“I think about you too,” she said. “Some would say I’m obsessed.”
“And you take pictures of me when I sleep. I hear the clicking in my dreams. It’s borderline stalker behavior, really.”
“It’s settled then. We’re both certifiable.” She smiled and closed her eyes, sliding down in her seat and tilting her face toward the sun as it shone through the window. The weather was cool, but it was still sunny.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
“So handsome.”
“Hmm.” He nudged her hip with his foot when she laughed. “You just like my tattoos.”
He’d seen a few humans on the train eyeing his arms when they sat down. He’d shoved up his sleeves because the compartment was warm, and his talesm were visible. It was a relief, living in a time when body modification was not as unusual as it had once been. Humans did all sorts of things to mark themselves now, so the intricate lettering on his arms was noticed but rarely remarked upon.
“Only yours,” Ava said. “I was never a tattoo girl before I met you.”
“No?”
She shrugged. “I never thought much about them.”
“And you don’t have any yourself.”
“Only the ones you gave me.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “And those aren’t for everyone’s eyes.”
Malachi supposed a more evolved scribe would try to suppress the surge of possessive satisfaction.
He wasn’t that evolved.
Forcing back a smile, he glanced around the compartment. Since no one was paying attention to them, he decided to broach a subject he knew she’d been avoiding.
“Your shields,” he said and felt the immediate tension in her fingers where they lay on his calf.
“Why are we talking about this?”
“Because we need to. I know you’re still shielding yourself from the voices, but—”
“I thought you said that I could go at my own pace.”
“You can. But I need to know what’s happening in your dreams.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
So it wasn’t something she was doing. He hadn’t thought so, but he wanted to be sure.
He glanced around again, then turned his eyes back to her. He’d suspected Ava had protection, but Volund’s words confirmed it.
“During our dreams,” Malachi said. “Do you sense it?”
“What?”
“The layer he’s placed over you.”
“Who? Jaron?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “I’ve sensed… something. But it’s not something I’ve thought about much.”
“He’s shielding you,” Malachi said. “I’m sure of it.”
“From you?”
“No.” From another, darker threat. “He’s an angel. Jaron would probably be able to shove me out of your dreams completely if he wanted to. Or maybe not. I don’t really know. As far as I’ve read, the Fallen do not enter our dreams. I don’t know why Jaron can walk in yours, but I’m fairly sure he’s shielding you.”
He wished she would share what had happened on the rooftop in Oslo. There had been a break in time for him. Looking back, he knew that Ava and Jaron had some exchange, but he didn’t know what had passed between them. As much as Ava shared with him, there were fears she hid. Malachi didn’t even know if Ava realized she was hiding.
“If Jaron is shielding me from something, I don’t know what it is,” she finally admitted. “He’s as confusing to me as he is to everyone.”
I cannot reach her, but I can reach you.
Was he right to conceal Volund’s intentions toward her? Malachi didn’t know, but he didn’t want to bring it up. It was one more problem for which he had no solution to offer.
Malachi shrugged. “The Fallen have never shown any interest in protecting humans as far as I can remember. I have no idea why Jaron is doing it.”
“Not even their human lovers?”
“Humans are disposable to them. All humans.”
“But he protects me.” She frowned. “Maybe there’s more to the angels than what you’ve been taught.”
“I doubt it, Ava.”
“But…” She frowned. “The Fallen and the Forgiven? They’re all angels, right?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s the difference? Why were the Forgiven capable of compassion and not the Fallen?”
“I don’t think you could call the Forgiven compassionate. They were just…”
“What?”
He shook his head. Some lessons were still crystal clear, even if he couldn’t remember when or where he’d learned them. “The Forgiven gave up their place on earth—their offspring, their human lovers—but it was because they were cut off from heaven. They wanted to go back. It was for our sakes, but more for their own.”
“So they were selfish to leave? Not sacrificing?”
“It was both. There had to be an element of sacrifice, because they were allowed to gift their children with magic. The Fallen were not.”
“Don’t the Grigori have magic?”
“Only the natural magic that comes from angelic blood. Which shouldn’t be underestimated. But they don’t know the Old Language as we do. So their magic is limited. It is our main advantage.”