The Secret
Page 14
She was still frowning. “I don’t get it, though.”
“What?”
“Why don’t the Fallen teach the Grigori the same magic? Wouldn’t it make them more powerful?”
“I don’t know if the Fallen want their children to be that powerful. Or even if they are able to teach it to them. They might not be able.”
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “They’re Grigori. We don’t engage them in conversation. We kill them.”
Ava snorted. “For a race you’ve been at war with for millennia, you guys don’t know much about your enemy, do you?”
“They’re a predatory race. We know enough.”
“Do you?”
He sat up straighter and lowered his leg. “What does that mean?”
She was looking out the window. “You know I’m no fan of the Grigori. But part of me wonders if the Irin don’t choose to be ignorant about them. About their world. It’s easier to dehumanize something you don’t understand. Easier to kill someone you don’t see as a person.”
“There’s a problem with your reasoning, Ava.”
“Oh?”
“The Grigori are not human.”
“No?” Her eyes swung back to his. “Think about it, Malachi. They’re half human. Half angel. The Grigori are as human as you.”
MALACHI stewed silently for the rest of the trip.
The Grigori as human as he was?
Hardly.
The monsters who had tracked Ava like an animal? Seduced and killed countless human women? Taken his own life? Flashes of memory haunted him, flipping through his mind in a litany of accusation.
Knives and blood. Knives were the only way to kill them and release their souls for judgment. And knives were messy, bloody weapons for fighting. Slices across his arms. His chest. He’d almost lost an ear once.
Knives and blood and dead, lifeless eyes. Not the Grigori. No, their bodies dissolved like so much dust, leaving the remains of their prey for others to find. Dead eyes, often open in surprise or rolled back in ecstasy. The Grigori were beings who made a mockery of love, the human women they hunted never suspecting that the glorious creature who touched them was actually sucking the life out of them.
A small, inconvenient voice in the back of his mind whispered, You would too.
His touch would be deadly too.
So the Irin didn’t touch any but their own.
That was the point. It was what made them different. Made them the protectors, not the hunters. They were nothing like the Grigori.
He could hear Ava’s voice. But…
The Grigori had no fathers or mothers as they did. Had no families. No training in magic. They had no Irina.
They had no Irina.
So what hope did they have?
And what monsters would the Irin have become with no hope?
He was silent when they arrived at the hotel. Silent when they made their way to their room. Silent even as Ava stoically put their things away, unpacking from the single bag they had brought, carefully arranging the room with the long practice of years living in hotel after hotel.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she said as he walked up behind her. She was standing at a small dresser, arranging their clothes. “It wasn’t my intention, I’m just saying—”
“Shh.” He bent down, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. “Ava.”
“What?”
Her shoulders had been tense, but she relaxed as he held her and kissed her cheek. Her neck. They had few fights because they were still uneasy around each other. Both of them often retreated into polite silence, and he knew it wasn’t right.
“I love you,” he said, drawing her away from the bureau and into his chest. His hands traveled up her torso, slipping underneath the thin sweater she wore. He hungered for her skin. “You are my hope.”
“Malachi—”
“You are. It is easy to forget”—he kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder—“what I would be without you. There was a time when I was as hopeless as they were. I don’t think the Irin are like the Grigori, but I will think about what you said.”
“I’m not saying I want to be friends with them,” she said, turning in his arms. “I just think there are things we could learn. Me, mostly. But maybe you too.”
“You’re right.”
A teasing light came to her eyes. “You’re so sexy when you agree with me.”
“Am I?” He bit her lower lip as his hands ran back down to cup her bottom. “How about now?” he murmured against her lips.
“Say it again.”
“You’re right.”
“Oooooh,” she said. “Even sexier.”
He grinned as he kissed her. He loved it when she teased him. When she laughed. It was happening more and more as time passed.
“You’re my hope too, you know.”
He paused. “What?”
“What was I before I met you?” she asked. “Lonely. Lost. Never fitting in anywhere. Ruining any relationship I tried to have.”
“Human men would never have been good for you.” A sudden spike of jealousy. No other man would touch her. Not as he did. His mate belonged to him alone. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“I know that now.”
She let him roll over her, strip her clothing off so that he could feast on her. Breasts. Knees. Thighs. He bit the soft swell of flesh on her belly. No inch of her body was safe from his ravening mouth.
“What?”
“Why don’t the Fallen teach the Grigori the same magic? Wouldn’t it make them more powerful?”
“I don’t know if the Fallen want their children to be that powerful. Or even if they are able to teach it to them. They might not be able.”
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “They’re Grigori. We don’t engage them in conversation. We kill them.”
Ava snorted. “For a race you’ve been at war with for millennia, you guys don’t know much about your enemy, do you?”
“They’re a predatory race. We know enough.”
“Do you?”
He sat up straighter and lowered his leg. “What does that mean?”
She was looking out the window. “You know I’m no fan of the Grigori. But part of me wonders if the Irin don’t choose to be ignorant about them. About their world. It’s easier to dehumanize something you don’t understand. Easier to kill someone you don’t see as a person.”
“There’s a problem with your reasoning, Ava.”
“Oh?”
“The Grigori are not human.”
“No?” Her eyes swung back to his. “Think about it, Malachi. They’re half human. Half angel. The Grigori are as human as you.”
MALACHI stewed silently for the rest of the trip.
The Grigori as human as he was?
Hardly.
The monsters who had tracked Ava like an animal? Seduced and killed countless human women? Taken his own life? Flashes of memory haunted him, flipping through his mind in a litany of accusation.
Knives and blood. Knives were the only way to kill them and release their souls for judgment. And knives were messy, bloody weapons for fighting. Slices across his arms. His chest. He’d almost lost an ear once.
Knives and blood and dead, lifeless eyes. Not the Grigori. No, their bodies dissolved like so much dust, leaving the remains of their prey for others to find. Dead eyes, often open in surprise or rolled back in ecstasy. The Grigori were beings who made a mockery of love, the human women they hunted never suspecting that the glorious creature who touched them was actually sucking the life out of them.
A small, inconvenient voice in the back of his mind whispered, You would too.
His touch would be deadly too.
So the Irin didn’t touch any but their own.
That was the point. It was what made them different. Made them the protectors, not the hunters. They were nothing like the Grigori.
He could hear Ava’s voice. But…
The Grigori had no fathers or mothers as they did. Had no families. No training in magic. They had no Irina.
They had no Irina.
So what hope did they have?
And what monsters would the Irin have become with no hope?
He was silent when they arrived at the hotel. Silent when they made their way to their room. Silent even as Ava stoically put their things away, unpacking from the single bag they had brought, carefully arranging the room with the long practice of years living in hotel after hotel.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she said as he walked up behind her. She was standing at a small dresser, arranging their clothes. “It wasn’t my intention, I’m just saying—”
“Shh.” He bent down, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. “Ava.”
“What?”
Her shoulders had been tense, but she relaxed as he held her and kissed her cheek. Her neck. They had few fights because they were still uneasy around each other. Both of them often retreated into polite silence, and he knew it wasn’t right.
“I love you,” he said, drawing her away from the bureau and into his chest. His hands traveled up her torso, slipping underneath the thin sweater she wore. He hungered for her skin. “You are my hope.”
“Malachi—”
“You are. It is easy to forget”—he kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder—“what I would be without you. There was a time when I was as hopeless as they were. I don’t think the Irin are like the Grigori, but I will think about what you said.”
“I’m not saying I want to be friends with them,” she said, turning in his arms. “I just think there are things we could learn. Me, mostly. But maybe you too.”
“You’re right.”
A teasing light came to her eyes. “You’re so sexy when you agree with me.”
“Am I?” He bit her lower lip as his hands ran back down to cup her bottom. “How about now?” he murmured against her lips.
“Say it again.”
“You’re right.”
“Oooooh,” she said. “Even sexier.”
He grinned as he kissed her. He loved it when she teased him. When she laughed. It was happening more and more as time passed.
“You’re my hope too, you know.”
He paused. “What?”
“What was I before I met you?” she asked. “Lonely. Lost. Never fitting in anywhere. Ruining any relationship I tried to have.”
“Human men would never have been good for you.” A sudden spike of jealousy. No other man would touch her. Not as he did. His mate belonged to him alone. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“I know that now.”
She let him roll over her, strip her clothing off so that he could feast on her. Breasts. Knees. Thighs. He bit the soft swell of flesh on her belly. No inch of her body was safe from his ravening mouth.
