The Secret Page 8

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “At night I wake up, and for a second, you’re gone again.”

  “Reach out. You’ll find me.”

  “I’m afraid if I reach for you, I’ll find out this is a dream. That I’m caught in some kind of delusion. I don’t know what’s real in the dark.”

  He rolled over and drew her back to his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist. He called up the ancient magic that lived in his skin, allowing his talesm to glow. “Look, Ava.”

  She opened her eyes.

  “When the darkness comes, reach for me.”

  She said nothing, but he could feel her fear.

  “What are you afraid of? It’s not just losing me again.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t lie.” He tapped a finger against her temple. “I can tell.”

  “I think…” She put her hands over his and gripped them tightly. “I think my magic is evil, Malachi.”

  “It’s not evil. I’ve felt it. It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s dark.”

  “Dark does not equal evil.” He took a deep breath and felt her match him. They lay together, quietly enjoying the afternoon sun. “Is this because of what happened on the roof with Jaron?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Tell me.”

  Ava said nothing for a long while.

  “I saw a black angel once,” she whispered. “There was a Grigori attacking me in Norway. He’d broken into the room with another who’d gone after Mala. They were trying… I don’t know what they were trying to do. Kill us? Capture us for Volund, maybe? But he was on me, and I’d made him angry by fighting back. His hand was on my throat.”

  Malachi forced his body to remain calm as he held her, but the rage bubbled beneath his skin.

  “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t remember the spells, and I was so mad. I was furious. I’d lost you. Lost so much. And he was trying to take more. I felt this darkness well up inside me. It poured out of me. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t speak. It didn’t matter. I could hear… wind. And then it was like the shadows in the room came to life. There was a figure. It felt like Jaron, but more. Darker. Heavier. There was no substance to it. Like a vacuum. And the closer I looked, the more it drew me in.”

  He couldn’t help it. His arms tightened around her. “Ava—”

  “Feathers,” she whispered. “It sounded like feathers.”

  His stomach dropped, and his heart pounded. “What happened?”

  She stared at the ceiling, lost in the memory. “I heard screaming, but it wasn’t me. I think I passed out from his hand on my throat. By the time I came back, it was the Grigori screaming. His eyes were open. He was staring into nothing as if he’d seen it too. But it had captured him. It wasn’t letting go.”

  Ava’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “He was so terrified. And I knew… He’d seen what I saw. But the shadow took him. I wanted him to see it, and he did.”

  “Ava, this was not…”

  …your fault. Malachi couldn’t say it. Because it might have been a lie. No one knew what she was capable of.

  Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her.

  “What was it?” She rolled over to face him. “That shadow? You know, don’t you?”

  He didn’t want to tell her what he thought. But this was his mate. She’d know if he tried to lie or avoid the question.

  “Death,” he said. “You saw Death.”

  “How do you know?” she asked. “Maybe it was one of the Fallen. There are probably—”

  “He is not one of the Fallen. He is Death.”

  She shook her head, dread marking her face. “No.”

  “Ava, I’ve probably seen him, even though I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t…” She sat up in the bed. “So, there really is an angel of death?”

  He nodded. “Our books say he is neither Fallen nor Forgiven. He is Death. Some scriptures call him Azril. He comes for any with angelic blood. He is neither good nor evil. His job is to gather souls that have been released.”

  “And I called him?”

  “No,” he murmured. “I don’t know. He serves no one but the Creator. But you saw him.”

  “But so did the Grigori. And I was the one dying, not him.”

  “Yes, he saw…” Malachi sat up next to her. “He saw what you saw.”

  “Yeah, I said that.”

  He took her hand. “Think about what you’ve done in the past, Ava. When you allow your magic to work.”

  She paused. “I see things.”

  “You see things,” he murmured. “Why does your photography strike a chord with so many? Because they’re not just pictures to you. Your camera is a lens into your mind. Your heart. You show things. I think your magic carries the same gift. What you see, you manifest in others’ minds. When Jaron gave you a vision and you sang about it in Oslo, we saw it. Not just imagined it, we saw your vision in our own minds. You saw Death. And when you did, the Grigori did as well. And Death terrified him.”

  “How?” she whispered. “Who does that? Is that…” She frowned. “Is that Leoc? Leoc’s gift? Orsala called me a daughter of Leoc.”

  “Leoc is a seer. He gave his daughters the gift of foresight.” Malachi shook his head. “What you do is different.”

  “So where does it come from?” She pounded her fist on the bed. “Where do I come from?”

  “Ava, it’s not—”

  “Dammit, Malachi! I need my dad to be honest with me.”

  “Ava—”

  “No, really. I’m pissed. The more I think about my dad, the angrier I get. At first I was the sad, disappointed daughter I’ve been for years, but now? I’m just pissed.”

  “Your father—”

  “My father knew. If his mother was the same as me, he’s known for years that I heard voices. Maybe he knows about soul voices, maybe he doesn’t. But he knew what was wrong with me, and he said nothing. Even just telling me he understood would have made me feel like less of a freak. But he was too selfish to do that for his own daughter.”

  He took her fist, spreading her fingers until he could thread them through his own. “We don’t know—”

  “He knew why I ran away from life. Knew why I could never have any real relationships. No home. No friends. No boyfriends.”

  “He might have been trying—”

  “My dad knew what all the hovering and the bodyguards and the endless, endless psychological exams must have done to me. And he knew they wouldn’t do anything to help. And he still said nothing.”

  “It’s possible—”

  “He. Said. Nothing.”

  Malachi stopped trying to calm her.

  “And I know his mother is alive! I know it. And you know what? I bet he knows that I know it. And he’s still lying to me. He’s still keeping all these secrets.”

  She swung her legs off the bed and started pacing their room like an angry cat.

  “I’m sick of secrets!” she said. “I’m sick of my dad keeping them and Jaron playing with me like I’m a pawn in his little games. I’m sick of being chased and hunted. I’m sick of acting calm when I really want to scream.”

  “I know.” Deep down, Malachi was relieved that Ava was showing this much emotion about anything. She’d been too calm for far too long. She had a right to her anger. It was long overdue, and resignation did not suit her.

  “I’m sick of it.”

  “I can see that.” He tried to stop the smile, but she caught the edge of it.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She stopped pacing. Her mouth hung open. Her hands were on her hips. Malachi felt the smile spread across his face.

  “You are,” she said.

  “I’m not laughing. I’m thrilled.”

  “About what?”

  He stood and faced her, putting his hands on her small shoulders. “I’m glad you’re angry. Ava, I love it. You have every
right to be. Take it. Use it. Force your father to be honest with you. Don’t let him ignore you. The next time you see Jaron in a dream, question him. I can’t, but you can. If he can reach you, then you can reach him. Don’t let him ignore you. You want to find answers?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then what can I do to help?”

  Chapter Six

  “I DON’T TELL YOU often enough,” Ava said, love for him filling her up, balancing the anger. “I love you. You’re strong and protective, smart and kind. You’re just a… a very good man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I fell in love with the man I met in Istanbul. The mysterious one who touched me and made me feel like I was magic. And I grieved for the hero who sacrificed himself to protect me. But the man you are now? The man you’re becoming? He’s all those things. And he’s more.”

  His eyes had lost all their humor. He reached up to cup her cheek. “Ava.”

  “You’re a good man. And maybe I don’t know who I am, but I know I’m grateful that you’re mine. That I can find out who I am with you. And maybe help you find yourself too.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him. Malachi reached down and lifted her up, swinging her around until they sat on the edge of the bed again, lips still locked. She pulled back and peppered his face with kisses until he was smiling. Until his dimple couldn’t be hidden. Until he laughed. And Ava thought she might become addicted to the sound of Malachi’s laughter. If she could find the answers she needed and live a thousand years with this man, she would never grow tired of hearing him laugh.

  Then she was the one smiling when he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her deeply, teasing her tongue with his. He tasted spicy, like the peppers and sumac she had smelled from the kitchen during lunch. His shoulders were firm beneath her hands. His body commanding hers to give more. Deeper. His soul voice rang in her head, tuning her mind and body. She felt her magic rise up and settle against his.

  He let out a gasp and pulled back. “Ava, it feels so good.”

  “More?”

  “More.”

  She kissed him again. Heard the words in her mind. Pulled away to whisper in his ear.

  “Hanama.” She recited the simple spell, picturing what she wanted in her mind as she spoke. “Da’adanama.”

  Take of me, the magic whispered. Give to me.

  His magic shot through her, and she could feel her mating marks burn as his arms tightened at the small of her back. Malachi’s own skin was hot beneath her hands. Like a circuit sparked by her passion, their magic joined and fed them both, opening them to each other. No insulation. No barriers.

  She could see his talesm glowing on his forearms. Could feel the ghost of them under her palms. Once, they’d covered his body, marking the territory of him like a map. She’d told him once that the lack of them didn’t matter to her, but it did. Because they were part of him. Each spell carefully chosen and written. Not simply words a scribe had written to protect himself, but a guide to the man he’d chosen to become.

  She wanted them back.

  Cautiously, she bent to his ear again.

  “Ya davarda,” she whispered, the spell slipping from her lips. It should have been easy after all the times she’d recited it in her mind, but she was so afraid.

  Remember.

  It was a command she imbued with the deepest longing of her heart. For Malachi to remember who he was. And who he’d made himself to be.

  “Ya davarda, reshon,” she said it again, a little louder.

  She felt the energy leave her fingertips and enter him. A slip of silk brushing against her skin. There for a heartbeat, then gone. Away from her. Into him.

  “Ava!”

  Malachi pulled back, his hands clenched on her hips so hard Ava knew they would bruise. His eyes were closed. The marks on his forearms glowed like fire fed from a sudden gust of wind.

  She kept her hands on his shoulders, pressing down as if to keep them both from flying away. His face was clenched, but it was not in pain. His eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids. She felt a burning beneath her right palm and looked down.

  Like living vines, his talesm crawled up his left forearm, joining and sometimes overwriting the spells he’d added after his return. The glowing quicksilver lines moved up his arm as she watched, twisting and turning. Traveling across and around his wrist, his forearm, his elbow, and bicep. His skin burned as from a fever.

  The lines disappeared under his shirt. In their wake, his skin swelled and reddened, leaving ash-black ink embedded in his flesh.

  Malachi’s chest heaved for a few deep breaths and then fell still. His head fell. The magic seemed to leave him and retreat back into her.

  “Malachi?” She squeezed his shoulders and he winced. Ava quickly pulled her hands away, but he did not open his eyes. She had felt him, shoulders rock hard under her hands. But she could also see the lines of red blood seeping through the white cotton of his shirt.

  She tried not to panic. “Malachi?”

  He opened his eyes, and Ava could see a gold fire ringing his irises. Then he leaned back and tore off his shirt. Fine wells of blood stained his entire left arm, crawling up to his collarbone.

  “You,” he panted, “did this.”

  “Are you okay?” Ava was trying not to freak out. She’d wanted him to remember, but though he didn’t look angry, there was a violent expression in his eyes.

  “Hurts.”

  “I’m sorry.” She willed herself not to cry. She’d wanted him to remember, but his skin looked raw and wounded. She’d done this to him. Some of his talesm were back, but it must have been incredibly painful. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” he grunted.

  She tried to scramble off his lap, but he only held tighter, his hands digging into her hips. “Let me—”

  “Not sorry,” he said. His forehead was gleaming with sweat. The burning in his skin hadn’t stopped. “Don’t be sorry.” He reached up and grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her mouth to his in a bruising kiss. Ava leaned into him. Relieved. Excited. She could feel the raw energy rolling off him in waves.

  Adrenaline. Endorphins. Her mate’s body had been hit with a massive cocktail of magic and hormones in the space of a few minutes.

  She pulled away, gasping as his hands began to tear at her clothes. “Oh. Not angry.”

  “No.”

  MALACHI made love to her with furious focus, ignoring what had to be brutal pain on his left side. Ava just held on and let him vent the surge of power into her body. Over and over. He asked if she was okay. If he was hurting her. He wasn’t. She was more afraid of hurting him, but he was insatiable and seemed to find as much satisfaction in her pleasure as in his own.

  They took a break when the sun set, and someone—who wasn’t brave enough to speak—knocked on their door, reminding Ava they weren’t alone.

  Malachi reached down, threw one of his boots at the door, and the footsteps hurried away.

  Ava laughed into the shoulder that wasn’t sore. His arm had already healed over, but it was an angry red.

  “You’re quite the beast today, aren’t you?”

  “It’s your fault,” he said, rolling onto his right side. “Do you know how much magic you woke in me?”

  She tentatively touched his left arm. “A lot?”

  “Yes. And Rhys was right.”

  “About?”

  “I remember, Ava.”

  She paused, stunned that it had worked. “How much?”

  “Most of my childhood. The earliest things.” His eyes shone with tears. “I miss my parents again.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, stroking his cheek. He’d shaved that morning, but he was Malachi, so half a beard had already grown.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m glad I miss them.” He brushed the wet away from his cheek. “They deserve to be missed.”

  “How… What is it like?”

  “You told me to remember, and it was like�
� a key unlocked in my mind. This door opened. And then inside that door, another door. And then another. I kept passing through each one, and it was as if the rooms they unlocked were infinite. Eventually, my brain just shut down. I remember everything through my school years. Rhys was there.” Malachi frowned. “He may be my best friend, but by heaven, he can be an ass.”

  Ava burst into laughter. “He likes tormenting you.”

  “Still does.” A reluctant smile crossed his face. “I suppose it was mutual.”

  “And your talesm grew.”

  He lifted an arm. “Apparently.”

  “That looks really painful.”

  “It is.”

  She winced. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wanted them back.” He stretched his arm out and she could see the skin already healing around the tattooed flesh. “I feel stronger already.”

  “Then I’m glad.”

  “Good.” He touched her chin until she looked at his face. The gold fire had retreated and his eyes were a beautiful, cloudy grey again.

  “What is it?”

  “I adore you, Ava. Your mind is fascinating. Your spirit humbles me. And your body feels as if it was made to fit my own. Even now that I have more of my memories back, my thoughts continue to circle you on a level that’s borderline obsessive.”

  She blinked. “Wow.”

  “Know that. Understand it, because I’m going to say something that will likely make you angry.”

  She frowned. “Oh.”

  “You need to stop fooling around and work on your magic.”

  “What?” Her mouth dropped open. “But you said—”

  “I know what I said. ‘Go at your own pace. No pressure.’ That was me being supportive and protective.”

  “I like you being supportive and protective.”

  “I don’t think you need me to be supportive and protective right now. I think you need a kick in the ass. Because the magic I just felt has nothing dark or evil about it. You’re scared of something that doesn’t exist.”

  Yeah, okay. That made her a little mad. More than a little. He didn’t know what she saw. Had no idea the shadows she felt lurking on the edge of her mind anytime the magic drew near.