The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four (53 page)

She laid her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. “And even if you were being selfish, you’re overdue for your time, my love. If this is something you feel you must do, then I am with you.”

“Katalin is not going to change.”

“I don’t expect her to. We’ll fight often.”

They stopped talking for a while, and Sari let the quiet resolution she felt from her mate sink into her own mind.

She could live here. It was close enough to Vienna that she could continue to be involved in the political reforms, but being in Rěkaves would also allow her to take an active role in training new warriors in the reality of this new world.

Would she have liked to have more time to think about it? Probably not. The more time she had to think about big decisions, the more anxious and belligerent she became. Damien had bent for her needs too many times to count. She was due to bend a little for him.

※

But hours later, after her mate was sleeping soundly, Sari still couldn’t rest. She wrapped herself in Damien’s coat and left their chamber, seeking cool night air and a clear head. She walked into a deserted courtyard, but the shuffling feet and murmuring voices of the guardians on the walls drew her eyes up. She climbed to walk along the battlements, the night guard nodding to her in respect.

Halfway around the walk, she smelled cigarette smoke and followed it to Kostas, who was staring over the wall and into the black forest on the west side of the valley. His two guards stood away from him, one watching while the other closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

“I’m annoying them,” he said.

“Because you’re not in your chamber?”

“Yes. And neither of them smoke.”

“You shouldn’t either.”

He sucked on the end of the cigarette and let the smoke trickle from his lips. “I’ve never known a Grigori to get cancer, have you?”

“I haven’t known that many Grigori.”

Kostas grinned. “At least not many that weren’t at the end of your sword.”

The guilt reared up and bit her. Kostas must have seen it on her face.

“Don’t,” he said. “We’re not worth feeling guilty over.”

“I probably killed some of your brothers who were only trying to survive.” She closed her eyes and remembered a dirty street in London. “In fact, I know I have.”

“Do you think we’re not all murderers? We are. I guarantee that you’ve saved more human lives than the Grigori lives you’ve taken, singer.”

Sari said nothing, suddenly wishing the taste of tobacco brought her any kind of comfort.

“Is that why you’re doing this?” Kostas said. “Taking these children?”

“We’re saving them.”

“Are you?” Kostas took another drag. “Have you even thought of what you’re going to do with them once you ‘save’ them?”

“That’s why I called Kyra.”

He gave her a bitter laugh. “My sister has had enough trouble served to her. She doesn’t need additional worries.”

“Then why did you bring her here?”

“Because your mate did me a favor once,” Kostas said. “And I don’t forget favors. Especially when they’re freely given.”

“If Damien did you a favor, he expects no recompense for it. That’s not who he is.”

“But it’s who I am.” Kostas took another drag. “I do not like owing people. So I will help you free these children and help you figure out what to do with them. They’re only a few, after all.”

A few, maybe. But they were a few who would soon be out of the Fallen’s hands and given some hope of a future.

“You realize there are far more, don’t you?” Kostas asked with a smirk.

Sari nodded.

“Are you going to save them all, Sari of Vestfold?”

Maybe. Maybe she was going to save them all. Maybe she couldn’t, but she’d damn well try.

Sari met Kostas’s eyes and let the ghosts that tormented her rise up to meet the bitter Grigori leader. He met her look, and the cynical smile fell from his face.

“I don’t think you can comprehend how many children I have watched die, Kostas, son of Barak,” she said quietly. “I don’t have the luxury of cynicism. So if I want to save these children, then I will. And I’ll save the next ones. And the next. I’ll save them or I will die trying. That is my penance for failure. What’s yours?”

“Killing the Fallen. As many as I can until the day I die. I don’t have longevity spells, so I don’t have all that much time left.”

For the first time, Sari noticed the marks of age around his eyes. There were no traces that a human would notice, but Sari could see the bone-deep signs of exhaustion with life. The average Grigori had a set lifetime unless an angel was feeding them power. Kostas had already lived well past his allotted time, and Sari didn’t feel like asking why.

Sari nodded at him. “Then we understand each other, Grigori.”

She turned to go.

“Rest well,” Kostas called.

Sari paused.

“No hidden meaning.” Kostas looked back to the forest. “I know how well I sleep. I truly hope you rest well, Sari. We’ll get your children tomorrow night.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

D
AMIEN
nodded to Leo, who moved through the dark brush as silently as a hunting cat. One archer covered them from a vantage point across the river while two others had their eyes trained on the dock where Sari, Mala, and Kyra would land with three other singers from Mikael’s house. Hopefully the distraction Damien and Kostas would provide at the gate would draw their guards away.

Aurel’s compound was built in three tiers and surrounded by decorative electrified fencing and electronic sensors. The lowest level near the river was the women and children’s apartments, a long narrow building surrounded by gardens and lawns. A cheerful play area for the children, but also one that left no cover to hide. All the riverbank was landscaped to provide maximum visibility. Guards patrolled it regularly, and Leo had seen motion sensors along the riverbank.

The second tier was farther up and contained the Grigori quarters along with the armory and training areas. It wasn’t a large force—Aurel had another compound where his sons were trained—but it was enough to keep the grounds and his personal home well covered.

The third tier lay south of the other buildings on the rise of a hill. As angular as the others, this building made no attempt to blend with the hills but towered over them. A large covered walkway surrounded the property on the second level. There were no exterior stairs.

That was Aurel’s home. To breach it, Damien would have to enter it from the ground floor, putting himself at a disadvantage since they had little idea what the interior contained.

The black blade was strapped to his thigh, heavy and hidden beneath tactical pants that would rip away easily when he needed to draw.

A buzz against his leg. He shielded the light from his phone when he checked it. Sari and her sisters were in place.

Damien pointed at Leo, who moved into position with five scribes from Rěkaves, their
talesm
covered even though the night was warm. If everything went according to plan, the scribes, singers, and Grigori children would be fleeing together, and they didn’t want to terrify the little ones.

Spreading out along the perimeter fence, Leo and his men disappeared into the brush. Damien looked at Kostas and nodded.

※

Sari knew the moment the alarms had gone off. Grigori flooded from the house and ran up the hill. There were still two positioned along the riverbank, but hopefully the alarms sounded the same. Sari had decided there was no way to avoid tripping the sensors, so the best idea was to trip them all at once. Mala and Kyra rowed the boat toward the dock, and Sari ducked as the boat slid under. Securing it with rope, the six singers stepped out of the boat and waited.

There was no shuffling. No sound of alarm. The only sound was the steady sound of the river and the creaking wood of the dock. Mala ducked out from under the dock and moved toward the shoreline. They were all clothed in black, and Mala moved like a panther up the grass. She crouched low, dug something out from behind a rock, then tossed it in the river.

Camera
, she signed.

Any others?

Not that I can see. Move now. I’ll immobilize the guards.

No kill unless necessary.

Mala nodded and disappeared into the night. Sari and Kyra moved toward the children’s apartments. When they encountered the electronic lock, she stepped back and let one of the Rěkaves singers step forward.

The singer slid a keycard in the lock. The card was attached to some electronic device Rhys had sent from Istanbul. Within a few moments—like magic—the door clicked open and they slipped inside.

Another siren, but this one worked to their advantage. Children walked out of the rooms, rubbing their eyes and yawning, only to gape at the black-clad women they encountered. Sari did a quick head count.

Two girls she could see, holding the hands of small boys who might have been their brothers. Six boys of various ages. The Rěkaves singers spread down the hallway, weapons concealed, to check the dark rooms.

“Vaclav, get back here!”

The woman’s voice didn’t stop the small boy from darting into the hall. It was the boy Damien had seen on the dock. Tiny Grigori children surrounded her, and Sari felt her skin begin to crawl. She had to stop herself from shouting at Kyra when the woman knelt down to eye level with the boy.

“Hello, Vaclav,” she said. “I’m Kyra.”

“Vaclav!”

Two gasps from the end of the hall pulled Sari’s attention from Kyra. Two pregnant women stood at the end of the hall; one was holding a sleeping girl, one hand on her swollen belly.

“Vaclav!”

Another human voice, but this time coming from her right. “Who the hell are you?” the voice asked in English.

The pregnant woman was holding a gun and pointing it at Sari. It was the woman from the dock, the one wearing opera gloves.

“I’m here to get you out of here. To help you and the children,” Sari said, glancing at the gloves the woman still wore. “You know they’re dangerous.”

“What?” one of the women at the end of the hall said. “Why would we want to leave? Aurel takes care of us. Tomik takes care of us.”

“Gabina, shut up,” the woman said. “How can I trust you? Maybe you just want to get rid of them. Tomik said the babies aren’t wanted in the world. That they’d be taken away.” She glanced at Kyra but didn’t lower the gun. “Woman, get away from my nephew. Vaclav, come here.”

“We want to keep them safe,” Sari said.

“See her?” Kyra rose and stepped closer, pointing at a little girl holding her brother’s hand. “I
am
her. My brother protected me. Took me away from my father. She’s not the only one.”

Sari could tell the woman with the gun was still a long way from trusting them.

Kyra knelt down by the girl.

“Stay away from her!” the woman shouted.

“What’s your name?” Kyra asked.

“Zuzana.”

The woman’s attention wavered between Sari and Kyra. “Get back. Don’t touch her.”

Kyra kept talking. “I’m like you, Zuzana.”

The little girl’s eyes were suspicious. “What do you mean?”

Kyra whispered, as if sharing a secret. “I hear voices too.”

The little girl blinked. “I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Milena and Tomik.”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. But I can teach you how to make them stop.”

“You can?”

One of the Rěkaves singers at the end of the hall tapped her wrist at Sari. “No word yet from the guardhouse. If the
praetor
hasn’t neutralized the threat, we won’t be able to hold them off. The boat will be coming in five minutes. We need to move.”

※

It was much harder, Damien decided, to immobilize opponents without killing them. Zip ties and duct tape were marvelous inventions, but they took a lot longer. A dozen men were tossed in the guardhouse, and they still hadn’t seen the last of them.

“Go,” Leo said. “Take the men. I’ll hold here with the rest. I can eliminate any stragglers. You and Kostas go to the house.”

One of the men started shouting behind his duct tape; his panicked expression struck Damien as more than concern for his sire. He knelt down by the oddly familiar man.

“If I take the tape off, do not yell.”

The Grigori nodded vigorously.

Damien ripped it off. No sooner could the man’s lips move than he was speaking.

“There are women in the house with Aurel. He keeps them there until they become pregnant. I know who you are, but they’re human. You are pledged to protect them, son of the Forgiven. They are innocent.”

Damien narrowed his eyes and realized why the man seemed familiar. He was the Grigori guard who had been on the dock with the children the other night. “What is your name?”

The Grigori hesitated. “We’re not allowed to speak our names to outsiders.”

“Some magic?”