The Silent(44)

“Don’t,” she said. “It’s beautiful here. I’m just being cross.”

“It’s fine.” Sura was predictably pleasant. “You’re hot and you’ve had a headache for two days. I should have given you a dark room and music, not tried to show you the sights.”

They rode in silence back to the hotel where they’d taken rooms. There were far more tourists in Bagan than anywhere they’d been in Myanmar. Kyra was still getting used to seeing European faces again. It was one of the reasons, Sura explained, that Arindam had such a big compound near Old Bagan. Not only did the nearness of Western tourists give his sons good cover, but the hotels and tourist industry attracted young women from surrounding villages who came to work at the many hotels and restaurants near the temple complex. They came. They disappeared just as easily. There were always more young women from villages who needed work. Who was going to look for one who’d run off, even if her family came looking?

It was a typical pattern in the Grigori world. Kyra had been sheltered by her brothers, but no kareshta could hide from the truth unless they completely gave in to the madness. Wealthy tourists equaled Grigori presence because the poor would always come to work and serve where there was money to be spent. It wasn’t the tourists who usually suffered; it was the most vulnerable who lived on the edges.

Despite the growing shadows of Grigori presence, Kyra was grateful for one thing about the busier tourist site. Very few people looked at her, other than those who were drawn to her angelic blood and typically sent her admiring glances. And more than half of those looks were diverted when Leo was with her. Some because they were more drawn to his golden beauty than her darker features. Some because Leo was more than a little intimidating.

It had shocked her to see the reaction when they arrived at the hotel and he was mingling with other guests. To her, Leo had always been the most gentle of men. She was surprised to realize human men were frightened of him. Women, of course, were drawn to him.

But unlike most Grigori, who were incapable of ignoring female attention, Leo hardly seemed to notice the admiring or wary glances. He moved through the world utterly self-contained, cheerfully curious, and wholly focused on her and her needs.

She’d had to shove him out the door that morning. He knew his touch helped to keep the Fallen’s voice at bay.

“Let’s have lunch,” Sura said. “Leo will be cross with me if I don’t feed you.”

“Can we eat in our suite?”

“Of course.” Sura hopped out of the carriage, which had taken them to the steps of their hotel. “Why don’t you go to the room, and I’ll order something light for us to share?”

“Thank you.” She put up an umbrella and hated the fragility of her steps. Without Leo, everything in her body felt hypersensitive. Even her skin felt like it was picking up sound from the humans around her. The background noise grew louder the longer she stayed. She could hear the angel most of all, but she also was picking up disturbing thoughts from Prija. She’d homed in on the woman the moment they drew near the temples.

What she’d heard wasn’t promising.



She was hiding in darkness when Leo returned. Without waiting a beat, he slid his shoes off at the door, unhooked his knife holsters, and joined her on the bed, sliding a hand under the loose shirt she wore and pressing one palm to the small of her back while the other slid to cradle her head.

Kyra took a deep breath and let the silence envelope her.

“Better?” he said.

She nodded.

“How bad today?”

“It’s the same. It hasn’t changed since we arrived in the city.”

“He’s in the compound. We got visual confirmation today.”

“How did you escape his notice?”

“I kept back with Rith. Alyah and Niran are the ones who saw him.”

Though Irina had long ago developed magic to hide themselves from the Fallen, Irin still had a difficult time evading detection. Niran, a Grigori, and Alyah had the best chance of remaining under Arindam’s radar and escaping detection.

“How many sons?” Kyra asked.

“I’d estimate nearly fifty in the compound, though only two-thirds are what I’d consider fighting age.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” A Fallen would send little children to fight if it suited his purposes. Children were disposable to them. They could always breed more. “Women?” Kyra asked.

“A dozen or so. Around half of them pregnant, according to Alyah.”

“Children?”

“Kyra, why are you doing this?”

“I want to help.”

Leo fell silent. It had been an ongoing argument from the time they’d descended the hills and Kyra had begun to hear the Fallen.

“I can help,” she said. “I want to, and I promised the girls back in Chiang Mai I’d get Prija back.”

“We have her brothers with us.”

“They don’t know,” Kyra hissed. “Have they heard her mind? No. They have no idea what they’re dealing with.”

Prija had retreated so far into her mind that even Kyra was having trouble hearing her. She’d surrendered to the darkness around her. Every day, the wall grew a little harder. A little more dense.

Part of Kyra was grateful. Despite Prija’s fractured psyche, her ability to block meant she could protect herself. Part of Kyra was worried. Too long in the darkness wasn’t a good indicator of Prija’s mental health. It would only take a certain amount of pressure from Arindam to crack her open if he wanted to. If the darkness Prija had gathered around her cracked open, Kyra didn’t know what would happen. She could lash out at the Fallen. She could lash out at her brothers.

Kyra had seen both things happen.

“What is that?” Leo pointed to the corner.

Kyra had taken the cloth Intira had woven and draped it along the sofa in the sitting area. “Intira made it.”

Leo stared at the weaving. “Is that a traditional Thai pattern?”

“I don’t know. She gave it to me to give to Prija. Told me that Prija would know what it is. I was hoping it would give me some kind of insight into what she’s feeling or how her mind works, but so far…” Kyra turned toward him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it looks like Hurrian,” he murmured. “But there’s no way a child in rural Thailand would have seen anything like that.”

“What’s Hurrian?”

“It’s the earliest known human musical notation,” Leo said. “There are rumors that some very early scribes tried to record Irina song in a similar way, but scholars believe they’re wholly human. Nothing supernatural about it.”

“Strange. Why would Intira weave something like that?”

“She wouldn’t.” Leo sat up, sliding his hand into Kyra’s to maintain contact. “Unless…"

“Do you think Vasu—”

“Maybe.” Leo raised an eyebrow. “Her mind is brilliant.”

“He’d be drawn to her,” Kyra said.

Do you see it yet?

Kyra blinked. “Vasu visited me.”

“I know,” Leo said. “He kissed you too.”

“What?” She shook her head. “Don’t distract me. There was something about seeing the music. I bet he did show Intira something. Did you ever visit her cottage?”

Leo shook his head. “I wouldn’t.”

“She had… numbers. Equations? I don’t know much about math, but can music be written with numbers? Is that possible?”

Leo frowned. “Music is pitch. Frequency. Tempo and rhythm. Harmonies are all based on mathematical ratios. I wouldn’t know how to write it, but if you assigned numbers to certain notes, I imagine it would be possible.”

“Intira’s room was covered in equations. Maybe it’s something she invented for herself. Maybe it’s something Vasu showed her. Or a combination of the two. But is it possible that Intira is hearing something and Vasu showed her a way of writing it down?”

“What would she be hearing?” Leo said.

“I don’t know.” Kyra looked at Leo’s hand holding her own.

Do you see it yet?

Kyra whispered, “Let my hand go.”

“The noise—”

“It’s not noise.” She dropped his hand, put her fingers to her temples, and closed her eyes. “Vasu told me.” She closed her eyes, and instead of focusing on her walls, Kyra threw her mind open. She ignored the ambient voices and focused on the low, humming background frequency. The “scratch” in her mind.

She focused on it and really listened.

The low, grinding notes moved slowly, but they pulsed with an aching, slow rhythm punctuated by screeching higher tones.

“It’s not noise,” she said again. “It’s music.”

It wasn’t beautiful music. It was more akin to wind or waves than anything else. But there were notes. There were rhythms. Was this what Intira was seeing in her mind? Why would she want to show it to Prija?

Kyra kept her eyes closed and reached her hand out. Leo immediately took it, and the creaking sound ceased. “I think the Fallen have their own music,” she said. “I think they… resonate somehow, and I think Intira has seen it. That’s what she was weaving.” Kyra looked at the blanket woven with mottled stars. “She was weaving the music of the Fallen.”