The Silent: Irin Chronicles Book Five(2)

She turned and motioned to the spot on the carpet next to her. “Come. It’ll do you good to meditate a little.”

Sirius rolled his eyes a bit, but he came and sat beside her.

“What are you two shouting about, bata?”

He couldn’t stop the grin. “Should you still be calling me little boy when I’m taller than you?”

“I wiped your nose when you were a baby. I can call you what I want.”

Sirius laughed and kicked his feet out, laying his head in Kyra’s lap as he had when he was a child. Kyra put her head on his forehead and let some of the nervous energy that had built up in her mind release against her brother’s skin. He’d been working in the sun, and his usually fair complexion had turned a pleasing light brown.

Sirius grabbed Kyra’s hand and pressed it to his cheek. “You’re upset.”

“No, just feeling anxious today.”

His forehead wrinkled. “The voices?”

“Not that.” She took a deep breath and imagined herself walking among the orange groves, smelling the heady fragrance of the pale cream blossoms. “I was thinking about a visit to Ava in Istanbul.”

Ava Matheson was a kareshta who had lived as a human for most of her life. She’d had no idea she was the granddaughter of a Fallen archangel; she just thought the voices she heard were the result of mental illness. When she met Malachi, an Irin warrior, she discovered a shadow world where angelic and human blood mingled. Now Ava and Malachi were “mated” in the Irin tradition, and Ava and Kyra spoke frequently by phone or video call.

Kyra suspected a visit to Ava might not be too objectionable as long as “that damn scribe” wasn’t there. Ava understood Kyra better than any other person she’d met. She’d lived with mental chaos and didn’t take silence for granted.

“It’d be good to see Ava,” Kyra said softly. “I haven’t seen… anyone outside our family. Not in months.”

“What if I had an idea other than Istanbul?” Sirius asked quietly, his eyes closed, and Kyra stroked his cheek.

Her touch, and the contact with his sisters, was one of the reasons Sirius was nearly faultless in his interactions with humans. Offspring of the angels all hungered for soul energy. Irin males got it from their Irina, but Grigori who were starved of soul energy turned to taking it from humans since most weren’t raised with sisters. They were slaves to their angelic fathers and would stalk humans like a lion hunting his next meal. Kyra had no illusions about the Grigori. Most were evil. Only a few managed to live an honorable life.

But Sirius had been raised in Kyra’s arms. Never had the boy been hungry for love or affection. Instead of a predator, he’d grown into a protector.

“What kind of idea?” Kyra asked. “You know Kostas won’t let me travel far without him.”

“You could go back to the compound in Sofia.”

Kyra shook her head. Two of her half brothers had found mates among the archangel Jaron’s daughters. Kostas’s men had once protected the women by hiding the kareshta for Jaron, but since the angel’s death, the women were free and happy to find husbands among Kostas’s men. It wasn’t mating like the Irin had, but it was something, and the Grigori couples who found each other were happy.

While Kyra was delighted for her brothers, she felt out of place at the compound in Sofia where they lived. Added to that, seeing his men content with wives seemed to have an adverse effect on Kostas, whose simmering anger bled into Kyra’s mind, sending her anxiety through the roof.

No, Sofia was not an option.

“If you don’t want to visit Sofia”—Sirius sat up and crossed his legs, grabbing Kyra’s hands and holding them between his own—“then I want you to listen to me.”

She could feel his excitement. “I always listen to you, bata.”

“And you have to keep an open mind.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is a theory among some of the free Grigori. Others like us. About how to better control our magic.”

Kyra frowned. “What kind of theory?”

“Have you heard of Yantra tattooing?” Sirius asked. “Sak Yant, to be precise?”



Leo put his hands on his hips and squared off against his opponent. She was small, but Leo knew not to underestimate her.

“No.”

“Yes!”

Two-year-old Matti mirrored Leo’s stance, tiny fists on her hips and her rosy-pink cheeks covered in chocolate. They stared at each other. The tall, blond warrior had faced off against his small rival on many occasions. This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. Ava and Malachi's children were tiny forces to be reckoned with.

His watcher's children were the first in history—that anyone knew of—to carry the mingled blood of Fallen and Forgiven angels. Their powers were unknown and potentially dangerous.

They were also perilously cute.

“You’ve already had two cupcakes. You were only supposed to have one.” Leo lifted the plate from the counter and set it in the bread cupboard. “Your mother will be angry with me if I give you more, Matti.”

“Mad?” she asked.

“Yes, mad. Angry.”

“I’m not mad,” Matti said. “Hungry. Need mo’ cake.”