Kostas roared in pain but shoved his fist to the side to expose the neck.
“Bastard!” he screamed. “He’s biting off my hand!”
Damien plunged the knife in Aurel’s spine as Kostas yanked his hand back, his fist closed around the massive tongue he’d ripped from the angel’s mouth. A screaming sound filled the air.
“Get back!” Damien yelled, pulling at Kostas’s shoulders. The hand the angel had bitten was dangling at an odd angle. The angel had turned the Grigori’s hand to raw meat. Damien didn’t know how Kostas had pulled out the monster’s tongue.
They crawled away from the angel as its skin turned black. Fine cracks appeared, riddling its giant body, rapidly gaping wider as a fiery red glow emanated from the center of its chest. It looked as if the angel was melting from the inside, his skin breaking apart from the heat.
“Grab the girl,” Kostas said. “Get out of here!”
The screaming wind became louder. None of the Rěkaves scribes moved toward the girl.
“For God’s sake!” Kostas yelled. He tucked his wounded hand into his side and crawled to the traumatized woman. He was trying to lift her just as Damien reached them both.
“I’ve got her,” Damien yelled. “I’ve got her. Run!”
They made it down the stairs just as the room exploded.
CHAPTER NINE
SARI held the boy against her chest as they made their way downriver in the fishing boat. They left the wreckage of Aurel’s house behind, left the bound Grigori who’d wanted to stay. Only Tomik had wanted to come with the women and children. Milena trusted him, so Damien had allowed him to board the fishing boat headed for Prague and Astrid, who would take a look at Kostas’s injuries and see if his hand was reparable.
“He’s never been held,” Milena said. Zuzana had curled into the woman’s side with Vaclav resting against Zuzana.
“What do you mean?”
“Lucas.” Milena nodded to the boy in Sari’s arms. “He never trusted Tomik. Or any man. I think he witnessed Aurel do something horrible to his mother. She didn’t waste away like most of them. One morning, she was just gone.”
“And she left her baby.”
Milena nodded. “He wouldn’t let Tomik or William pick him up, and I can’t hold them like that. So he’s never been held.”
Sari’s heart threatened to break open. The finely held control almost snapped. “How old is he?”
“A little over two.”
Sari clutched him tighter and had the satisfaction of feeling Lucas sigh against her chest, his chubby cheek pressed to her skin. He was sleeping.
“Do you want the baby?” Sari nodded to her stomach. “If you don’t, I understand. We can take care of him for you. He won’t harm either me or my sisters.”
Milena put a hand over her belly. “You’re not taking him from me. I’ve figured out how to care for them. If he can drink formula—”
“There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to.”
“Then he’s mine. I don’t care who his father is. He’s my child.”
Sari shifted the baby on her chest. “He’s making you sick. You know that, don’t you?”
“No.” Milena shook her head. “He makes me brave.”
The fierce look in the woman’s eyes humbled Sari. She imagined the first mothers, human women who sacrificed so much for their beloved children. What must it be like to know that the very thing you loved could kill you? And still they fought. Still they loved. No wonder the first mothers were venerated in ancient songs.
“What are you going to do with us?” Milena asked.
Sari looked around her. Three unconscious human women, one wary rogue, and fourteen Grigori children. Grigori children at her feet. Leaning against her. Crawling in her lap as she held a baby. It was a scene from one of her nightmares.
Except that it wasn’t.
Her mate stood at the helm, talking with Natalya, the archer who’d sent the arrows into Aurel and given the scribes the chance to kill the angel. Leo and Kyra tried unsuccessfully not to stare at each other. Kostas was pale from pain and blood loss, his hand wrapped in thick bandages and held to his chest. But Mala guarded him as he talked with Tomik, who was rubbing his temple and glancing at Milena. The scribes and singers from Rěkaves draped the children in blankets and poured them glasses of milk, asking their names and tousling their hair or rubbing their cheeks. Any sign to show that they were safe and among those who could care for them.
All Sari could picture was a giant castle and an empty courtyard that echoed with the sounds of war. How much better if they rang with the sounds of war… and laughing children?
“We’re taking you home,” Sari said to Milena. “My home. Your new home if you want it.”
Milena put a hand on her belly. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
※
“You have got to be joking,” Katalin hissed. “I told Damien he could store the Grigori here until he found a place for them. You are not adopting all of them like stray dogs.”
Sari put her hands on her hips. “Call them dogs one more time, Katalin. See what happens.”
It had been weeks since the Grigori children had come to Rěkaves. As far as Sari and Damien were concerned, they were there to stay. Katalin, on the other hand, had different ideas when they’d told her she’d become a grandmother.
Damien put a steadying hand on Sari’s shoulder.
“Mother,” he said, “this is not an option. Sari has offered the women and children sanctuary. This is her home, and the offer will not be rescinded.”
“This is my home!”
“And ours as well.” Damien slid an arm around Sari’s waist. “Or have you forgotten who is praetor?”
Katalin bared her teeth. Sari managed to contain a smile.
How do you like your manipulations now, Katalin?
Sari might have felt smug, but the powerful singer was seconds away from erupting.
“Aurel was a singer,” Damien said.
Katalin blinked and closed her mouth. “He was what?”
Sari turned. “A what?”
“A singer, Mother. He didn’t have fire. He couldn’t transport. His power was in his voice.”
Katalin frowned.
Sari said, “I don’t understand.”
“Magic. His magic was in his voice. He pinned me to the wall with one scream. That’s why Kostas tore out his tongue.”
Sari really wished she’d been there to see that.
“Why does that matter?” Katalin lifted her chin. “Each of the fallen have different strengths.”
“True. And this one has three daughters who have been given sanctuary with us.” Damien released Sari and stepped toward his mother. “Think about it, Katalin. First-generation angelic blood. Have you seen their eyes? Pure gold.”
Sari saw the gears start to turn in Katalin’s head. She was glad she’d kept silent.
While Sari knew that Damien’s heart was soft for the Grigori children, Katalin had not held them as they cried in sadness for the home they’d lost or the mothers they still missed. She had not bathed the children and played in the bubbles as Mala and Kyra had. She had not held Lucas every night, rocking the little boy until he fell asleep in the nursery where Damien had once slept. Katalin had not fed them bread from the kitchen or tucked them into bed as Damien and Leo did.
Perhaps that softening would come in time, but for now, Damien needed to reach his mother on a level she would understand.
Martial advantage. Potential power.
“Think of the magic they could command,” he continued. “We will raise them. You will train them. Think of the power they might wield with their voices alone.”
“The boys,” Katalin started. “They won’t have spoken magic.”
“No, but they’re still first generation angelic offspring. Imagine the potential, praetora. Imagine the sheer power they will have as the first generation from even a minor Fallen like Aurel. Now imagine that power trained by Mikael’s
house.”
Katalin narrowed her eyes. “The first sign of evil I see from them—”
“Will likely be fights with their brothers,” Damien said. “Or playing in the armory. They are no more evil than I was at that age.”
Heaven above.
Sari’s thoughts turned to childproofing the castle. She winced.
Luckily, Damien and Sari had a wealth of willing babysitters. Most of the initiates at Rěkaves were enamored with “the praetor’s little ones.” The children scarcely went anywhere without three or four of the guard following along.
Shouting erupted in the hall outside. Then squealing and laughter as tiny feet rushed past, followed by more tiny feet. Then a silence Sari had learned to dread. She ran out the door and nearly collided with Milena.
“Are you okay?” She held out her hands.
“Thank you,” Milena said. “But it’s me. So clumsy. I can barely walk without falling over.”
“Why are you on your feet?”
“Vaclav,” she said, her face pale. “I heard him shouting and—”
“I’ll go check,” Damien said, pushing past his mother. “Katalin, the matter is closed. If you want to argue with me later, I’ll be in my office.”
Sari watched Damien run toward the sound of a metallic crash that echoed down through the castle.
“I am so sorry,” Milena said. “He’s never had this many toys. Not that armor is a toy, but—”
“Has he always been interested in weapons?” Katalin said, crossing her arms and watching Milena.
“Vaclav?” Milena looked to Sari, who nodded for her to go ahead. “Well, yes. I’m afraid so. He’s seen Aurel’s sons practicing since the time he could walk. His favorites are bows and arrows, but anything that can be used to hit is also popular. There are eleven brothers, you see. All within a few years of each other. Anything and everything is a weapon with the boys.”
“And the girls?”
Milena smiled. “It’s hard to tell. They mostly keep to themselves. It must be the… voices that Sari and Kyra have talked about. They are better here.”
“They would be…” Katalin muttered, her eyes focused down the hallway. “Perhaps I should go help Damien with the children. He has no experience with small ones like that.”
The next moment she was gone, and Sari stared down the hallway, her mouth agape.
Milena said, “They’re good children, I promise. They’re just rowdy. And I thought it best to be honest if we’re going to stay here.”
“You’re staying.” Sari squeezed her hands and led her into the library. “And you have no idea how much you just helped make that easier. Now let me see if the baby wants another song.”
They’d been experimenting with Sari singing to the child in Milena’s womb. The contact, along with Sari’s voice, seemed to feed the boy and leave Milena less exhausted. It wasn’t a cure. The child was still taking a toll on his mother’s body, but it seemed to help like nothing else did. Sari had started to sing to the other women as well. All three were adapting to life in the castle, but Sari had only truly bonded with Milena, whose fierce, protective heart spoke to her.
As Sari sang, Milena drifted to sleep in the warm room, her shirt pushed up and her belly exposed. When she was finished with the song, Sari pushed Milena’s shirt down and covered her with a light blanket, but Milena continued to sleep.
Do you want to be a mother? Milena had asked her the week before.
I don’t know. To be that vulnerable again…
Sari had children now. She had a house full of them, and there were more out there, waiting to be saved. But should the heavens grant her another child, how could she not be thankful? Milena was human—a biology student in another life—far more vulnerable than Sari had ever been. And yet she’d never given up. Never lost hope or the warrior’s spirit that had made her a champion for her baby, her nephew, and every other child under her care.
“He makes me brave.”
※
Damien was singing that night when he prepared for bed. There was a deep contentment in her mate that filled something in Sari’s own soul. It had been a good day.
There would be no permanent damage to the suit of armor in the great hall, and Katalin had decided it was a good learning opportunity to teach the children about each piece of armor, what it did, and how it had developed over the ages. Along with its history, Katalin decided to invite Desmond to teach the children about Irin and human uses for armor while introducing them to corresponding spells that could mimic the affect.
The children had been blessedly silent for an hour, and Sari suspected that ideas of banishment were far from the praetora’s mind.
Astrid had patched Kostas back together and forced him into a week of bedrest, but his left hand was missing a pinky and two knuckles that were beyond her skill to save.
The day after his release, he’d left Kyra with Damien and Sari so he could travel to Prague and visit a rogue Grigori there, letting that man know Aurel’s sons were now free and some might be open to living a more honorable life. He’d taken Leo with him, much to Leo’s disappointment.
“Do you think Kostas knows about Leo and Kyra?” Damien asked, brushing his hair and tying it back. It was down to his shoulders, and beards were remaining in fashion. Sari was immensely pleased.
“There is no Leo and Kyra,” Sari said. “That would mean one of them would have to actually do something to make a ‘Leo and Kyra’ happen.”
“Poor Leo,” Damien said.
“Poor Kyra. She’s the one who has to live with a hundred overprotective big brothers.”
“We could use her here,” Damien said. “There’s more than enough room in the castle. She has a keen understanding of the little ones, and she’s an excellent teacher.”
Kyra had already taught the little girls spells to guard their minds from the voices.
“I’m open to asking her,” Sari said. “But you realize that Leo is going to have to go back to Istanbul soon. Especially with Malachi assuming the watcher’s position.”
“I know. Ava may have left a frustrated rant on my voice mail today about that.”
“She’s probably still sleep deprived. She’ll forgive you. Eventually.”
Damien wiped his face and slung a towel around his neck. He walked to Sari, who was sitting on the dressing table.
“Hello, milá.” He spread her knees and stepped between them. “You look very happy tonight.”
“I am.”
“If it’s anything I’ve done, tell me. That way I can repeat it.” He nibbled along her jaw.
“It’s not anything you’ve done,” she said. “It’s just who you are.”
He drew back and cupped her chin in his hand. “I need no soft poetry when I have your words.”
“And I need nothing but you.”
“That’s all?”
She paused. “If heaven blesses us with a child, I would be well pleased.”
His eyes warmed and his hand slipped down to grasp her hips. “Should Uriel bless us with a child, I would treasure her. But my Sari, I am content either way. We have children. More than we know what do to with.”
“And more may come.”
“I hope they do,” he whispered, his eyes alight with mischief.
Sari laughed. “You love it.”
“Yes.” He slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. “I love them already, Sari. How is it possible?”
It was possible because Damien’s heart was as big as the North Sea. The children saw it and flocked to him, clinging to his compassion and gentleness. His honor and fierce protection. Even Lucas, who trusted no man, was beginning to trust Damien.
“This world of ours is changing,” he said.
Sari nodded. “But it is a good change.”
“I have wandered a very long time, reshon.” Damien drew back and looked into her eyes. “And seen more than I ever imagined. War and peace and terrible beauty and loss. And now I’ve com
e to the last place I ever expected to find peace and found more than I could imagine. But I need to know: are you truly content here?”
“It’s like you said, Damien. Sarihöfn. Istanbul. Vienna. Rěkaves.” She kissed him. “When we are together, we are home.”
“A singer blessed me once. She prayed for me to find a mate as warlike as myself.”
Sari threw her head back and laughed. “A blessing or a curse?”
“There have been a few times along our path that I didn’t know that myself.” Damien couldn’t help but smile. “But there is such beauty in your violence. Like the eagle over the fjord, Sari. Do you remember?”
Her breath caught at the memory of a night so long ago. A night when Damien’s passion had first touched her. The night she had fallen in love with the warrior who changed her destiny.
“I remember.” She blinked away tears.
“You have loved me.” He kissed her lips. “And since I am a very wise scribe, I clung to it. Through battle. Through loss. Through the darkest night, milá. Through the ages, I clung to it.”
“I love you, Damien.”
“I have treasured it. Because within your love, I have never felt more alive.”
Sari grabbed his hair with both hands and brought Damien down for a kiss.
“Even if we live a thousand years,” she said. “A thousand years, my love.”
“We’ve had six hundred together.” Damien picked her up and carried her into their bedchamber. “Four hundred more isn’t too much to ask.”
THE END
THANK YOU FOR taking the time to read this book! If you enjoy a book, one of the best things you can do to support an author is to leave an honest review wherever you bought your copy. Thank you for taking the time to let others know what you thought.
Sign up for my newsletter today and receive a bonus short story “Too Many Cooks” free in your inbox! Subscribers receive monthly updates, new book alerts, exclusive contests, and original short fiction featuring favorite characters from my books.
The Staff and the Blade Page 40