He found the experience disconcerting.

And if he had found it disconcerting, he could not predict how Volund would feel when he lowered the shields around Ava. Whatever strange magic their union had worked would hit his enemy full force the moment he could feel her blood.

Volund would be unbalanced, and Jaron would strike.

It would not be long now. The singers had returned. The scent of magic in the city had shifted.

“He knows we’re here,” Barak said. “How long must we wait? Their numbers grow by the hour.”

“Not long,” Jaron said. “Soon the council will be complete, and we will reveal ourselves.”

Vasu looked up from the snow, a smile on his face. “Then we demons shall play at being heroes, and Death will visit us again.”

Chapter Twenty-one

IT WASN’T, MALACHI MUSED, a traditional end to a mating feast. But it seemed oddly appropriate for him and Ava.

Kostas and the Grigori who seemed to be his lieutenant, Sirius, were sitting across the dinner table from Damien and Sari. Orsala was on their right, and Gabriel on their left. Maxim sat next to Kostas, and Ava and Malachi had taken a spot at the end of the table, bridging the gap. Rhys and Leo stood in one corner with Renata and Mala. Both sides eyed the other with distrust, while the rest of the guests had joined the free Grigori soldiers outside.

The scent of sandalwood filled the air, and Malachi knew every scribe in the room struggled to restrain the ingrained instinct to kill the two men.

Gabriel was the first one to speak. “If this gets out, we will both be under censure, no matter what allies we have.”

“The world is changing,” Damien said.

“Not that much. This is too soon.”

“I agree with you,” Kostas said. “But this has been forced on us. Svarog’s forces are coming to Vienna. Grimold’s are already here.”

Ava asked, “How do you know?”

“I can spot the signs,” Kostas said. “If you look at police reports, there will be a slow build of attacks against indigents and prostitutes. The winter weather helps conceal it. Most will probably be written off by the human authorities because of the cold.”

“Are you sure?” Rhys asked.

Sirius answered him. “You can verify it with human authorities if you like, but I agree with Kostas. The Grigori here haven’t been attacking Irin targets. They wouldn’t dare. But Grimold is Volund’s lapdog. His people have been here since Volund lost so many of his children in Oslo.”

“We’ll look,” Sari said. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of your women.”

“Prague,” Ava said. “Can you contact Astrid?”

Sari and Damien exchanged a look.

“It is an acceptable risk,” Damien said. “But we must give them the option to refuse.”

“They won’t,” Orsala said. “There are children among them.”

“I thank you,” Sirius told her graciously. The man’s beautiful features were obscured by the obvious stress in the lines of his face. His accent marked him as Russian in origin, and he’d grown his hair and beard long. Malachi guessed it was to detract from the unnatural beauty of his race.

“The failure is mine,” Sirius continued. “They are my responsibility. I will accompany them and provide whatever assistance your people require.”

“There are scribes there who can watch over them,” Damien said. “The location of our safe houses must not be compromised.”

Sirius stiffened, and Kostas laid a hand on his second’s arm. “Peace. We can work out the details later, and Kyra will be with them.”

“We would never harm innocents,” Orsala said.

“You would be wrong to think them all innocent,” Kostas said. “Not all of our sisters are… well. Some are a danger to themselves and others. Part of Sirius’s job is to watch those who are not wholly sane.”

Sari said, “The children—”

“Some of the children are the worst,” Sirius said quietly.

The silence was tangible as Malachi imagined children driven mad by the voices in their minds and the horrors they might have witnessed at the hands of their own sires.

Orsala asked, “Can they be restrained with magic?”

Sirius and Kostas exchanged a look. “Possibly. We have no magic that can affect them, but we are not Irina.”

Orsala nodded. “I will go with the kareshta,” she said. “That should be sufficient.”

“Grandmother—”

“I’ve decided,” she said. “The elder singers will be arriving within the week. I have nothing to offer in battle they do not have.”

Kostas said, “The singers are returning?”

Sari paused, then said, “Many of them are already here. We’ve been in contact with havens around the globe. Of the seven former elders, three are still living and willing to take office. The other regions have sent representatives. The Irina council will be active within a week.”

“That’s when we should announce it then,” Malachi said. “When the Irina council has taken their place in the Library.”

“Announce what?” Gabriel asked.

“The existence of the kareshta.”

Malachi felt Ava’s hand tighten on his as the room held its collective breath.

“Who are you to make that decision?” Gabriel asked. “A censured scribe from Istanbul who was rumored to be dead. You show up in Vienna with a mate no one has heard of and suggest revelations that could disrupt the foundations of our race. Who are you?”

Malachi leaned forward. “I am the only Irin scribe in history mated to one of the kareshta.”

No one had any response to that, so Malachi continued. “I am a warrior of Mikhael’s line. And I’ve seen the dark edge of power in my mate. I don’t fear it. I claim it. I did die. And I was returned from heaven for a reason. We met”—he reached out and took Ava’s hand—“for a reason. That is who I am, and I will bear witness to it.”

“We both will,” Ava said.

Gabriel sat back, clearly still perturbed by Malachi’s presumption. Malachi didn’t care.

“And you may not agree with me.” He looked around the table. “Any of you. But I think Kostas and Kyra need to be present at the Library when we tell the elders the world as they’ve known it has changed.”

“No,” Kostas said immediately. “I will not consent to allow my sister here when there are unknown threats against her.”

“I agree with Malachi,” Damien said.

“As do I,” Sari concurred. “We can protect your sister.”

Kostas still looked dubious. Malachi could hardly blame him. He was taking a great risk, making allies of those who’d spent their lives trying to kill those of his blood.

Renata said, “I will guard her as well. Practically speaking, the only threat to her would be other Irina, and we can handle them. No scribe would harm a woman in our company, even if she carried the look of a Grigori.”

“But they’d kill me on sight,” Kostas said. “You cannot argue with that. There is no possible way I could go to the Library. My scent would give me away in a second.”

Everyone fell silent, forced to acknowledge the truth of his words until a lone voice at the end of the room spoke.

“I can mask his scent.”

They all turned to see the dark form of an angel, chin propped on his hand as he rested his elbow on the edge of the table.

There were shouts of alarm. Weapons were pulled. Defensive positions taken. Malachi edged in front of his mate, but she sighed and pushed him to the side.

“Vasu,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough. I can mask the scent of Barak’s son.”

“Everyone relax,” Ava said. “I don’t think he’s here to cause trouble. At least not the violent kind.”

Malachi itched to reach across and plunge a silver blade in the nape of the angel’s neck. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would be very, very satisfying.