The Singer
Page 26
“Yes. And she killed them, over ten Grigori, according to Zander’s brothers, but not before they clawed out her throat.” He lifted a hand to his throat, curling his fingers like claws as he scraped from his jaw down. “That’s what the Grigori do to Irina in battle. If they take their voice, they can’t work magic. If you silence an Irina, she’s far easier to kill.”
Ava shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold anymore. “And then she came here.”
“Sari and Mala had been friends a long time. I imagine Sari had to convince Mala to come, otherwise, she’d still be out there, hunting. But she’s very protective of her friends. If Sari asked Mala to come and help protect this haven, she’d do it.”
And that was the woman who was going to be her trainer. Fire-eyed Mala with the scarred throat and the battle-hardened muscles. Ava only hoped she didn’t die of exhaustion. Or embarrassment.
“Take your shower.” Damien motioned toward the door. “Astrid asked if you would have lunch with her after you got back. I imagine she’s in the medical clinic I saw near the road.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Watcher, sir.” She mock-saluted and scurried to the bathroom.
“Ha-ha.”
Ava shut the door and pulled off her sweaty shirt, turning to toss it in a small hamper before she froze.
Grief struck at the oddest times. Like a cat, it waited to pounce. She could go about her day, even talk about Malachi, ignoring the black hole that lived inside, then something little would swallow her up.
It was nothing, really. Just a man’s shirt hanging on the towel rod. A shirt like the ones he’d worn. The ones she’d teased him about not putting in the hamper. He left them draped on the clean towels or tossed on the ground. She’d found it irritating.
She pulled it off the towel rack and put it to her face, but it smelled wrong.
Ava buckled as if she’d been punched in the stomach, sliding down to the floor as her back scraped along the counter. A wretched sob tore from her throat, and she heard footsteps pounding.
“Ava?”
She shook her head, gripping Damien’s shirt that smelled wrong. His voice sounded wrong. And his arms felt wrong. She couldn’t stop another sob. Or the next. Or the next.
Damien opened the door. “Oh, sister…”
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
As kind as Damien was, he wasn’t who she wanted to see.
She threw his shirt at him shouted, “It’s not fair!”
“I know,” he whispered, sitting next to her and gathering her in his arms. “I know it’s not.”
“We didn’t have time.” Her body shook with rage and grief. “We should have had time.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know. Sari may hate you, but she’s still here.” Tears were hot on her face and she hit his shoulders with clenched fists, even as he held her closer. “I just found him. I finally found him. And then he was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Ava.” He held her close. “I miss him too.”
“Everything is wrong. Everything hurts more.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought it would be better if I left. If I left Turkey, I thought he’d stay there. But he didn’t.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“I see him everywhere. He’s everywhere. And he always will be.”
“Ava—”
“And I hate him for that. For leaving me,” she choked out. “And for not leaving me.”
Damien didn’t say anything for a while; he just let her cry. And when the worst of it had passed, Ava whispered, “I know that doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does.” He held her close, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “He would have moved heaven and earth to stay with you, Ava. You know that.”
“But he didn’t, Damien. Of all the things he could do, he couldn’t do that.”
Damien ignored his lunch that was growing cold on the counter. Ava ignored her growling stomach. She sat on the floor of the maple-paneled bathroom with Malachi’s brother and allowed herself to feel more than she had in months. Until finally grief slipped away to hide its face until the next time.
Hours later, Ava finally heeded the call of her rumbling stomach and went to look for Astrid. There was a road leading into the isolated valley, but a visitor clearly needed to know where they were going to find it. Ava had seen a few cars come and go, along with a truck that delivered boxes of supplies on Wednesday morning and took some of the milk and vegetables the haven produced.
In addition to the Irina, there were also a few Irin families. They seemed to keep to themselves, but Ava had seen a few men hanging at the edge of the compound and even a small child. The families lived in a group of cottages half a kilometer or so deeper into the valley and away from the main house and the road. Clearly, protecting them was a priority since Ava had only caught glimpses.
To any visitor driving in, the compound would seem like a commune of sorts, with animals and greenhouses to grow food. Low buildings housed workshops and storage units and a small clinic that Damien said was open to any emergency since Astrid was the only trained doctor for miles around. What the average visitor wouldn’t see was the interior of the brightly painted barn where women fought and parried with sticks, staffs, and knives. The archery range was hidden behind innocuous greenhouse fronts. Ava doubted many would see the cameras so expertly hidden among the buildings or understand them if they did.
Ava shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold anymore. “And then she came here.”
“Sari and Mala had been friends a long time. I imagine Sari had to convince Mala to come, otherwise, she’d still be out there, hunting. But she’s very protective of her friends. If Sari asked Mala to come and help protect this haven, she’d do it.”
And that was the woman who was going to be her trainer. Fire-eyed Mala with the scarred throat and the battle-hardened muscles. Ava only hoped she didn’t die of exhaustion. Or embarrassment.
“Take your shower.” Damien motioned toward the door. “Astrid asked if you would have lunch with her after you got back. I imagine she’s in the medical clinic I saw near the road.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Watcher, sir.” She mock-saluted and scurried to the bathroom.
“Ha-ha.”
Ava shut the door and pulled off her sweaty shirt, turning to toss it in a small hamper before she froze.
Grief struck at the oddest times. Like a cat, it waited to pounce. She could go about her day, even talk about Malachi, ignoring the black hole that lived inside, then something little would swallow her up.
It was nothing, really. Just a man’s shirt hanging on the towel rod. A shirt like the ones he’d worn. The ones she’d teased him about not putting in the hamper. He left them draped on the clean towels or tossed on the ground. She’d found it irritating.
She pulled it off the towel rack and put it to her face, but it smelled wrong.
Ava buckled as if she’d been punched in the stomach, sliding down to the floor as her back scraped along the counter. A wretched sob tore from her throat, and she heard footsteps pounding.
“Ava?”
She shook her head, gripping Damien’s shirt that smelled wrong. His voice sounded wrong. And his arms felt wrong. She couldn’t stop another sob. Or the next. Or the next.
Damien opened the door. “Oh, sister…”
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
As kind as Damien was, he wasn’t who she wanted to see.
She threw his shirt at him shouted, “It’s not fair!”
“I know,” he whispered, sitting next to her and gathering her in his arms. “I know it’s not.”
“We didn’t have time.” Her body shook with rage and grief. “We should have had time.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know. Sari may hate you, but she’s still here.” Tears were hot on her face and she hit his shoulders with clenched fists, even as he held her closer. “I just found him. I finally found him. And then he was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Ava.” He held her close. “I miss him too.”
“Everything is wrong. Everything hurts more.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought it would be better if I left. If I left Turkey, I thought he’d stay there. But he didn’t.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“I see him everywhere. He’s everywhere. And he always will be.”
“Ava—”
“And I hate him for that. For leaving me,” she choked out. “And for not leaving me.”
Damien didn’t say anything for a while; he just let her cry. And when the worst of it had passed, Ava whispered, “I know that doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does.” He held her close, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “He would have moved heaven and earth to stay with you, Ava. You know that.”
“But he didn’t, Damien. Of all the things he could do, he couldn’t do that.”
Damien ignored his lunch that was growing cold on the counter. Ava ignored her growling stomach. She sat on the floor of the maple-paneled bathroom with Malachi’s brother and allowed herself to feel more than she had in months. Until finally grief slipped away to hide its face until the next time.
Hours later, Ava finally heeded the call of her rumbling stomach and went to look for Astrid. There was a road leading into the isolated valley, but a visitor clearly needed to know where they were going to find it. Ava had seen a few cars come and go, along with a truck that delivered boxes of supplies on Wednesday morning and took some of the milk and vegetables the haven produced.
In addition to the Irina, there were also a few Irin families. They seemed to keep to themselves, but Ava had seen a few men hanging at the edge of the compound and even a small child. The families lived in a group of cottages half a kilometer or so deeper into the valley and away from the main house and the road. Clearly, protecting them was a priority since Ava had only caught glimpses.
To any visitor driving in, the compound would seem like a commune of sorts, with animals and greenhouses to grow food. Low buildings housed workshops and storage units and a small clinic that Damien said was open to any emergency since Astrid was the only trained doctor for miles around. What the average visitor wouldn’t see was the interior of the brightly painted barn where women fought and parried with sticks, staffs, and knives. The archery range was hidden behind innocuous greenhouse fronts. Ava doubted many would see the cameras so expertly hidden among the buildings or understand them if they did.
