and took Ava’s hand. “You are more open, I can feel it.” She turned to Malachi and took his. “And you’ve regained some of your past. I can see your confidence returning. Your strength. I can feel…” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding both their hands. “Your connection is almost tangible. I think your mating will be unlike anything our world has seen.”

“I concur,” Rhys said with a wistful smile.

“Be cautious,” Orsala warned. “I want to work with you, Ava. Far more than we have been. Mala’s physical training can wait for now. I do not think physical combat is your gift. I want to work on your magic.”

Ava felt Malachi nudging her knee with his own. “I know. I will.”

“And no holding back as you have been.”

“I already promised this guy,” Ava said, looking at her mate. “No holding back.”

“I’ll join you,” Malachi said. “If she needs to practice spells, I’ll be happy to help.”

Orsala said, “I’d prefer to do this in Vienna with Sari, but we’ll do what we can. When can you two go to the city?”

 
Ava exchanged a look with Malachi. “I need to get some information from my father before I go anywhere.”

“Why?”

Malachi frowned. “To find her origins, of course.”

Orsala looked at Rhys. “Isn’t that something you can do while she’s in Vienna?”

Rhys said, “I think Ava’s father is the only one who knows the truth. My searches have come up with nothing.”

“And my dad’s currently in the middle of his mid-tour binge,” Ava said. “He’s not really all that coherent most of the time. Is there such a thing as a magical truth serum?”

“We can work on that if you think it will help,” Orsala said. “But remember, truth is relative. He might tell you something he believes to be true, but there’s no guarantee that his own perceptions are accurate, particularly if he’s damaged his mind with drugs or alcohol.”

“I’ll take my chances. His memory has never been damaged, no matter how much he takes. Luis is right. How that man has managed to keep in perfect health is beyond me.”

“Really?” The old woman stepped back and frowned.

“As far as I know. The drinking and drugs seem to work for him.”

Orsala’s eyes had lost focus. “I wonder…”

Ava waited for her to continue, but she seemed to have lost track of her thoughts. The singer wandered over to a stack of books on the library table and began to page through them. Rhys smiled at Orsala and came to stand in her place.
 

“I’ll continue to search, but I don’t know what other avenues to check.”

Ava had a thought. “Rhys, speaking of Luis…”

“Luis Martin? I’ve checked him out. He’s aboveboard. No criminal record. No links to our world that I can find.”

“How about his personal property? Investments. That kind of thing.”

“What about them?” Rhys frowned. “He’s been a good financial manager for your father and seems very honest. There’s no evidence of embezzlement or anything of the sort.”

“Ah, but what about his own money?” Malachi smiled. “I know what she’s thinking. We were looking for properties or payments in Jasper Reed’s financial life that might indicate something about his mother. But did we check Luis Martin? If Reed truly wanted someone hidden, would he put it in his name or hide it behind someone he trusted implicitly?”

Rhys nodded. “It makes sense if he truly trusts Martin that much.”

Ava said, “He does.”

“Then I’ll look into Luis Martin’s financial life. I’ll let you know if anything looks interesting.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

Orsala called from the other side of the room. “Rhys, do you have a copy of
Gabriel’s Old Tales
?”

“Which version?”

“The Hofstra translation is what I prefer, but any will do. Even one in the Old Language.”

“I know I have at least one. Don’t know about Hofstra…” Rhys led Orsala to the shelves, the two of them scanning the rows of books and muttering quietly back and forth.

“What are
Gabriel’s Old Tales
?” Ava asked.
 

“Hmm? Oh. Children’s stories.” Malachi frowned. “Somewhat frightening ones, as a matter of fact. I’m trying to think of a human equivalent.”

“
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
?”

“Perhaps.”

“Fair maiden does something stupid and ends up eaten by a wolf or losing body parts and wandering hopelessly alone for the rest of her life? That kind of thing?”

“Yes,” he said. “That kind of thing. My grandmother read some of
Gabriel’s Old Tales
to me when I was a child, and I don’t think I slept for a week.”

“Nice.”

“Now that I think about it, let’s agree to never tell our children those kinds of stories, shall we?”

“We never finished the kid conversation, you know.”

He reached over and put his arm around her shoulder, nuzzling his face into her neck. “You want my babies.”

Ava felt herself melting. “You are confident, aren’t you?”

“I’m confident because I know you want my babies. And you’re a fierce woman who will make a tremendous mother.”

“Mine was pretty great, even though my dad and stepdad were kind of useless.”

“As our children will have the benefit of a superb father, you should have no concerns.”

“What was Orsala saying about your confidence coming back?”

HER eyes opened in the darkness. She could sense her mate. He was by her side, unaware they were no longer alone.
 

Was she dreaming? She didn’t quite know. All she knew was darkness and quiet. Peace filled her heart.

Darkness materialized from the shadows, but it wasn’t Jaron. The rustle of feathers whispered in the air as the beautiful man leaned forward. His face emerged from the void of his hood, pale as the moon and holding an ancient, delicate beauty.

Ava felt no fear.

His eyes weren’t the rich gold of Jaron’s, but a silvery grey outlined by deep ebony lashes. His hair was the blue-black of a raven’s wing; his face spoke peace.

Beautiful, immutable peace.

She put a hand on Malachi’s shoulder and was surprised to feel the heat of his skin under her fingers. This was a dream, but it wasn’t.

“I’ve seen you before,” she said.

Death nodded, but he did not speak.

“You’re not like the others.”

He shook his head, a small smile playing across his lips.

“Am I going to die? Is he?” Her hand pressed into her mate’s back, and Death’s eyes followed her hand, resting on Malachi as he slept.

“No,” Ava whispered, fear clutching her chest. “Please no.”

Death flew to her side, pressing a warm finger to her lips. He drew her to his chest, and when he embraced her, a still, quiet voice whispered in her mind.

I am not here for you. Or him. I only see you together, and it fills me with a rare joy.

“You took him,” she whispered.

I take them all. It is not often I am allowed to bring them back.

A sense of laughter in her mind.

Come with me, daughter. And I will show you secrets.

Death spread his arms and enfolded her in the night. His cloak was a blanket of stars, wrapping her in its depths as he surrounded her. She was weightless. Formless. And yet she still felt Malachi’s strong shoulder under her hand as her soul flew with the black angel.

Come
.

He opened his cloak and revealed a dark room. Three beings met there, cold and frightening in power. And though she stood in the center of them, Death held her shoulders, turning her around the chamber, and Ava knew they did not see her.

Listen
.

The whispers came to her from behind a veil. Thoughts and voices tangled together. Ava knew they were speaking in the Old Language, but she had no trouble understanding.