The Singer

Chapter Twelve

The words Orsala had taught her slipped from her lips, an ancient incantation that set Ava’s blood humming.

“Shanda vash…”

This was Power.

She could feel it welling up, stirring under her skin as the words took shape on her tongue. A spell to distract and disarm an enemy. Ancient words. Holy words. Dangerous words…

Bruno winced and closed his eyes. “Yes. She’s definitely hit it.”

“What do you feel?” Orsala asked.

“Like if she doesn’t stop I’m going to lose my lunch on your lovely Turkish carpet, Orsala.”

“Details, Bruno. I need to know the effects.”

“There’s a—a piercing pain in my temple. A—and my limbs feel weak, as well.”

“Excellent. She’s only been practicing this one for a few days.”

His voice was strained. “I’m serious. I’m about to throw up.”

Ava barely heard him. The magic was too heady. Like wine, it seeped into her blood and went straight to her head. It wasn’t the painful jolt of power she’d felt in the cistern. Orsala had taught her control, so the words she spoke flowed from her belly, up her throat, and left her mouth softly. Weaker magic, perhaps, but magic she could hold far longer.

Speak.

The dark voice called her.

Yes…

“Ava.” She felt the hand on her shoulder as if in a dream. “Enough.”

Bruno’s hand was at his temple. “Orsala,” he forced out the words. “I can’t—”

“Ava, you need to stop.” Orsala’s grip was firmer. Her words more clear. “Now. Release the magic.”

Not yet…

Bruno was barely standing. His face was pale. “Orsala…”

“Shanda huul!”

The old woman’s words hit her in the stomach like a punch. Ava gasped, rocking back on her heels as the force of her own spell was turned against her. She could feel the pain in her head, like the high whine of a piercing whistle. It turned her stomach inside out, and she almost fell down when her knees buckled. Bruno caught her before she hit the ground.

“There you are,” he said. His eyes still carried hints of pain, but he was smiling. “Got a taste of your own medicine, did you?”

“How were you even standing through that?” she choked out.

Orsala said, “He’s a bear. And a very good-natured one at that. Thank you, Bruno.”

The great man enclosed her in an embrace, pressing his hand to her cheek. The warm affection flowed into her like a hug against her soul. “That was a lot of magic you were wielding. Not even my Karen at her angriest has hit me like that.”

“I’m so sorry.” With the heady rush of power dissipating in the room, Ava felt the guilt rush in. She’d caused him pain, and she’d held it for long minutes. She’d only felt a second of her spell turned on her and it made her want to curl in a ball and sleep for a week.

He laughed. “It’s fine! I’m happy to help you practice. How do you feel, sister?”

“Tired. You?”

“Hungry.”

“Hungry? How can you be hungry after that?”

“I am a scribe of tremendous appetite.” He set Ava on her feet and stepped back. Then he patted his belly and looked toward the door. “Are we done here? I need to find my woman.”

“You are a beast,” Orsala said. “Go. And thank you, Bruno.”

He left Orsala’s cottage whistling.

Ava watched him through the window. “That is the most cheerful man I’ve ever met.”

Orsala smiled. “He is a treasure to us. Gentle as a dove and strong as an ox.”

She turned and looked at some of the pictures scattered over the walls. Family pictures. Friends. A few paintings.

“He and Karen don’t have any children?”

Orsala shook her head. “They lost a daughter during the Rending. They have not had another.”

Ava said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was easy to be caught in her own grief until she remembered that all of the Irin had lost someone. Mates. Children. Siblings. Parents. Her own grief, as heavy as it felt to her, was only a drop in an ocean of sorrow.

“Well done.” She broke out of her reverie when Orsala patted her on the shoulder and led her toward the chairs by the fire. “That was very well done. That spell is your most basic disarming spell. I imagine it’s a more controlled version of what happened in the cistern when you were being attacked. So obviously it’s very instinctual for us. If a Grigori is trying to attack you, use it. It won’t kill them, but it should give you enough time to escape.”

“Okay.” Ava paused before she asked her question. “Are there spells that can kill them?”

Orsala stared at her with measuring eyes. “Be careful, Ava.”

“What?”

The old woman leaned forward. “There is a dark thread to your power. One I’ve not encountered before.”

Ava said nothing, because she knew Orsala was right. She could feel it. She didn’t know what it meant, but she remembered the dark whisper in her mind as she held the magic over Bruno.

Not yet…

It had wanted to hurt him. Or maybe it had just not wanted to let go of the power.

“A part of you liked it, no?”

Ava said nothing.

“Your magic is very strong,” Orsala said. “Untrained, yes. But also untapped. It will be greedy. I don’t know what you’ll be capable of. It’s clear to me that you are not like other Irina—”

“You knew that already.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” Orsala met Ava’s growing anger with calm. “I am only saying you must be careful.”

“Fine,” Ava said. “I’ll be careful. Are we done?”

“I want you to try to sing again.”

She let her head fall back. “Again? I told you, it only happened the one time. There’s no way—”

“Just try.” The tension drifted away like smoke up the chimney. If Orsala had wanted to remind Ava she still had a lot to learn, trying to tap into her supposedly supernatural vision was the surest way to accomplish it. Ever since the sing, she had tried to recreate the experience, but nothing had come of it.

“I’ll try. But no guarantees.”

Orsala nodded. “Nothing in life is guaranteed, daughter.”

Ava closed her eyes and focused on the blurry memory of the ceremony. She tried to remember the words that had slipped out of her mouth, the song that had risen from her chest until it burst over the gathering. A song that, apparently, everyone could understand with perfect clarity. Everyone except herself. She’d sung in the Old Language, but she couldn’t remember a single detail.

She held the memory of that night in her mind, turning it from every angle until she could almost see herself standing in the old barn, her arms raised, her mating marks gleaming. Minutes passed. Hours, maybe. Ava could feel a soft cradle of power around her, as if Orsala was feeding her magic, but no words would come.

She let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t. There’s nothing.”

Orsala sat back in her chair, looking frustrated beyond what Ava had ever seen her. “This makes no sense. I heard you with my own ears. You sang perfectly, as if you’d spoken the Old Language as a child.”

“All I get are images. I can remember the images I saw perfectly, I just have no idea what the words were.”

“You sang a vision. It was…” She struggled to formulate her thoughts. “Unlike anything I’ve experienced. It was as if, with your words, you made real the vision in your mind. I’ve never met a seer with that power before. I’ve never even heard of it. But when you sang, we all saw it. And we all saw the same thing. Irin and Irina alike. I’ve asked everyone. The only ones who didn’t see it were the humans. And even they said they could feel something going on.”

Ava frowned. “But isn’t that what you do, too?”

Orsala cocked her head. “Explain.”

“You have empathy. Profound empathy. And with that, you’ve developed your magic to the point where you can create emotional reactions in other people. Like the spell to guard this place. It’s not like your spell makes people physically unable to speak, they just have such a strong emotional reaction to even speaking the name of Sarihöfn that they would never consider revealing its location, even under torture.”

Orsala’s mouth turned down as she leaned forward. “So, what you’re saying is you think that—not only do you have these visions—but you can make others see them as well? Project them, not just with words, but actual images?”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Orsala’s mouth dropped open. “I have no idea. Because I’ve never heard of it before. According to legends, this is something Leoc could do, but I’ve never heard of even the strongest Irina seers having the ability to manifest their visions to others the way you did that night.”

Jaron had done it to her, but then, he was an angel like Leoc.

“Is it really that far a stretch?”

“No.” She finally smiled. “It isn’t. It does make me curious about your mother, though.”

“I told Evren, my mom—”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Orsala waved her hand. “It’s habit. We all automatically assume our magic comes from our mothers. I really meant that I was curious about your family. Sari tells me that she and Damien are trying to investigate your father now.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Foster kid,” she said. “He doesn’t know much about his birth family. I mean, it’s not something we’ve really talked about. We talk about… nice stuff. Stuff that won’t stress him out.”

Orsala frowned. “But he is your father.”

“He’s a mess.” Ava shrugged. “He loves me, but he’s a mess. Jasper has had drug problems for as long as I’ve known him. He never stays in one place long. His house in LA is nothing more than a place to keep the stuff he collects while traveling. He’s… like me, kinda.”

Orsala’s eyes widened. “He hears voices?”

“No voices. Music.” Ava smiled. “He may be a mess, but he’s a brilliant one. I remember once finding him in my mom’s study at home when I was a child. He was sleeping and humming a song at the same time. Like, he was hearing it in a dream. A year later, I heard it on the radio. My mom was listening to it, smiling.”

“I thought he wasn’t in your life when you were a child.”

“He was. A little. I just thought he was my mom’s friend who would crash at our house occasionally. My stepfather didn’t mind, and my mom… Well, they’ve always had a complicated relationship.”

“It sounds like it. He must be a fascinating person.” Orsala’s eyes were unfocused. Thoughtful. “And he never talks about his family?”

“Not really. I know he knew his mother, but she died when he was young. No idea who his dad is. That side of my family tree is a total mystery to me.”

Orsala murmured, “So that’s where it must be.”

“What?”

“The Irin blood. I’ve never heard of it before—and how you’re as powerful as you are is a mystery, but it must have come from somewhere.”

Ava decided she liked the idea of not knowing where her Irin blood came from. The mystery was frustrating, but a knot in her gut told her that some secrets were better left hidden.

“Does really it matter?” she asked. “Does it matter where I come from?”

“I don’t know.”

Brooke let out a joyful whoop as they ran.

“Try again!” the girl said.

Ava had had far more success in her training with Mala and Renata. She was jogging along the path by the lake, and the frosted hillside sloped up to her right. Mala ran ahead of her and Brooke at her side. Renata was with them, but hiding on the hillside and in the woods, testing Ava’s range.

Ava opened her senses and stretched. Now that she could turn off all the voices, it took more effort to listen in a controlled way. She pictured the door Orsala had taught her to focus on in her mind. Slamming that door shut had been her salvation. Now, she was learning to crack it open in a way that would leave her in control of how much she heard. Isolated places like this were easier, and the mental exercise stirred her blood.

“She’s on the hill again, ahead of us.” Ava looked up, opening the door a bit more. “There.” She nodded toward an outcropping of rocks shielded by a stand of cedar trees. “Behind those rocks.”

Mala looked over her shoulder and shook her head, a grin on her face.

“Renata, come out!” Brooke called, and the woman stood up from her hiding place.

Exactly where Ava had pointed.

Mala whistled approvingly and Renata ran nimbly down the hill. “Did she hear me?”

“Yep!” Brooke was grinning. “She’s awesome.”

Renata fell in step behind them. “I’ve never seen range like yours. It’s so strong. I wonder if it’s because you didn’t know how to shield for so long.”

“Maybe,” Ava panted. “I never really had any control over it until I met Malachi. And most of the time, he made the voices go away completely.”

They all fell silent at his name, and the knot around her heart twisted again.

“It’s okay,” Ava said after the silence had dragged on too long. “Part of me wants to talk about him. Part of me worries about forgetting.”

Mala threw a look over her shoulder and signed something.

“You won’t forget,” Brook translated. “Don’t worry that you’ll forget.”

“Thanks, Mala.”

Renata changed the subject. “I want to take you into the field.”

Mala wheeled around and immediately went to run beside Renata as Brooke and Ava took the lead on the trail. Neither she nor Brooke could see the other women; they could only listen to the one-sided conversation.

“I know that.”

A pause.

“Can you imagine, though? With her range and accuracy, she’d be a huge asset. Plus, she’s a seer. Once she’s had more training, she’ll—”

A much longer pause.

“I haven’t forgotten, but it’s been two hundred years. Sari is going to have to get past her—”

Another pause and a few disapproving clicks of the tongue.

“I know, I know.” There was silence, and Ava chanced a glance over her shoulder, but Mala and Renata were both jogging and not looking at her.

“I still think it’s worth suggesting,” Renata said. “She wouldn’t even have to be close to help. She’d be… advance intelligence. And once she can understand more of the Old Language, she’d be invaluable. We could protect her. Partner her with someone with more field experience. And as she gets stronger—”

Mala made more disapproving clicks and Ava could hear her grunting slightly as she signed.

“Fine. I’ll wait.”

Ava looked over her shoulder again but didn’t see anything. Brooke caught her eye and grinned. Ava seized on Renata’s words. With her range and accuracy, she’d be a huge asset. Could the voices that had driven her near to insanity be the key to avenging Malachi’s death?

It sounded like Sari wouldn’t approve of her joining, for some reason, but then it wasn’t only up to Sari, was it? Ava let the idea churn in her brain while the four women ran back to the compound.

“Wait, wait,” the laughing Italian woman said, throwing a perfectly manicured hand over Astrid’s mouth before she could speak. “You have to let me tell it.”

“No!” Astrid was indignant. “You always make it sound so much worse than what it was.”

Karen and Bruno both burst out laughing, obviously having heard the story that Renata wanted to share. Ava and Damien only exchanged confused looks over the kitchen table where the six friends had gathered to share coffee, wine, and a chocolate cake Karen had baked.

Bruno was right, the woman was a supernatural baker. It was the only explanation for how good that cake was.

“I am the only one who knows the truth!” Renata shouted, her grin huge. “You always try to hide how bad—”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Oh…” Renata’s eyes turned to Ava’s. “It was bad. I will never take her into the field again. She was flapping her arms like a bird that had been trapped in the rafters. ‘Renata!’” The woman’s voice took on a high-pitched tone. “‘Dust! Grigori dust all over me! I have to shower.’ Blood. Bones. She can put the most wounded body back together from pieces, but she couldn’t handle the dust.”

Damien even cracked a smile as Karen and Bruno laughed again. Ava was trying to control herself, but Renata’s imitation of Astrid’s voice was too good.

“It was my first time in the field,” Astrid protested.

“And the last time,” Renata said. “How can you be so squeamish?”

“I can handle blood and guts, not evil fallen angel remains.” The healer gave a dramatic shudder. “They’re… gritty. They get everywhere. You can inhale them. Disgusting.”

Even Damien was chuckling at that point. They’d been telling stories for hours. It had started with Damien and Renata catching up and then devolved into battle stories. Renata was more than willing to share her exploits. The others had to pry them out of Damien. But eventually, all of them were adding their tales, except for Ava.

Everyone knew her battle story, and no one wanted to dwell on it.

Ava finished her wine and pushed back from the table. “I should get to sleep.”

Astrid and Damien exchanged a look. Damien reached for the bottle of wine and filled her glass again. “Stay up and visit.”

“I’m tired.” Ava was lying. She just wanted to sleep and hopefully dream about Malachi. Still, she smiled and nodded at Renata. “Someone likes jogging way more than me.”

“I’m trying to toughen you up, California girl.”

“Come,” Astrid said. “Stay up. It’s dark, but not too late. Only nine o’clock. We want to hear your stories, too.” She blinked a little and smiled. “From LA! I bet you’ve met celebrities, haven’t you?”

What was going on? If Astrid actually wanted to know about celebrity gossip, Ava would eat her favorite lens. She narrowed her eyes at Astrid, then she opened the door in her mind. As she’d suspected, from the tone of her inner voice, the other woman was hiding something.

“I’m just tired,” Ava said carefully. “There something going on?”

Damien shrugged. “We all have a rare night free of obligations. Catching up. Getting to know people. It’s better than watching television.”

Bruno looked around, more than a little bleary-eyed himself. “Wasn’t there a game on tonight?”

“Want me to look?” Damien stood up, as if to turn on the television in the corner of the room. Damien never watched television. Ever. Not even football.

“That’s it.” Ava stood too. She pointed to Astrid and Damien. “What’s up with you guys? Why are you being weird and why are you trying to keep me awake?”

Damien’s eyes never wavered. He crossed his ink-covered arms over his chest, reminding her too much of Malachi’s disapproving stance. The pain was quick, like a knife jab. “You sleep too much.”

“What?”

“You do,” Astrid said. “I’ve noticed it, too. Other than the night of the sing, you’re in bed almost right after dinner. You don’t come to the house to play games or read in the library. We hardly see you at all before you go to your room.”

Ava shrank back. “I like privacy.”

Renata was watching with quick, assessing eyes. “I think, Ava, that your friends are worried about you.”

“Well, I’m fine.”

Silence fell over the previously boisterous table.

Astrid finally said, “Yes, we are worried about you. The sleep. The lack of appetite. You barely eat anything except for a few of Karen’s cakes.”

“You think I’m depressed.”

Once again, no one said anything, but Ava recognized the signs of awkward concern. She’d lived with them her whole life. From her mother to her stepfather to every friend or boyfriend she’d ever attempted to retain.

Her throat tightened. “I’m not depressed.”

Of course she was depressed.

“You’re not?” Renata asked. “I thought you just lost your mate.”

Karen winced visibly, and Bruno put a hand on Renata’s arm.

“Rennie,” he said, “we’re trying—”

“What?” Renata said. “It’s not like she’s forgotten. Of course she’s depressed.”

Damien said, “We just want Ava to know we’re worried about her.”

“We want her to know she’s not alone,” Karen said. “That we’re here to listen if—”

“Let her be depressed for a while if she wants, damn it. It happened just months ago. And they’d barely met.” Unexpected tears shone in Renata’s eyes. “She had a glimpse of happiness, then it was taken away.” Her voice was hoarse, matching the lump that had risen in Ava’s throat. “If she wants to sleep, let her sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Ava managed to choke out. “I appreciate you’re all worried about me, but really, I’m fine.”

Renata’s eyes cut to her. “Of course you’re not fine. What a ridiculous thing to say.”

This time it was Astrid who put her hand on Ava’s arm before she opened her mouth in anger. “The important thing is everyone grieves in different ways. I think Ava knows we’re worried about her. She knows we care. And she can take as much time as she wants to come to terms with the loss of her mate.”

“Malachi,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“His name was Malachi.” She blinked back tears. “You don’t have to avoid his name or pretend he was just some faceless guy.” Her eyes met Damien’s. “He was your friend. Your brother. And you never say his name. I know you miss him, too.”

Damien’s eyes burned into hers. “I’m sorry, Ava.”

“And I sleep…” Ava cleared her throat and decided to just tell them. “I sleep because, in my dreams, he’s there. And for a little while, I’m happy.”

Astrid said, “That’s very normal, Ava.”

“So if I want to sleep a little more, then it’s my own business. I had nightmares for months, and now they’re gone.”

“Good.” Astrid squeezed her arm. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re sleeping better.”

“Thank you.” She paused and took a deep breath, trying to see their interference for what it was. Concern. Caring. Even love. Part of her acknowledged that the pattern she’d developed wasn’t healthy. But most of her didn’t care a bit. Still, she decided to throw a line to the people she’d come to know as friends.

“I guess… since you’re all here, I’ll stay up a little later.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to sleep. Wanted to feel Malachi’s arms, even if it was only a dream. Ava sat down again, but there was silence for a few moments until Bruno spoke.

“I could eat more cake.”

Karen said, “You can always eat more cake.”

“Then I was smart to fall in love with a baker.”

A knock came at the door. Ava took the opportunity to distract herself and walked to answer it. She cracked open the door and saw the unexpected sight of Sari on the other side. Sari never came to the cottage, and she certainly never did it looking nervous. But there she was. And she was definitely nervous.

“Um…” Ava blinked and opened the door wider. “Hi.”

“May I come in?”

Ava felt Damien behind her. She backed away and let him hold the door.

“Sari?”

He looked as shocked as Ava felt. Even after the sing, when they seemed to stop antagonizing each other, she never visited.

“Sari!” Renata, clueless to the tension or deliberately ignoring it, called out to her friend. “Come in! Wine or coffee?”

“Kaffe, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Karen rose to fill another coffee cup as Damien stood motionless at the door. Finally, Ava stepped forward and closed it.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked under her breath. “She’s not the queen of England.”

“She came to my door,” he said, his voice tinged with confusion. “With… all of you here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get over it.”

“I’ll explain later.” He nudged her toward the table where Sari had sat. “Maybe.”

Damien’s eyes burned into Sari as he sat across from her; Ava saw a smile lifting the corner of his lip.

“My dove,” he finally said, and Ava could almost see Sari flinch at the endearment. “What brings you here—to my door—tonight?”

“You know…” Sari sipped the coffee Renata put in front of her. “This is my land. My guesthouse. So technically, I don’t think this is your door.”

“I believe that’s what they call ‘splitting hairs.’”

Astrid looked amused. “Well, this is entertaining, but I do think there might be some larger purpose to this visit than just coffee and cake.”

“There was a group of Grigori spotted in Bergen,” Sari said.

An entirely different tension fell across the table.

“How many?” Damien and Renata both asked at once.

“Three that we know of. But I’d not be surprised if there were more. There’s an Irin couple who lives there, among the humans. No children. They watch for us.”

Ava leaned over to Karen. “Bergen is the closest town to here, right?”

“The closest one of any real size, yes.”

Renata said, “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go, too,” Damien said.

“No,” Sari said. “This is our territory. Renata will take care of them.”

“Sari, this is no time for—”

“Besides”—she held up a hand—“I’d like you and Bruno to start doing patrols around the perimeter of the haven. Orsala has sensed some outside magic, and she wants us to be careful. Some protective spells written on the trees would be appreciated.”

“Fine,” Damien said in a clipped voice. “And Bruno and I will start patrols. It’s only three Grigori. I’m sure Renata can handle that on her own, anyway.”

“You just wanted to steal my fight,” Renata said with a grin.

“Obviously.”

Sari glanced at Ava. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any threats?”

“Uh…” Ava looked around the table, confused. “Should I have?”

Sari shrugged. “You’re a seer.”

“I’m not any good, though.”

Bruno snorted.

“No really, you can ask your grandmother,” she said. “I was trying to do… the thing I did the other night at the sing. And I couldn’t. So I don’t know if I’ll see any trouble coming. If there is any coming.”

Everyone just kept looking at her.

“Is there… some trouble coming?”

“Trouble is always coming,” Renata said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t be too eager,” Sari said. “We don’t want them to know they’re close to anything important. Draw them away from the city, if you can.”

Damien said, “And try to find out who they belong to. I know Grigori in the territory generally belong to Volund, but we had some surprises in Istanbul. Powers may be shifting.”

“Powers are always shifting,” Sari said.

“Change is constant.” Damien stared at his mate. “And healthy.”

“According to you.”

“You can’t stop this,” he said quietly. “You never could.”

“I can try.”

His voice was low and coaxing. “You shouldn’t.”

Ava said, “Well, obviously we’re not talking about Grigori anymore.”

Renata piped up. “I want to take Ava to Bergen.”

“Absolutely not,” Damien and Sari both said at once, then turned to each other in shock.

“You don’t think she should go?” Sari asked.

“No.”

Ava was tempted to butt in. They were talking about her like she wasn’t in the room, and she really wanted to go. Killing—or helping to kill—more Grigori soldiers was what she’d been waiting for.

But she was too curious about the exchange to interrupt. Sari and Damien both stood and glared at each other.

“But she’d be a tactical advantage,” Sari said. “I’ve heard about her range.”

“She’s too young. And untrained,” Damien countered.

“She’d be with Renata.”

“She would still be vulnerable.”

Ava said, “Wait, I’m confused. Is Sari arguing for or against me going with Renata?”

“Shh!”

That came from at least three people, but Sari ignored everyone except Damien. “Are you telling me it wouldn’t be worth the risk?” she hissed, her face pale. “To have an intelligence advantage like her skills in the field—protected and at a distance from combat—are you telling me you wouldn’t risk that?”

Astrid slapped a hand over Ava’s mouth before a word could escape. “Do not say a word,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Damien said quietly. “I wouldn’t risk her. Not anymore, Sari.”

“But…” Sari’s eyes shone. “It makes the most tactical sense.”

“Milá…,” he breathed out. “I learned the hard way. Not everything is about tactics.”

Ava didn’t know how to describe Sari’s expression. It was pain. Anger. Relief. Rage. It was everything rolled into one, but Ava had cracked open the door to Sari’s inner voice and listened. And the voice inside cried out.

Vashama canem.

Reshon.

Reshon.

Reshon.

The pain of Sari’s yearning was like a punch to the chest. Ava gasped and felt Astrid flinch. She wondered if the healer could sense Sari’s pain, too. It didn’t matter, because in the next moment, they were gone. Damien had walked around the table and grabbed Sari’s arm, marching them both out into the cold night. The door to the cottage slammed closed.

Silence.

“So, I’ll take you to Bergen,” Renata said. “Mala can come with us and guard you. It will be a good first mission.”

Karen glanced nervously at the door. “But Rennie, don’t you think—”

“They’ll sort it out.” She waved a careless hand toward the door. “And I’ll convince them both. You don’t really think they were talking about Ava, do you?”

Ava didn’t. Not for a minute.

She was running through the forest, laughing. Running. Playing. He was behind her, and he was laughing too. She darted to the left, but he caught her, grabbing her with both arms and tackling her to the soft forest floor. They rolled across leaves and moss, which were verdant with life. The birds sang overhead and the new light of a crescent moon shone down.

“Can we stay here forever?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He looked confused for a moment. “I… don’t know.”

“What if we didn’t wake?” she whispered, smoothing a lock of hair from his forehead as he braced himself over her. “What if we stayed here?”

“We can’t, Ava.”

“Buy why?” Something dark lurked at the edge of her vision. Some sadness waited there. She knew if she woke it would find her.

“I have things to do.” He frowned. “I think. When I am not here, I have things I must do.”

“Things more important than me?”

“No. I think… I must find you.”

She smiled. “You already found me.”

“No, Ava.” His eyes were clearer. His mouth firmed. “I must find you. So you know.”

“So I know what? I don’t understand,” she said.

He lost focus. Confusion swam in his eyes. “Kiss me, my Ava.”

“Always.”

Their lips met, and everything fell away beneath the moon.