“Most of the Fallen have adopted that strategy. You did not.”
“You and your sister are some of the last children I sired. I grew tired of human attention after that.”
“Why?”
“The earth has little appeal for me anymore.” The image of two small children drifted across his tired mind. He had thought they were brothers. Twins. They wouldn’t remember him any longer. It had been too long. But the image of their small, blood-covered bodies held in his arms would remain with him through eternity. “This realm is so very brutal.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Humans,” Barak said. “It has always been so. Be careful. Free will is a dangerous thing.”
He was only looking a little. Sight had never been his strength. The Creator had given him the gift of hearing, so he used it now. Throughout the rail yard and the industrial neighborhoods of the district, he could hear the humans dreaming. Soft and soothing, their voices melded together in a murmur he’d become accustomed to over his thousands of years on the earth.
There were so many more now.
Perhaps that was another part of it. And another reason he wanted the daughters of the Fallen to find relief.
“Do you hear anything?” Kostas asked.
“Not yet, but I know Grimold is here.”
“How?”
“His children are growing bolder.” He nodded toward another small group of Kostas’s men who surrounded two men twitching on the ground. “And because of what I do not hear.”
“What is that?”
“Birds.” Barak lifted an eyebrow and returned his son’s incredulous expression. “They don’t like Grimold. I have no idea why.”
AVA didn’t hesitate when she saw the three Grigori soldiers.
“Zi yada,” she hissed the spell Vasu had whispered in her mind.
The first froze just as Leo burst into the room. He halted for only a second, then drove the point of his silver blade into the spine of the frozen Grigori.
“Zi yada!” Ava said again, louder. Another stopped. The third lunged at her, but Ava grabbed Kyra and threw herself out of his path. Within seconds, Leo had killed the two remaining attackers. One still twitched while the others stood frozen. Ava watched as they dissolved like statues melting into the sky.
“What did you do?” Leo asked.
“Fallen magic,” Ava said. “Can you get a window open for me?”
Leo kicked the chair out of the way. “Will it work at this distance?”
“Hopefully?”
“It’s worth a try.” Then he stopped and turned. “But will it affect the Irin?”
Ava paused. “I don’t know.”
Kyra said, “It only worked one at a time on the Grigori. Maybe you have to direct it at each person.”
Ava looked at Leo. “Should I try it?”
“If it freezes the Irin down there, they’re dead.”
“Especially since I have no idea how to undo it.”
Kyra stepped forward. “Try with us.”
“What?”
Leo nodded. “I’m Irin. She’s Grigori.”
“But—”
“If you knock me out and Leo’s still moving,” Kyra said, “you’ll know it’s safe. And if you knock both me and Leo out… just do your best. It can’t last forever.”
Ava eyed the open door.
“We’ll barricade the door,” Leo said, tossing her the short staff that looked more like a sawed-off broom handle. “You can protect us, Ava. But we need to try.”
“Okay.”
They pushed as much furniture in front of the door as they could. It was an older office, dusty from disuse and isolated about halfway up the building.
“What if I can’t reach them?” she said, eyes darting to the fighting below.
“We try. That’s all we can do,” Leo said. “Now, Ava.”
“Aim the spell at me,” Kyra said. “Leo, stay close. They’re fighting close to each other.”
Leo stood behind Kyra, one arm around her waist. “Now.”
Ava took a deep breath and focused on Kyra. She stared at her, felt the power grow in her belly.
“Zi yada.”
Leo caught Kyra when she fell.
“Did you feel it?”
“I felt it, but it didn’t hit me. I just… felt it.” Leo carefully placed Kyra on the floor, then ran to the window.
He yanked the drapes down, and Ava saw his thumb circle his left wrist. The power coursed over his skin as his talesm glowed for a moment. He held the drape up to the window, then with one powerful punch, the glass blew outward.
“Try now, Ava. The children are getting closer. You have to try.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
MALACHI HEARD SARI SHOUT as he cut through another small body. He’d already vomited everything in his stomach as he defended the Irina from the children’s attacks. The Grigori boys darted around and under the blades of the scribes, and none of the Irina spells seemed to work.
He had slain hundreds in his long life. Felt his enemies’ blood stain his face. Felt their death rattles under his hands and watched the life drain from their eyes before their bodies turned to dust.
But Malachi had never faced a fight like this.
His enemy carried the face of the innocent. He had to battle every instinct to protect as he beat them back. One singer lay unconscious in the arms of a scribe, her leg hacked off by one of the children. Other singers had wrapped their robes around their throats, trying to guard their voices from the relentless assault. He felt the blood drip where they’d jabbed their knives at his face and chest. Malachi was certain he’d lost part of an ear, trying to disable them without killing.