The Secret

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Rhys looked down, his scholar’s eyes keen on the mark. “It’s a spell of focus. To enhance self-control. Very well done, brother.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is it painful?”

  He nodded. “Like I’ve just tattooed it.”

  “Hmm.” Rhys cocked his head and pulled Malachi and Ava into the foyer of the house. Leo followed them until they were away from prying eyes. “It’s very likely that your talesm will reappear with your memories. They may be tied to specific places. You had the memory here, and the spell reappeared. It seems to be complete, though I don’t know if you’ll be able to access this magic since it is not connected to your talesm prim.”

  Malachi’s newly scribed talesm prim was on his left wrist. The original it replaced had been the first spell he’d ever tattooed on himself, the one that tapped into his natural magic and let him control it better. As he’d grown older, more spells had been added. But when he’d died, they’d died with him. When he’d returned, it was as if he’d been reborn.

  To date, he’d only recovered a portion of the magic on his left forearm; the recovered spell was on his right.

  “There are these as well.” He pushed up his sleeve and showed Rhys the spells that had first reappeared during his dream-walks with Ava. Shadows of his former magic, lurking like smudges beneath his skin. They were sporadic. Patchy.

  Leo’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t show us these? When did this happen?”

  Malachi glanced at Ava. “When she sang to me,” he said. “In our dreams.”

  She bit the corner of her lip. “But I’m not singing to you anymore.”

  He pushed Rhys and Leo away from examining his arm and pulled Ava to the side. Speaking quietly, he said, “When you are ready, you will sing to me.”

  “But—”

  “There is no rush, reshon. We are protected here. My strength is returning on its own. Your magic is yours. You must make the decision to use it when you feel safe.”

  She nodded, but her mouth was still downturned.

  “Smile, Ava.” He touched her chin. “We are home.”

  “Don’t tell me to smile when you’re still not whole.”

  He swallowed the pain. He wasn’t whole. He wasn’t the man she’d once loved. He was different. Damaged.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m whole.”

  A wound doesn’t heal just because it stops bleeding.

  They were both still wounded, but her love had stopped the bleeding. Malachi knew everything else would come in time.

  HE walked next to her in the forest, the trees towering over them and the moon high and full. He could hear the birds. Feel the grass beneath bare feet.

  She walked with the dark angel at her side, but he could not hear them. As much as he strained, no voices reached his ears. It was as if the dark one had wrapped Malachi’s mate in a fog, shielding her from him. From the forest around them. From the night.

  From everything.

  For a heartbeat, his grey eyes met the golden gaze of the Fallen, and a whisper came to his mind.

  Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her.

  The warrior scanned the forest with newly woken senses. No longer did he reach for his mate wrapped in the fog; he reached outward.

  Darkness surrounded them. And though the light from the full moon shone overhead, it did not illuminate the forest, save for the path they walked. A heavy presence pressed against his skin, and at once he perceived the truth.

  Do not fear the darkness.

  The dark angel was shielding his mate as she dreamed. Hiding her.

  But from what?

  MALACHI woke when her lips met his. The black night was a cloak around them as she moved over him, covering his body with her own. His magic reached for her but only brushed against the cool of her skin. Whatever barriers fell in the nighttime, she still held her soul back. His talesm glowed in the cocoon of their bedclothes, lighting their skin as they moved together.

  She was silent as they made love. Their bodies spoke for them.

  Kiss me. Hold me. Mend me.

  Make me whole.

  He felt his soul reach out, straining for hers. Ava sighed as he entered her. His breath became hers.

  Again.

  More.

  Again.

  Tighter. Higher. Faster.

  When they came, it was together; he felt her pleasure as his own.

  She held him over her, her arm wrapped around his neck so their cheeks pressed together. He panted into her neck.

  “Ava, let me—”

  “No,” she whispered. “Stay. Just like this. Need you. Need this.”

  “Too heavy.”

  “No.” He was still buried in her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and held him tighter. “Stay. I need to feel you.”

  He said nothing more. Only held her. Kissed her. Over and over. Soft lips brushing her cheeks. Her lips. Her eyelids. Her neck.

  “I’m here,” he murmured.

  “Not a dream.” Her voice had become frantic again.

  “It’s not a dream. I’m here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ava.”

  “Hmm?”

  He pulled away just far enough that their eyes could meet. “Let me in, reshon.”

  Her eyes darted to the moon shining high through the narrow window of their bedroom. “What are you talking about?”

  He looked at her for a moment, then he reached up, bracing his arm at her side so that his other hand was free to trail up her body.

  Over the curve of her hip. The dip of her waist. The rise of her breast.

  His finger settled over her heart and he wrote there, scribing the ancient words she had used to call him back. Dips and swirls of angelic runes over her skin. The incantation glowed gold under his hand.

  Vashama canem.

  “Malachi?”

  Come back to me, reshon.

  HOURS later, Ava still wouldn’t rest. He wondered if she was afraid to dream.

  Malachi only dreamed of her.

  He could see the dawn begin to break. Birds sang in the small garden below them.

  “I need to find out who I am,” she said, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

  “What do you mean?”

  The first crackle of the muezzin’s call to prayer echoed through the air as Malachi rolled to his side and traced a hand over her shoulder, letting his magic flow over her. Her skin flushed gold as her mating marks came alive. She shivered at the contact.

  “Stop,” she said. “Don’t distract me.”

  He smiled. “But I’m so good at it.”

  She turned toward him, capturing his hand between her own. She laid them beneath her cheek, and he was content.

  “I need to find out who I am,” she said again. “What I am.”

  Jaron. Hiding her in dreams. The Fallen protecting her from… something.

  Do not fear the darkness.

  “You want to find your father.”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Two

  “I’M BEING STRAIGHT with you, Ava. Your dad—”

  “When are you ever straight with me, Luis?” Ava paced in the living room.

  Her coffee sat cold on the end table, and Malachi read the newspaper silently in the corner, keeping one eye on her and the other on the subtitles at the bottom of the television screen. The paper he was reading was Arabic. The news was in French.

  She’d once thought herself fairly adept at languages. She had nothing on an Irin scribe.

  “Do I need to remind you that I don’t work for you?” Luis was starting to get pissy. “I work for your father. And his interests—”

  “Are your only interests. I get it. I’m not asking for much. I just want to know where he is because I need to ask him a question.”

  “Is it something I can help you with?”

  She clenched her fist so hard her fingernails dug into her palm. “Is there
a reason why you’re blocking me from him?”

  “I’m not blocking you. Who said I was blocking you? Don’t you have his mobile number?”

  “He’s not answering it.”

  “What about e-mail?”

  “Not answering those, either.”

  Luis was silent. Her father’s manager wasn’t usually this big an asshole. He was an ass—he worked in the music industry, after all—but it wasn’t usually this bad. Which meant something was going on with her dad.

  She still had a hard time thinking of Jasper that way, but when she learned the news as a teenager, she hadn’t been all that shocked, either. He’d been a part of her life since she was a kid. She just didn’t realize he was her father. Jasper and her mother had remained close, despite their past relationship. In fact, Ava had always suspected that Jasper still held a torch for Lena. She was one of the few constants in his life.

  The other was Luis.

  “Luis…” She rubbed her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is going on. Your dad is in the middle of a tour, and you know how stressed he gets about that.”

  “Bullshit. He loves performing. The bigger the venue, the better.”

  “It’s tiring, Ava. I imagine he’s exhausted.”

  “You imagine nothing with him,” she bit out, her patience at an end. “You are in his business every single day. That’s why you have very nice houses in LA and Maui. So you know where he is. You know why he’s avoiding me. And you know what he’s been doing.”

  Luis said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Ava had paced over close to Malachi, and he put out a hand, absently hooking a finger in her waistband and running his thumb across her skin. The small contact soothed her, and she took a deep breath.

  “Ava—”

  “Is he using again, Luis?”

  “You know he—”

  “Dumb question. He’s always using. Is he crashing?”

  Luis was silent again. Ava took another deep breath and sat down on the couch. Malachi reached out and took her hand. She clutched it and could think again.

  “Okay, I’m taking that silence as a yes. Where is he?”

  “I can’t tell you that, honey.”

  Luis only called her honey when he’d taken off his manager hat. Just like her and Jasper, she and Luis were still figuring out the boundaries of their relationship. He was her father’s right hand, but according to Lena, Luis had been the one to discourage Jasper from having a relationship with Ava when she was a child. For her sake or for Jasper’s? It could be argued either way.

  The man had no life outside her father’s career. And Jasper would say he’d be useless without Luis herding him. He respected Ava. Respected her role in Jasper’s life. But her father was still the man’s first priority, and nothing she said would budge that.

  “Has he hurt anyone?” Her voice was rough. She wished she didn’t care so much, but she did. She’d always loved him. Even before she knew he was her dad. It was like her mother always said—There was just something about Jasper.

  “Has he hurt himself?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Just… a little worse than normal. He’ll be fine.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “Not the best thing right now, Ava.”

  “It’s important. It’s about…” She racked her brain. “It’s a health thing. I have some questions about family stuff on that side.”

  Luis paused. “He’s not going to be able to give you much. You know that, Ava. Besides, your father’s healthy as a horse.”

  “Other than the drugs?”

  “Despite them.” Luis’s voice dropped. “Listen, I don’t know what deal he made with what devil, but the man has never been sick a day in his life, other than the shit he ingests himself. I’ve seen guys do… a tenth of the shit he’s done and ruin their bodies. What’s going on with your health? Lena said you were staying in Turkey with friends the last time I talked to her. Are you sick?”

  Malachi must have heard the question. She kept forgetting that his talesm gave him enhanced senses when he activated them. No doubt he’d been listening the whole time.

  He frowned and shook his head.

  Luis hadn’t earned their trust.

  Ava decided to go with attitude because being reasonable wasn’t working. “Like I’m going to tell you what’s going on with my health when you’re not even willing to tell me where my own father is.”

  “Don’t be like this, Ava. If he hears that you’re sick—”

  “He’ll be pissed. We both know it. So why are you keeping me from him?”

  More silence.

  “He’s going to hear one way or another, Luis. And I don’t think you want to be the one standing between him and his only kid. Do I need to call my mom?”

  It was her one trump card, and Luis still wasn’t budging.

  “Yeah, why don’t you have Lena call me, Ava?” His voice was frosty. “She’s not an immature little girl throwing a tantrum. Your mother knows what Jasper’s limits are.”

  “His limits?”

  “I’m done with this conversation. I’ll call you next week.”

  Ava hung up her phone when Luis’s end went silent and resisted throwing it against the opposite wall.

  “So,” Malachi said, “that went well.”

  “Asshole.”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Is he always like that? I do not like the way he talks to you, and I’d be more than happy to make that clear.”

  “Luis?” She huffed out a breath. “He’s usually pretty cool. But he’s in protective mode right now, which tells me my dad is holed up, trying to see just how many drugs he can ingest without killing himself.”

  Malachi folded up the paper and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s the way he is. The way he’s always been.”

  “But you don’t know where he is?”

  “No.”

  “Where was he last seen?”

  Ava turned on her phone and pulled up the app she used to keep track of her father. The mobile application was fan-created and borderline creepy, but it had become a convenient way to keep track of Jasper and his schedule. “He had that concert in Vienna on the twentieth of last month. Then another in… Budapest. Then it looks like he went under.” She scrolled back up the page and mentally counted down. Four weeks. Six…

  “Yeah,” she finally said. “He was due.”

  “Due?”

  “It’s just the way he is. Every eight weeks or so, when he’s touring, he’ll crash. Luis works it into his schedule. His next show isn’t for three weeks.”

  “He takes a three-week vacation to get high?”

  “Among other things. It’s better when he’s recording. Seems to work some of the energy out for him to be creative. I can relate,” she muttered. “I was kind of the same way before we met. Not with the drugs, but…” She shook her head. “He’ll be fine for a while. Using but functioning. Then every now and then he’ll go off and get really wasted. It varies how bad it is.”

  “How bad does this seem?”

  “If he’s not answering my calls or e-mails? Pretty bad.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Drugs. Vodka. Lots and lots of women.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “It’s sad, but it really is typical music-industry stuff. A lot of these guys are like that. You wouldn’t believe the excess. Probably one of the reasons he allowed my mom and Carl to raise me without much interference.”

  “Hmmm.” He was rubbing a hand over his chin, scratching at the thick stubble that had already appeared. It was his usual sign that he was mulling things over.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking…” He pulled out his own phone. “We should call Max.”

  That hadn’t been what he was thinking about, but she let it pass. “Where is Max?”

  “I don’t know. But he is answering hi
s phone, and if you want to find someone, I think he’d be the one to ask.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. Malachi was clearly remembering more about his brothers after being back in the scribe house. He was easier with Leo and Rhys. Seemed more comfortable in his own skin every day that passed. And Ava knew Max was the one the others turned to when they needed information.

  “You think Max could find my father? He won’t be at any of his usual houses. Probably won’t even be using his name.”

  Malachi shook his head. “Not a problem. He’s human.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he has only human methods of concealment. Which means that Max’s finding him will not be a problem.”

  THAT night, Leo and Ava were practicing with knives when Rhys walked in with the phone. Malachi rose from the weight bench in the corner, but Rhys held up a hand.

  “Damien,” he said into the phone. “I’m with the others. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  “—long as you’ve swept for bugs recently,” the voice came from the mobile phone that Rhys set on the counter in the large bedroom on the second floor where the workout room had been set up.

  “I swept yesterday,” Leo said, then he flipped two knives in quick succession. One hit the bull’s-eye right next to Ava’s last throw.

  “Good. I’m looking in the corners here, so expect surveillance from the council. Be wary of any scribes who turn up unexpectedly.”

  “Why?” Ava asked as she threw another. It was a new set that Leo had found for her. Perfectly balanced.

  “Ava?”

  She could hear the smile in Damien’s voice.

  “Hey, Damien! Is Sari there?”

  “Here,” a woman’s voice said. “How are you, sister?”

  “I’m good.” She smiled at Malachi, who was watching her with a smile of his own. He wiped his forehead with the shirt he’d stripped off earlier. “We’re both good. Happy to be back.”

  “Good. I’ll let Damien update his men. Then we should talk.”

  “Got it.”

  Ava turned back to the target she was sharing with Leo. It felt good to practice. Malachi was more of a dagger-fighting fan. Throwing knives wasn’t something he enjoyed as much as Ava did.