“Other than the drugs?”

“Despite them.” Luis’s voice dropped. “Listen, I don’t know what deal he made with what devil, but the man has never been sick a day in his life, other than the shit he ingests himself. I’ve seen guys do… a tenth of the shit he’s done and ruin their bodies. What’s going on with your health? Lena said you were staying in Turkey with friends the last time I talked to her. Are you sick?”

Malachi must have heard the question. She kept forgetting that his talesm gave him enhanced senses when he activated them. No doubt he’d been listening the whole time.

He frowned and shook his head.

Luis hadn’t earned their trust.

Ava decided to go with attitude because being reasonable wasn’t working. “Like I’m going to tell you what’s going on with my health when you’re not even willing to tell me where my own father is.”

“Don’t be like this, Ava. If he hears that you’re sick—”

“He’ll be pissed. We both know it. So why are you keeping me from him?”

More silence.

“He’s going to hear one way or another, Luis. And I don’t think you want to be the one standing between him and his only kid. Do I need to call my mom?”

It was her one trump card, and Luis still wasn’t budging.

“Yeah, why don’t you have Lena call me, Ava?” His voice was frosty. “She’s not an immature little girl throwing a tantrum. Your mother knows what Jasper’s limits are.”

“His limits?”

“I’m done with this conversation. I’ll call you next week.”

Ava hung up her phone when Luis’s end went silent and resisted throwing it against the opposite wall.

“So,” Malachi said, “that went well.”

“Asshole.”

He raised a single eyebrow. “Is he always like that? I do not like the way he talks to you, and I’d be more than happy to make that clear.”

“Luis?” She huffed out a breath. “He’s usually pretty cool. But he’s in protective mode right now, which tells me my dad is holed up, trying to see just how many drugs he can ingest without killing himself.”

Malachi folded up the paper and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s the way he is. The way he’s always been.”

“But you don’t know where he is?”

“No.”

“Where was he last seen?”

Ava turned on her phone and pulled up the app she used to keep track of her father. The mobile application was fan-created and borderline creepy, but it had become a convenient way to keep track of Jasper and his schedule. “He had that concert in Vienna on the twentieth of last month. Then another in… Budapest. Then it looks like he went under.” She scrolled back up the page and mentally counted down. Four weeks. Six…

“Yeah,” she finally said. “He was due.”

“Due?”

“It’s just the way he is. Every eight weeks or so, when he’s touring, he’ll crash. Luis works it into his schedule. His next show isn’t for three weeks.”

“He takes a three-week vacation to get high?”

“Among other things. It’s better when he’s recording. Seems to work some of the energy out for him to be creative. I can relate,” she muttered. “I was kind of the same way before we met. Not with the drugs, but…” She shook her head. “He’ll be fine for a while. Using but functioning. Then every now and then he’ll go off and get really wasted. It varies how bad it is.”

“How bad does this seem?”

“If he’s not answering my calls or e-mails? Pretty bad.”

“Drugs?”

“Drugs. Vodka. Lots and lots of women.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

She shrugged. “It’s sad, but it really is typical music-industry stuff. A lot of these guys are like that. You wouldn’t believe the excess. Probably one of the reasons he allowed my mom and Carl to raise me without much interference.”

“Hmmm.” He was rubbing a hand over his chin, scratching at the thick stubble that had already appeared. It was his usual sign that he was mulling things over.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” He pulled out his own phone. “We should call Max.”

That hadn’t been what he was thinking about, but she let it pass. “Where is Max?”

“I don’t know. But he is answering his phone, and if you want to find someone, I think he’d be the one to ask.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Malachi was clearly remembering more about his brothers after being back in the scribe house. He was easier with Leo and Rhys. Seemed more comfortable in his own skin every day that passed. And Ava knew Max was the one the others turned to when they needed information.

“You think Max could find my father? He won’t be at any of his usual houses. Probably won’t even be using his name.”

Malachi shook his head. “Not a problem. He’s human.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he has only human methods of concealment. Which means that Max’s finding him will not be a problem.”

THAT night, Leo and Ava were practicing with knives when Rhys walked in with the phone. Malachi rose from the weight bench in the corner, but Rhys held up a hand.

“Damien,” he said into the phone. “I’m with the others. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“—long as you’ve swept for bugs recently,” the voice came from the mobile phone that Rhys set on the counter in the large bedroom on the second floor where the workout room had been set up.

“I swept yesterday,” Leo said, then he flipped two knives in quick succession. One hit the bull’s-eye right next to Ava’s last throw.

“Good. I’m looking in the corners here, so expect surveillance from the council. Be wary of any scribes who turn up unexpectedly.”

“Why?” Ava asked as she threw another. It was a new set that Leo had found for her. Perfectly balanced.

“Ava?”

She could hear the smile in Damien’s voice.

“Hey, Damien! Is Sari there?”

“Here,” a woman’s voice said. “How are you, sister?”

“I’m good.” She smiled at Malachi, who was watching her with a smile of his own. He wiped his forehead with the shirt he’d stripped off earlier. “We’re both good. Happy to be back.”

“Good. I’ll let Damien update his men. Then we should talk.”

“Got it.”

Ava turned back to the target she was sharing with Leo. It felt good to practice. Malachi was more of a dagger-fighting fan. Throwing knives wasn’t something he enjoyed as much as Ava did.

“As I was saying, be wary of any unknown scribes.”

Rhys asked, “Are we declining hospitality?”

“No. We can’t do that.”

Ava knew that would be a serious breach of Irin etiquette. Scribes were always welcomed by other scribes. No matter what. To go against that would raise alarms in Vienna and create enemies out of those who should be friends.

“Officially, I’m still here petitioning on the part of the watchers. I have letters from the houses in Berlin, Oslo, Budapest, and Paris. I’m warning the council about the rising threat, but I’m not having much success. They’re loosening funds for repairs and rebuilding our house and other houses, but other than that, they’re much more occupied with the Irina question.”

Malachi asked, “The Irina question?”

It was Sari who responded. “The threat against Sarihöfn and the attacks in Oslo have finally spurred a response. I’ve been in contact with other havens. The leaders there are mostly of the same mind as I am.”

“Which is?” Rhys was perched on the edge of his chair.

Sari paused. Ava held her breath.

“It’s time,” Sari said. “We can’t ignore those calling for compulsion. If we’re going to come out of hiding, it will be on our own terms, not the result of politicians threatening us. It has already started.”

“I’ve heard,” Rhys said quietly. “There are Irina showing up at scribe houses all over the world. The children and many of the others are still concealed, but more and more Irina are stepping forward and demanding a place at the scribe houses.”