“There are scribes there who can watch over them,” Damien said. “The location of our safe houses must not be compromised.”

Sirius stiffened, and Kostas laid a hand on his second’s arm. “Peace. We can work out the details later, and Kyra will be with them.”

“We would never harm innocents,” Orsala said.

“You would be wrong to think them all innocent,” Kostas said. “Not all of our sisters are… well. Some are a danger to themselves and others. Part of Sirius’s job is to watch those who are not wholly sane.”

Sari said, “The children—”

“Some of the children are the worst,” Sirius said quietly.

The silence was tangible as Malachi imagined children driven mad by the voices in their minds and the horrors they might have witnessed at the hands of their own sires.

Orsala asked, “Can they be restrained with magic?”

Sirius and Kostas exchanged a look. “Possibly. We have no magic that can affect them, but we are not Irina.”

Orsala nodded. “I will go with the kareshta,” she said. “That should be sufficient.”

“Grandmother—”

“I’ve decided,” she said. “The elder singers will be arriving within the week. I have nothing to offer in battle they do not have.”

Kostas said, “The singers are returning?”

Sari paused, then said, “Many of them are already here. We’ve been in contact with havens around the globe. Of the seven former elders, three are still living and willing to take office. The other regions have sent representatives. The Irina council will be active within a week.”

“That’s when we should announce it then,” Malachi said. “When the Irina council has taken their place in the Library.”

“Announce what?” Gabriel asked.

“The existence of the kareshta.”

Malachi felt Ava’s hand tighten on his as the room held its collective breath.

“Who are you to make that decision?” Gabriel asked. “A censured scribe from Istanbul who was rumored to be dead. You show up in Vienna with a mate no one has heard of and suggest revelations that could disrupt the foundations of our race. Who are you?”

Malachi leaned forward. “I am the only Irin scribe in history mated to one of the kareshta.”

No one had any response to that, so Malachi continued. “I am a warrior of Mikhael’s line. And I’ve seen the dark edge of power in my mate. I don’t fear it. I claim it. I did die. And I was returned from heaven for a reason. We met”—he reached out and took Ava’s hand—“for a reason. That is who I am, and I will bear witness to it.”

“We both will,” Ava said.

Gabriel sat back, clearly still perturbed by Malachi’s presumption. Malachi didn’t care.

“And you may not agree with me.” He looked around the table. “Any of you. But I think Kostas and Kyra need to be present at the Library when we tell the elders the world as they’ve known it has changed.”

“No,” Kostas said immediately. “I will not consent to allow my sister here when there are unknown threats against her.”

“I agree with Malachi,” Damien said.

“As do I,” Sari concurred. “We can protect your sister.”

Kostas still looked dubious. Malachi could hardly blame him. He was taking a great risk, making allies of those who’d spent their lives trying to kill those of his blood.

Renata said, “I will guard her as well. Practically speaking, the only threat to her would be other Irina, and we can handle them. No scribe would harm a woman in our company, even if she carried the look of a Grigori.”

“But they’d kill me on sight,” Kostas said. “You cannot argue with that. There is no possible way I could go to the Library. My scent would give me away in a second.”

Everyone fell silent, forced to acknowledge the truth of his words until a lone voice at the end of the room spoke.

“I can mask his scent.”

They all turned to see the dark form of an angel, chin propped on his hand as he rested his elbow on the edge of the table.

There were shouts of alarm. Weapons were pulled. Defensive positions taken. Malachi edged in front of his mate, but she sighed and pushed him to the side.

“Vasu,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough. I can mask the scent of Barak’s son.”

“Everyone relax,” Ava said. “I don’t think he’s here to cause trouble. At least not the violent kind.”

Malachi itched to reach across and plunge a silver blade in the nape of the angel’s neck. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would be very, very satisfying.

Vasu looked at him and winked. “Meow.”

Only Ava’s hand on Malachi’s shoulder kept him from lunging at the black-haired angel.

“Explain,” Ava said. “Why would you do it?”

Vasu sat up. “Obviously so I could see the look on their faces when they saw a Grigori in the middle of their precious Library,” he said. “Also because it serves our purposes for our sons to be called into battle at this time. It would be better if they were not killed on sight. My children have already felt my call.” He cocked his head and looked at Kostas. “So have Barak’s, even if they do not recognize it.”

The color drained from Kostas’s handsome face. “No.”