“Yeah,” Ava finally said. “He… He’s waiting with Malachi. If you want—”
“Not today.”
Not today.
Not no. Not never.
Not today. Which, in Ava’s mind, meant there was still hope. Maybe it was a small hope, but that was better than nothing.
“Do you know anything about gemstones?” Maheen asked.
“Gemstones?” Ava frowned. “Not much.”
“I studied history. I couldn’t go to the university, but my father brought me books. Gemstones have fascinating history. Mythology…”
Her eyes drifted to the wall over Ava’s head. They were sitting at a table having lunch in her room. Though her grandmother was allowed to walk throughout the estate now that her rages and seizures had calmed down, Maheen still preferred to live in isolation.
Her mind was a raw wound.
She resisted any attempts to learn shielding, explaining to Ava that she was used to the voices and it let her know when someone was approaching. The shield Jaron had forced over her at times had been stifling. She said it felt like a prison, and she didn’t want another.
“Do you think you’ll ever want to leave here?” Ava asked.
“I’ll have to someday.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been preparing myself for months now. I’ve been here five years. I can only be somewhere for six or seven before they start to notice.
“You have time.”
“It might be better…”
Ava waited, but Maheen was staring out the window now.
“No one’s going to force you out,” Ava said. “And there are places you can go if you want to leave.”
Ava was thinking of the various scribe houses and libraries that had begun to open to Irina who wanted to rejoin Irin society, and a few kareshta who had found their way to them. She didn’t know if her grandmother would be open to it, but she could try.
Maheen shook her head. “Not now. Not yet.”
“Okay.”
Their eyes met over the pot of honey-sweetened tea Maheen had requested.
“Thank you,” her grandmother told her. “I know I’m not the easiest person to visit. I didn’t even bake cookies.”
Ava saw one of those rare glimpses in that moment. Fire and intelligence and humor. The spark of life that had woken an archangel and drawn the lethal attention of a predator.
“I know,” Ava said. “You’re really falling down on the grandmother thing.”
Maheen barked out a short laugh. “I was a horrible mother too.”
Her smile fell.
She didn’t talk about Jasper.
“What do you do,” Ava asked, “when you don’t have visitors? Do you paint a lot? I like your canvases.”
Maheen waved to a row of them stacked against a wall. “Take them. As many as you like. I run out of room.”
“Thanks.”
“I paint.” Maheen nodded. “I read. I can enjoy music again. But mostly…”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, an expression of utter peace falling across her face.
“I sleep.”
JASPER took a deep drag from another cigarette as they sat at the cafe in Toulouse. His coffee cup was empty. Ava was just glad it wasn’t a wineglass. After all, it was only ten in the morning. Spring had come early, so they were enjoying the morning sun as Malachi talked on his phone in the small park nearby. Talked and paced. Paced and scanned the streets.
“That guy ever calm down?” Jasper asked.
“Kinda.” She sipped her café au lait. “Not really.”
“I’m starting to think he’s more paranoid than Carl.”
“Old habits are hard to break.”
Jasper grunted. “I’m not complaining if it keeps you safe.”
“It does.” She nudged the ashtray with her own cup. “Is this all you’re doing lately?”
“It’s… ah, hell.” He looked sheepish. “I’m trying. Whatever your man said to Luis sent him on some kind of crusade, but you know me, baby girl. I ain’t ever gonna be father of the year.”
“I just want you healthy.”
He was. He would be for a long, long time, as far as any of them knew. Orsala had said nothing in Irina oral tradition spoke of humans with as much angelic blood as Jasper carried, and Rhys couldn’t find anything in the archives either. The glamour Jaron had placed over Jasper had disappeared, leaving him looking more like her brother than her father.
He didn’t ask questions. Mostly, Ava thought, because he didn’t want to know the answers.
“How was she this time?” He scratched at the stubble on his chin.
“She’s better,” Ava said. “Thanks for coming. Again. I keep hoping—”
“It’s cool, Ava.” He nodded. “Yeah, you never know. I’m glad she’s better. Is the uh…?” His finger lifted to tap at his temple. “That any better?”
“Not for her. Not yet. But I’m better.” She glanced at Malachi. “A lot better.”
Jasper could pretend they were normal. For now. But that wouldn’t and didn’t stop Ava from speaking the truth.
Words, she’d learned through experience, had immense power.
He’d have to learn eventually.
For now, they could drink their coffee and watch the flowers break open on the trees. Watch new life starting again and ignore the quickly passing years.
“I love you, baby girl.” Jasper slid an open hand across the table. “Best thing I ever did in my life.”
Ava put her palm in his. “Love you too, Jasper.”
He wasn’t much of a father, but he was hers. And Ava had realized he was the only part of her old life that would last into the new.
Malachi. Jasper. Maheen.
They would be her family.
She saw the car pull up and Luis step out, eyes flicking nervously between Jasper and Malachi.
“Do not know why your guy makes him so nervous.” Jasper stubbed out his cigarette and patted his pockets. “I’ve seen Luis scare dudes twice Malachi’s size, and yet that guy…” He shook his head. “No idea.”
“Oh, you know,” Ava said, trying to suppress the nervous smile. “It’s probably the tattoos.”
Jasper stood. “Ava, he’s in the music business. Tattoos are like cardigans to us.”
Ava threw her head back and laughed. Jasper took the opportunity to haul her to her feet to he could wrap his arms around her and squeeze. She hugged him back and relished the small kiss he planted on her head.
“Okay.” His voice was rough when he let go. “Back to the studio.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of months.”
“You better.”
He was patting his pockets again. “I know I put it in here…”
“What?”
“Ah.” He plucked a small USB drive out of the pocket on his chest. “There it is.”
He handed it to her, bent down and kissed her cheek before he walked toward the car.
“Jasper?” She looked at the drive and took a few steps toward him. “Dad!”
He turned, grinning. Mischief lit his eyes. “What?”
“What is this?”
The smile turned wistful. “I finally got it right.”
“Got what right?”
“It’s for you, Ava.” He slipped on his sunglasses. “It’s your song.”
Ava gripped the precious piece of plastic in her hand and watched him drive away.
“CANIM?” Malachi peeked his head through the door of their room in Istanbul. Ava pulled off the earphones and set them to the side of the desk where she had her books spread out.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
He watched her, his heart shining out of his eyes. “Your song again?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is.” He walked over and sat on the bed. “It’s the best thing he’s ever written.”
“Yeah.” She smiled and spread her hand over the history book she’d been reading. “It is.”
“You have a secret,” he whispered. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“You must be magic.”
“You have no idea.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. Malachi just waited for her to speak.
“Do you know anything about gemstones?”
“Not much,” he said. “Is this a hint?”
“No, I don’t need a ring from you.” She closed the book and went to him, straddling his lap so they were face-to-face. “Jasper is an ancient stone,” she said, stroking her fingers along the close-cropped hair near his neck. “It’s used for protection.”
“Is that so?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She laid her head on his shoulder as his arms came around her. “It’s supposed to keep away evil spirits.”
His hands tightened on her hips.
“She gave him the name Jasper to protect him.” Ava closed her eyes and released a sigh. “She did it to protect her child.”
Chapter Thirty-three
MALACHI LAY ON THE PICNIC blanket in Yıldız Park, his face soaking in the afternoon sun as Ava combed her hand through his hair and took pictures with her phone. A group of children shrieked nearby, the laughter almost piercing his eardrums.
“What are they doing?” he murmured.
“I think there’s a squirrel.” She laughed. “Uh-oh. And now there’s a dog.”
“Özel dilerim!” Malachi heard one mother call, apologizing for the racket.
“Bir şey değil!” Ava reassured the harried mother with a laugh. It’s nothing.
She had picked up the language quickly after they’d moved to Istanbul. After living there over a year, she chatted with the vendor at the market and ordered from her favorite cafe with ease. Ava was still fascinated by languages, but most of her study was now focused on learning everything she could about the Old Language, particularly spells—like those Vasu had given her—that might have been lost.
She and Sari also corresponded regularly with Kyra, though the kareshta still lived in hiding.
He kept his eyes closed and imagined the scene as the dog barked and the children ran laughing into the trees. Their shouts and laughter had finally become a comfort. He loved his city, and human families were a part of it. A tumble of accents and languages flowed along the paths, though most of the visitors in the middle of the week were local. He heard a teacher instructing a drawing class several meters away, but no one came close enough to bother them.
Damien and Sari were away from the scribe house, visiting Orsala, who had taken residence in Cappadocia with Mala. The quiet scholars in Göreme didn’t quite know what to do with the fierce Irina warrior, but Mala would not leave Orsala, so they learned to stay out of her way.
Officially, Malachi was in charge. But since Rhys was at the house, cranky because the air-conditioning was out again, Malachi was more than happy to escape. He and Ava had snuck out with a picnic basket, Leo giving them rude hand gestures as he waited on the phone with the repair company.
“Malachi?”
“Hmm?”
“There’s something…”
He heard the catch in her voice and opened his eyes. She looked upset. “What is it?”
Ava shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect…”
“Ava, what’s wrong?”
Her cheeks were flushed. “Everyone said it wasn’t likely, so—”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m pregnant.”
His heart skipped a beat.
“I know,” she whispered, “with everything, it’s not the best time. You still have concerns. I know that. And the dreams still… I need you to be happy.”
“Ava.” His heart was so full he thought it would pound out of his chest.
“I need you to be okay with this because I’m scared to death.”
He wanted to reassure her. Wanted to tell her what a gift she’d given him, but the words wouldn’t come.
So Malachi turned his face to her belly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the tiny life that grew inside.
Impossible, improbable life.
A miracle.
She bent down and leaned her head on his. “You’re happy?”
He nodded. Then Malachi rose and took her in his arms, forcing himself to take deep breaths. It wasn’t enough. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, but he could not be ashamed of them. He held Ava in his arms and let himself smile.
“You’re happy,” she said on a sigh, wrapping her arms tight around his neck.
He pulled away and kissed her face until she was laughing. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the wonder of what they had become a vibrant song in his heart.
“Sometimes, canım, words are not enough.”
End of Book Three.
February 20, 2015
To my readers,
I hope you enjoyed The Secret.
Sometimes it’s very difficult to pinpoint where an idea comes from or when inspiration strikes.
For the Irin Chronicles, it is not.
This series grew from a single dream on a winter afternoon. It was fed by music and the intoxicating sights, sounds, and smells of Turkey and Israel and Austria. It grew as I explored my love of language and history and myth, along with the intricacies of love and family and faith.
I love this series. (Which is not to say that I haven’t hated it a few times too.)
While the Irin Chronicles was originally envisioned as a trilogy featuring Ava and Malachi, it grew into a world that I can’t quite leave behind yet. There are too many stories left to tell. So while Ava and Malachi’s journey has come to a rest, the Irin world will continue.
I hope you look forward to visiting again.
Thank you so much for reading,
Elizabeth
For more information about my work, to join my mailing list for new releases, or access bonus content, please visit:
ElizabethHunterWrites.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to my family, who had to suffer through the rather grouchy version of me who wrote these books. Writing magic is hard, readers. Thank goodness the people who love me put up with my mood swings. Special thanks to Genevieve and Kelli, who bear the brunt. (A round or two at Bourbon & Branch is on me.)
Thanks to extraordinary beta readers like Sarah and Sandra and Iriet, who give me such important feedback from a reader perspective. What sounds right in my head doesn’t always make sense on the page. Thank you for not letting me get away with anything. Thank you to writer friends like Grace Draven, Colleen Vanderlinden, and Michele Scott, who understand and also put up with a lot of my whining.
A special thanks to the ever-talented Killian McRae for being my go-to expert on all things Turkish and an enthusiastic fan of Malachi and Ava. Your help was invaluable, and we need to plan a trip to Istanbul when we’re actually in the city together.
Thanks to the city of Vienna for its coffee, its hospitality, and its truly excellent airport. A special thanks to the wonderful staff of the Guesthouse Vienna, which was my home away from home while researching this book. To the cooks at Haas & Haas, thank you for one great breakfast after another. To that cute guy outside the Albertina on Thursday afternoon, thanks for wearing those socks with your very conservative suit. It was kind of a glum day and you gave me a smile. And I’m just going to mention the coffee again, because it really is amazing and wonderful.
To my agents, Jane Dystel and Lauren Abramo, thank you for all your hard work on my behalf. Thanks to the talented Zachary Webber, the voice of the Irin Chronicles who makes my words come alive for all my audiobook listeners. Thanks to the folks at Damonza, who put up with me being very, very picky about this cover. And a hearty and well-deserved thank-you to my editor Anne Victory, a true professional in a sea of… less than professionals. You make me look good.
To all my publishing partners who
make this business possible and help bring my words to readers, thank you so much. To the retailers, to the magazine editors and reviewers, to the bloggers and forum administrators, thank you all.
We live in an extraordinary time for writers. I’m very blessed and proud to be a part of this business. Let us never forget that it’s about the stories.
ELIZABETH HUNTER is a contemporary fantasy, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance writer. She is a graduate of the University of Houston Honors College and a former English teacher. She once substitute taught a kindergarten class but decided that middle school was far less frightening. Thankfully, people now pay her to write books and eighth graders everywhere rejoice.
She currently lives in Central California with her son, two dogs, many plants, and a sadly empty fish tank. She is the author of the Elemental Mysteries and Elemental World series, the Cambio Springs series, the Irin Chronicles, and other works of fiction.
Website: ElizabethHunterWrites.com
E-mail: [email protected].
Twitter: @E__Hunter
ALSO BY ELIZABETH HUNTER
The Irin Chronicles
The Scribe
The Singer
The Secret
The Elemental Mysteries Series
A Hidden Fire
This Same Earth
The Force of Wind
A Fall of Water
Lost Letters & Christmas Lights
The Elemental World Series
Building From Ashes
The Secret Page 36