Текст книги "The Singer"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Hunter

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“There’s no other record of the first Ava?”

“Not that Rhys has found. Or Konrad’s contact in America.”

Leo was silent for some time. Then he said, “If he knew her name, is it possible he knew more than that?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a very famous musician, isn’t he? He has a lot of money. Do we know if he was wealthy when Ava was born?”

Malachi said, “Rhys said Reed was already famous when Ava was born.”

“So he probably had money. And if he had money, he could have found his mother. Maybe as an adult, even. Reed might be the reason her records don’t exist.”

“Why would he make his own mother disappear? Especially if she was dead?”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But if he has her records, or knows where they are…” Malachi was starting to see where Leo was going. “There’s no way we could talk to him. He has bodyguards. Handlers.”

“But he only has one daughter.”

“He would tell Ava. Probably.”

“Maybe.”

The phone rang. The loud electronic buzz filled the silent library.

Leo picked it up. “Max?”

Malachi could hear his brother’s voice from across the room.

“Get to Oslo, Leo. Get Malachi and get on a plane now.”

Malachi’s heart raced. “Oslo?”

“I’ve found them,” Max said. “I’ve found Ava.”

Chapter Sixteen

The feeling of being watched continued into Sarihöfn. It continued during her lesson with Orsala the next day. It hung over her shoulder and she could not rest, even when she tried.

“Something is coming,” she said to Orsala, who was fixing tea during a break in their lessons.

“Have you seen something? What is it?”

“Something dark. I see it in my dreams. I’ve brought something dark here.”

Orsala narrowed her eyes, then closed them, and Ava knew she was taking a gentle scan of the emotions around her. It was part of the shields that Sarihöfn held. The scribes who lived there wrote their magic on the trees and walls of the compound. Sari manipulated the very elements that surrounded them. There were patrols and guards. Video monitoring and electronic sensors. And Orsala could feel the emotional temperature of any inhabitant when she wanted to.

“Nothing feels wrong, Ava. Except that you’re worried. For the first time in many years, our wards here are stronger because Sari is complete.”

At least one good thing had come from her visit. Damien and Sari’s reconciliation had strengthened the whole community and put both of them in a far better mood. By the time Mala and Ava had returned from Bergen, there were flowers pushing up through the snow. Playful ribbing might have reddened Sari’s cheeks, but the aura of contentment was evident all through the valley.

Except for Ava.

She could feel it. Something dark shadowed her. It lurked in the trees.

“I dream of dark things, Orsala.” Her voice was barely over a whisper. “Even when Malachi is there, there’s a darkness, too.”

The old woman put a hand on her arm as she sat next to Ava at the table. “That’s normal, daughter. I dreamed of my mate after I lost him, too. It’s normal that your dreams of him would be troubling. He was taken from you in the most violent way. Don’t hide from that. Your soul must grieve.”

“They’re not always dark.”

“Good.”

“But there’s something…”

“What?” The kettle began to whistle, and Orsala rose. “What is it?”

“I feel like it comes from me. Or it’s tied to me, but separate. I don’t want it… but it’s part of me. Like when I didn’t let go of Bruno. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. Part of me didn’t want to. I liked the power.”

Ava could smell the aroma of tea rising from the cheery brown pot Orsala always used. It did nothing to cheer her.

“You’re angry,” the old woman said.

“At myself, yes.”

Orsala finally sat again, putting the tea and two cups in front of her, closing the book of spells they’d been studying.

“Ava, you spent much of your life in the human world, not realizing who or what you were. For years, they told you that your mind was wrong. That could easily have created the shadows I see within you. Yes, there is darkness. But none of us are completely dark or light. We are, none of us, perfect beings. Not even the angels are perfect. We fail and fall like the humans. We have rage. Greed. Violence against each other. But we seek the light. That is what makes us different from the Fallen.” Her lip curled. “From their Grigori spawn. Our souls seek the light.”

Her mouth turned up at the corner. “You don’t feel the darkness in me?”

Orsala hesitated. “I do.”

“I do, too.”

“But I see far more light than dark. Yes, your magic has… a shadow. I’ve seen it just as you have. But I truly believe the longer you are with us, the longer you know who you are and what you are meant to be, that shadow will lessen. It will never overpower you.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Be sure, Ava.” Her voice dropped. “Summon the will that kept you sane among the humans and fight it. If you aren’t sure of yourself, then the darkness could win.”

“And the shadow I’m feeling? The one surrounding me?”

Orsala shrugged. “We’ll watch. But Sarihöfn is protected, Ava. Very protected. We know Volund is after you, but it is doubtful even one of the Fallen could find you here with all the shields in place.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”

“Shall we study more?”

“Yes.”

Because if there was anything she could learn that might help hold back the darkness, then Ava needed it.

“Do not fear the darkness.”

She slept, but he wasn’t there. She stood at the edge of the forest, looking out. There was nothing there but blackness, and the birds did not sing.

“You shouldn’t have left.”

The voice came from behind her. She turned and saw the soft-spoken man in glasses.

“Who are you?”

“You shouldn’t have left. He’s coming now. His children found you, so he can, too.” The man sighed. “Blood. It’s very difficult to stop blood magic.”

“Where is he?”

“That, I cannot tell you. Perhaps he does not sleep.”

She blinked and the image of the man wavered.

“Take off your mask,” she said.

He smiled. “You are bold in dreams. I do not find offense in this.”

“Then take off your mask.”

“Are you sure you want to see me as I am?” He must have read the uncertainty in her eyes. “I will show you a shadow of my face in this world, but that is all.”

The man grew. Expanded. His soft face shimmered away and a harder one took its place. A beautiful face. Unearthly. His hair was black and shining as a raven’s wing. His eyes were a glittering amber gold. Smooth tan skin was marked by raised letters she recognized. They were like her mate’s, but more. This being’s magic was not written on him, it was part of him. She knew he would not hurt her. He was frightening, but she felt no fear.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You are not the first to say so.”

“Your spells…” She stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. The skin was warm under her fingertips. The raised letters glimmered with a faint, silver sheen.

“They are not spells.”

“What are they?”

“Magic that is part of me.”

“Like my magic is part of me?”

“No. They are more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not meant to, child. It is a thing beyond your ken.”

She looked around the forest. The darkness crept closer. Around the glowing being, it was held back, but it did not seem afraid of him any more than she was.

“Why does it find me here?”

“He finds you because he can. Just as I can.”

She looked up into his glowing face. “Will it hurt me?”

He cocked his head. “I do not know his purpose. Only that he would thwart mine.”

“And what is your purpose?”

He smiled. “That is not for you to know yet. I gave you my vision once. I will give you others when you need them.”

“When will I need them?”

He shook his head. “Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Wake up, or the darkness will find you.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave yet. You don’t answer my questions.”

His smile turned sad. He lifted his hand to her cheek and trailed a warm finger there. “I had hoped… You look nothing like your mother. But your voice reminds me of her.”

She felt tears on her cheek, but he brushed them away. “I don’t understand you.”

He vanished from her sight, but his whisper came from the trees around her.

“Wake, Ava…” 

She woke, and the tears were cold on her cheeks. There was a commotion outside the cottage. She could hear shouting and car engines roaring to life.

Ava bolted up in bed, throwing on her clothes and racing from the bedroom. Damien burst through the door a moment later.

“Two Grigori. Both dead. But they found us, Ava.” His cold voice turned Ava’s stomach. “They found Sarihöfn.”

“This is my fault,” she whispered at the kitchen table, listening to Sari plan the evacuation of the entire community. Orsala sat on one side. Damien sat on the other. Irina bustled around, listening for instructions and then setting about tasks as Sari gave them.

“No.” Damien gripped her hand. “You did nothing wrong. Mala is sure you were not tailed from Bergen. This is from some other crack in our defenses. It was… surprising. But we had become too complacent. It was probably inevitable after so much time. There have been so many who have used Sarihöfn as a refuge over the years. No magic is impenetrable. And with the Grigori becoming more aggressive, we should not be surprised.”

Far from chaos, a quiet urgency lay over the house. There was no shouting or panic. The Grigori soldiers the guards had apprehended in the woods had been killed, but plans were underway to empty the haven. If there were two, there would be others. Listening to Sari give instructions to Mala and Astrid, Bruno and Karen, she realized that this had always been planned. As secure as Sarihöfn was, the Irin were a people constantly at war. No place was truly safe.

And Ava realized it would always be this way.

Even before the Rending, they had hidden. Hidden from the humans. From the Fallen. The Irin lived as a people under siege. It was frightening. Exhausting. And this was her future.

No mate. No family. Constantly on the move. Half of her reasoned it wasn’t all that different from how she’d lived before she knew she was Irina. The other half just wanted to run like she had in Bergen.

Run from Istanbul.

Run from Turkey.

Run from Sarihöfn.

Where would she run next?

Families were evacuated first; multiple backup plans were already in place. Irina with mates were calling them, finding places to meet. There were other havens around the world. Other havens could be formed in out-of-the-way places. Some Irina would go to them while others would scatter. For many, Sarihöfn had provided a place to train and grow. Now they could fight their own battles.

“What will they do about money?” Ava asked. “And the farm?”

“There are humans Sari trusts who will take care of the farm. And they have saved money for hundreds of years. They will give money to families and individuals as they need it. They have enough.”

“I have money. More than I need. If any of them—”

“Keep your money, sister.” Damien placed a hand on her shoulder. “They will be fine.”

“They planned for this.”

“Yes,” he said, a note of sadness in his voice. “After the Rending, we knew no place would be safe forever.”

Within hours, cars and trucks were already leaving the barn. People took only what they needed. Furniture would be left behind. Perhaps, at some point, it could be retrieved, but safety was more important than sentiment.

“We’ll stay here a few days with Sari,” Damien said. “We’re still deciding where our family will go. Sari and I have different ideas about what should happen now.”

“And me?”

“You’re coming with us, of course.” He smiled. “That we all agree on. You still have many lessons with Orsala. And you’re part of our family.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m not sure I’m a very safe person to be around right now.”

“Good!” Sari’s voice sounded from across the room. “Then my plan it is, Damien.”

Damien shook his head. “Milá…”

“I know you want to go someplace safe and hidden, my love.” A wild smile crossed Sari’s face, and there was fire in her eyes. “But I cannot agree. I have taken care of my sisters. I have sheltered those who needed it. I have been peaceful too long. Give me an enemy to bloody my hands on.”

“The Irina need—”

“We know what we need.” Ava hadn’t expected the soft-spoken Karen’s voice to be so strong. “And that is not to have others dictate to us. Bruno and I can take care of those who need shelter. There is a house that belonged to my mother outside Prague. It has been empty for many years. Bruno and I will create a safe place and let you know when it is ready. I am not a warrior.” She looked up at her mate. “And my Bruno knows this. But your mate is, Damien. And you know that.”

“I will go with Karen and Bruno,” Astrid said, looking at Ava. “And know that you can always come to my door if you need healing. Any of you.”

Mala signed something to Sari.

“Mala will go with them, as well, at least for a time,” Sari said. She looked around, frowning. “Has anyone been able to call Renata?”

Ava said, “Candace was trying to call her mobile. She’s not at her apartment in Bergen. She might still be in Oslo. Candace and Brooke are going to the scribe house there with Chelsea. Her mate is stationed there.”

Sari nodded, then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In that moment, Ava could see the years on her face, though it remained the smooth porcelain of youth. The kitchen was almost empty. Within hours, the evacuation would be complete.

“We always knew this place could not last forever,” Sari said, reaching for her grandmother’s hand. “Change has come. We are ready. Now let this quiet war end.”

Chapter Seventeen

They debated flying to Oslo, but in the end decided that a plane would be too problematic. And traceable. Malachi, Leo, and Rhys decided to drive. Borrowing a new car from Gabriel, they left as soon as Rhys made it back to the house. The scholar was going in circles with his research into Ava’s family background, so he decided to join them. Max hadn’t given them much information. He didn’t know Ava’s exact location, only how to find her, and he claimed that Oslo was the starting point.

“Be prepared,” he had warned. “There is something going on here. Something big. Grigori are swarming the city. The local scribe house has been inundated and has even called on neighboring houses to help. It’s dangerous. Volund’s soldiers are everywhere.”

There was, of course, no talk of Grigori aggression in Vienna. Gabriel quietly took note of the information, then procured a car for the three scribes to borrow indefinitely. It might have been cramped in back, but it was enough for Leo to stretch out while Rhys took a turn during the eighteen-hour drive.

The modern highway sped past as Malachi watched out the window, alternately disturbed and comforted by how familiar and yet foreign the drive turned out to be.

“I’ve driven this route before,” he said to Rhys. “Many times, I think.”

“Probably.” Rhys reached for the cup of coffee he’d been nursing. “You were in Berlin for a long time. I imagine you drove this way when you went to Vienna.”

He frowned. “Would I have gone to Vienna much?”

“You were second to the Watcher in Berlin. I imagine you spent plenty of time there.”

Malachi shifted uncomfortably. “Konrad called me something when we met with him.”

“What?” The corner of Rhys’s mouth lifted. “The ‘Butcher’ thing?”

“Yes.”

The other scribe chuckled. “You loved that nickname. Cultivated it, once upon a time.”

“Why?”

“Because fear is as potent a weapon as fists or knives,” Rhys said. “Think of how many Grigori avoided Berlin knowing that a scribe known as ‘The Butcher’ was there.”

“So they simply went someplace else. What made Berlin more important than any other city?”

“It’s not more important or less, Malachi. But… we all have places that are significant.”

“And my parents died in Berlin.” He remembered what Konrad had said.

“Yes, they did,” Rhys said. “And when you returned to the city, you painted the walls red with Grigori blood.”

“It sounds like I was very angry.”

“You were. For hundreds of years, you were angry. Until you met Ava, I think.”

Ava. His heart ached with unknown longing. He hungered for something but couldn’t remember the taste.

“We all grieve in different ways,” Rhys said quietly.

Malachi tried to control his frustration. His past was a giant empty wound that would occasionally offer up a bubble of insight. But for the most part, there was nothing. Flashes of knowledge. An image. A scent memory. Most of what his mind offered him came from his childhood. His training. There were occasional flashes of Ava, but nothing concrete.

“You weren’t getting anywhere with the research into her family?” he asked Rhys.

“I’ve run into a brick wall. Her mother’s family is transparent. Grandparents. Great-grandparents. Ava told me once that her mother’s family didn’t talk much about their history, but it was relatively easy to find. French and German, mostly. Midwestern immigrants who came in the middle of the 1800s. Nothing about them stands out as having any supernatural origins. It’s her father who is the problem.”

“So it must be there.”

Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally, he said, “It goes against everything we know about Irin biology, but yes, it must be on her father’s side.”

“So her grandmother must have been Irina?”

“She must have been. And for Ava to be as powerful as she is, her blood must have been potent. Old. To not be diluted in the third generation, her grandmother must have been extraordinary.”

“But we know nothing about her.”

Rhys shook his head. “Her father is a musical genius, obviously, so the angelic blood shows there. But he had a normal—well, normal for him—relationship with Ava’s mother, so he’s not an Irin male. Not like we are.”

“Does he have any other children beside Ava?”

“Not that we know of.”

“Curious.”

“Or just careful,” Rhys said. “He doesn’t seem like the fatherly type.”

“No.” Though from what Malachi had learned of Ava’s father, perhaps his absence had been a blessing in disguise.

“So, Ava’s magic must come from her paternal grandmother, whom we have no records for except a single note on her father’s file that his mother was also named Ava.”

Malachi said, “Leo and I think that Reed hid her records. As an adult, we think he paid to have them disappear.”

“Why?”

“Why do we think so?” he asked. “Or why would he hide them at all?”

“Both.”

“He named his only daughter the same name as his mother. Do you think that is a coincidence?”

Rhys took the turnoff, concentrating on passing a large truck and ignoring Malachi’s comment. “I hadn’t considered that,” he said after traffic had cleared. “You’re right, a coincidence like that is highly unlikely.”

“So Jasper Reed knew his biological mother’s name. And he had money before Ava was born. He’d already made several records at that time. He would have had the money to make her records disappear if he wanted to and knew the right people.”

“And from what I’ve heard, there is more than one person in his employ who has a questionable relationship with the law.”

Malachi said, “So he knew his mother’s name and she has disappeared from the public record. It’s not hard to make the connection that it was deliberate.”

“So the other ‘why’ remains? Why would he hide it? I’ve read interviews with him. He’s very open about being raised in the foster system. Even seems proud of it, in his own way.”

“Maybe she was a criminal.”

“She blackmailed him?” Rhys offered. “And he didn’t want anyone to know?”

“Is she even still alive?”

“The secrecy doesn’t seem consistent with his public persona.”

Rhys nodded. “He’s very well-known. Most of his adult life has been lived in the public eye, and he’s notoriously unstable. He’s been arrested. Publicly intoxicated. Repeated stints in rehabilitation clinics for drugs and alcohol. He doesn’t seem to hide anything.”

“Except…” Malachi’s voice dropped when he realized what Rhys had missed. “Except Ava.”

“What?”

“Ava. He hides Ava. Have you ever heard of him having a daughter?”

Rhys thought for a moment. “No. He doesn’t speak about her in interviews.”

Malachi grudgingly acknowledged, “He seems to be very protective of her, as far as keeping her out of the spotlight. And from what you’ve said, it was his money and his influence with Ava’s mother that kept her independent.”

“Ava said her father was adamant that nothing was wrong with her mentally. Even…” The car slowed as Rhys’s thoughts drifted. He was blasted to awareness by an angry honk behind them. “Blast.”

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No. I’m not tired. I was just thinking of something Ava told me once.”

“What?”

“Her father set up an independent trust fund for her to access when she was twenty-two. Her. Only her. Her mother had no access, though she had other child support while Ava was growing up. But it was the trust fund that made Ava independent. She even owns a house in Los Angeles that Reed bought her in the hills near Malibu. Very private. She never stays there, but he bought it for her.”

“So—”

“Reed knew her as a child. She thought he was only a family friend, but she knew him. Quite well. And Ava said he was one of the few people who never treated her any differently, even when she had massive anxiety and mood swings. Even when the doctors were telling her mother to commit her. At her worst—which sounded like puberty—Reed was one of the few adults in her life that Ava said she didn’t have to guard herself around.”

The light began to dawn. “You think he knew she heard voices? Did she tell him?”

“No. But if his mother was Irina, maybe he did know, Malachi. Maybe in some way, he knew his mother was different. Knew his daughter was different in the same way.”

“He named his daughter after his mother, then hid both of them from the world.”

Rhys nodded. “We know what he was hiding with Ava. Or maybe what he thought he was hiding.”

“Maybe he hid his mother for the same reasons.”

It was close to midnight when the three finally arrived in Oslo. They hadn’t warned the scribe house there that three traveling scribes were coming. Rhys knew Lang, the Watcher of the house, and was certain they would be welcomed. Max said he would contact them the next night with more information.

They knocked on the door, knowing someone would answer even at midnight. Lights were on all over the house, and he could hear voices, even past the formidable old door. The cold wind whipped down the vacant street, and the air was bitter with snow. Malachi drew his jacket closer around him.

Rhys knocked on the door again, louder, and Malachi finally heard footsteps. The door was yanked open by a harried-looking man with shaggy blond hair and hard blue eyes. He frowned for a moment until his gaze settled on Rhys.

“Rhys,” he said, a smile cracking the hard planes of his face. “Thank heaven. I didn’t know if London would send anyone. Then… I didn’t know whether I should cancel the order for help. To see a trustworthy face is more than I could have asked.”

“Lang,” Rhys started, “what are you—”

“Your friends”—the sharp eyes grew cold again—“can I trust them?”

“Of course. These are my brothers from the Istanbul house. We’ve just come from—”

“Istanbul?” Lang stepped toward them, and Malachi realized how tall the scribe was. Standing next to him, Malachi almost felt like a boy. Lang had to have been at least six and a half feet, and though his build was lean, he was hard-muscled and quick. His eyes narrowed on Rhys. “That’s right… you’re not in London. Not anymore. You’ve been in Istanbul for years now.”

“You know this, Lang. I didn’t call before because—”

“What are you doing here?” The watcher crossed his arms, and Malachi could see a hint of old talesm at his wrists. All friendly welcome had dropped from the scribe’s face, and he reached back to bang his hand on the door in three sharp, rhythmic raps. Within seconds, two more scribes were there, one even paler than Lang, the other with skin dark as the night around them. They stood, two ominous counterpoints, behind Lang’s suddenly hostile stance.

“Lang?” Rhys’s normally pale face went even paler. “What is this?”

“I received no word that scribes from Istanbul would be coming to my city. What is the meaning of your presence here?”

Malachi tried to keep his voice low. “Has the hospitality of Oslo house fallen so far that three Irin brothers are not even given welcome on a freezing night?”

Lang’s attention shifted to Malachi. “The night may be frozen but my mind is not. You come here for some purpose. I can read it in the Englishman’s face. Who sent you?”

“No one sent us.”

“Really? Then state your purpose. Or leave.”

“Really, Lang!” Rhys was indignant. “What kind of nonsense—”

“Perhaps before we state our purpose,” Malachi said, “you should tell us why you called for help from London.”

“That’s none of your concern. If you will not state your business, leave now.”

He turned and the two scribes behind him stepped forward. Both would be formidable adversaries. Malachi’s palms itched for his knives.

“We’re looking for my cousin.” Leo, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped out of the shadow. Lang turned toward his voice. “You know him. Everyone knows Maxim.”

Lang blinked in surprise, then said, “If you hadn’t said cousin, I would have thought twin. Yes, I know Max.”

“He called us. Told us to come to Oslo. We are searching for someone. A woman.”

Lang’s eyes narrowed. “What would a woman be doing in a scribe house?”

Far from allaying suspicion, the three Oslo scribes became even more hostile.

“We don’t know,” Leo said. “Max told us to come here, so we did.”

Rhys said, “Lang, our house in Istanbul was attacked. Our watcher left with an Irina who had taken shelter with us.”

Lang’s eyes narrowed. “There was an Irina in your house? In Turkey?”

“An Irina who Volund’s Grigori were targeting. It’s a complicated story, but we have been looking for them. Max called and told us to come here. I don’t know why, but—”

A flurry of Norwegian broke out between the three scribes. Malachi could follow only parts of it, but one word stood out.

“Sarihöfn,” Malachi said. “What does Sarihöfn mean?”

The argument stopped, and Lang’s eyes swung toward him. “Who was the watcher who took the woman?”

Rhys said, “Who is the watcher of Istanbul? The same scribe for the last two hundred years, Lang! Damien, of course.”

“Sarihöfn… Sari’s haven? Is that what you’re talking about?” Malachi asked, slowly stepping toward Lang. “Do you know where she is?”

“I don’t know what business you have with Sari, but—”

“For heaven’s sake, Lang!” Rhys broke in. “You know Damien. Think! You know I’ve been serving under him. I am looking for my watcher, and I don’t understand why the hell you’re being so…”

It was a little sound that stopped him. Such a little sound, Malachi thought, to stop six grown men from almost coming to blows. A delicate sound, drifting from the warmth of the open door.

A child’s laughter.

A girl child’s laughter.

Lang barked out, “Close the door!”

But before he did, Rhys and Leo had both stepped forward.

“Who are you guarding, Lang?” Rhys asked. “What is going on here?”

“Can I trust you?” he asked Rhys.

“I can’t believe you’re even asking that.”

“Yes,” Malachi said. “You can trust us. All of us. We’re looking for Damien. I need to find him.”

“Why? I don’t even know your name, scribe.”

Malachi took a deep breath and fought the roar of anger that burned in his chest. “My name is Malachi of Sakarya. I am a bound scribe of Istanbul. And I am looking for Damien, because he is guarding my mate.”

“Your mate?”

Rhys said, “They met in Istanbul. Were mated there. Volund’s Grigori overran the city, and Damien took Malachi’s woman to Sari to keep her safe. But we need to find her. We need to find them both. That is the only reason we are here.”

Leo said, “Though I’d like to know who exactly you’re guarding behind those doors, Lang. That was no scribe’s laughter.”

“It is none of your concern.”

Rhys asked, “What do you know of Sarihöfn?”

“What is Sarihöfn?” Lang asked with a blank look on his face.

Malachi forced himself not to assault the scribe. “Why do you refuse to help us? What are you afraid of?”

The dark scribe who guarded the door stepped forward, putting a hand on Lang’s shoulder before he could lunge at Malachi. He was just as tall as Lang, but with an even broader build. “My name is Jeremiah,” he said, his accent marking him as American. “You must forgive our caution, but we do have reason. Lang—all of us—received a shock a few days ago when my mate returned from Sari’s haven, saying it had been compromised. We don’t know more than that.”

“Sari’s home has been compromised?” Leo asked. “When? How?”

“The Irina are here?” Malachi asked, his heart racing.

“Only a few,” Jeremiah held up a hand. “My mate, along with a widowed Irina and her child. They are only passing through the city.”

“We don’t know the details,” Lang said. “We’ve known Sari’s haven was somewhere in the Nordfjord region for centuries. Jeremiah and one other scribe had mates who sheltered there while they worked in the city.”

“You’ve been there?” Rhys asked Jeremiah.

“No. Chelsea and I met in other locations when we could. Away from the city and the haven. It was the safest way for her and the others.”

Lang said, “None of us—not even me—knew the location. The younger scribes didn’t even know it existed.”

“Vienna had no idea?” Leo asked cautiously.

“No,” Jeremiah said. “The havens are secret for a reason. They are the last places the Irina feel safe.”

“Vienna didn’t need to know,” Lang said. “The council would have the remaining Irina forced back into retreats and breeding like livestock. I would guard Sari’s location with my life, were it necessary. Any of the havens.”

“We have no quarrel with you,” Leo said. “I only ask because we are avoiding the council’s attention, as well.”

Jeremiah and Lang exchanged looks, and Malachi felt some of the tension lessen between them.

Lang said, “We have had no word from Istanbul. Your house burned in a Grigori attack?”

“We have had little news of any kind from Vienna,” Jeremiah said. “When did this happen?”

“Months ago,” Rhys said. “We know it was reported to the council, but someone is keeping it quiet.”