Page 1 of The Silent
Prologue
The Black SeaCoast
Bulgaria
Kyra satcross-legged in front of the fire, breathing in the incense and focusing on the door in her mind. It was a small door, growing smaller every day. Behind it lay the soul voices ofhumanity.
Her gift. Hertorment.
The voices had once battered her mind, rendering her incapable of normal humaninteraction.
Emetsamtarrea.
Ya emetsamtarrea.
Emetsamtarreame.
The whispers grewquiet.
Emetsamtarrea.
Kyra reached out in her mind and closed the door, imagined pressing her palm against it and holding it until the pressure in her mind eased. Then she took a deep breath and released it slowly, grateful for the silence thatfollowed.
Kareshta. The silent ones. Daughters of Fallen angels and human women. They were her sisters, her friends, and herburden.
Kyra breathed in and out, tasting the damp sea air on her tongue along with the spice of the incense and the scent of orange blossoms coming from the orchard outside the farmhouse above the sea. Her eyes were closed as she focused on keeping her breath steady and her body still. She wore the loose sundress she always wore to meditate and prayed the beam of morning light she felt across her back wasn’t burning her pale skin. Her thick hair was piled on top of her head, and dark tendrils brushed across her neck, moved by the warm breeze rolling down thehills.
She, her brother, and their charges lived a nomadic existence. This retreat was in the mountains near the Bulgarian coast. It was isolated and remote. The neighbors either had no curiosity or her brothers had dissuaded them from inquiring, but no strangers had ever come tovisit.
In the months and years that had followed the Battle of Vienna—the great struggle among the Fallen where her father had finally sacrificed his life—many of Kyra’s sisters had sat with her, practicing the mental discipline that would allow them to mingle among humans. One by one, theyhadleft.
Thekareshtawho had longed for the world had learned the necessary spells and fled. Some to Irin scribe houses in the major cities, eager to find among the sons of the Forgiven mates who could protect them in their strange new reality. Others took human lovers or struck out on their own, longing for a taste of the life that had been so long denied them by the angels who had sired them or the Grigori brothers who hadguardedthem.
And then Kyra wasalone.
Some of thekareshtawho remained had tried to learn from her, but most were unmotivated. They didn’t desire community with humans, felt too exposed by silencing their minds, or had psyches too damaged to practice magic. Many were old, far too old to learn new magic, they said. They only wanted peace in their finalyears.
Then there were the children. The children were the most damagedofall.
While her brother, Kostas, remained in the city hunting minor angels and Grigori who threatened the human population, Kyra resided in the mountains outside Burgas with her half brother Sirius, caring for the weakest and oldest of theirfamily.
She heard raised voices coming from outside her cottage. Sirius and Kostas were fightingagain.
“Then you tell her!” Sirius shouted. “Youtell her she’s to remain here, locked away from the world while hersisters—”
“Her sisters are notmysister. Notmytwin. You know why she needs to remain close to me. I have to findaway—”
“She deserves her own life, Kostas. She deserves far more than we can give her, but while she still has time…” Sirius’s voice trailed off as Kostas dragged him back inside. She heard adoorslam.
And thensilence.
While she stillhastime…
Kyra closed her eyes, and her lips tingled at the memory of a dark corridor and a tall scribe’s stubble against her mouth. His scent was in her nose, and her fingers clutched his shirt. His arms were strong around her, holding her as she pressed her ear to the wall of his chest, searching for the sound of his heartbeat. She’d been afraid,soafraidforhim.
“Come away with me. Or stay here. Just don’t leave again. Give this achance,Kyra.”
“Ican’t.”
