The Singer, стр. 7
Chapter Three
Cappadocia, Turkey
“I’m a what?”
Malachi was sitting in a room with Rhys and the old man called Evren. Both wore looks of confusion as they tried to ascertain what had happened to Malachi.
“An Irin scribe,” Evren said patiently.
“And the Irin are descended from… angels.”
“We are the race formed when angels fell from heaven and mated with human women. Heroes of old. Some would call us demigods, though we are not. We are half human, half angel. There have been generations of us. A separate people, so to speak. The angelic race.”
“But we’re not angels.”
“No,” Rhys said. “Angels are frightening creatures, and you don’t want to meet them.”
“But…” The memory jolted him. “I think I have met one.”
Eyes darkened to near black, then a glowing gold as the human mask dissolved. Jaron’s shoulders grew wide and thick. His frame lengthened… almost seven feet.
“Yes,” Rhys said, sliding forward in his seat. “You have. Do you remember?”
A faint gold shimmer covered his skin as the mask of the harmless doctor fell away and the heavenly being emerged. His hair grew longer… thick ebony strands brushing past his shoulders. The bronze skin of his torso glowed in the afternoon light, and raised talesm rose like shimmering brands on his skin.
Malachi’s eyes blinked back into focus. “I was with her. I had to protect her, but he didn’t hurt her, and I was confused.”
Rhys narrowed his eyes. “We were all confused. What else do you remember?”
Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her. Remember.
“He told me there were thousands of us and only one of her.” He looked up in confusion. “There’s only one of her? What does that mean?”
“We’ll explain that another time,” Evren said. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes and no. There are pieces I remember. Odd things. I knew I was something different as soon as I woke up. A… scribe, I suppose. I knew my father— Is my family still living?”
Rhys shook his head. “No. You have no siblings and your parents both died many years ago. Ava is your only family other than us.”
Ava. The name fell into his mind and filled it. It brought the memory of air tinged with cloves and roasted hazelnuts.
“Who is she?”
The old man looked at him, pity in his eyes. “She is your mate. You remember nothing of her?”
“My mate?” Not a wife. More than a wife.
“Your mate. Your reshon. It is a sacred union.”
“Reshon?”
“Your souls were created for each other. And when you marked her with magic, they bonded.”
“Where is she?”
Evren and Rhys exchanged a look. Rhys said, “We don’t know, but we’re going to try to find her. We will find her.”
She wasn’t here. He felt as if he were stumbling through the dark, looking for something just out of his reach.
“Malachi,” Evren asked. “When you woke, you were like this?”
Malachi frowned. “I was by the river. There was nothing around. But I followed the water and found the farm.”
“The old retreat,” Evren said. “He woke near the old retreat. I think when he came back, he was reborn in the exact place he was born the first time.”
Rhys said, “You think Ava—”
“It must have been. I don’t know how, but it is the only explanation.”
“No Irina has the power to—”
“No Irina is like Ava. She has no training. She has never been told what she may not do, so who knows what she is capable of?”
Malachi broke into their quiet conversation. “You’re telling me I died?”
Evren and Rhys turned to him.
“I died?” he asked again. “Truly? I died. And I came back to life?”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing. I remember nothing. Just her voice on the wind and the stars overhead. I’ve been getting flashes here and there, but I don’t remember her. How could I forget her?” He felt torn. Incomplete. And it wasn’t just the memories he was missing. “And you think she did this somehow?”
Evren said, “We don’t know. Not really. But there is no other explanation. Your brothers saw you die. Saw your body turn to dust. Your mate saw you die—felt you die.”
“But why would Ava be able to—”
“She said the words,” Rhys said. “The words she had heard her whole life. From the souls of everyone who mourned. She came to me before she left. Asked me what it meant. Vashama canem. Come back to me.” He turned to Evren. “I had no idea. How could I?”
“There was no way of knowing she could do this, Rhys. No way—”
“Wait!” Malachi felt a chill creep along his skin. “You’re telling me she spoke this command and I answered. Even from beyond death?”
“He’s telling you words have power,” Evren said. “Ava asked you to come back to her. And you did.”
The two men stood across from him, staring. Malachi refused to sit down after being introduced to Max’s twin, Leo. He felt restless. He wanted to do something. Go somewhere. Sitting around a library made his skin itch. Rhys had left, along with Evren. The two men with him claimed to be his friends, but he had no memory of them.
Leo leaned over to Max and asked, “What happened to them?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Did he—”
“He died and came back to life, Leo. Who knows what happened to them.”
“Will they come back?”
“How should I know?”
Malachi suppressed the urge to punch them both. “What are you talking about?”
Leo rolled up his sleeves to reveal intricate tattoos all over his arms. “Your talesm. Your spells. Tattoos. You used to be covered with them like us. More than us, because you’re quite a bit older.”
Of course. That was why his arms felt wrong. He’d sensed a lack of… something since he woke. He rubbed his hands over his forearms, wishing he could rub away the unwanted attention. “I don’t know what happened. And you don’t look much younger than me, so how old am I?”
Leo said, “You used to be around four hundred. But do we start over now?” He grinned. “Am I not the youngest anymore?”
Max tapped Leo on the back of the head. “Stop. He’s obviously still Malachi. He’s just different. You’re still the youngest in the house.”
“Damn.”
Malachi looked toward the door. “Where did all the others go?”
Leo said, “Evren sent the scribes in the house searching the archives to see if there are any records of Irin coming back to life after death. Rhys went to search Damien’s phone and credit card records to see if he’s still traceable. I’m guessing he won’t be, but we can hope.”
“And Damien is with…”
“Ava.”
“Yes, Ava.” His woman. His mate.
“It must have been her.” For the first time, Max’s eyes softened as he watched him. “Somehow… We thought we’d lost you, Malachi. I watched you die. Saw the dust rise to heaven when he killed you.”
Leo put his arm around his brother. “There was no question. She felt your loss.”
“Ava was… torn in two when you died,” Max said. “I’ve never seen—I don’t remember the Rending, so I’ve never seen grief like that before.”
Malachi swallowed a groan. She was out there, grieving his loss, and he was unable to comfort her. Even though he couldn’t remember her, Malachi bristled in awareness of her grief. “I need to find her. Why did this man take her from here?”
Rhys opened the door, face grim. “Damien took her away because her power was unpredictable and growing stronger every day.” He glanced at Malachi. “Obviously.”
“You’re saying she didn’t mean to bring me back. This was some kind of mistake?”
“Not a mistake,” Rhys said, his voice breaking. “Never a mistake, brother.”
“Then why—”
“No trained Irina would have done it. They have rules. Boundaries. As we do. Set in place thousands of years ago by the Forgiven when they gave us the gift of magic. To do something like this—to tear a soul from heaven—is… not done. I didn’t even know it was possible.”