The Singer - Hunter Elizabeth (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации txt) 📗

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Hello, Father.”

“Brage.” The stunning man appeared at his side. The humans around him would notice nothing. They would have no memory of the angel appearing, for he had always been there. No side-glance or double take. The handsome man in the double-breasted suit and overcoat stood next to another man who could be his brother.

Brage knew Volund appeared that way purposefully. If the angel had been speaking to one of his Russian or Turkish brothers, Volund’s appearance would have reflected their appearance, just as his blond hair and vivid green eyes reflected Brage in that moment. It appealed to the human side of the Grigori. Their vanity. The younger and more foolish soldiers believed this resemblance indicated some particular favor when they saw it. Brage had thought so himself when he was young.

“Do you have the knife?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I want you to keep it.”

Brage worked to conceal his surprise, but it was useless. Volund knew him intimately. Like any of his blood, the angel could read his children. Read their moods, feel their fears, find them if they tried to hide. There were no secrets between the Fallen and their offspring. There was no place that Brage could hide, and for that reason—and many others—he didn’t even try.

“I assumed you would want it back.”

Volund turned to him, the edge of a sneer twisting his perfect lips. “That was when I thought it had done its job.”

Brage said nothing at the harsh words. He did not know what his father spoke of, but knew Volund would offer no more information than was necessary. It was useless to ask. Brage would be told only enough to complete his task.

He bowed his head and said the words that had kept him alive for three hundred years. “Father, I am yours to command.”

There was a pause as Volund considered him. In the silence, Brage listened to the hum of the humans around him. The cheerful chirp of women and children. Music played in the background. It was a sunny day, even if it was cold. The humans were enjoying the weather.

Brage had no part of their world. He existed in it as a predator. A lion culling the weakest of the herd.

Volund tilted Brage’s head up with one finger. “The female’s Irin mate is alive, Brage.”

Brage dared not contradict the angel, though he wanted to. He’d felt the knife pierce the scribe’s spine. Saw the golden dust rise in the air. He had fallen in the water when the woman had screamed. The woman, he’d been told, was “only a human,” but valuable for some reason. He knew his father lied. The burst of magic when the “human” woman had screamed was unmistakable. She was Irina.

Or something far more frightening.

“I do not know what to tell you, Father. I killed the woman’s mate. I did not lie to you.”

“I know you didn’t.” Volund’s voice was no longer angry. His hand stroked over Brage’s cheek, soothing his child. “She is quite unexpected, isn’t she? I’m trying not to kill you for failing to bring her to me. I know you are the most skilled of my children.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“But you still failed.”

“Forgive me, Father.”

“I want you to find her mate. Find the one they call Malachi. He is of the angel Mikhael’s blood. A warrior by birth and destiny. And he has taken the female as his mate.”

The fiercest Irin scribes were from Mikhael’s line, and Brage knew from experience they were intensely protective of their mates.

“Do you have any information for me?”

Volund’s mouth formed a pout. “Jaron has concealed her from me, but if you find the scribe, you will find the woman.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Kill the scribe… again. Bring the woman to me. Do not fail this time.”

Tears of gratitude slipped down Brage’s cheeks. “I will find her and kill him.”

“Or die trying.”

Brage bowed his head and made the vow. “I will kill the scribe and bring the woman to you, Father, or I will die in the effort.”

Chapter Six

“She wants to know what you can do.”

Ava blinked away from the aching memory of her dream the night before. She looked between her translator, the blond girl whose hair Sari had been braiding the previous afternoon, and her tormentor, the fearsome Irina named Mala whom she’d met the first day.

There couldn’t be two more opposite females on the planet. The girl, who had introduced herself as Brooke and sounded American, had the kind of blond hair that almost looked silver. Her eyes were a clear crystal blue, and she couldn’t have been more than twelve. She was slim and tall for her age, but her face still carried the rounded cheeks of youth. Her figure was just starting to develop, but she still sported lean muscle that marked her as an athlete.

“What do you mean ‘what I can do’? Like… my resume?”

Brooke snorted and looked at Mala, who was running in front of them. Mala’s smooth skin glowed with perspiration, her long legs pumped up the hills and over the meadows as they ran through the countryside. She was dark-skinned and fiercely lovely in a way that made Ava envious. Her skin was the color of rich teak, and her hair was shorn close to her head in a cap that showed off her graceful neck and shoulders. She looked like she could have been featured in a fashion magazine, except for the vicious scar that ran from her jaw, across her neck, and down to her collar. But it was her eyes, twin pools of black fire, that made Ava want to photograph her.

Ava couldn’t help but feel thin and drawn between the two females who were pulsing with life. One young and delicate, the other vibrating with old power, they were opposite in every way the world might see. Yet something intangible bound them together. Brooke had been sent with Ava and Mala as a translator since Ava wasn’t fluent in signing.

“Not like your resume,” Brooke said.

Mala didn’t even stop, just raised her hand over her shoulder and flipped through signs so fast that Ava could scarcely pick them up. Brooke didn’t seem to have a problem, though.

“She wants to know what sports you played in school. If you’ve taken any martial arts. Things like that.”

“Uh…” Ava tried not to gasp as they jogged. She’d thought she was in shape. She was wrong. “I didn’t really… play sports in… school.”

More signs tossed into the air from Mala.

“She says you’re in good shape for someone who doesn’t play sports.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Brook laughed. “You’ll get used to it. You’re keeping up and she’s not going easy on us. Mala’s the hardest trainer here.”

“I hike a lot with my job,” Ava said. “Go to remote places like this. And usually I’m carrying a lot of equipment. So it’s probably from that.”

“High altitudes?”

The question had come from Brooke, not Mala, which caused Ava to blink and look over at the girl. “What?”

“Did you hike a lot at high altitudes? That probably helps. Even though there are mountains here, we’re actually not that high up, so the air is thicker.”

“Oh… okay.”

“What places did you go?” The girl’s eyes were alive with curiosity.

Ava managed a weak smile. “Almost everywhere. I’ve been to every continent on earth.”

“Even Antarctica?”

“Yep, even Antarctica.”

That drew a surprised look from Mala, who turned briefly with curious eyes.

Ava continued. “I’d been through most of Europe by the time I was sixteen. School trips. My mom took me places, too. Then, when I got to college, I traveled in South America for a few semesters. I minored in Spanish, so…” She paused to catch her breath. “I took some pictures in Venezuela one summer and my mom showed a friend of hers. She was an editor at a travel magazine, and… she asked to see more.”

“That’s so cool,” Brooke said, her own breath coming harder the longer they jogged. “So you started working for a magazine?”