“Now,” Vasu whispered, and she kicked one in the side, her body reacting as if she were a trained soldier. The thought was in the back of her mind that she wasn’t entirely in control of her body, but when she heard the shouts of the other Grigori and the approaching footsteps, she ignored it.

“Now, Ava!”

She twisted the head of one Grigori to the side, plunging the silver dagger into his neck. He began to dissolve beneath her, even as his friend tried to roll away.

Vasu pushed her toward him, whispering another spell in her ear.

“Zi yada,” she hissed and the soldier froze.

These weren’t Irina spells. Had nothing to do with what she’d been taught, but Vasu whispered them in her ear, the formless mass of him at her back, and she repeated his words, the dark power in her rising to the surface.

Not Irina magic. Fallen magic.

It came as easy as breathing.

“Kareshta,” Vasu murmured as she plunged the dagger into the neck of the second Grigori. “Beautiful.”

He rose as she did, turning and stripping off her coat so she could move. Her black shirt clung to her body like a second skin, and Ava ran toward the men who would pursue her, gold eyes flashing in rage, with Vasu pressing against her back.

They killed my son in front of my eyes… the last thing he saw was animals raping his mother.

Constance’s pain was all she could hear as she threw her remaining knife, catching a Grigori in the eye.

“Zi yada!”

The Grigori collapsed to the ground and froze.

Another knife was in her hand, pressed there by Vasu’s hand.

“Again.”

Another dagger flung. Another bleeding Grigori on the ground.

He writhed as Ava ran to him, Vasu her shadow and the dust of the first two Grigori coating her lips.

The rage took her, spurred by the angel’s voice in her ear.

“Kill him.”

Ava didn’t kill him cleanly. She stabbed the soldier in the gut twice, slicing up to his throat, slashing it as his blood spurted over her and tears ran down her face. Vasu’s voice still whispered in her ear.

“They killed your sisters. Take your revenge. You deserve it and more.”

She felt her gorge rise as she flipped the man over and stabbed him in the back of the neck.

“No more,” Ava groaned.

“Finish it.”

She plunged the blade into the neck of the fourth Grigori and waited, her hand frozen as the gold dust began to rise around her.

Vasu was in front of her, crouching down with fire in his eyes.

“The other two fled.”

“Okay,” she sobbed.

“That was beautiful, Ava.”

Then Vasu leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips.

The magic left in the space of a heartbeat, and Ava crawled to the bushes near an overgrown grave and threw up everything in her stomach. Vasu watched her with a curious expression.

“What do you feel? Guilt?”

“I don’t know what I feel. I want to go home.”

“Hmm.” He stretched out next to her on the gravel path, ignoring the grit that must have embedded in his palms. He didn’t move like Jaron did. This creature was at home in his body. “Where is home to you, I wonder? Not America.”

Malachi.

Malachi was home. Wherever he was. However angry he was with her or she with him, Malachi was home, and she needed him.

“Fine,” Vasu murmured. “I’ll take you to the scribe.”

A tug in her belly, and then they were in the entryway of Ava and Malachi’s apartment. She’d lost her coat. Her hair was tangled around her face, and she was covered in blood.

“Ava!” Malachi ran toward her, eyes on the angel who held her.

Vasu winked out of sight, and Ava collapsed.

“What happened?”

He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, but Ava put her hand on the doorjamb.

“Shower. I have to get it off.”

“Is this your blood?” His voice was panicked.

“Their blood. Their dust.”

She licked her lips and tried to spit out the grit that had collected there.

“Who was that?”

“Vasu. Jaron’s brother.”

“Did the Fallen do this to you?”

“Grigori,” she whispered as he opened the shower door and started stripping the bloody clothes off her. “They’re here.”

SHE curled into his chest, trying to crawl into as much of his heat as possible. Malachi had already called Damien and told him about the attack at the cemetery and Vasu’s appearance. Rhys was digging into anything he could find on the archangel from the Indian subcontinent who was supposed to be dead.

“He wasn’t dead,” she whispered into his chest. “He… helped me. It was like he was in my body.”

“In your body?”

“No, that’s not right. More like he was… behind me maybe. Pushing me. I felt him with me the whole time. I moved so fast, Malachi. I’ve never moved that fast on my own. And he whispered spells to me. Magic I’ve never heard before, but it worked. Using those spells was as easy as breathing.”

Malachi was silent for a minute, but his arms never left her. He’d wrapped himself around her and was holding her as if she might fall apart.

When Ava closed her eyes and remembered the blood spurting from the Grigori’s throat, she felt like she might.

“But this Vasu didn’t hurt you?”

“No, he helped. And the minute I thought about you, he brought me back here.”

“So he could have taken you from there at any time?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“If he wanted to help you, why didn’t he just take you away immediately? Bear in mind, I’ve never heard of a Fallen who can transport others, only themselves, so this might be unique to him. I don’t know his power.”

“I don’t think he wanted to take me away. I think he was curious.”

“Curious?”

“He made me promise to stay in Vienna, because he didn’t like the cold. I have a feeling whoever Vasu is, Jaron is still the one in charge.”

“He made you promise to stay in Vienna because he doesn’t like the cold?”

“Yep. Whatever Jaron’s plan is, this Vasu guy wants to get it over with.”

“This sounds like a very odd angel.”

She nodded. “He was the cat.”

Malachi pulled away. “What?”

“The black cat who wandered in here? That was him.”

Malachi cursed long and low.

“Hey, at least he got me to promise to stay in Vienna, right? You should be happy.”

He squeezed her more tightly. “I don’t care where we are. I only want you safe.”

Ava’s love for him was an ache in her heart. She kissed his chest, over his heart. Up his neck. Trailing her lips across his jaw.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“Ava—”

“Please. I need you.”

He met her mouth, his arms everything warm and real and safe. She was back at the cemetery, looking at the statue of the lovers, but it was Malachi who held her. Malachi who needed her. Malachi who was everything…

Everything.

She pushed him to his back, and his fingers dug into the small of her back as she crawled over him. When she sat up, he followed her, rocking up to take her mouth as Ava straddled his lap. She could feel him, hard and real beneath her, not a lover made of stone, but a man burning for her.

“Malachi.”

“Want you,” he breathed out, burying his hands in the waves of her hair, still damp from the shower. Her skin felt clean, but she hadn’t felt whole again until he touched her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as she felt the magic rise. Her mating marks began to glow in the dark room. His talesm shone with a silver light.

“Reshon,” she whispered. “My reshon.”

“Ava.”

She threw her head back and felt the magic take over. The song hung in her throat, ready to be released.

Malachi put both hands on her cheeks, turning her face to meet his kiss. He drew back with a groan, the dark fire burning in his eyes.