The Singer

Chapter Twenty-four

Ava had spent little time in Oslo, usually only using it as a jumping-off point for treks in rural Norway. The waterfront was something new. The normally bustling sidewalks of the Aker Brygge were silent at dawn. None of the tourist traffic was out, and the few boats that sat in port bobbed quietly in the frosty air. Tall buildings rose on one side while the frigid expanse of the fjord stretched out before them. It was foggy and near freezing, and Ava stood as close to Malachi as she could while they huddled in the alley with Maxim and Renata. Jeremiah and the other Oslo scribes were cautiously strolling through the area, trying to spot any lingering Grigori or humans. They’d found the body of one girl, dead from attack or exposure, they couldn’t tell.

“The police are noticing,” Max said. “The girls who are disappearing are not just prostitutes and drug addicts anymore.”

Lang said, “Grigori attacks prior to this have been unnoticed—mostly because the women survive and don’t remember exactly what happened coupled with the fact the Grigori prey on the most vulnerable on the streets. But this many in the city? I’m surprised it’s not raised a public panic yet.”

“The house is two blocks down,” Renata said. “We haven’t been able to get inside, but we’ve been watching. I would guess there are around sixty soldiers.”

“I’d guess more,” Max said. “And I think some came in on a ferry today. I’m not positive—I was too far away—but they looked right for Grigori and the human women were reacting to them.”

“We never knew about this place,” Lang said. “They’ve kept it very quiet.”

“And you’ve been reactive, not proactive,” Renata said with a shrug, clearly not caring if she pissed off the tall scribe who glared at her. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All the scribe houses are.”

“Renata,” Max said with a warning tone. “It’s not important now. What is important is that they’re here now.”

“We’ve been watching,” Renata said.

“And most of the Grigori are in for the night. Saturday night is easy hunting for them. They get their prey early, so the majority will be in the house.”

“Ava,” Sari said in a low voice. “Do you hear anything?”

“I haven’t been trying. Do you want me to?”

Sari nodded.

Ava took a deep breath and let go of Malachi’s hand. He didn’t want to, but she needed to lose the connection before she could open the door.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “All of you hum or something.”

“Hum?” Rhys frowned at her.

“Yeah, hum. Sing a little ditty. That seems to be the best way to keep your inner voices quiet when I scan for static.”

“Clearly,” Lang said, “there is much to learn about how the Irina fight.”

“Not Irina,” Renata said. “Just Ava.”

“And thank you again for pointing out how weird I am, Ren. Much appreciated.”

“You just have better range and accuracy than anyone else,” Sari said. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Unlike Renata with her quicksilver knives, Sari had brought the traditional staff she’d fought with in Sarihöfn. Ava, however, only had her mind and Malachi’s hovering presence. She could feel him at her back. Could hear him. She took a deep breath and tried to push past the clear sound of his voice. Stepping into the street, she opened her senses.

“It’s quiet,” she said. “I don’t… there’s not much. There’s kind of a murmur. I can’t tell if it’s human or Grigori.”

“If they’re sleeping, there won’t be much,” Renata said.

Max added, “And it’s definitely Grigori in the house. We didn’t see any humans come in. The buildings around the house are offices, for the most part. They’d be empty right now.”

If no voices meant sleeping, then they’d picked the right time to come. The only inner voices Ava heard were those of the Irin scribes and singers behind her.

Wait.

She stepped closer. There was something…

A faint echo. Familiar and eerily calm.

“There’s someone…” There was one voice. One that lifted over the others. It was old. Powerful.

“Ava, do you recognize—”

“Brage.”

She breathed out his name on a gust of frosty breath. She was certain of it. Brage was near. And he was waiting.

“Brage? Who?”

She wasn’t sure who spoke. Chattering erupted around her, but Ava closed her eyes, focusing on his voice until the rasp of it cut into her mind and his presence flooded her senses. Old memories from Istanbul rose up, and a wave of black swept over her. Anger. Fear. Disgust. She could feel it all in his voice. His soul was a black pit, but instead of backing away, Ava stepped closer.

“Come…”

She heard his soul whisper to hers.

“Come to me…”

The black pull of his voice called her, and the dark edges of her heart reached out to the voice.

“Yes…”

She didn’t realize she had moved until she felt Malachi’s hand on her arm.

“Where are you going, canım?”

Malachi was behind her, holding on to her arm while the others argued in the background. His softly spoken endearment snapped her back to her senses.

Canım.

“I loved it when you called me that.”

He bent down, and the arm that held her wrapped around her waist as he bent down and whispered in her ear.

“Then I will call you that every day, canım. But do not leave this place without me.”

“Do you know?” she asked, turning in his arms. “Do you know who Brage is? What he did?”

“He is the one who killed me, yes?”

She nodded.

“Then I have a debt to repay,” he said. “Don’t I?”

He glanced over Ava’s shoulder at the group of arguing Irin who were all debating how to attack the building.

“He’s waiting for me,” Ava whispered. “For us.”

“What does he want?”

“For me to go with him.”

Malachi’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want to?”

She blinked, shocked that he had picked up on the dark compulsion. “A part of me wants to. I don’t understand why.”

His eyes narrowed, then he bent to brush his lips across hers before he said, “He cannot have you. You’re mine.”

Ava looked over her shoulder. Sari and Lang were arguing while Rhys tried to referee. Damien was rubbing his temple, clearly aggravated. Maxim and Renata, Leo and the others waited with impatient expressions.

“They’re sleeping right now,” Sari hissed. “It doesn’t matter how many there are. We go in—quietly—and we will wipe out the house within minutes.”

“You’re right,” Lang said, “so there is no need for you, Ava, or Renata to come into the fight.”

“You are really arguing this with her?” Damien asked.

“I know she’s capable. But there are few Irina left. There are thousands of Irin. It makes no sense to risk the few when they are so—”

“If you say precious or dear or rare or anything of the sort,” Rhys said, “you know she will rip out your throat.”

“Then rip it out,” Lang said. “This is battle. Not politics.”

Renata broke in. “This is useless! We need to go. Now! If Ava can hear Brage, then he is awake. If he is awake, he will wake the others and our advantage will be gone.”

Ava spoke under her breath. “But he’s not waking them. He’s waiting.”

“For you?” Malachi asked.

“Yes.”

Malachi looked over her head, then down the dark alley where they were hiding. Fog hung low to the ground, and no stars shone overhead. He looked back toward Damien, then at her. Ava felt his grip on her hand tighten a moment before he tugged them away and into the night.

“Do you have your staff?” he asked, once they had slipped away.

“No. Do you have a knife I could borrow?”

He didn’t answer, just slapped a heavy hunting knife into her hand as they continued jogging. She didn’t hear anyone coming after them but knew the others would be loath to draw attention to themselves by shouting after them.

“Can you track him?”

Ava forced him to stop, then closed her eyes and searched for it. It was still there. Distant. Fainter than it had been. Brage’s voice was moving.

“He’s moving.”

“Can you track him, Ava?”

“Yes.” She pointed in the direction of the Grigori voice and opened her eyes. “That way.”

She was pointing at the side of a brick building, but Malachi only nodded and urged her forward. When they came to the end of the alley, he stopped again.

“Which way?”

It was easier to find now that she recognized it.

“There.” They ran to the left.

Ava and Malachi continued to thread their way through the narrow alleys and streets of the waterfront. Sometimes climbing over fences, a few times dodging humans or dogs they encountered.

“He’s moving away from the others,” she said.

“He wants to get you alone.”

“How did he know I would follow him?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he wants to get us alone, we’re playing right into his hands.”

Malachi grunted. “We’ll manage. Is it still only him you hear?”

“Yes. He’s alone.”

They continued to follow, Ava listening for the Grigori’s harsh whisper, leading Malachi in what felt like circles. Every street looked the same in the darkness.

“We’re heading back,” Malachi said. “He’s going back to the house.”

Ava nodded, her breath catching in a panic. “And he’s not alone anymore.”

Malachi stopped and grabbed her shoulders. “There are more?”

“He’s heading back to the house,” she said. “And the others. They’re awake.”

When they reached the house, it looked eerily calm. Only Ava could hear the tumult inside. Bright Irin voices, male and female. Grigori whispers scraping through the air. The soldiers’ voices were softer, but more painful to Ava’s mind. The Irin voices rose over them, shining and clear. One thread suddenly cut off without warning, and Ava knew a scribe had lost his life.

“We need to go, Ava.” Malachi tugged her hand.

Ava froze, and the smell of fetid water filled her nose.

“Ava!”

Brage’s body bursting out of the water. Malachi’s face shimmering gold before it dissolved.

She could hear her own voice screaming.

“Ava.” He squeezed her hand. “Canım.”

“I don’t want to go in there,” she gasped. Her heart pounded, and the still-seductive whisper of Brage’s black soul called her toward the house.

“Ava?” He bent down and captured her eyes. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want you to go in there, either.”

“He’s waiting for you. He wants you. Which means that I am going to kill him.”

“No.”

“Ava.” His voice was implacable. “He will not hurt you.”

“But you—”

“Or me.”

She didn’t say anything. The terror muted her.

“He will not rob us twice. Do you understand?”

Ava shook her head.

“I will not allow it, Ava.”

Tears welled in the corner of her eye. She’d imagined killing Brage so often. Had yearned for it. But Malachi had been dead then, and the thought of risking her life was nothing. Now, the sheer terror of loss paralyzed her. She wanted to live so badly. Wanted her mate to live.

“I can’t lose you again,” she said.

He gripped her chin and laid a fierce kiss on her lips. She drank it in. Drank in the heat and the life and the burning presence of him. His arms wrapped around her, and his voice rang in her mind, brighter and stronger than the others. Stronger than it had been. A song whispered in the back of her mind and she breathed it into his mouth, her lips moving against his, not in passion, but in words she barely recognized.

Malachi breathed in the magic, and his skin heated under her hands. She pulled away and looked down; his talesm were glowing.

His head had dropped back, and she could see his throat working to pull in air.

“Malachi?” Had she hurt him?

He shook his head, his eyes closed. “Wait.”

The silent furor in the house behind him continued unabated. Grigori voices snuffed out over and over. Irin voices. And threading through it all, Brage’s seductive whisper.

“Come…”

Malachi’s eyes opened, as if he’d heard the call, too. They were bright with magic, and she blinked in surprise.

I gave him that.

Ava knew it without question.

He took a deep breath and released her, holding out a hand that she clasped with her own.

“Take me to him, Ava. Now.”

Once they entered, Ava could see that the old house rose four stories, with rooms branching off the stairwell and going back into the house. More like an apartment building than a house, and silent voices filled every corner, Grigori and Irin mixing together in almost-silent chaos. A low hum filled the air as singers worked magic. She could feel it like a tremor along her skin.

A low scuffling from the left.

The door burst open and Damien tumbled into the hall, bashing the head of a Grigori soldier into the ground, over and over. Gold dusted his shoulders, rising when he reached the open air of the stairwell. It drifted toward the doorway, escaping like a ghost. Another soldier escaped the apartment and leapt on Damien’s back before Sari walked out, sweeping her staff under the soldier’s abdomen and flipping him off her mate.

Malachi ignored them and tugged Ava’s arm. “Where?”

“Shouldn’t we help—?”

A choked gasp cut off Ava’s words as Damien plunged a knife into the back of a Grigori soldier. Almost immediately, Sari kicked another to her mate’s feet, and he killed that one, too. Gold dust rose around them, filling the air as Damien claimed Sari’s lips in a ferocious kiss before they plunged back into the dark room they’d come from.

Malachi looked down at Ava. “I think they’re fine.”

“Up,” she said. “He’s up. I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Too many!” She was already becoming overwhelmed by the clamor and resisted using the spells that would close the door, still hoping to be able to track Brage.

They started up the stairs but had to stop on the second landing when three Grigori burst out of a doorway, knives bared. Malachi pushed Ava behind him and attacked. Ava pulled out the knife he’d given her and looked for a target, but the crowded landing made positioning herself difficult.

The three Grigori had come from above and they had the advantage. Malachi was just as fast as he’d always been, but she noticed he didn’t heal as quickly. The cuts they gave him were open and bleeding. Blood splattered from the throat of one soldier as Malachi sliced his throat, then used him as a shield to attack the others.

The scent of urine, sweat, and blood surrounded her. From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand shoot out as a Grigori ran from below and reached for her. Ava grabbed his arm on instinct and pulled, jabbing the knife into the cord of muscle on his bare skin. When the knife pierced his flesh, a shot of pure adrenaline lanced through her system. Her heart sped. Her vision cleared. The thrum of voices dropped to the back of her mind, and Ava could hear him again.

“Yes…”

A low laugh cut off by Malachi shouting her name.

“Ava!”

A strangled curse and shout. She was shoved back into the banister as Malachi pulled the Grigori closer and plunged a silver knife into his spine. The dust rose, clouding her vision. Then Malachi was there and pulling her with him.

“Come.”

“He’s upstairs,” she choked out, blinking the dust from her eyes. “I can hear him again.”

“This is a madhouse.”

“We’re killing more of them than they are of us.”

He didn’t ask how she knew.

They climbed the stairs. One flight. Two. Three.

“He’s above us,” she said. His voice was no longer whispering, but a thin thread of his presence lingered.

“There has to be a roof,” Malachi said, sweeping his eyes from one hallway to the other.

The majority of fighting was going on below them. Ava could hear Renata shouting for Max. Then she screamed and a man roared in anger.

Ava ran toward the stairs, searching for her friends.

“Ignore them!” Malachi shouted. “We need to find Brage.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her down one hallway, but there was no exit. They went back the way they came. At the end of the other hallway, there was an exterior stairwell and a pocket of frigid air. The door had recently been open. Malachi ran through it and Ava followed. He held knives in both his hands, loose and ready at his sides. Ava watched him with pride. Possession.

Her mate.

Broken. Lost. And still every bit the warrior that he had been. With his talesm glowing in the dark and a shot of her own magic running through him, Malachi did not hesitate.

Snow dusted the rooftop. It swirled in fat flakes as salty wind blew off the fjord and twisted around them. It was a rooftop garden, bedded down for winter. Heavy furniture lay covered with thick canvas, tied off against the weather. A few evergreen trees sat in pots, their branches a festive white.

Oblivious to the cold, Brage lounged in one of the chairs, its canvas cover thrown off. He was impeccable in a pure white shirt and black slacks, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he balanced a dark metal blade on the back of his hand.

“It’s about time you arrived.”