Текст книги "The Singer"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Hunter

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Chapter Two

Nordfjord, Norway

Ava was still sleeping when the car came to a stop. She clenched her eyes shut, holding on to the safety of silence for as long as she could.

“Ava.”

Damien knew she was awake. The man had preternatural senses that never switched off. Ava had decided he was like a weird combination of the most overprotective dad and big brother in history. Which, being the only child of a mother who saw her more as a peer than a child, was a new and interesting experience.

She snuggled into the down-filled jacket under her cheek and ignored him.

“Open your eyes. I know you’re awake. It’s going to rain in about fifteen minutes, and I’d like to start up the trail before it pours.”

She lifted her head and turned to him, speaking in a scratchy voice. “I never would have let you talk me into this in Turkey if I hadn’t been such a mess.”

“But you did, and now we’re here. Get your jacket on.”

She caught him looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Looks like someone’s nervous to see the wifey,” she muttered.

“Ah, look. Acid-tongued Ava is back. I missed her so much while she slept.” Damien gave her a droll look. “Wait, no I didn’t.”

“You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

“Would you like to go back to Oslo?” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to her. “Go ahead. Hope you can outrun Volund’s Grigori. Maybe you can scream again if they get close. Or maybe not. You’d pass out and hurt yourself if you did that.”

“Shut up.”

“Or maybe you can follow me and stop acting like a child.”

“Stop trying to manage me,” she croaked, her voice dry from sleep.

“For now you need to be managed.”

She licked her lips and Damien held up a bottle of water. Ava took it, drank, then handed it back, noticing the extra-grim expression on his face. Slightly mollified by the water, she softened her tone.

“Hey, Captain Sunshine, shouldn’t you be happier than this? You’re going to see your wife at the end of that trail.”

Damien only stared into the thick trees that surrounded them. “A piece of advice—Sari doesn’t like the word wife.”

“Why not?” Ava knew the Irin used the word “mate” more than wife, but she’d heard the scribes in Turkey use both on occasion.

“She was born in a time when the human term ‘wife’ implied property.” Then a rare smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “And Sari is no male’s property. Now get your shoes on and lace them up tight. I don’t know everything that will meet us on that trail, but I do know this: there will be mud.”

They were somewhere in rural Norway, surrounded by blue and green. Steep green mountains laced with waterfalls cut against the clear blue sky. Blue-green water from the glacier melt. Ava knew they were somewhere in the fjords, but she wasn’t sure where.

The plane had taken them to Paris, then Berlin, then Damien had found a car and started driving. He didn’t tell her where, but she could read the signs. They’d headed west, then north. Through Hamburg and into Denmark. They’d taken a ferry that landed them in Bergen, then after a brief sleep in a small hotel, they’d started driving again.

Through mountain highways and on smaller ferries, they’d driven farther and farther into the Scandinavian countryside. Towns were quickly overcome by wilderness and an utter sense of isolation that Ava found comforting and frightening in equal measure. As she stepped out of the car, she felt as if she and Damien were the last two people on earth.

There was nothing but trees, sky, and a biting wind that carried the promise of rain.

She shivered, not only from the cold but also the memories of her dreams. Every night she dreamed of a dark forest. She thought she heard him, calling for her, running through the trees, trying to get back to her. In her dreams, she’d call for him, but no one would come. And then she’d weep the tears she no longer allowed herself in her waking hours. When she woke, they were cold on her face.

Ava locked away her grief and focused on the task ahead. Damien was pulling a backpack from the trunk of the small car they’d pulled over to the side of the road. She looked around into the forest.

“Is the car going to be safe here?”

“It will be fine. She’ll send someone down for it if she decides to let us stay. I know they keep some cars there, so they must have a place to park them out of the weather.”

“What do you mean, ‘if she decides to let us stay’?”

He shrugged. “She’ll allow you to stay, I’m sure, but she won’t want me.” He couldn’t hide the pain that crossed his face as he said, “She’ll be angry I showed up without an invitation.”

“But you said that you wouldn’t leave me here.” A wild flutter of panic filled her chest. Damien  might have been the grumpiest travel companion she’d ever had, but she knew him. And she knew he’d saw off his right arm to keep her safe. “You promised—”

“Yes, I did.” He narrowed his eyes. “You let me worry about Sari. I’m not going anywhere.”

He buttoned up his jacket and threw on the pack. Then he walked over and tightened up the drawstring around her neck. “It’s colder here than you’re used to.”

“I’ve been in cold weather before.”

He shook his head. “Not like here.”

Ava batted his hand away and sneered. “Actually, exactly like here. A magazine sent me to the fjords a couple of years ago to cover a new luxury hotel that was built to be completely self-sustaining. And that was in November. I get it. It’s cold and wet and the weather changes in five minutes. Now stop fussing and let’s walk.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” Ava couldn’t let his concern weaken her. She’d allowed herself to be soft and trusting with one man. She’d given him everything and he’d died. It wouldn’t happen again.

The path was steep, climbing up one of the narrow valleys cut by glaciers at the dawn of time. Thick forest surrounded them, and the well-worn path quickly turned muddy when the rain began to fall. Ava saw no signs of life. No tire tracks or footprints. The only indication they weren’t completely alone was the occasional rustle in the forest that could have been an animal… or something more.

Damien walked with grim purpose, never ceasing, turning only to check that she was still with him. Luckily, Ava had always been a good hiker. Her years of work in remote places left her as comfortable outdoors as she was in the city. The boots she wore were almost a carbon copy of the ones she kept in her room at her mother’s house, only less worn. She marched with Damien, never slowing as they climbed.

They’d almost reached the crest of a hill when she saw him stumble. Damien halted for a second, then took a step back, his foot sliding in the mud.

“Damien?”

“Keep walking.” His voice sounded strained. “Just keep walking, Ava.”

She walked closer, noticing that the strain in his voice was evident on his face, too. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t hear it?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Good. Keep walking.” He looked as if every step he took pained him. A vein began to pulse on the side of his forehead. With a low grunt, he picked up his feet, the mud sucking at them as he forced himself farther up the hill.

“What’s going on?”

His jaw clenched, he said, “She knows we’re here.”

Ava looked around but could see nothing. The hill they’d climbed led into a small meadow, then the muddy path led up another hill.

“How?”

“With her magic, she knows. This is her land.”

Ava thought she heard a howling sound whip through the wind, like the cry of a bird high in the air. The rain fell harder, soaking her collar, even though her hood was drawn up. Damien grabbed her hand, pulling her along the path. The forest seemed to close in the farther they walked. The green meadow narrowed as they approached another rock-strewn hill, the path twisting back and forth up the mountain. Ava pulled back, worried that Damien was hurting himself. His face had gone pale under the dark stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave.

“Ava, we have to keep walking.”

“You’re hurt.”

He shook his head and said under his breath, “I’ll hurt worse before this is through.”

The cry on the wind died away, and Ava heard what Damien had been talking about. A low hum drifted down the mountain and brushed along her body. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and the hair at the back of her neck prickled with sudden cold.

“What is that?” she asked. “Where… where is it coming from?”

“Irina,” Damien whispered, his eyes rising. “Now you’ll see why they are feared.”

Ava followed his gaze to see three grey figures at the top of the hill. They strode with purpose; the one in the center carried a long staff that struck the ground with each step. Another carried a sword, and the third held nothing, hands tucked out of sight. All three wore heavy coats in dark colors, but as they approached, Ava could see they were women.

The one in the center was tall, with strong, square shoulders and legs that ate up the ground beneath her. She pushed back her hood and the wind whipped long blond hair across her face, but Ava could see her eyes, vivid blue as the northern sky, piercing Damien where he stood. The woman’s stunning features were frozen in anger.

He stepped forward and took a ready stance as Ava saw the woman’s mouth open. Her lips moved, and a second later, a whisper wrapped around Ava, forcing her to the side as Damien was flung back, tumbling down the hill.

“Damien!” She started toward him, only to be held back by one of the woman’s companions. The dark-skinned woman with the fearsome sword grabbed Ava’s arm, and when she looked up, it was into cold black eyes and a face scarred from the cheek to the throat, as if the woman’s neck had been ripped open by a wild animal. She said nothing but only gave a small shake of her head. Ava tried to loosen the woman’s hold, but she might as well have been struggling with the mountain itself.

“Calm yourself,” the other woman said, putting a hand on Ava’s shoulder. She was shorter and her soft brown hair curled around her cheeks, but her grip was still firm. “Let them… talk.”

Damien had come to a stop in the meadow below, rolling to his feet as the tall blond woman strode toward him. He reached to the ground, taking up a thick branch of a tree that had fallen a moment before the blonde’s staff struck.

They parried for a moment, Damien forcing her back with quick blows before the woman’s superior weapon cracked the branch and swept Damien’s feet from under him. He rolled away a moment before the staff would have come down on his skull. He jumped to his feet, shoulders braced as he locked eyes with his opponent.

She was almost as tall as he was, a formidable woman who was clearly familiar with the weapon she held. She circled Damien, her eyes never leaving his. Another movement of her lips, and her staff split in half. She tossed one half to him, and they began again.

The two crashed together, their weapons evenly matched as they dueled, using arms and legs to try to trip each other. Yet even as they battled, Ava could sense the connection.

This was Sari.

She swung the staff at her mate’s head, only to be stopped by Damien’s forearm. He winced but grabbed her weapon, pulling it toward him and forcing her closer. But Sari countered, sweeping her leg between Damien’s and hooking one of his ankles, causing him to stumble back and release her staff. They went back and forth, both falling in the mud over and over again, only to rise and continue fighting. Ava, standing between the two strange women, felt as if she’d stepped into a battle older than time.

Damien was physically stronger, yet he held back when Sari aimed a punch at his face. His lip was split and his eye bruised, but he leashed his power, refusing to hit back. The wind whipped around them and the rain fell harder. Both were slipping in the mud, and though the humming had stopped, the chilling power had not dissipated.

With a hoarse cry, Sari struck his knee and Damien fell with a grunt. Dropping the staff, he held out his arms in supplication, looking up at his mate with such obvious adoration that Ava felt her breath catch. Sari halted, her staff at his neck, as Damien watched her with bruised face and bleeding lips. Mud coated his hair and cheeks, the rain making tracks as he knelt before her.

Ava heard the woman at her right whisper something in the Old Language, just as Sari dropped her staff and went to her knees. She grasped Damien’s hair and pulled him into a searing kiss.

They clutched each other, and Ava could hear Damien’s low groan even from up the hill. He wrapped his arms around his mate, grabbing her coat and pulling her closer, as if his life depended on her touch. Sari was just as voracious; she pulled at Damien’s neck, holding his lips to hers in a ravenous kiss. Then, just as abruptly, she shoved him back and stood, spinning around and reaching for her staff. Ava could see the tears rolling down Sari’s cheeks as her lips moved again, and she held her staff out. The piece she had given to Damien flew through the wind and melded itself to the piece in her hand.

She marched up the hill, eyes flickering to Ava’s once before she barked out an order to the two women and walked past, up the hill and into the driving rain.

The woman at her right turned to Ava. Rosy lips parted in a small smile. “English?”

“American.” She glanced over her shoulder at Damien, who was still kneeling in the mud, looking as stunned as Ava felt. He finally looked at her and gave her a small nod before he struggled to his feet and walked back up the hill.

“My name is Astrid,” the short woman said, giving Ava a small push as she began to lead her up the path. “Mala and I will escort you and Damien to Sarihöfn. You are welcome here.”

“Am I really?”

Astrid’s eyes held laughter, but her voice was serious. “Yes, really.”

Damien was only a few steps behind, and Ava saw the woman named Mala nod respectfully as he fell in step beside her.

Ava glanced at him. “So that was Sari.”

He shrugged and wiped the blood from his lip. It had already healed. “It went as well as I’d expected.”

“Why did you fight with her?” Ava asked from her chair in the small sitting room that connected her and Damien’s bedrooms. They’d been put into a cottage with two rooms, a small kitchen, and a bathroom they’d have to share, all situated away from the main house. She’d slept in worse.

“Because she needed a fight.” He stepped out of the bathroom, holding a towel to his hair. “And I give my mate what she needs.”

He was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt, despite the cold. Ava had noticed in the car that Damien seemed to run hot. She’d never noticed in Istanbul, but walking around in long sleeves to cover his extensive talesm must have been irritating. The tattoos reached from his collar to his wrists, with some spells even crawling down onto the backs of his hands. She knew he had them on his legs, too, though she’d never seen them. The scribe was very powerful, yet Sari had beaten him to his knees. And even though Ava knew he’d been holding back, it hadn’t been by much.

There was a fire already burning in the grate when they’d arrived. Damien insisted that Ava get cleaned up first, then took his own shower to get rid of the caked-on mud. It was only five o’clock, but the sun was starting to disappear, sinking behind the mountains that surrounded the narrow valley.

“Where are we?”

“Norway.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

He took a seat by the fire. “We’re in the Nordfjord. Sari’s family has had this property for hundreds of years. It used to be just a small cottage they used for holidays. Very private. Her family was always very private. They liked their own space and never took well to living in retreats. After the Rending, after we lost… so many, she left me and came here. I knew she’d gathered other Irina but didn’t know how many.”

“This is your first time here?”

“Since the Rending, yes. I came here before. When we were first mated.” He looked out the window at the lake in the base of the valley. “We spent time here together. I’m one of the few Irin scribes who even knows this place exists. We’re safe here; I’m sure of it.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Ava asked as Damien bent his head, holding his shoulder-length hair near the fire.

“It’s been years. We used to try to meet in other places.” He frowned. “But it was too… It’s complicated, Ava.”

She nodded, still not really understanding. She could sense how painful the topic was, despite his natural stoicism.

“Does she really hate you so much?”

He looked up, his elbows propped on his knees, and his eyes burned with pride. “She hates me as she loves me. Wholly and completely. Sari never does anything by halves.”

“Are they all angry? Are all the Irina angry like Sari?”

“No. Maybe.” He took a deep breath and sat back. “There’s not a simple answer. And there are so few Irina in most places. I am… not the best person to explain.”

“Try. I need to understand.”

He absently rubbed his cheek where his mate had struck him. The wound had already healed, but a faint shadow remained.

“You can see how powerful they are. The Irina, I mean. An Irina singer at the height of her power, trained by her elders, can wield frightening magic. With a word, they can change the course of the wind. Render a strong man weak or a weak man strong—”

“Break a stick in half and then mend it?”

He nodded. “All Irina have different powers. Seers. Healers. Elemental magic. Some of that is natural and some depends on how they train. In the past, they used their magic for mostly creative endeavors. Healing. Building. Teaching the young. Scientific discovery. These were always their greatest strengths. The more… martial magics… were not valued.” He smiled. “Many of the older Irina derided offensive spells. ‘Male’s work,’ my grandmother would sneer at my father and me. All Irina knew some protective spells, of course. And many to help themselves blend in with the human world, but it was the Irin scribes’ job to protect them. And for our part, we didn’t encourage our mates to learn offensive magic. Why would they need it? They had us. And we…” His voice grew hoarse. “We would never leave them unprotected.”

A low anger began to smolder in her gut. “Except you did.”

“We did.” He braved her eyes. “And we learned how desperately wrong we were only after we lost everything.”

“Not everything,” she said, trying not to taste the bitterness on her tongue. “You and Sari still have each other. Lots of people—most of the Irin—lost their mates.”

“I’m one of the lucky ones.” A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “We aren’t exactly a peaceable pair, but then, we never have been.”

“Will she ever forgive you?”

“I don’t know.” Then his eyes gleamed and his smile spread. “But I’m tired of being patient. And as I give Sari what she needs, so she will give me what I need. If meeting you has taught me anything, it’s that change is possible. And there are powers at work that we may never understand. We lost half our race during the Rending. Then we—Irin and Irina—allowed this wound to fester. We’re dying from within, and it must stop. Change is no longer only possible, it’s necessary for survival.”

“Do you think they’re ready for it?”

“I don’t know. But look at you, Ava.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Everything in our writings, in our history, tells us you shouldn’t exist. And yet, you do! Though your mother is human, you hear the voices of the soul. Your words hold power. You mated with a warrior in my house. You are an Irina.” Damien turned and stared out the window toward the large house that dominated the valley. “Change has already come. They just don’t know it yet.”

Chapter Three

Cappadocia, Turkey

“I’m a what?”

Malachi was sitting in a room with Rhys and the old man called Evren. Both wore looks of confusion as they tried to ascertain what had happened to Malachi.

“An Irin scribe,” Evren said patiently.

“And the Irin are descended from… angels.”

“We are the race formed when angels fell from heaven and mated with human women. Heroes of old. Some would call us demigods, though we are not. We are half human, half angel. There have been generations of us. A separate people, so to speak. The angelic race.”

“But we’re not angels.”

“No,” Rhys said. “Angels are frightening creatures, and you don’t want to meet them.”

“But…” The memory jolted him. “I think I have met one.”

Eyes darkened to near black, then a glowing gold as the human mask dissolved. Jaron’s shoulders grew wide and thick. His frame lengthened… almost seven feet. 

“Yes,” Rhys said, sliding forward in his seat. “You have. Do you remember?”

A faint gold shimmer covered his skin as the mask of the harmless doctor fell away and the heavenly being emerged. His hair grew longer… thick ebony strands brushing past his shoulders. The bronze skin of his torso glowed in the afternoon light, and raised talesm rose like shimmering brands on his skin. 

Malachi’s eyes blinked back into focus. “I was with her. I had to protect her, but he didn’t hurt her, and I was confused.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “We were all confused. What else do you remember?”

Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her. Remember.

“He told me there were thousands of us and only one of her.” He looked up in confusion. “There’s only one of her? What does that mean?”

“We’ll explain that another time,” Evren said. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes and no. There are pieces I remember. Odd things. I knew I was something different as soon as I woke up. A… scribe, I suppose. I knew my father–  Is my family still living?”

Rhys shook his head. “No. You have no siblings and your parents both died many years ago. Ava is your only family other than us.”

Ava. The name fell into his mind and filled it. It brought the memory of air tinged with cloves and roasted hazelnuts.

“Who is she?”

The old man looked at him, pity in his eyes. “She is your mate. You remember nothing of her?”

“My mate?” Not a wife. More than a wife.

“Your mate. Your reshon. It is a sacred union.”

“Reshon?”

“Your souls were created for each other. And when you marked her with magic, they bonded.”

“Where is she?”

Evren and Rhys exchanged a look. Rhys said, “We don’t know, but we’re going to try to find her. We will find her.”

She wasn’t here. He felt as if he were stumbling through the dark, looking for something just out of his reach.

“Malachi,” Evren asked. “When you woke, you were like this?”

Malachi frowned. “I was by the river. There was nothing around. But I followed the water and found the farm.”

“The old retreat,” Evren said. “He woke near the old retreat. I think when he came back, he was reborn in the exact place he was born the first time.”

Rhys said, “You think Ava—”

“It must have been. I don’t know how, but it is the only explanation.”

“No Irina has the power to—”

“No Irina is like Ava. She has no training. She has never been told what she may not do, so who knows what she is capable of?”

Malachi broke into their quiet conversation. “You’re telling me I died?”

Evren and Rhys turned to him.

“I died?” he asked again. “Truly? I died. And I came back to life?”

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing. I remember nothing. Just her voice on the wind and the stars overhead. I’ve been getting flashes here and there, but I don’t remember her. How could I forget her?” He felt torn. Incomplete. And it wasn’t just the memories he was missing. “And you think she did this somehow?”

Evren said, “We don’t know. Not really. But there is no other explanation. Your brothers saw you die. Saw your body turn to dust. Your mate saw you die—felt you die.”

“But why would Ava be able to—”

“She said the words,” Rhys said. “The words she had heard her whole life. From the souls of everyone who mourned. She came to me before she left. Asked me what it meant. Vashama canem. Come back to me.” He turned to Evren. “I had no idea. How could I?”

“There was no way of knowing she could do this, Rhys. No way—”

“Wait!” Malachi felt a chill creep along his skin. “You’re telling me she spoke this command and I answered. Even from beyond death?”

“He’s telling you words have power,” Evren said. “Ava asked you to come back to her. And you did.”

The two men stood across from him, staring. Malachi refused to sit down after being introduced to Max’s twin, Leo. He felt restless. He wanted to do something. Go somewhere. Sitting around a library made his skin itch. Rhys had left, along with Evren. The two men with him claimed to be his friends, but he had no memory of them.

Leo leaned over to Max and asked, “What happened to them?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Did he—”

“He died and came back to life, Leo. Who knows what happened to them.”

“Will they come back?”

“How should I know?”

Malachi suppressed the urge to punch them both. “What are you talking about?”

Leo rolled up his sleeves to reveal intricate tattoos all over his arms. “Your talesm. Your spells. Tattoos. You used to be covered with them like us. More than us, because you’re quite a bit older.”

Of course. That was why his arms felt wrong. He’d sensed a lack of… something since he woke. He rubbed his hands over his forearms, wishing he could rub away the unwanted attention. “I don’t know what happened. And you don’t look much younger than me, so how old am I?”

Leo said, “You used to be around four hundred. But do we start over now?” He grinned. “Am I not the youngest anymore?”

Max tapped Leo on the back of the head. “Stop. He’s obviously still Malachi. He’s just different. You’re still the youngest in the house.”

“Damn.”

Malachi looked toward the door. “Where did all the others go?”

Leo said, “Evren sent the scribes in the house searching the archives to see if there are any records of Irin coming back to life after death. Rhys went to search Damien’s phone and credit card records to see if he’s still traceable. I’m guessing he won’t be, but we can hope.”

“And Damien is with…”

“Ava.”

“Yes, Ava.” His woman. His mate.

“It must have been her.” For the first time, Max’s eyes softened as he watched him. “Somehow… We thought we’d lost you, Malachi. I watched you die. Saw the dust rise to heaven when he killed you.”

Leo put his arm around his brother. “There was no question. She felt your loss.”

“Ava was… torn in two when you died,” Max said. “I’ve never seen—I don’t remember the Rending, so I’ve never seen grief like that before.”

Malachi swallowed a groan. She was out there, grieving his loss, and he was unable to comfort her. Even though he couldn’t remember her, Malachi bristled in awareness of her grief. “I need to find her. Why did this man take her from here?”

Rhys opened the door, face grim. “Damien took her away because her power was unpredictable and growing stronger every day.” He glanced at Malachi. “Obviously.”

“You’re saying she didn’t mean to bring me back. This was some kind of mistake?”

“Not a mistake,” Rhys said, his voice breaking. “Never a mistake, brother.”

“Then why—”

“No trained Irina would have done it. They have rules. Boundaries. As we do. Set in place thousands of years ago by the Forgiven when they gave us the gift of magic. To do something like this—to tear a soul from heaven—is… not done. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“There probably isn’t even a spell for it,” Leo added. “But Ava grew up among humans. She has power, a lot of it—especially since the mating ritual between you two—but she has no idea how to use it.”

“Whatever happened to bring you back was instinctive,” Rhys said. “She’s probably unaware she worked magic at all.”

His heart thudded. “So she doesn’t know I’m alive.”

“I very much doubt it.”

Max asked, “Did you find Damien? Is there any way—”

“Damien and Ava dropped out of sight a few days ago. There’s no telling where they are now. The last point of contact was a car he picked up from the scribe house in Berlin. He didn’t say when he’d be returning it, though he asked the watcher of the house for something with all-wheel drive. There was GPS in the car, but it was disabled outside Hamburg. They haven’t used credit cards, and Ava left her old mobile phone here. The ones they have now are burners. Damien made sure of it.”

Max crossed his arms. “So he’s gone to Sari.”

“It appears so. We knew that was probably where they were going.” Rhys sat on the edge of the sofa, which seemed to give all the men permission to follow his lead. Malachi joined them as they sat.

Leo said, “Which means he’s in Scandinavia somewhere.”

“Wasn’t Sari raised at a retreat near Gothenburg?” Max asked.

“Yes, but her family isn’t from there,” Rhys said. “Her mother was a dissenter and only brought Sari there when she was ready for school.”

Malachi asked, “A dissenter? And who is Sari?”

“Sari is Damien’s mate. Ava will be safe with her.”

“Why?”

Rhys sighed. “This is so strange. You really don’t remember any of this?”

Malachi crossed his arms and shrugged. “Bits and pieces.”

“I just… don’t understand.”

Of course you don’t. You haven’t lost every bloody memory that matters. Malachi pushed back his own annoyance and tried to explain. “Sometimes it’s like being reminded of something. Some of the things you’ve said, I remember immediately. As if I had always known them. Like my talesm.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Almost as soon as Leo mentioned them, I knew what he was talking about.”

“That’s so strange,” Leo said.

“What?”

“The way you’re sitting. You always sit like that. And your expressions. They are exactly the same. Sorry. Not important.”

Max frowned at his cousin, then turned back to Malachi. “Please. Continue.”

“Now I remember them in detail,” Malachi said. “I remember how they felt. I remember… scribing them. Is there any way of knowing whether or not they’ll return?” Hundreds of hours of careful work had vanished from his skin, and he felt the loss of power keenly.

“None,” Rhys said. “Not unless Evren’s scribes find something in the archives that mentions Irin returning from the dead.”

Max was looking at Malachi with narrowed eyes. “The more important question is are they still working? If they’re not, you’re aging right now. Your magic is channeled by your talesm. If they’re gone—”