Elizabeth Hunter - The Singer

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—”

“You’ll be weak,” Leo’s face was pale. “Unprotected. Like… a human.”

Max said, “Not to mention, you look a bit naked. It’s unnerving.”

Rhys patted Malachi’s shoulder. “At least we know his natural powers are still intact. Language seems to come normally, otherwise he’d not be able to speak Turkish like he did at the gate.”

“I thought I was born here,” Malachi said.

Rhys shrugged. “You’re Irin. The Old Language is our first tongue, the only one we’re born knowing. The humans who found you, did you understand them at first?”

“No. I had to find a newspaper. I could read it. After that… the pieces of the language just seemed to fall into place, and I could understand them.”

“See?” Rhys said to Max. “His natural magic still works, which means he can build his other magic from there. He’ll have to relearn his spells and rescribe his talesm , but he should be able to recover.”

“And who knows?” Leo said. “Maybe when you find Ava, she can help.”

Rhys nodded. “Agreed. The first step is to find Ava and Damien. One, she shouldn’t grieve any longer than necessary. Two, she’s his marked mate. She may be able to heal him.”

“Do you think she could give me back my memories?”

The hollow corners of his mind mocked him. Malachi knew he had lost his past, but he didn’t know where to find it. Or even where to look. Isolated knowledge and bits of the past kept popping up unexpectedly, tucking themselves into pockets in his mind. But with each new revelation, the depth of his loss only became more disturbing.

“She might be able to help,” Max said. “You remembered her? Immediately?”

“No—yes. I remember her voice. Her face.” He grasped at the fragments, as if his very existence depended on holding them. “Hers was the first face I saw in my mind. I saw us here. Together. We were…” He looked around at the curious faces of the men. “None of your business.”

Leo grinned and Max shook his head.

“Still a lucky bastard,” Rhys said. “Even half-alive and naked.”

Rhys led him out of the sitting room where they’d been enjoying the fire, up to a terrace that led to a series of stairs, which twisted and crawled up the hill. The sky was deep blue and the first stars were beginning to shine. Lamplight flickered along the face of the cliffs, and Malachi stopped. Looking up, his eyes hung on the majesty of stars that littered the sky. Pure white against the deep blue and purple night, he blinked and caught a glimpse of a dark sun rising in his mind.