Malachi tried to remain stoic. “I suppose not.”

“We get better with practice, of course. But your writing is very good. Muscle memory, I imagine. We’ll have to see how you do with the needle.”

Malachi wrote carefully, always stopping short of completely finishing a sequence. Leo told him he must only finish the spell when he was casting it on his body. For now, he would simply practice. He looked at the book the other man had given him, a scribe’s primer with dotted lines instead solid, to train the boys who would become warriors and scholars.

“What was your first spell?” Malachi asked. “After your talesm prim, what was your first?”

Leo smiled bashfully. “To be taller.”

Malachi laughed. The man towered over everyone in the house except his cousin, who matched him in height. Yet, despite his great size, there was a playfulness about Leo that Malachi found endearing.

“Well done. It worked.”

“You think it’s funny now, but the summer I started scribing my talesm, Max had shot up a few inches on me. I was worried.”

“You’re cousins?”

He nodded. “Our mothers were twin sisters. Most Irin couples only have one pregnancy, but twins do happen. It’s considered a great blessing. Our mothers were very close. Max and I were born within months of each other, so we’re really more like brothers than cousins.”

“Always a competition?”

“When we were younger. Not as much now. We’re very different.”

“Max is… intense.”

Leo smiled. “He’s very passionate about the future. He questions everything, especially the politicians.”

“It’s good that someone does.”

“And I know he desperately wants a mate,” Leo said in a quieter voice. “We all do.”

“It must be frustrating.” Malachi knew that Irin males couldn’t touch humans. He had no desire for anyone except Ava—even though he barely remembered her—but for unmated males like Leo and Max…

Malachi saw a faint tinge of red on Leo’s cheekbones. “I believe that heaven has already chosen my reshon. I must simply be patient and wait for her. Though human females are… tempting. I cannot lie.”

Malachi stopped his practice and put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “She will be worthy of your patience, brother.”

“Thank you.” Leo pointed back to the paper he’d been using. “Your letters are well formed. I really can’t help you any more with them. I can answer any questions you have about the tattooing, but I suspect your muscle memory will hold true in the ritual room, as well.”

“And you’ll be there?”

“I’m not your father, but we don’t do our first talesm alone, so yes.” Leo smiled. “I’d be honored to witness for you. It won’t be too much. Just the talesm prim to activate your magic and call on our forefathers’ magic, then the basic protection spells and a few others. You’re a good runner already—very fast—so I’d focus on eyesight, reflexes, and protection from blades. Those would be the most important if we encounter any fighting. After that, you can improvise spells as you need them. You’ll find all the basics in that book.”

Malachi paged through the book for a moment, then looked up. “Thank you, Leo. You’ve been very patient with all this.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both read in silence a bit longer, then Malachi said, “Rhys told me when I first started watching Ava, before I knew she was Irina, that you were the one to help me guard her.”

“I was.”

“Would you tell me about her? Can you?”

Leo smiled. “Of course. I liked Ava very much. Even when we thought she was human.”

“What is she like?”

“She’s… unpredictable. She never really does what you expect.”

Malachi frowned. “Oh?”

“But then, looking back, you aren’t surprised at all.”

“Why not?” He listened, rapt to hear any crumb of who this woman was. She’d captured Malachi’s heart without him knowing anything about her. He wanted to. Desperately.

Leo continued, “I think it’s how she throws people off. By being unpredictable. She likes to keep others off-balance so they don’t look too closely.”

That made him smile. “She doesn’t like being the center of attention?”

“No, definitely not.” Leo grinned, then his smile fell. “Ava is, more than anything, a survivor.”

“What do you mean?”

“She had to be. She heard voices her whole life—like the Irina do—but she didn’t know what they were. Her parents thought she was mentally ill. I think she still thinks that sometimes. She makes jokes about being crazy.”

“I think I remember that,” he said, recalling the password he’d typed into her computer.

“You hated it; I could tell. Max and Damien say she’s actually very powerful. They think it’s because she has so much power bound up from living a life away from magic. I always thought it was because she’s not like other Irina.”

Malachi frowned. “What do you mean?”

Leo shrugged. “Her parents are human. We never did figure out where she came from, but biologically, she shouldn’t be Irina. I mean, Irin are not entirely human or angel. We’re different. And Ava is definitely like us, but we can’t figure out how a human could become Irina.”

The answer seemed obvious to Malachi. “A lion doesn’t become a wolf, Leo, no matter how it might want to be.”

“So?” Leo crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It means her parents are Irin. They have to be.”

The blond man smiled. “Our records—everything we could find about them—say they’re not.”

Malachi frowned. “But humans don’t give birth to Irin children.”

“No, they don’t.”

“So if they produced Ava, then they’re not human.”

“But they’re not Irin. We have a record of every Irin child ever born. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s keeping records.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Malachi murmured.

“What’s that?”

Malachi looked around the room filled with scrolls and tablets. Books and boxes were hidden in every corner. He turned back to Leo and said, “We’re an ancient race of angel and human hybrids that has lived under the nose of humanity for thousands of years.”

“And?”

“We may be good at keeping records, but we’re also good at keeping secrets.”

Göteborg, Sweden

It wasn’t often his father called him to appear in person. But given the task Brage had just accomplished, it could hardly be said he was dreading the appearance. He strolled through the Götaplatsen, ignoring the human women who cast longing looks in his direction. The package his father was expecting rested safely at his side.

The blade from Istanbul had been found. A heavenly blade. It was one of only three that Brage had ever seen. The only one that had been in his hand. It would be nothing to human eyes. Dull. Devoid of decoration or flourish.

But to one of heaven’s children, it was a treasure beyond price.

Countless hours searching through mud and shit, through rotten food and human waste, and he’d found it. Or, his brothers had while he directed the search. They didn’t question him; few Grigori lasted as long as Brage. At nearly three hundred years old, he was almost as strong as one of the Irin he despised.

Fucking scribes with their fucking honor. Their fucking magic and mates and foolish sentimentality. They, like he and his Grigori brothers, could rule the humans if they wished. Rule as the ancients had.

Brage stopped in front of the Poseidon statue and waited to feel him. He only waited moments.

There.

The soldier’s eyes closed, and his mouth dropped open as the wave of fear and adoration swept over him. The cynical soldier disappeared, and the child leapt to the surface. Brage wanted his father’s approval. Needed it. Would do anything, kill anything, steal anything to get it. He longed for the love of this creature, as if the lack of it would damn him.