“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?”