Free The Secret by Elizabeth Hunter Page A

Her eyes felt heavy. “My grandmother. There was something about the way he spoke about her.”
    “If she’s alive, canım , we will find her. I promise.”
    I promise.
    Ava realized as she drifted off to sleep that to Malachi, those words meant something.

I.

    JARON WATCHED FROM ACROSS the crowded street. He had taken the face of an old man and was holding a newspaper and watching the humans pass in front of him as they strolled the ocean promenade with family and friends. The winter wind gusted on the Italian coast, but it did not bother the angel, only flapped the threadbare overcoat that covered his narrow shoulders.
    Another old man came to sit beside him, holding a bag of warm chestnuts.
    “Does she know yet?”
    “She’s intelligent. She’ll find the answers soon enough. And the scribe is keener than I expected.”
    Barak lifted the steaming bag of chestnuts to his nose and inhaled but did not reach for one. “Mikhael’s offspring are often underestimated,” he said. “Seen more for their physical prowess than their strategy. This is a mistake.”
    Jaron nodded. “Mikhael is a great strategist. His prowess rivals Yun’s.”
    “Only when Yun is not working with you.” Barak tugged on the grey beard that covered his face. “I prefer the human eras that favor facial hair.”
    Jaron lifted an eyebrow at his friend. “Do you? I detest them.”
    “You detest every human era anymore.”
    “Why do you think I’m doing all this?”
    The corner of the old man’s mouth lifted behind his beard. “Why, indeed?”
    “Have you heard what your son is doing?”
    “I hear everything.” Barak’s face wore a look of annoyance. “Which one?”
    “You know of whom I speak. Have you traveled to Sofia lately?”
    “No. Kostas is my brightest child in centuries. There is a chance he would sense me if I came close. I have others watching him.”
    “And do you approve of what he is doing, my friend?” Jaron was amused. “He would remake the world here, even as we seek to remake the heavens.”
    Barak watched a clutch of giggling female children pass by. They shouted and shoved each other, bumping into the knees of the two old men and shouting embarrassed apologies before they ran off.
    Both of the Fallen watched them.
    “Balance,” Barak finally said. “In our arrogance, we have forgotten how the universe loves it. No world can exist for so long without balance.”
    “You’re saying change is inevitable.”
    “Is that not what you’re striving for as well?”
    Jaron shrugged and the old coat slipped off one thin shoulder. “My goals are for myself. And my friends, if they desire it.”
    The other angel sat back, lifting the bag of cooling chestnuts again. “I have not yet decided.”
    “Decide soon, brother.”
    “Vasu will go his own way.”
    “I have seen it.”
    “And me? What have you seen for me?”
    “I see nothing, because there is nothing yet to see.”
    “Hmm.” The bearded man stood and reached over the bench, tossing the untouched bag of chestnuts in a bin.
    Jaron caught Barak’s hand, closing the wrinkled palm in his own. “This time, my old friend, we do not have millennia.”
    “I know this.”
    “You must decide soon.”
    “I know this as well.” Barak squeezed Jaron’s hand and blinked out of sight as the humans rushed by with unseeing eyes.
    It was the way of things. Human sight was so very limited.
    Though Barak had shifted away, Jaron’s eyes were trained on the balcony where Ava and her scribe sat, drinking wine and watching the street musician who played below them. The musician was… not good. But Ava seemed to enjoy the performance anyway.
    The scribe’s eyes watched her but more often swept up and down the street, surveying the crowd, watching for threats. Jaron could tell the scribe did not care for his mate being out on the balcony, exposed to possible danger.
    The angel approved of this. Perhaps Ava’s unexpected call to heaven had manifested a boon for him. He