It was quiet.So quiet.
Peaceful.
One minute she was frightened, watching Malachi and Brage slip across the frozen roof as they tried to kill each other. It held none of the terrible grace she remembered from Istanbul. It was dirty and bloody and cold. Then Brage had looked at her. Malachi was only steps away from killing him, and Brage looked at her with a terrible hunger.
Longing.
For a second, his voice smoothed out. The whisper did not rasp. It curled and twisted, seducing her. Softening her. Then—
Quiet.
Quiet like in her dreams. As if the world had been wrapped in cotton wool and the only sound she heard was his voice.
She saw him, holding the Grigori out to her like an offering. And when he spoke, the whisper came to her ear.
“Do you want him?”
There was nothing and no one on the roof except the three of them. The wind was silent. She was warm. Comfortable. She stepped closer.
“Why?”
“He is yours if you want him,” Jaron said, his voice for her ears alone. He held out the black knife as he raised Brage in the air. In his hand, the blade was not a dull black, but a swirling crystalline jewel, glowing with heavenly power.
“Why would I want him?”
The angel frowned. “Don’t you want to kill him?”
Of course she did. She’d imagined it countless times. But somehow, the thought of plunging a knife into the limp Grigori that Jaron held out felt wrong.
“I… I don’t know. Was he going to kill me?”
“No. In his own way, he very much wants to protect you.”
“Then wouldn’t it be wrong?”
Jaron cocked his head. “Does it matter?”
Did it? Ava blinked and tried to remember. In front of her, the glowing knife beckoned. She knew it would be warm in her hand. It would fit perfectly. She could feel it sink into the Grigori’s spine, and a soft voice whispered in her mind.
Yes…
Come with me…
Take what is yours…
She stepped closer. Brage hung limp in Jaron’s grip, like an offering presented to her.
An offering.
To her.
“He would kill your mate,” Jaron said. “He would take you to his father, but he would kill your mate to do it.”
He had killed her mate. In that moment, Ava remembered. The Grigori had killed Malachi. Ripped him from her. Torn Ava’s soul in half. The fury rose up and the black whisper grew louder.
Yes.
Kill it.
This is yours.
Ava looked into Jaron’s eyes, which held a softness she’d never seen before.
“Tell me what you wish, my daughter,” he spoke to her mind. “Tell me, and I will grant it.”
She didn’t know what to do with such a gift. It was too terrible to offer.
Ava was tired. She only wanted Malachi.
Jaron said, “I cannot grant to you what you have already taken.”
“If he would kill my mate,” Ava said, “then let my mate kill him.”
The angel smiled and closed his hand around the black knife. “I offer you a gift and reap an unexpected reward. How very interesting.”
In a blink, he was gone, and Malachi was there, holding Brage by the neck, plunging his silver blade into the Grigori’s spine as the monster screamed.
Then the screaming stopped as Brage’s body dissolved. The wind snatched his dust, whisking it away from Ava and Malachi, sweeping the snow off the roof in a violent flurry until there was nothing under their feet but black ice and cold brick.
The storm stopped, and everything was silent.