The Silent(3)

“Do you want to know my name?” the cat asked.

“We can play.”

“Yes, I’ve seen your play.” The cat hissed words that Matti had never heard before. Special words like Mama and Baba warned her about. At his words, the shoes in the closet began to tap their toes, dancing in the low light from her parents’ bedroom.

Matti clapped for the dancing shoes. This was a fun game! It was much better than making the flowers dance when she sang their colors. She imagined making all the shoes in the house dance. Her mama’s and her baba’s. All her uncles’ big boots. She could make them dance down the stairs and into the street. Or up onto the roof where Baba grew his vegetables!

Matti opened her mouth to say the cat’s words but felt Baba’s magic holding her back. She growled in frustration.

“Soon, small singer,” the cat said. “You are still growing into your power. One day I think you will make all of them dance.”

Matti played with her toes and watched the cat that was not a cat. “I like to sing.”

“I know you do. And I think I should like to hear your song,” Vasu said. “One day.”





Chapter One





Chiang Mai, Thailand



Kyra stepped off the airplane, the loaded carry-on bag heavy on her shoulder. Sirius had told her what to expect, but she’d been wary to leave Europe without bringing most of her belongings. She didn’t own much, but what she’d kept over the years was precious to her. A lock of her mother’s hair and a book she’d found in her meager belongings. A picture of her and Kostas. Another picture Ava had sent her from Istanbul with all the scribes and singers there. A locket. None of these were things she was willing to risk to the vagaries of checked baggage.

It was her first time out of Europe. Her first time on a long international flight.

Her first time traveling alone. Anywhere.

She’d already muddled through the visa lines in Bangkok where her flight from Istanbul had landed. Now she headed toward the baggage claim and hoped her bag would show up. And her ride. And someone who spoke English, Bulgarian, Serbian, Turkish, or French.

Kyra wasn’t used to being alone. From the time she’d been born, her brother had been with her. Now Kostas thought she was visiting Istanbul where she was familiar with the streets and the language and the customs. Sirius hadn’t told their brother he was driving Kyra to the airport.

She put her hand in the pocket of her loose pants and touched the phone Sirius had given her. It was prepaid and loaded with the names and numbers of his contacts for the small city in Northern Thailand.

Kostas would be furious.

Kyra took a slow breath and tried not to panic. She was a grown woman, far older than even the oldest humans on her flight. She was powerful and trained in self-defense against both human and supernatural opponents. She was well versed in Thai history after the crash course she’d taken in the previous two weeks, and well shielded thanks to multiple meditation sessions and a last-minute call to Ava for advice.

She was terrified.

Catching sight of her bag, Kyra nearly ran over an elderly man in her rush to grab it.

“Khor toht krab,” she said awkwardly. “Sorry. So sorry.” She was relieved when the old man smiled and patted her arm. After grabbing her bag, she pulled away from the crowd and leaned against a wall a small distance from the rush of people leaving the airport. She took a deep breath and bolstered her shields. She closed her eyes and pressed a mental hand to the door in her mind, feeling the burgeoning pressure of so many people and so many voices. They had been muffled and silent on the plane with many humans sleeping, but in the airport, where worries and anticipation filled their minds, the voices shouted, tumbling over each other in a rush that would quickly overwhelm her unless she took a moment to steel herself.

Calm.

Breathe.

Emetsam tarrea.

The door stayed closed, but the pressure remained.

She needed to get out of the airport. She glanced around, hoping no one had noticed the odd European woman and double-checked that she had her bags before she walked with purpose toward the exit.

If you don’t know where you’re going, just act like you do. Ava’s advice came back to her. If all else fails and you get lost, stand out of the way and look at your phone until you figure things out. Cell phones are the best for pretending that you’re busy and important.

She walked out of the airport and into the surprisingly crisp air of the city. Chiang Mai was in the mountains. In the early evening, the air was cool and dry, though she could hear the hum of mosquitoes as she stood under the artificial lights of the walkway.

Kyra pulled out her phone to see if she’d received any messages. She texted Sirius that she’d landed just as another message came through.

Your picture doesn’t do you justice.

She looked up, her eyes scanning the crowd, but no one was staring at her.

Walk to the right and look for a silver Toyota pickup truck.

Who are you? she typed back. Something about his initial flattery rubbed her the wrong way.

I’m the man your brother sent to pick you up. Why else would I have your phone number?

She couldn’t find any fault in his logic, but she was grateful Sirius chose that moment to text back.

Glad you landed safely, her brother typed. Did Niran find you?

Did you send him my picture?

Sirius typed, A bad one, but yes.

Kyra smiled. I think he just texted me. He’s here at the airport.

I’ve only met him once, but I trust him. I know you’ll be cautious. If there are any problems, call me. We have other resources in Chiang Mai.

Kyra was unsure what that meant, but she didn’t want to keep her host waiting longer.

I’ll walk toward you, she texted to her first contact. Who is this?

“My name is Niran,” a voice said.

Kyra looked up. The Grigori was like all of her race. Perfectly symmetrical and pleasing features with an unmistakable aura of power. He was taller than she’d expected—just slightly taller than she was—but angelic blood usually produced larger-than-average offspring. His eyes were golden brown and his skin a warm bronze.

He was beautiful.

“I’m Kyra.”

The Grigori offered her a polite nod, his hands held in front of his chest. “And I am Niran. Welcome to Chiang Mai.”



“You’re staring,” Niran said, glancing at Kyra from the corner of his eye. “Don’t they have Asian people where you’re from?”

“I’m not from anywhere,” Kyra said, averting her gaze. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Istanbul. There are many Chinese tourists there.”

“This isn’t China.”

“I know that.” Kyra forced herself to restrain the temper that wanted to break through. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Niran sounded amused.

They had driven out of the city quickly. Large buildings gave way to smaller ones. Neat hotels and shops grew farther and farther apart as they drove away from the bustle and traffic of Chiang Mai and into the countryside. The press of voices had eased as they sped away, and Niran’s own soul voice was unusually pleasant and calm when she cracked open the door in her mind.

“Is this your first time in Asia?”

“Technically, Istanbul bridges Europe and Asia. So this is not my first visit to Asia.” She glanced at Niran, who looked skeptical. “This is my first visit to Eastern Asia,” she admitted.

“Thailand is a very welcoming country for most visitors.”

“Most?”

Niran shrugged. “My mother was Burmese. It’s a complicated history.”

“I understand.” If there was anything Kyra did understand, it was complicated history.

She picked at the seam of her jeans. She was already chafing at the constricting travel clothes. From the look of the tourists she saw in the city, she would be able to wear her dresses and skirts without attracting undue attention. That was good. She’d never liked the feeling of trousers, but she wore them to fit in with modern human women.

“I met Sirius fifteen years ago,” Niran said. “We’ve only spoken over the telephone since then. He is well?”

“He is.” Kyra smiled. “He is as he has always been.”

“An honorable man and a formidable warrior then.”

“Yes.”

“He seemed quite certain that you would be able to help us.”

Kyra opened her mouth but paused. “Tell me what it is you need help with. Sirius told me of your agreement, but I would like to hear it from you.”

“Understandable.” Niran turned off the main road and into a stand of trees. “The road is rougher from here to the monastery. I hope motion sickness isn’t a problem.”

“Not usually.” They went over a pothole that caused Kyra’s jaw to snap shut. “But we’ll see.”

They drove farther into the forest before Niran spoke again. “The deal is this: if you can help our sisters to protect their minds, we will help your brothers control their magic.”

Kyra looked at the dark markings that peeked from Niran’s collar. “You tattoo yourself like the Irin?”

“Not like the Irin,” he said. “We learned this discipline from humans. But we think it may accomplish something similar to Irin tattooing.”

“And it works?”