The Scribe

Chapter Twelve

Four days later, Ava was still thinking about Rhys’s words.

We will find a way to let you unlock your power, Ava. I promise.

Power. They told her the manic energy that had stalked her wasn’t illness or mania, it was power. For someone who had spent her life skirting around the edges of insanity, it was hard to fathom.

Excitable.

Emotional.

High-strung.

Hyperactive.

Troubled…

The descriptions from friends and doctors had slowly devolved as she’d gotten older. They’d gone from amusement to awkwardness. And though her mother had always cushioned the blow, Ava had known from the time she was a child that there was something different about her. Something that wasn’t good. Something that made her “too much” to deal with. Carl had only confirmed it when she’d reached her teens. His constant stream of classes and camps and internships may have given her a résumé most twenty-somethings would kill for, but Ava knew it had little to do with concern. She was a problem, one he preferred to farm out.

“Evren?” She turned to the old scribe sitting across the table from her.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Would you say that I’m… normal? For an Irina?”

Evren gave her a slow smile. “But what is normal? For any man or woman?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.” He put down the pencil he’d been taking notes with and folded his hand. “You are who you were meant to be, Ava. I see nothing damaged or wrong with you. How you came to be who you are?” Evren lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Who can say? In Irin history, there is no incidence of any Irina being born in a human family. But you are here now. You are among your people. You are a wonder to us, not an oddity.”

“My whole life, I’ve never fit in.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he said. “I’m sure in the human world, you would stand out. Here? You are normal. You remind me very much of a girl I grew up with. She was so curious.” A dimple touched Evren’s cheek. “She was the favorite of our teachers in the village.”

Ava was quiet for a long time, staring at the high, glowing windows of the library. When she finally spoke, she spoke softly.

“I thought I was crazy for a long time. My whole life, really. It’s hard to leave that behind, even with all of you telling me that I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She shook her head. “I know it should be a relief. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe it. A part that thinks I’m locked in a room somewhere because my delusions have finally taken over. The voices have finally won, and this is all a kind of dream that my mind is using to cope.”

Evren opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he said, “I think…”

Pain bloomed in her knee when he kicked it under the table. Ava’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Ow! What the heck, Evren?”

He shrugged again. “That wouldn’t hurt in a dream, so you’re not dreaming.”

She was speechless.

“What?” he asked. “You want me to come up with some deep, philosophical answer? You’re not crazy. You’re part of a race that is descended from the offspring of angels and human women. Is this so hard to believe? Look at your legends and myths. There are bits of truth all over. Pieces of the story that have been told for thousands of years. Wise women. Oracles. Heroes of ancient times. We’ve always been here. You just thought the stories were nothing more than stories. So your doctors hear you tell them about whispers, and they call you crazy. A thousand years ago, they might have called you a witch or an oracle.” Evren curled his lip in disgust and turned back to his books. “Modern humans learn much, but they forget even more.”

“Okay,” she said. “Got it. Not crazy.”

“It’s insulting for you to say it.”

“Cut me a little slack, will you?”

“You cripple yourself and your own power when you say this, Ava.”

“I get it.” She tried to turn back to her books, but then she looked up again. “So, these powers…”

“Yes?”

“How… I mean, what do I…” She frowned, unsure of what the right question was.

“What powers do you have?”

“I guess so.”

Evren said, “It varies. All Irina have the capacity to speak and perform magic. Other gifts are rarer. A very few have the gift of foresight, which is directly from our angelic forefathers. Our magic expresses itself in similar ways. Some Irina spells are exactly like our own. For health and strength. Longevity. Physical or emotional strength for our mates. Others are uniquely Irina. We have no capacity for their magic.”

“Like what?”

“Healing of humans. Creative spells. Much to do with the natural world that helps the plants grow or brings health to a baby in the womb. Bearing children—”

“My mom says there’s nothing magical about that experience, Evren.”

He chuckled. “But of course there is! Though it is not without pain. Irina have a unique talent for anything creative. Wonderful architects and artists. But their greatest magic is listening.”

“Like the voices.”

“It is not only the voices in their minds.” Evren pinned her down with his stare. “There are seers, yes, but also those who hear what is unsaid. They listen and they understand. As we Irin are able to discern the tiniest marking on parchment, a gifted Irina hears what is said and also what is unsaid. They discern where others do not.”

“Well… that makes sense.”

Ava wondered if that was one of her gifts. After all, she’d always had a pretty good bullshit detector, because the inner voice, that no one else heard, couldn’t lie. Sure, someone could say one thing, but the tone of their silent voice gave their true motive away. It was probably why she’d always had so few friends. It was also why she was still so confused about Malachi.

He had been quietly present ever since the night at the restaurant. She got the distinct feeling he was biding his time. For what? She had no idea. But the tone of his thoughts had taken on a decidedly heated air, even though she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

And she could always hear him. Even when others were around, his voice shone through. With a little guidance from Evren, she’d begun to master control over the voices. Even casual contact with the scribes around her helped. Evren made it a point to pat her hand as they worked, and even the shyest scribe in the house, when he met her, greeted her with a warm handshake that enveloped her palm. They were quietly affectionate, all of them treating her like a treasured sister or daughter. Everyone except Rhys and Malachi.

With Rhys, it was a teasing grin, or a tug on her hair. A casual arm thrown around her shoulders as they walked to the village. A flirtatious nudge as they sat next to each other on the couch.

With Malachi, a pass in the hallway meant a shiver-inducing brush along her arm. He continued to taunt her fingers, letting his own linger when he handed her a book or sat next to her at the table. He didn’t flirt with her. Didn’t even speak to her much when others were around. But Malachi was always there. She could feel his eyes. She could sense his heat. Could feel his irritation every time Rhys came close.

The pressure was building, and Ava had no idea when things might boil over.

The phone felt heavy in her hand. It rang and rang with no friendly secretary picking up. Finally, she heard the message for Dr. Sadik’s office, but hung up. He’d given her his mobile number, so she used it. She had to tell the man something. She’d have missed two appointments by now. She hoped he hadn’t worried. She’d already called her mother, and that had been bad enough. Dr. Sadik’s mobile rang only twice before he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Sadik?”

“Ava! How are you? I’ve been wondering what happened. I hope you are well. You’ve missed your appointments for two weeks. Did you go back to the States?”

“No.” All of a sudden, the careful excuses she’d rehearsed flew from her mind. “I… I met some friends. We decided to travel for a while. I’m so sorry I forgot to call you.”

“I’m only happy to hear you are well. I’ll admit that I was worried. Where are you traveling? Are you still in Turkey?”

She took a deep breath and smiled. His calming voice always put her at ease. “I am. Traveling in Cappadocia, as a matter of fact.”

“Ah. A very interesting part of the country. How do you find it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” She saw Malachi enter the small room where she was using the landline. “Mostly.”

“And your friends? Are they Turkish? From that region, perhaps?”

“Kinda.”

Malachi stopped and listened for a moment, then his face became a very carefully composed mask.

Dr. Sadik said, “Pardon me?”

“Hey, Doctor, can I call you back? I’m going to return to Istanbul eventually, but I just wanted to let you know where I was and apologize for missing my appointments. If there’s a charge, just let me know, okay? I really need to go.” There was something wrong with Malachi. He’d gone entirely still, and he was staring at her.

“Ava, is there—”

“Really need to go.” She felt her face flush. “I’m fine! I’ll talk to you soon.”

She hung up. Malachi stood carefully on the opposite side of the room, still staring.

“You called the doctor,” he said quietly.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t a calm quiet.

“From the house phone.”

She shrugged. “Um… yeah. What’s the big—”

“The one that can be traced?”

Ava frowned. “By my psychologist?”

“We have no idea who he is, Ava.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. But I imagine he’s calling the Turkish police to come raid the place right now.”

“Don’t make light of this.”

“Yep! That Dr. Sadik, he’s actually a… a spy who’s into old—”

“Ava.” He took a step toward her. “There is no Dr. J. Sadik operating in Istanbul.”

A heavy silence filled the room, and a thread of anger uncurled in her chest.

“Of course there is. You’ve been to his office with me. You know, if you wanted an excuse to argue with me, how about—”

“He. Doesn’t. Exist.” Malachi crossed to her. “Do you understand me? He is a ghost. Rhys can find no documentation on him from Turkish medical boards. No trace of his practice. And he left his office in the city the same time we did.”

A sick churning hit her stomach. “You were checking up on my psychologist?”

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? We don’t even know what his connection is to your psychologist in Israel.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re unbelievable!”

“We’re trying to keep you safe, as it’s evident we’re the only ones who—”

“Shut up!” Ava rose to her feet. “I understand there could be any number of logical explanations why a harmless man who was helping me might not be in Rhys’s computer searches.” The anger took over, begging her to slap at him for the intrusion. The doubt. For making her question everything and everyone she’d allowed herself to trust. “What I can’t understand is why you felt you had the right to spy on me. What else have you been looking into? Checking out my trash? How about listening in on my phone calls like you did just now?”

“You’re missing the point.” He stepped closer.

“No, you are!” She pushed a finger in his chest. It hardly budged. “You come into my life. You lie to me. You follow me. You act like you’re protecting me, then you… you kiss me!”

“Ava—”

“No! Shut up. I’m talking here, remember? You kiss me, and the next day you act like I don’t even exist. You ask me to trust you, but who am I supposed to trust? You’re hot and cold. You pawn me off on Rhys, and then you’re mad at him when he’s the only one who makes me feel slightly normal. And now? You’re just there. All the time. And don’t even get me started on what you’ve been thinking, because that—” She broke off when saw a young scribe poke his head through the door. Malachi spun around and barked something in the Old Language that had the man scurrying back.

Ava snapped, “That’s right, scare the nice scribe, why don’t you? Jerk.”

His eyes widened. “You’re calling me… a jerk?”

“I could call you a lot worse.”

“I have a few choice words myself. And everything I’ve done has been to protect you, so stop bitching at me.”

“Bitching at you?”

“Yes, bitching. You kissed me as much as I kissed you. I backed away because I didn’t want to overwhelm you, and what do you do?” He stepped closer and glared. “Rhys? After everything? Rhys! Where was he when the Grigori—”

“He’s my friend!”

“He wants a hell of a lot more than friendship, love.” The last word dropped with a sneer. “If you’d pay attention, you’d have figured that out by now.”

“So what if he does? It’s not like you have any claim on me. You act like you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice fell, and he put his hand on the side of her neck. Immediately, her pulse roared. Her mind went silent. There was only him. His scent and touch. The rest of the world went quiet when his thumb stroked the base of her throat. “You really think I have no claim on you?”

She swallowed with effort; her eyes locked on the stormy grey in his. “None.”

“Really, Ava?” He leaned down, his breath whispering across her cheek. “How do you feel when I touch you, canım?”

Her mind warred with her body. She ached to have him close the distance. Ached to feel his lips on hers again. But her protective instincts went on high alert.

Too close! Once he had her, he’d tire of her. He’d leave like the others. And if he left…

“You could be anyone,” she whispered, the lie bitter on her tongue. “Any… any Irin man would feel like you.”

Malachi froze. Then his head drew back and his hand left her neck. When she managed to meet his eyes, they were full of cold anger. His soul, however, whispered hurt. She said nothing, already hating herself for lying to him. No one felt like him. No one sounded like him. But she was tired of feeling jerked around, and her feelings—the depth of them—frightened her.

“I’m going for a run,” he said. “We’ll talk later about your Dr. Sadik. Don’t call him again.”

Ava was too bruised to argue. “Fine.”

He left, and she was alone again.

“What’s gnawing at you, love?”

“Hmm?” She looked up. It was dark outside, and she and Rhys were sharing a drink in the garden. They’d eaten at the scribe house, the table a mesh of languages Ava had been able to disappear into. Turkish, English, German, the old Irin language, and a few more she hadn’t recognized. Among them all, she’d felt comfortable being silent. Malachi hadn’t been there. He’d disappeared in the afternoon and, as far as she knew, hadn’t come back.

“Thinking about tall, dark, and brooding again?”

Annoyance flared. “My life doesn’t revolve around him, you know?”

“I know it doesn’t. Nor should it. So why don’t you wipe the frown off your face and enjoy the wine? It’s… well, it’s not great. But it’s not horrible, either.” He smiled, a brilliant flash of white in the twilight.

“Don’t tell me how to feel. I’ll be annoyed if I want to.”

“Oh, two hundred years was almost enough to make me forget the churlishness of an angry female.” Rhys threw an arm around the back of her shoulder and leaned in. “Nothing quite like it. And all that anger sitting behind so much power? It’s a wonder more Irin don’t suffer from missing—”

“You talk too much.” She pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Hard. His lips were frozen in shock, and Ava released them almost immediately, pushing him back. “Sorry.”

His voice was a rough growl. “Finished punishing him?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His arm slipped lower, looping around her waist and pulling her into his chest. Then his mouth met hers in a yearning kiss. Hungry. Biting. Rhys’s lips pressed against hers, and his tongue licked out, teasing along her bottom lip until she gasped. He danced along the edge of desire, his hands holding her carefully, his mouth doing wicked things to her own. After a few heated moments, he pulled away, his green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight.

“Well,” he said. “That was…”

Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment. “It was definitely…”

“Fine.” He sat back and his shoulders slumped a little. “It was fine.”

And Ava felt exactly the same. “Totally and utterly… fine.”

They both let the silence hang for a moment.

“Why wasn’t it more than fine?” Rhys asked.

“It should have been. Good technique.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear, considering there’s been a necessary lapse in practice.”

She patted his thigh. “No, you’re good.”

“Just good?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe I should try again.”

Ava couldn’t stop the smile. “Please don’t. It would just be weird at this point.”

“Totally agree.” He squeezed her shoulder.

Silence fell between them again, and Ava felt the depths of her own stupidity. Her kiss had been unfair to Rhys. Unfair to herself. Rhys was her friend. Would this change things? Would he resent her? She was mentally cataloguing her faults when she heard him speak.

“It’s all right, love.”

She whispered, “I wish it had been more than fine.”

“I’m not him,” Rhys said. “I think he’ll figure it out soon. He’s very bright, despite being an idiot. But he holds honor above self-interest, which is both wonderful and maddening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie. We’re past that now. And I’d be lying if I pretended not to know how he feels about you.”

“I’m not…” She struggled to put it into words. “I’m not used to expecting happiness, Rhys. I’d probably punch it if it looked me in the face. So really, I’m as much of an idiot as he is.”

“His voice sounds different to you, doesn’t it?”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

He seemed to draw away. “I didn’t. Just a guess.”

“What does that mean?”

A slow smile crept across his face. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you. It’ll be too fun to watch you find out on your own.”

Pounding steps approached in the night. Malachi appeared out of the black, shirtless and dripping despite the cool evening air. His talesm seemed to glow when he caught sight of her, a low silver light in the darkness. He said nothing, shooting Rhys a glare as he walked past them and into the house.

“Has he kissed you?” Rhys asked when Malachi was gone.

“Yes. On the island.”

“Was it more than fine?”

Her breath left her body in a rush of memories. “So much more than fine.”

He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Then don’t be stubborn. Go.”

Fifteen minutes and another glass of wine later, Ava knocked on his door. Malachi opened it, holding a towel. He’d showered, and a few drops of water still clung to his tanned shoulders. He wore a pair of loose pants and a guarded expression.

“What do you want?”

“I kissed Rhys.”

Now she knew she wasn’t imagining it. The tattoos pulsed silver in the dim light of the hall. Ava forced her eyes back to Malachi’s face, which was locked down tight. Only a tic in his jaw told Ava her words had even been heard.

His voice was low and thick with tension. “Get that out of your system?”

“Felt a little like kissing my brother.”

He dropped the towel and tugged her into the room. “This won’t.”