The Singer
Page 48
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Rhys leaned toward Tas. “Wait, you’ve met an Irina from Sari’s home?”
A secret smile played along his lips. “More of Sari’s Irina around than most scribes know. They avoid Damien’s territory for obvious reasons, but they’re out there.”
Malachi looked to Phillip.
“It’s true,” the watcher admitted. “And these are not the Irina we remember. They’re ruthless. As far back as I can remember, the scribe mandate has been clear: Protect the humans. Kill the Grigori when they attack, but keep away if they’re not interfering, so as not to provoke the Fallen.” He nodded to Malachi. “I believe you and I had words over that policy more than once. But the fact is, unless they’re attacking humans, scribes leave Grigori alone.”
Tas said, “But that’s not the Irina mandate. I doubt they even have one. If they do, it’s much more brutal than ours. We found a Grigori house here in Budapest five years ago with not a soul in it.”
Leo asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean the beds were slept in. The lights were on. But there was nothing but dust in the air.”
“All dead?” Malachi asked. “And you’re positive it wasn’t a scribe?”
Tas gave another one of his infuriating shrugs. “It might have been a rogue scribe who defied protocol… Or it might have been the long-legged beauty with the Italian name I met the next night, drinking alone and looking mad at the world.” He grinned. “She wasn’t mad all night.”
Leo spoke in a low voice. “What was her name?”
Tas’s eyes rested on Leo, measuring him, as he lit another cigarette, inhaled, and let out a long stream of smoke. “Renata. Her name was Renata. And she was one of Sari’s Irina. That’s all I know.”
Rhys said, “But you said she would have told you… if she could.”
“Well, that’s what she said. She might have been trying to let me down easy when she left the next morning.” He glanced at Malachi. “Women, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say.”
“Or are you one of those scribes who think your mate descended from heaven itself?”
Malachi’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a scribe who doesn’t presume to make judgments based on limited experience.” Then he smirked. “Even though my mate is a glimpse of heaven.”
Tas muttered something in Hungarian as Phillip’s hand clapped down on Malachi’s shoulder. “This is interesting! So, we have a scribe raised from the dead by his mate—which as far as I know, hasn’t happened before—and an Irina who seems to have come out of nowhere and has now disappeared into nowhere, though I imagine she’s very safe with Damien. We have Grigori who are now being hunted on two fronts—Irin and Irina—and that might account for the escalation we’re seeing here and other places—”
“What escalation?” Rhys broke in, but Phillip only raised a hand and continued.
“And we still have an elder council in Vienna who believes that nothing is wrong except the health of their pocketbooks!”
“They know something is going on,” Tas said. “Why do you think some of the Irina have returned?”
“What?” Leo said. “What do you mean? They’re back?”
“In the city, yes. Only a few,” Phillip said. “Mostly mates of prominent council members or businessmen. It’s all very…”
“Calculated,” Tas finished. “And very quiet. They’re not seen much. Only when their mates need them to be seen. The idiots in the city are planning something.”
“What could the Irin council be planning about the Irina?” Leo asked. “And what about this escalation?”
Phillip stood and walked to the counter, refilling his coffee before he turned. “It’s not in Vienna, of course. That city is still a bubble of peace. But here, it’s bad. I was speaking with Yakov in Odessa just last week. He’s feeling pressure from the Russian territories. And Poland. Slovakia.”
“That’s not good,” Rhys said.
“No, but the bigger surprise is the West. England and Scandinavia are still relatively quiet, but there’s more activity in France and the Netherlands than there has been since the Rending. Some in Germany.”
Malachi said, “But not Vienna?”
“There’s a reason that Irin society is based in Vienna, Malachi. It’s in the very heart of Europe. Surrounded by scribe houses and strongholds in the East and the West. There have always been Grigori in Europe, but not nearly as many as other parts of the world.”
“So it’s protected?”
“It has been. That’s part of the reason the Irin living there are so complacent. They don’t see Grigori attacks every week. If they see one a year, it’s shocking.”
“That makes sense,” he said.
Tas asked, “Is it true Jaron is no longer controlling the Grigori in Istanbul? Not that there’s anything like a good Fallen, but he wasn’t as bad as Volund. And he didn’t breed Grigori like rabbits.”
Leo shook his head. “We don’t know what Jaron is doing. We’re fairly sure the attack that killed Malachi was from Volund’s people, not Jaron’s.”
Phillip mused, “If Volund is making a concentrated push to expand his territory, he’d go for the outlying territories first. Turkey doesn’t fit with that.”
A secret smile played along his lips. “More of Sari’s Irina around than most scribes know. They avoid Damien’s territory for obvious reasons, but they’re out there.”
Malachi looked to Phillip.
“It’s true,” the watcher admitted. “And these are not the Irina we remember. They’re ruthless. As far back as I can remember, the scribe mandate has been clear: Protect the humans. Kill the Grigori when they attack, but keep away if they’re not interfering, so as not to provoke the Fallen.” He nodded to Malachi. “I believe you and I had words over that policy more than once. But the fact is, unless they’re attacking humans, scribes leave Grigori alone.”
Tas said, “But that’s not the Irina mandate. I doubt they even have one. If they do, it’s much more brutal than ours. We found a Grigori house here in Budapest five years ago with not a soul in it.”
Leo asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean the beds were slept in. The lights were on. But there was nothing but dust in the air.”
“All dead?” Malachi asked. “And you’re positive it wasn’t a scribe?”
Tas gave another one of his infuriating shrugs. “It might have been a rogue scribe who defied protocol… Or it might have been the long-legged beauty with the Italian name I met the next night, drinking alone and looking mad at the world.” He grinned. “She wasn’t mad all night.”
Leo spoke in a low voice. “What was her name?”
Tas’s eyes rested on Leo, measuring him, as he lit another cigarette, inhaled, and let out a long stream of smoke. “Renata. Her name was Renata. And she was one of Sari’s Irina. That’s all I know.”
Rhys said, “But you said she would have told you… if she could.”
“Well, that’s what she said. She might have been trying to let me down easy when she left the next morning.” He glanced at Malachi. “Women, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say.”
“Or are you one of those scribes who think your mate descended from heaven itself?”
Malachi’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a scribe who doesn’t presume to make judgments based on limited experience.” Then he smirked. “Even though my mate is a glimpse of heaven.”
Tas muttered something in Hungarian as Phillip’s hand clapped down on Malachi’s shoulder. “This is interesting! So, we have a scribe raised from the dead by his mate—which as far as I know, hasn’t happened before—and an Irina who seems to have come out of nowhere and has now disappeared into nowhere, though I imagine she’s very safe with Damien. We have Grigori who are now being hunted on two fronts—Irin and Irina—and that might account for the escalation we’re seeing here and other places—”
“What escalation?” Rhys broke in, but Phillip only raised a hand and continued.
“And we still have an elder council in Vienna who believes that nothing is wrong except the health of their pocketbooks!”
“They know something is going on,” Tas said. “Why do you think some of the Irina have returned?”
“What?” Leo said. “What do you mean? They’re back?”
“In the city, yes. Only a few,” Phillip said. “Mostly mates of prominent council members or businessmen. It’s all very…”
“Calculated,” Tas finished. “And very quiet. They’re not seen much. Only when their mates need them to be seen. The idiots in the city are planning something.”
“What could the Irin council be planning about the Irina?” Leo asked. “And what about this escalation?”
Phillip stood and walked to the counter, refilling his coffee before he turned. “It’s not in Vienna, of course. That city is still a bubble of peace. But here, it’s bad. I was speaking with Yakov in Odessa just last week. He’s feeling pressure from the Russian territories. And Poland. Slovakia.”
“That’s not good,” Rhys said.
“No, but the bigger surprise is the West. England and Scandinavia are still relatively quiet, but there’s more activity in France and the Netherlands than there has been since the Rending. Some in Germany.”
Malachi said, “But not Vienna?”
“There’s a reason that Irin society is based in Vienna, Malachi. It’s in the very heart of Europe. Surrounded by scribe houses and strongholds in the East and the West. There have always been Grigori in Europe, but not nearly as many as other parts of the world.”
“So it’s protected?”
“It has been. That’s part of the reason the Irin living there are so complacent. They don’t see Grigori attacks every week. If they see one a year, it’s shocking.”
“That makes sense,” he said.
Tas asked, “Is it true Jaron is no longer controlling the Grigori in Istanbul? Not that there’s anything like a good Fallen, but he wasn’t as bad as Volund. And he didn’t breed Grigori like rabbits.”
Leo shook his head. “We don’t know what Jaron is doing. We’re fairly sure the attack that killed Malachi was from Volund’s people, not Jaron’s.”
Phillip mused, “If Volund is making a concentrated push to expand his territory, he’d go for the outlying territories first. Turkey doesn’t fit with that.”
