The Secret: Irin Chronicles Book Three (36 page)

“We both will,” Ava said.
 

Gabriel sat back, clearly still perturbed by Malachi’s presumption. Malachi didn’t care.

“And you may not agree with me.” He looked around the table. “Any of you. But I think Kostas
and
Kyra need to be present at the Library when we tell the elders the world as they’ve known it has changed.”

“No,” Kostas said immediately. “I will not consent to allow my sister here when there are unknown threats against her.”

“I agree with Malachi,” Damien said.

“As do I,” Sari concurred. “We can protect your sister.”

Kostas still looked dubious. Malachi could hardly blame him. He was taking a great risk, making allies of those who’d spent their lives trying to kill those of his blood.

Renata said, “I will guard her as well. Practically speaking, the only threat to her would be other Irina, and we can handle them. No scribe would harm a woman in our company, even if she carried the look of a Grigori.”

“But they’d kill me on sight,” Kostas said. “You cannot argue with that. There is no possible way I could go to the Library. My scent would give me away in a second.”

Everyone fell silent, forced to acknowledge the truth of his words until a lone voice at the end of the room spoke.

“I can mask his scent.”

They all turned to see the dark form of an angel, chin propped on his hand as he rested his elbow on the edge of the table.

There were shouts of alarm. Weapons were pulled. Defensive positions taken. Malachi edged in front of his mate, but she sighed and pushed him to the side.

“Vasu,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough. I can mask the scent of Barak’s son.”

“Everyone relax,” Ava said. “I don’t think he’s here to cause trouble. At least not the violent kind.”

Malachi itched to reach across and plunge a silver blade in the nape of the angel’s neck. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would be very, very satisfying.

Vasu looked at him and winked. “Meow.”

Only Ava’s hand on Malachi’s shoulder kept him from lunging at the black-haired angel.

“Explain,” Ava said. “Why would you do it?”

Vasu sat up. “Obviously so I could see the look on their faces when they saw a Grigori in the middle of their precious Library,” he said. “Also because it serves our purposes for our sons to be called into battle at this time. It would be better if they were not killed on sight. My children have already felt my call.” He cocked his head and looked at Kostas. “So have Barak’s, even if they do not recognize it.”

The color drained from Kostas’s handsome face. “No.”

“Oh yes.”

The Grigori stood in a rage, realizing his free will had only been an illusion. “No!”

Sirius stood next to him, his eyes tormented. “Why? We thought he was dead. Why would our father—”

“Calm yourselves.” Vasu waved a hand at them. “Your sire has no intention of building his army again. He has other purposes in mind.”

“He and Jaron want to return to heaven, don’t they?” Ava asked quietly. “Jaron told me. ‘I will tear the threads of heaven to return.’ That’s what he told me in a vision.”

“Did he?” Vasu asked, all innocence.
 

It was a disturbing expression on a fallen angel.

“What is their plan?” Malachi asked. “How is Volund a part of it? What do they aim to do?”

Vasu looked him straight in the eye and said, “I have no idea.”

And Malachi knew he was lying.

Rage boiled up. Months of frustration at being used like a pawn. Weeks of uncertainty, knowing his mate was in danger and being forced to rely on one of his mortal enemies to protect her.

Malachi flew out of his seat with a roar, only to find the chair Vasu had occupied completely empty. He spun, but the angel was already standing behind Kostas and Sirius. Bending down, he kissed both their foreheads then, with a wink at Ava, he disappeared.

Everybody in the room was frozen, then the shouts all came at once.

“And
these
are our allies?” Gabriel yelled at Damien.

“What did he mean? Does this mean Barak—”

“—how many Grigori is that? Are we supposed to fight
with
them?”

“—not know Jaron was speaking to Ava. Directly to her?”

“We still have no idea—”

Mala’s staff crashed down on middle of the dining room table, and she threw out an angry sign.

Everyone fell silent again.

“That means ‘Shut up,’” Ava said. “I know that one.”

Orsala stood. “First things first. Damien, you are the oldest scribe in the room. Can you detect any scent of Grigori on our new… friends?”

Damien leaned closer, staring at Sirius and Kostas. Then he closed his eyes, stroked long fingers up his forearm to activate his magic, and inhaled one long breath.

“Nothing,” he said, opening his eyes. “Not even with my
talesm
. They smell human.”

Gabriel also leaned forward. “Astonishing.”

“Well, he is an angel,” Ava muttered. “Just kind of a weird one.”

Sirius said, “Vasu was always known as a trickster. His sons are moody and unpredictable, but they worship him as a god.”

“It’s true,” Kostas said. “He annoyed my father. His sons are madmen, but if Vasu calls them, they’ll come without question.”

Orsala said, “He’s cloaked you for now. It’s possible he’s cloaked all his children. He mentioned Barak’s children and his own. Can we assume Jaron’s Grigori will be joining us as well?”

Everyone looked at Kostas. He shrugged. “Most of my father’s children follow me now. I’ve killed those who wouldn’t. Jaron’s children are more mixed. The majority fled east after he lost Istanbul. A few tried to seek refuge with us, but we turned them away.”

“Why?” Leo asked. “Wouldn’t more free Grigori help your cause?”

“They weren’t free, because I knew Jaron wasn’t dead,” Sirius said.

“How?” Ava asked.
 

Malachi returned to her side.

“Because he’s been feeding me power for nearly fifty years,” Kostas admitted.

Malachi saw Ava’s eyes widen.

“Me as well,” Sirius said. “Our father disappeared. Jaron was his closest ally. We had both stopped feeding from human women. We would have died without Jaron’s help and the help of our sisters. We don’t have longevity spells as you do. We’re getting older.”

Malachi didn’t see it in their faces, but he saw it in their eyes. Both men looked exhausted.

“Jaron also directed
kareshta
to us through a doctor in Istanbul. Most had been living in the human world. They thought they were mad. We took them in if we could or found other safe places for them.”

Interesting. Kostas appeared clueless that the “doctor” who’d been sending women to them was Jaron himself.

“Even after Istanbul, we knew Volund hadn’t killed him,” Sirius said. “He’s one of the most powerful archangels in existence. But his children will never be free until he is dead. We could never trust that they were acting of their own will and not their father’s.”

Malachi felt Ava shiver at his side.

Though they couldn’t affect her will, Ava would never be free until both Jaron and Volund were gone from the earthly realm.

Jaron wanted to kill Volund. Jaron wanted to return to heaven. If both those things were accomplished, Malachi’s mate would be truly free.

Malachi said, “I don’t know about his children, but for now our purposes align with Jaron’s. So what can we do to help him?”

“Wait for the Irina council to reform,” Sari said. “Then reveal the truth about the
kareshta
. And about Kostas and his brothers.”

More silence as they took in Sari’s words.

“Many will resist seeing them as allies,” Max said. “Some will find it impossible.”

Damien said, “Then we deal with that when it occurs. If the armies of three angels are descending on Vienna, then Mikhael’s blood will rise. The Irin here are sleeping, not dead. They will take their allies as they come.”

“And more Irina will come if they see the opportunity for vengeance,” Renata added. “Plus, the opportunity to save sisters more lost than we ever were.”

“Call Kyra,” Sirius said to Kostas.

Kostas shook his head. “Brother—”

“Call her. You know it’s the right thing to do. It should be her choice. And we cannot defend them ourselves. It is time to ask for help.”

“IS it just me,” Ava asked, “or does it seem quieter outside than inside?”

“It’s not just you.” Malachi sat next to her in the corner of the library at Damien and Sari’s house.
 

Three days after Kostas’s appearance in Vienna, the
kareshta
had been hidden in Prague. Kostas and Max had moved swiftly to hide the women and children left from the attack in Bulgaria, and Sirius handed over their protection to Orsala, Mala, and the remaining singers of Sarihöfn. Kyra refused to stay in the safe house; she had returned to Vienna with her brother.

Now three singers stood in Damien’s study, talking with Sari and arguing while Rhys, Leo, Ava, and Malachi looked on.

The seven elder singers had returned to Vienna, but as Sari warned them all, this was no puppet council.

Abigail and Carmina, the two most traditional of the council, were arguing with Sari over her decision to step aside for the European seat, leaving Constance the chosen favorite.

“Why have you withdrawn?” Abigail asked. She was a strong-boned woman from Newfoundland with a powerful voice. “You’re one of the most respected singers in Europe. Many of my own people look to you as an authority.”

“But I’m not a politician,” Sari said. “I have other roles now.”

Like the quiet plan Kostas and Damien were already working on to search for more of the lost
kareshta
. Sari, Damien, and Max were sending out inquiries to their allies across Europe, spreading the news and asking scribe houses to be on the lookout for women with Grigori traits, especially in areas where Fallen had been killed and might have left surviving children.

Minor angels killed each other with alarming regularity. And if their daughters were lost in the human population, they could be helped without danger of their sire’s influence.

“She’s not even European,” Carmina protested. “She’s American.”

Carmina looked delicate, but Malachi had heard the singer carried Mikhael’s blood. Her looks were probably deceiving.

“She’s lived here longer than many natives,” Sari said. “And her mate has family ties in France. She’s a valid choice.”

Abigail snorted. “She’s a ninny. She’d lock every one of us in a retreat and throw away the key.”

Daina, a dark-haired former elder from the Caribbean was one of the more moderate singers on the council and the only calm voice in the room. “She represents many of our sisters who carry this same view. Are they not allowed a voice?”
 

The singer’s face was a stunning blend of African, American, and European blood. Malachi could tell she was very old. Her mate, a watcher of immense reputation, had left public life with her after the Rending. Rumor in Vienna was that Daina and Zamir protected one of the largest havens in the Western Hemisphere, somewhere in the southern Caribbean Sea. She’d been coaxed back to her former position in Vienna when South America had been given the seventh seat on the council.

“If you want to object to her seating,” Daina continued, “object to the fact that her mate is one of the elder scribes. There is a reason it is avoided. A mated pair can hold too much power if they speak as one.”

“Unfortunately”—Rhys decided to risk his input—“they both have political presences that are independent from the other. According to what Damien and I have been able to learn, they’re not seen as a single entity here. They’ve had years to develop their own allies, and they don’t agree on everything.”

“They agree on compulsion,” Carmina said.

Sari said, “Yes, but compulsion is not the only issue of our race. And on many of the others, Constance carries her own view and is admired for it. Further, she’s seen as the leading Irina mind in Vienna. She’s a medical doctor as well as a healer. Many of the women who’ve lived here since the Rending—”

“The ones who’ve lived in hiding?” Abigail asked. “The ones who allowed their mates to shut them up like prisoners in their own homes? Are we expected to take them seriously?”

“This is useless debate,” Daina said. “She will be chosen. She will serve. You can debate with her in the Library.”

Leo said, “Some of the elder scribes object to the council being reformed. They say it is not legitimate.”

Daina waved him off. “I’ve heard the objections, but they are ridiculous. The Irin elders have never had a voice in choosing the Irina council, just as we have never had a voice in choosing their ranks. We will take our place in the Library in two days’ time.”

“They do object to us,” Abigail said, her voice holding barely concealed pain. “Some object to our very presence in the city. My mother would be appalled.”