~ 9 ~
Renata lay on the bed, listening to the bustle of activity below. Max was being charming with the child, making her laugh and playing the guitar for her. He’d fed the family and found more blankets and sleeping bags for them, building a comfortable resting place in the library where her people had been slaughtered.
What are you doing to me, Maxim?
Renata felt like a monster, but she couldn’t be near them. Even the voice of the male made her ill. The smell of sandalwood in her house drove her mad. As soon as the small family left, she’d have to open all the windows to rid the house of the scent or risk going crazy.
She heard someone on the stairs and sat bolt upright in bed. Luckily, after a few seconds she recognized Max’s step.
He poked his head in the doorway. “How are you?”
She shook her head and motioned him in. “Close the door, please.”
Max did, then came to the bed, crawling next to her and wrapping her in his arms.
“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling,” he said. “So I’m not going to say I understand. But thank you for letting them stay.”
“I’m not going to send a child into a storm,” she said. “Not going to send a helpless woman out there either.”
“But the man?”
“If he were alone, he’d already be dead.”
Max squeezed her tighter. “You realize he’s Ava’s uncle. In a sense.”
“She doesn’t know him. She’d never feel the loss.”
“Does that make it right?”
“For the women he killed in the past? Yes. For the humans he preyed on before he found a conscience? Yes, killing him seems right.”
Max didn’t say anything. “Part of me knows you’re right. Part of me knows that murder is murder. And we can’t forget that.”
“And the other part of you?”
“The other part of me remembers Kostas. Sees this man, Zana. Recognizes the struggles free Grigori have willingly taken on to fight against their own nature when they have fathers who encourage them to plunder this world.”
“To plunder us,” she whispered.
“Zana was not alive during the Rending. Few Grigori who are living now were.”
Renata’s throat was tight. Tears stung her eyes. “I tell myself that over and over, Max. But every time I smell their scent, I’m right back in the library, grasping at hollow clothes and empty blankets where the babies were. They killed our mothers. Killed babies in their cradles. Killed more than warriors. They killed the innocent.”
“I know.”
“They killed those who were running. Killed my parents who only wanted to create beautiful things and sing songs and debate arcane academic points with other scholars. They killed Balien, who was only trying to protect others.” She turned around to face him. “They killed your mother. Your aunt. Your father. They might as well have killed your uncle and your grandfather too. Our people were cut in half. Thrown into chaos.”
Max smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “I know. But not by him. Not by Zana.”
“By others like him.”
“And many of the same people hunt him now. Hunt his mate and child.” Max squeezed his eyes shut. “There are no easy answers, Renata. When do we forgive the children of our murderers? When do we let go?”
She felt the hot tears slip down her cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”
He said nothing, but he didn’t turn away in disgust or disappointment. He held her closer and kissed her forehead. He kissed the tears from her cheeks and rocked her back and forth as she cried silently.
“You’re a better person than me,” she said.
“No. I just don’t remember my loss as keenly as you do. I was a child.”
Renata said nothing, but she didn’t agree. Max was a better person than her. He’d lost his mother and his father before he could even remember them. He’d been raised in a world devoid of art and beauty and fine things. He’d grown up in a world were kindness was a luxury and gentleness a weakness.
And yet he didn’t turn away from the most vulnerable. He chose to use his strength and the harsh reality of his own past to create a safe place for those who needed it, even if they were the blood of his enemies.
Renata took a deep breath and lifted her head from his chest. “Did you need something from me?”
“I only wanted to check on you.” He played with her hair. “I can bring some food up if you don’t want to come downstairs.”
“I’m not a coward,” she said. “I just… I don’t want to let that girl see how I react to her father. It’s not her fault, and she loves him.”
“She’s a darling child,” Max said. “She’s safe and secure. Obviously loved. She’s bright and funny. You can tell she feels very safe here.”
Renata smiled a little. “Her home was in the caverns, so she snuck into the library. My home was in the library, so I snuck into the caverns.”
“Both of you little rule-breakers. Probably driving your poor mothers crazy.”
Mothers.
“Thawra,” Renata said. “The kareshta woman.”
“What about her?” Max asked.
“She has no shields.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I actually thought about that, but since she refuses to talk—Zana says she’s never spoken willingly as long as he’s known her, and that’s over fifteen years—I don’t think shields would be effective. She has to use her voice to make magic, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Max shook his head. “I don’t think she would.”
“Would she for her child?”
Max frowned.
“There are spells,” Renata said. “Spells to protect your daughter from the voices.”
“But Evin is old enough to learn her own shielding.”
“And if her mother refuses to shield her, I’ll teach her those spells. But if Thawra thinks that the only way she can protect her daughter is with her voice, then I’m betting she’ll use it. And if she uses it for her daughter, she can use it for herself too. And if she uses it for herself, then she’ll know that she has power.”
For some reason, giving Thawra power felt important. That was something her mother would be proud of. That was something Renata could do. She couldn’t bring back her family, but she could help this mother and her child.
She could at least do that.
Max kept Zana out in the yard, chopping firewood with him while Renata went to the library. As she entered, she heard Evin giggle. Thawra was building a fort from the blankets and the furniture left in the library, using odds and ends to hold the blankets in place as Evin rolled under them in the red sleeping bag Max had given them.
“Are you and Baba going to sleep down here with me?”
Thawra signed, and Renata was surprised and pleased that the woman used British Sign Language, the same as her sister Mala used.
We’ll sleep in our own bed, little bug.
“But why? There’s room here,” Evin whined. “I want us to be all together.”
We are always together. Maybe Baba wants a rest from your kicks at night, huh? Thawra smiled.
“I do not kick Baba!”
You do. You kick me too.
“Are you going to tell the nice man about the new baby?”
Renata must have made sound of surprise, because Thawra and Evin both turned toward her.
“You’re pregnant?” Renata asked.
Thawra looked frightened, and Evin quickly scrambled out of the blanket fort and over to Renata.
“I was just pretending,” the little girl said. “I was just—”
Thawra clapped and brought Evin to attention.
Don’t lie, she signed. Especially to those offering shelter to us. Let me and Baba deal with this.
“Mama, I’m sorry.”
Thawra’s whole face softened. Little bug, don’t be sorry. I’m happy you’re excited about the baby.
“Babies are exciting things,” Renata said quietly. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent big sister.”
No wonder the Grigori had fought so fiercely. He wasn’t only protecting his child, he was also protecting a pregnant mate. Irin men were known to be more than a bit wild and overprotective when their mates were pregnant.
Apparently Grigori men were the same.
You understand sign, Thawra asked.
“I have a sister who lost her voice during the Rending,” Renata said. “She uses the same sign language you use.”
Zana taught me when we were first together, Thawra said. Before that, I had no speech, though I could read and write a little.
“And Mama and Baba taught me!” Evin, sensing she wasn’t in trouble, had climbed on the back of a sofa. “That was my first language, wasn’t it Mama?”
Yes, little bug.
“But now I speak sign and Arabic, and English, and I’m learning Italian.”
Renata walked over as Thawra tried to get Evin down off the furniture. “You must be very smart.”
“I am. My Baba says I am a clever, clever girl.”
Thawra’s eyes were wary and worried as Renata drew closer.
“I’m not going to harm you or your family,” she said.
Zana says that we must leave after the storm passes. We have nowhere else to go.
Renata sighed. “If you think that’s actually going to happen, you clearly don’t understand Max at all.”
Evin bounced over and sat by Renata. “I like Max.”
“I do too.” She tucked Evin’s hair behind her ear. “You remind me very much of myself when I was your age. Do you know I lived here when I was a girl?”
“You did?” Evin grinned. “Did you sleep in the caves like me?”
Renata felt the pang of guilt, but since the child clearly felt like sleeping in the library was an adventure, she tried not to feel too guilty.
“No, I slept in the house. I had a room there with my parents. There were many families here, and my parents worked here in the library with many people. Clever people like you, who knew lots of languages and stories. I went to school here.”
Evin’s face fell a little. “I can’t go to school.”
Renata looked at Thawra. “What if I told you there was magic you could use to help her block out the voices?”
What kind of magic?
“Irina magic.”
Thawra’s eyes went wide. The singers?
“Have you met any of our kind before?”
She shook her head. Only stories.
“You have angel blood. That means you have the same magic we do. Irina mothers use magic to protect their children when they’re young. You could use the same magic to protect Evin from the soul voices—your other child too, if it’s a girl—but you’d have to speak.”
Thawra eyes were blank.
“Mama doesn’t talk.” Evin leaned closer to Renata and whispered, “The bad people hurt her heart. That’s what Baba says. That’s why she doesn’t talk except for bad dreams. Baba and me sleep by her at night and hug her lots if she cries.”
Thawra clapped sharply. Evin, that’s enough.
The bad people hurt her heart. Renata wondered if Thawra’s natural magic had something to do with empathy. If she were Irina, Renata would say she carried the angel Chamuel’s blood. Those of Chamuel’s blood were unusually empathetic. Some could even heal emotional injuries to others. Conversely, they were some of the most traumatized Irina during the Rending. They lived not only through their own trauma, but also through the trauma of those around them.
They had to leave Syria, Max had said. Zana said they were shutting down.
“You’re an empath,” Renata said, trying to catch Thawra’s eye. “You feel what others feel.”
So does Evin, Thawra signed.
“I can teach you magic to protect yourself. To protect her. You’d be able to be around humans. You’d be able to live a more normal life.”
Thawra shook her head. We have no papers. We are nobody. Nothing.
“Don’t say that, Mama.” Evin hopped off the sofa and went to her mother, wrapping her arms around Thawra’s hips. “Baba says you are his moon. Ya amar, Mama. Ya habib alby. And I am his ladybug.”
Thawra took a deep breath and stroked Evin’s hair back. Go see the Christmas tree, she signed. Let me talk to the lady.
“Go ahead,” Renata said. “When Max comes in, ask him for a biscuit. There are some in the kitchen. I made them with dried apricots.”
“I like biscuits!” Evin bounced away through the stone hallway and past the iron door that hung open, leading to the house.
Renata turned back to Thawra. “You don’t want her to hear you speak, do you?”
Thawra opened her mouth and breathed deeply for a very long time. Then she put a hand on her belly and pushed out the words. “My voice. Sounds like a child.”
It did sound childlike. It was high and scratched. Something about it reminded Renata of a cat mewling.
“How old were you when you stopped speaking?”
“Younger,” she rasped. Younger than Evin, she signed.
“Why?”
“Mad,” she said.
“You were mad? Angry?”
Thawra shook her head. “The family… sold—” The family I was sold to, she signed. They told me my voice was driving them mad. Anytime I opened my mouth, they beat me. So I stopped speaking. It was safer that way.
Renata’s fury was ripe and fresh. “Your voice is a gift. We are daughters of the Creator. Our voices sing the songs of heaven. Those people were ignorant fools who knew nothing of your power. Nothing. Do you hear me? Your voice is power, and I will teach you how to use it. To protect yourself. To protect your children.” Renata took a deep breath. “And to calm and strengthen the mate who protects you.”
Thawra’s golden eyes met Renata’s. “I have… magic?”
Renata’s mind drifted back to a cold stone church, lying on the hard marble—empty and grieving—as a woman far more powerful than she’d been held out a hand to her.
“Can you teach me to be a warrior?”
“Can you heal my wound?”
“You have more magic than you know,” Renata said. “And I can teach you to use it. I can teach you how to fight.”
Thawra’s chin lifted, and Renata no longer saw a frightened victim. She saw a woman who hoped.
Hope was powerful.
“I will learn,” Thawra rasped out. “I want to.”
Renata held her hand out to Thawra. “Then you are exactly where you need to be.”
Renata watched the family that night at dinner. Max had made a stew he’d learned from his uncle, a typical warrior’s meal with boiled meat and potatoes and root vegetables. It was perfect for dinner, and the little family wolfed it down. Renata had peeked at their stores. They’d been existing on canned meats and beans and flour they’d probably scavenged from the house. Though all of them were thinner than they ought to have been, Zana was nearly gaunt. It was obvious he’d been going without food so Thawra and Evin could eat.
“What did you do?” Renata asked quietly as they were finishing their food. It was the first time she’d spoken to Zana since she’d called him a monster and tried to kill him. “Before the war. Back in Damascus. What was your profession?”
He smiled a little. “I was a carpenter. I worked for myself, which let me avoid most people.”
Grigori, like Irin scribes, could not sustain contact with humans without draining them of their life force. But while Irin scribes had magic to help their control, Grigori were given no such knowledge by their angelic fathers.
“Did you do some work on the porch?” Max asked casually. “Over on the east side? I noticed some of the wood was different.”
“I did,” Zana said. “I found some lumber in the barn last summer and decided to replace a few of the railings.” He glanced at Renata warily. “I didn’t think anyone would mind. They were loose. I didn’t want anyone to fall. And we’d taken some food from storage in the house.”
“It’s fine,” Renata said absently. “Thank you for fixing it.”
“You’re most welcome.” Zana reached over and used his napkin to wipe Evin’s cheek. “Drink all your milk, bug.”
“It tastes funny,” Evin whispered.
“It’s different because it’s fresh,” Zana said. “But fresh is better. It will make you strong.”
Max reached for Renata’s hand under the table.
Thawra tapped the table and signed, Zana is very gifted. He was more than a carpenter. He was an artist. He sold a table for one hundred forty thousand pounds once.
“What was that?” Max asked. Renata translated for him.
Zana laughed ruefully. “It’s a good thing I changed our money to gold. That much in Syrian pounds wouldn’t even buy the lumber for that table anymore.”
Max asked, “Where you able to bring some money out?”
Zana nodded. “I have some savings. I always kept gold. I’ve lived too long not to know how quickly things can change. But we have no papers, and I’m sure any gold I exchange would not be the correct value on the… informal market. So I’ve tried to save as much as possible.”
Max glanced at Renata. “I think we can help fix the papers situation.”
She nodded. “Max is very good at that. Scribes need new papers regularly for brothers who have outlived their current documents.”
Thawra and Zana’s eyes went wide. “What?” he asked. “You can get us papers?”
“I’ll give you Austrian citizenship,” Max said. “They’re an EU country, so you’ll have options. I have plenty of connections in Vienna that can help. And health insurance cards, of course.”
Thawra slapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t stop the choking gasp that came from her throat. Tears of relief fell from her eyes and she started to shake.
Evin cried, “Mama, what’s wrong?”
Zana threw his arms around his mate. “Thawra, shhh.” He looked at Max with fierce eyes. “I can pay you.”
“You don’t need to pay him,” Renata said. “Your family needs help. We can’t solve the problems of the whole world, but we can do this. With papers, you’ll be able to find work. Carpentry is a skilled trade. You can get Evin in school. Thawra can have proper health care for her and the baby.”
Max squeezed her hand. “Save your money, Zana. This is simply the decent thing to do.”
Renata noticed Evin close her eyes and press her fingers to her temples. Her little face was scrunched up.
Poor thing.
Not only hearing voices, but also the emotions of those around her. No child should have to sort through the complex emotional maze in the kitchen. Renata rose and held out her hand.
“Evin, come with me for a moment, will you?”
Zana asked, “Where—?”
“Don’t worry. I am going to teach her a simple shielding spell I learned at her age. One little song. It will help with the voices. It might also help shield her from emotional waves. I don’t know for sure as I’m not an empath, but we can try.”
Evin’s small forehead was furrowed. “What’s an empath? I don’t know that word.”
Thawra signed, Are you sure?
“About the voices? Yes. It’s very simple. I’ll work on more complex spells for you and the baby later. But for now, I can teach her a children’s song that will help with the voices. The emotional shielding, I’m not sure about, but I’ll look.”
It was past time she refreshed herself and delved into the well of memory she’d spent half her life developing. She knew there were spells she’d learned for Chamuel’s daughters. That was part of an archivist’s job. She just had to find the trigger to remember them.
Renata led Evin back to the library and sat next to her on the couch.
“Okay, I’m going to teach you a little song, and I want you to sing it just like I do. It has to be exact. Do you think you can do that?”
Evin nodded. “I’m very clever.”
Renata smiled. “I know you are.”
Even reached out and took her hand. “You’re loud.”
Renata blinked. “What?”
“You’re very loud. You have…” Evin squeezed Renata’s hand and sucked in a breath. In a heartbeat, her little face crumpled. “They hurt your heart too,” she said as tears ran down her face. “Like Mama. They hurt your heart too.”
Evin’s small hand clutched hers, and Renata was torn between pulling back and comforting the child, who had started to sob. A moment of hesitation and Renata pulled Evin into her arms, wrapping herself around the little girl who cried as if her heart was breaking.
“Pull back, Evin. Do you know how to pull back?”
Evin pressed her cheek to Renata’s and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Renata gasped as the pain struck her chest. Without thought or will, the past rose up and stabbed her, sucking her into a howling storm of memory as the child clutched her neck.
There was laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine.
Lights and singing.
Then the screaming came.
Her mother’s gut-wrenching sobs.
“The children! Renata, where are the children?”
Wails and the sickening scent of sandalwood and blood. Her father’s groan of anguish.
“It can’t be. It can’t be. No, it cannot be.”
“We were gone.” Balien’s hollow voice. “I left them. I left them alone.”
Her father’s soul.
Silent.
Her mother’s soul.
Silent.
The last roar of her lover’s voice.
“Renata, you must run!”
Then silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Let me die. I do not want to live. Let me die with them. Let me die and go to them. Give me peace.
A sickening whisper in her mind. “There is no peace now.”
Renata felt the scream rip from her chest as raw sorrow sprang from her mind and into the dusty air of the library. In the distance, she heard running steps and could only think of Grigori running up the stairs. She fell to the ground and felt the little girl crouch beside her.
“I’m sorry,” the little girl whispered again. “I’m sorry.”