The Singer - Hunter Elizabeth (мир книг .txt) 📗

“They’re sleeping right now,” Sari hissed. “It doesn’t matter how many there are. We go in—quietly—and we will wipe out the house within minutes.”

“You’re right,” Lang said, “so there is no need for you, Ava, or Renata to come into the fight.”

“You are really arguing this with her?” Damien asked.

“I know she’s capable. But there are few Irina left. There are thousands of Irin. It makes no sense to risk the few when they are so—”

“If you say precious or dear or rare or anything of the sort,” Rhys said, “you know she will rip out your throat.”

“Then rip it out,” Lang said. “This is battle. Not politics.”

Renata broke in. “This is useless! We need to go. Now! If Ava can hear Brage, then he is awake. If he is awake, he will wake the others and our advantage will be gone.”

Ava spoke under her breath. “But he’s not waking them. He’s waiting.”

“For you?” Malachi asked.

“Yes.”

Malachi looked over her head, then down the dark alley where they were hiding. Fog hung low to the ground, and no stars shone overhead. He looked back toward Damien, then at her. Ava felt his grip on her hand tighten a moment before he tugged them away and into the night.

“Do you have your staff?” he asked, once they had slipped away.

“No. Do you have a knife I could borrow?”

He didn’t answer, just slapped a heavy hunting knife into her hand as they continued jogging. She didn’t hear anyone coming after them but knew the others would be loath to draw attention to themselves by shouting after them.

“Can you track him?”

Ava forced him to stop, then closed her eyes and searched for it. It was still there. Distant. Fainter than it had been. Brage’s voice was moving.

“He’s moving.”

“Can you track him, Ava?”

“Yes.” She pointed in the direction of the Grigori voice and opened her eyes. “That way.”

She was pointing at the side of a brick building, but Malachi only nodded and urged her forward. When they came to the end of the alley, he stopped again.

“Which way?”

It was easier to find now that she recognized it.

“There.” They ran to the left.

Ava and Malachi continued to thread their way through the narrow alleys and streets of the waterfront. Sometimes climbing over fences, a few times dodging humans or dogs they encountered.

“He’s moving away from the others,” she said.

“He wants to get you alone.”

“How did he know I would follow him?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he wants to get us alone, we’re playing right into his hands.”

Malachi grunted. “We’ll manage. Is it still only him you hear?”

“Yes. He’s alone.”

They continued to follow, Ava listening for the Grigori’s harsh whisper, leading Malachi in what felt like circles. Every street looked the same in the darkness.

“We’re heading back,” Malachi said. “He’s going back to the house.”

Ava nodded, her breath catching in a panic. “And he’s not alone anymore.”

Malachi stopped and grabbed her shoulders. “There are more?”

“He’s heading back to the house,” she said. “And the others. They’re awake.”

When they reached the house, it looked eerily calm. Only Ava could hear the tumult inside. Bright Irin voices, male and female. Grigori whispers scraping through the air. The soldiers’ voices were softer, but more painful to Ava’s mind. The Irin voices rose over them, shining and clear. One thread suddenly cut off without warning, and Ava knew a scribe had lost his life.

“We need to go, Ava.” Malachi tugged her hand.

Ava froze, and the smell of fetid water filled her nose.

“Ava!”

Brage’s body bursting out of the water. Malachi’s face shimmering gold before it dissolved.

She could hear her own voice screaming.

“Ava.” He squeezed her hand. “Can?m.”

“I don’t want to go in there,” she gasped. Her heart pounded, and the still-seductive whisper of Brage’s black soul called her toward the house.

“Ava?” He bent down and captured her eyes. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want you to go in there,  either.”

“He’s waiting for you. He wants you. Which means that I am going to kill him.”

“No.”

“Ava.” His voice was implacable. “He will not hurt you.”

“But you—”

“Or me.”

She didn’t say anything. The terror muted her.

“He will not rob us twice. Do you understand?”

Ava shook her head.

“I will not allow it, Ava.”

Tears welled in the corner of her eye. She’d imagined killing Brage so often. Had yearned for it. But Malachi had been dead then, and the thought of risking her life was nothing. Now, the sheer terror of loss paralyzed her. She wanted to live so badly. Wanted her mate to live.

“I can’t lose you again,” she said.

He gripped her chin and laid a fierce kiss on her lips. She drank it in. Drank in the heat and the life and the burning presence of him. His arms wrapped around her, and his voice rang in her mind, brighter and stronger than the others. Stronger than it had been. A song whispered in the back of her mind and she breathed it into his mouth, her lips moving against his, not in passion, but in words she barely recognized.

Malachi breathed in the magic, and his skin heated under her hands. She pulled away and looked down; his talesm were glowing.

His head had dropped back, and she could see his throat working to pull in air.

“Malachi?” Had she hurt him?

He shook his head, his eyes closed. “Wait.”

The silent furor in the house behind him continued unabated. Grigori voices snuffed out over and over. Irin voices. And threading through it all, Brage’s seductive whisper.

“Come…”

Malachi’s eyes opened, as if he’d heard the call, too. They were bright with magic, and she blinked in surprise.

I gave him that.

Ava knew it without question.

He took a deep breath and released her, holding out a hand that she clasped with her own.

“Take me to him, Ava. Now.”

Once they entered, Ava could see that the old house rose four stories, with rooms branching off the stairwell and going back into the house. More like an apartment building than a house, and silent voices filled every corner, Grigori and Irin mixing together in almost-silent chaos. A low hum filled the air as singers worked magic. She could feel it like a tremor along her skin.

A low scuffling from the left.

The door burst open and Damien tumbled into the hall, bashing the head of a Grigori soldier into the ground, over and over. Gold dusted his shoulders, rising when he reached the open air of the stairwell. It drifted toward the doorway, escaping like a ghost. Another soldier escaped the apartment and leapt on Damien’s back before Sari walked out, sweeping her staff under the soldier’s abdomen and flipping him off her mate.

Malachi ignored them and tugged Ava’s arm. “Where?”

“Shouldn’t we help—?”

A choked gasp cut off Ava’s words as Damien plunged a knife into the back of a Grigori soldier. Almost immediately, Sari kicked another to her mate’s feet, and he killed that one, too. Gold dust rose around them, filling the air as Damien claimed Sari’s lips in a ferocious kiss before they plunged back into the dark room they’d come from.

Malachi looked down at Ava. “I think they’re fine.”

“Up,” she said. “He’s up. I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Too many!” She was already becoming overwhelmed by the clamor and resisted using the spells that would close the door, still hoping to be able to track Brage.

They started up the stairs but had to stop on the second landing when three Grigori burst out of a doorway, knives bared. Malachi pushed Ava behind him and attacked. Ava pulled out the knife he’d given her and looked for a target, but the crowded landing made positioning herself difficult.