“Can you make a spear of it?” Niran asked.
Rith shook his head. “It has to be held by my hand to make a killing blow.”
Damn the rules of magic, Leo thought. The Fallen obviously hadn’t heard of them, otherwise he wouldn’t have wings.
“How do we make an angel fall?” Leo asked.
Alyah seemed to be having the most luck annoying the creature. Leo could tell by the amount of fire being thrown in her direction. He’d heard the Irina’s battle song rise above the fire. It was the first sound of it that had wiped out the Grigori. They’d stumbled and fallen to their knees, only to be taken out by Niran, Rith, and the others. Since then, Alyah had aimed her voice at Arindam, making the angel waver but not quite fall. Every now and then, he’d lift and rise from the temple, trying to locate the source of her magic, but Alyah remained hidden, guarded by Niran’s men.
Niran’s eyes shone when he looked her direction. “I wish my sisters could do that.”
“They’d be untouchable if they could.”
“Is it possible?” Niran said. “If they learned the right magic?”
“I think so,” Leo said. “My sister Ava has Grigori blood. She’s mated to a scribe and learned magic from older Irina.”
“So it’s possible.” Something relaxed behind Niran’s eyes. “There is hope.”
“Not if we don’t kill this angel,” Leo said. “Because if he loses interest in us and goes after the women Sura took, they’re lost.”
“I am ready,” Prija said, situating herself on a low cushion Kyra had found in another room. She’d draped Intira’s blanket over her shoulders and washed her face. She looked serene and powerful.
If only Kyra knew what she needed to do.
I can think words to you, she thought. But I don’t know how to copy his song. I can hardly make sense of it.
“Do not copy. See it.”
She huffed out a breath. “That means nothing to me!”
“Then think.” Prija closed her eyes. “I will try to hurt him.”
Kyra felt it when Prija struck. It was a wild jab, her energy shooting out in all directions, just like when Prija tried to hurt her during meditation. She felt the blood drip from her already swollen nose.
A red bloom rose in Prija’s eye as a blood vessel burst. “Think!”
“What was that?” Leo yelled as the monster fell from his perch.
“Prija!” Niran rushed the creature, joined by Alyah and Niran’s men. They leapt on the angel, but he twisted away, backhanding one of the free Grigori and grabbing Alyah by the throat.
“No!” Leo roared, rushing to the aid of his sister. He flung a knife at Arindam’s eye. The creature screamed when it found its mark, and Leo’s ears started to bleed.
Arindam dropped Alyah, who rolled into a ball and ducked her head down, protecting her throat while her Grigori protector stood over her, punching and kicking the Fallen, trying to beat him back. The angel reached out with one arm and grabbed the Grigori by the throat, twisting his neck to the side.
Niran’s brother fell silently to the ground, and Arindam took to the air. The body dissolved, gold dust rising in the red glow of the fiery hilltop.
The angel perched at the top of the temple and screamed.
Leo felt Niran’s rage and held him back. “Wait! Sacrificing yourself with a rash attack will do nothing!”
“Let me go!”
“Wait,” Leo said again, wrapping his massive arms around Niran. “Take a breath. And wait.”
Reshon, you need to do something. We are dying.
Kyra sat up and pushed the red veil from her mind. The Fallen’s scream had taken her to the ground. She had hit so hard she was seeing stars.
She was seeing stars.
Kyra struggled through the pain and focused on the beating pulse of Arindam’s song. It was a grinding noise. A pulse and a wave. She focused on isolating everything else from the noise of the angel until the pulse turned into light. The light glowed brighter against the night. Every beat shot like a star across the blackness.
A star. Another star. They moved and danced. Crossing each other. Rising and falling.
Rising and falling.
Waves.
Intervals.
She saw them and she heard them. They chased each other across the night of her vision. Stars scattering. Waves rising and falling.
Do you see it yet?
Look.
Her vision wasn’t black anymore. It was filled with stars, glowing in the night sky. She isolated those of the angel, reached for Prija’s quiet presence, and threw her mind wide-open to the other woman. She knocked down a century’s worth of walls, threw open every door, and stripped her mind naked.
Look.
Kyra kept her eyes closed and watched the rising and falling stars. She watched a few spike like glowing plumes, rising above the waves, and they pierced her mind like needles. But as she watched, Kyra saw more stars. More waves.
They began in a low thrum that ran beneath the waves. At first they pushed up, barely a ripple beneath the glittering sea. But then the thrum rose higher. And higher.
Kyra heard the drone of Prija’s instrument.
She didn’t ask what the kareshta was doing because she saw it. When the angel’s song went high, Prija’s song went low. In time, the thrumming notes from Prija’s instrument matched the waves from the Fallen. Then another note joined the first, waiting for the rhythm of the spiked plumes and matching them with a plucked note, canceling out the noise.
The painful spikes went silent.
“What’s happening?” Leo asked.
At first it was subtle. The flames around them grew dimmer. The fire started to burn out. But then, as the sun began to rise above the Bagan plain, Leo noticed something else.
“He’s… he’s losing his form,” Leo said.
“Prija,” Niran whispered. “My warrior sister. You did it again.”
The red veil around the Fallen wavered. The gold-tipped beak went first. Then the burning snakes around his wrists.
“What is she doing?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Niran said. “But he’ll be weaker now.”
In the distance, Leo heard the faint strains of something like a violin as Arindam tumbled and fell to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The music was everything now. When Arindam’s song rose, Prija’s fell. Kyra kept the connection between their minds, worried that if Prija couldn’t see the waves of Arindam’s song, she wouldn’t be able to play whatever it was she was playing. Because whatever she was playing canceled out the painful waves of music emanating from the Fallen.
The music grew louder. It filled the room. No longer a scraping hum but a resonant hymn of unearthly beauty. Prija was playing opposite the Fallen, matching his frequency and tempo with her own. No music came from her throat, but Prija was singing. Not old magic, but new. Not Irina song, but kareshta. Wholly new, yet ancient at its core.
Kyra opened her eyes and saw her sister’s face glowing.
“Do you see it?” Vasu appeared, kneeling beside her. “The little one saw it immediately.”
“The stars we see in visions,” Kyra said. “They aren’t stars after all.”
“They are. But we are the morning stars, and every star has a song.”
“Intira can see it.”
“Prija’s brother saw it too. That was how they killed their father, though they did not understand how. Their minds were tied together. The effort killed her twin. And his death nearly drove her mad.”
“Do we need to be concerned about Intira?” Kyra asked.
“No.” Vasu smiled. “I saw her dreams and recognized her genius. Her mind is a work of heaven, and it is beautiful. It is the young who are most interesting to me.”
“Because you’re young too, aren’t you?”
That was what Kyra recognized now. The truth that had eluded her about this odd Fallen angel. Though Vasu was ancient to the earth,
as an angel, he was a mere child. Of course he had an affinity toward children. He was one.
Vasu put his head on Kyra’s shoulder. “Do you see it now?”
“I see it now.” She turned and kissed Vasu’s forehead. “Thank you for showing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He disappeared.
Kyra continued to watch Prija play, her face glowing with peace, her eyes closed, rocking in time with her instrument. She wasn’t playing music. She was music.
“…when you’ve found your voice, you’ll sing to me.”
This was what Leo was talking about. Prija had found her voice. Not an Irina voice, but a kareshta one.
Wholly and beautifully unique.
Leo and Niran rushed toward the Fallen, throwing themselves on the creature’s back as he struggled to rise. Whatever magic Prija was working had caused the angel to stumble. Alyah stood on the edge of the courtyard, guarded by Niran’s brother, singing over the chaos of battle. Her song lifted Leo, and his magic grew stronger. His talesm glowed. His hand was firm on his knife.
“On his back,” he shouted at Niran. “Take him down!”
Leo ran around to face the angel, who was snarling. He didn’t appear in his bird form anymore, but in the still frightening and beautiful form of an angel. He was seven feet tall and broadly built. His hair was black as a raven’s wing and tied in a knot at the back of his head.
“Away from me, Forgiven get!” he shouted in the Old Language. “You have no power over me.”
Ava’s teasing voice rang in the back of his mind. Remember, big guy. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Leo ran toward the Fallen, knowing that if the creature got him in his grip, he was likely done for. But at the last minute, Leo curled and bent down, rolling into a ball and ignoring the slice of rock against his shoulders. He hit Arindam’s shins, knocking the angel forward as Niran and Rith jumped on his back.
Leo quickly uncurled and flung himself on the angel’s legs, pinning him down with his weight as Niran lay over the monster’s shoulders.
“Do it!” he screamed at Rith.
The black blade rose. The angel roared. Rith plunged the blade into Arindam’s spine, and the roaring monster fell silent.
Kyra clutched her stomach, nausea making her body shake. Prija dropped her instrument to the ground and clutched her temples, crying out as she fell to the side. The earth beneath them rolled and shook; then everything was silent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leo and Kyra walked off the mountain with their friends, one warrior lost but a sister found. Prija walked behind them, draped in Intira’s blanket and clutching Niran’s hand. Her other brother was at her side, carefully holding the instrument she’d used to sing against the angel. Rith and Alyah walked behind them, bloody and black with smoke. Everyone was exhausted, and tears ran down their faces from the heat and the sting of the fire.
They found Sura pulled over on the side of the road that ran along the east side of the temple hill. Seven human women were with him, and seven children. Four were girls. Three were boys with wide eyes who hadn’t yet reached puberty. Their cheeks were soft, and they sat next to the van, listening to Sura.
Kyra held Leo’s hand out of desire, not necessity. The minute Arindam died, the painful noise that covered the plain ceased. The land was silent now, except for the soul voices of the humans who lived and the Grigori who’d fled.
“We’ll have to coordinate with the scribe houses in Dhaka and Dimapur,” Rith said. “There hasn’t been a scribe house in Myanmar since the Rending.”
“We can help,” Niran said, nodding to the Grigori boys. “I’m sure Sura will want to keep the boys with us. They will have challenges we are more suited to dealing with. Since we know their father is dead, we don’t have to worry about mental manipulation or their free will being compromised.”
“Will it be the same with the girls?” Rith asked. “What should we do with them?”
Kyra’s stomach sank. Despite the pretty words of the Irin council, she should have expected this. Kareshta were never wanted. The discarded mothers were never wanted. She could see the defeat in the women’s eyes. The ones who had stayed with Sura likely had no other place to go. They were pregnant or had children from the angel. They were dirty and abused. Cast off from the powerful and unwanted by the world.
She tasted the bitterness on her tongue.
“What are we going to do with them?” Alyah asked Rith. “Find homes for them, of course. Where do you think they’re going to go?”
“We’ve already taken responsibility for the others,” Rith said. “The Bangkok scribe house—”
“I should have known,” Kyra said bitterly. “I should have known.”
Leo squeezed her hand. “Reshon, we will not abandon them.”
“I know you won’t, but this one?” She nodded at Rith. “I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. Why would these women trust you? They mean nothing to you. Kareshta are not your problem. We never were.”
Anger flared in Rith’s eyes, but Kyra turned away from him. She thought about the temple in Chiang Mai. Could they take four more girls? What about the women who were pregnant? Would they agree to go to Thailand? At least four of them were carrying boys and would suffer through their pregnancies. There were ways to combat that, but only with Irina magic.
“Stop.” Sura walked over and spoke quietly. “This is not the place to discuss these things. We need to get all of them to a safe place. Can your people help with that?” he asked Rith.
Rith gave a sharp nod and pulled out his phone. Kyra leaned on Leo’s shoulder. She wanted a bath. She wanted a bed. She wanted the silence and peace of Leo’s touch.
The angry scribe walked back a few moments later. “Dara has secured a house thirty kilometers from here. If we all get in the van, we can make it before the roads are busy. She wants us to wait for instructions from there.”
Leo glanced at Niran and saw the man nod.
“Fine,” Niran said. “Let’s get everyone away from here and cleaned up. We’ll all feel better once we’re out of the open.”
Kyra and Leo squeezed into the van. A twelve-person van carrying twenty-two people was hardly comfortable, but they managed. A short ride later, they rolled into a walled compound with mango trees covering a courtyard, and a large house in the center. With practiced efficiency, Sura and Alyah sorted everyone into groups and arranged baths for the little ones.
Leo picked her up and carried her to the room at the top of the house. It was stuffy, but opening the windows helped, and the room had an attached bath. There was no hot water, but Kyra and Leo didn’t need it. They bathed each other, then fell into bed exhausted.
Kyra woke to Leo combing out her long hair with his fingers.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
She stretched and nuzzled her face into his neck. “Is it morning?”
Leo pointed her head at the window. Grey light was giving way to a gold bloom in the east. She buried her face back in his chest. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face the day.
“We slept all day and all night?” she murmured.
“You did. Prija did too. Whatever magic you two were working, it took the energy right out of you. I woke up a little last night.” He smiled. “I was hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
He bent over and kissed her lips. “And you always feed me. What a lucky scribe I am.”
Heat marked her face. “I wonder if I will ever get used to your attention.”
“I hope not. I love the color of your cheeks when I scandalize you.”
“Leo,” she whispered.
“Kyra.”
She smiled against his skin. Are you really mine?
I am. I am forever yours.
She smiled harder. “It’s easier now.”
“You heard me?”
She nodded.
“When can we go away?” he asked. “I want to make you mine. I
want the mating ceremony with you. I want to mark your skin. Make my vow.” He kissed the top of her head. “Say yes, Kyra.”
Kyra wanted it so badly, but there was still a hesitation in the back of her mind. “What if I never learn to sing? It will be an uneven mating. You told me yourself. Only my song can complete the ritual, and there is no guarantee I will ever sing. Not like a real Irina.”
“Kyra—”
“I know… I know you think I’ll find my voice,” she said. “But that’s wishful thinking, Leo. I do believe I’ll find a voice, but it might not be what you’re imagining.”
“Then I will be content with your song, whatever it might be. But ana sepora, Ava will teach you. I know she will.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Should I call her right now?”
“I don’t know…” Kyra gathered her courage and spoke her secret fear. “What if it’s not good for me to learn, Leo? My blood is of the Fallen. What if learning Irina magic unlocks something dark in me?”
Leo pulled her away from his chest and tilted her chin up. He was frowning. “Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t know.” I fear it.
I see no darkness in you.
“There is darkness,” she whispered. “Leo, there is anger. There is… rage. And bitterness. And everything—”
“Everything that makes us real,” he said. “Everything that gives us humanity. We are not angels, and I thank the heavens for it. We love. And we suffer when we lose. We are jealous and generous. We are—none of us—wholly light or wholly dark. I have darkness too, Kyra.”
She shook her head. “You are too good.”
“I am not perfect. Far from it.” He smiled. “Though I’ll take your admiration for as long as I have it. No doubt, our years together will lend reality to your dreams.”
“They’re not dreams,” she said. “I have seen evil. And I have seen good.” She kissed him gently. “You are so good.”