The Scribe
Page 48
“Yes. She always seemed calmer after a visit with him. She said he used acupressure. Nothing unusual. Mainly around the head and neck.” He paused and thought. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that she’d been in contact with—”
“An Irin.”
“Yes.”
“Someone siphoned off her energy enough for her to function more easily.”
“It’s possible.”
“But he is not Irin; Leo was watching him. Following the doctor. He said he wasn’t Grigori, either. Didn’t appear to be anything other than a normal man.”
A disturbing thought tickled the back of Malachi’s mind. “Appearances can be deceiving, brother. Especially for certain beings.”
“Only for…” Damien fell silent.
“Is it possible?”
“Anything is possible, as your human Irina proves. But is it probable? No.”
“And yet, it seems there are all sorts of improbable things going on lately.”
“If you’re right, why? Why her?”
Malachi stopped pacing to look at the sun, setting west into the hills and painting the sky in vivid purples and reds. “She could be a miracle, Damien. The first Irina born from human bloodlines the world has ever seen. Why wouldn’t she have attracted their attention?”
“It’s worth looking into. If you’re right, then her description, and Leo’s eyes, mean nothing.”
“He could be anyone.”
“Not anyone… There aren’t many.”
“Keep me updated?”
“Of course. Keep her safe.”
“I will.”
By the time Malachi made it back inside, Evren had packed up his notes for the day and Rhys and Ava were chatting by the computer. Ava appeared to be checking her e-mail while Rhys read over her shoulder, laughing about something in a friendly way. Looking up, the scribe spotted Malachi coming into the library and the teasing look fell from his face. Stern grey eyes met narrowed green ones as Malachi approached. He glanced at Ava with a possessive gleam, then looked back to Rhys.
Cocking his head, the corner of Rhys’s mouth lifted before he asked, “Hey, Ava?”
“Hmm?” She never turned to look at Malachi, even though he knew she must have sensed him.
“Where did you want to go for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know. You know the town better than I do.”
Malachi stopped. Bastard. He’d planned on taking Ava out to dinner in the village to get her away from the scribe house, but apparently Rhys had already thought of that.
Continuing toward them, he took the seat on Ava’s other side. “I’ll join you. There’s a place I know with a beautiful balcony I think you’d like.”
Finally turning, Ava sighed. “Malachi, I don’t…”
She trailed off as he picked up her right hand, casually playing with the ring on the middle finger the way he’d wanted to for weeks. It was her own nervous gesture, but he’d been fascinated with her hands every time she did it.
“Do you remember that coffee shop you liked near the Bosphorus?” he asked, continuing to play. “The owner of the restaurant is a cousin of the man who owns the coffee shop. We’ll get a good table, I promise. And the food is excellent.”
He didn’t let go of her hand. Her cheeks flushed, and she pursed her lips as if she was holding back words.
Rhys said, “It’s Friday night. Are you sure you can get a table for three?”
If Rhys wanted to tag along, Malachi could work with it. “I’m sure. Ava?”
He finally set her hand down, letting his fingers trail over hers as he drew back and crossed his arms across his chest, flexing his forearms and the intricate spells he’d worked over them. He’d seen her looking at his talesm many times. He knew she was fascinated by them. Her eyes grew wide before she looked away.
“Yeah, that sounds fine. Table for three?”
“Of course. I should have taken you out before. I’m sure you’re tired of the kitchen here. It can be rather simple food.”
“It’s been fine.” Her voice was a bit rough and the color on her cheeks was heightened. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll put my stuff away. Meet you two in the garden?”
Rhys said, “Good idea.”
They both watched as Ava gathered the bag with her laptop computer and left the library. When she was a suitable distance away, Rhys turned on him.
“I see someone has finally removed his head from his posterior. Congratulations. You’ve thoroughly pissed her off at this point. Hope you like a challenge.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never backed away from one.”
“Good.” Rhys stood. “Neither have I.”
“Rhys.” His friend froze halfway to the door. “I’m not backing away again.”
The scribe shook his head and grimaced. “You changeable bastard.”
“She doesn’t feel that way for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.” Malachi rose and walked toward him. “The same way I know she’s for me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Rhys’s eyes met his in challenge.
“Absolutely sure.”
The three met in the garden as the sky took on the deep, midnight blue of the evening. It was late, but Malachi had already called the restaurant, reserving his favorite table in a corner of the balcony. They walked toward town, Ava between them, and Malachi forced himself to remain casual, even when the scent of her perfume drifted to him on the breeze. It held notes of jasmine and smoke, a sweet fragrance with hidden depths he knew would be even stronger at the curve of her neck where he had kissed her before. Kissed her neck. Her mouth. He imagined nibbling on the skin that peeked from above her waistband when she wore the green shirt he liked.
“An Irin.”
“Yes.”
“Someone siphoned off her energy enough for her to function more easily.”
“It’s possible.”
“But he is not Irin; Leo was watching him. Following the doctor. He said he wasn’t Grigori, either. Didn’t appear to be anything other than a normal man.”
A disturbing thought tickled the back of Malachi’s mind. “Appearances can be deceiving, brother. Especially for certain beings.”
“Only for…” Damien fell silent.
“Is it possible?”
“Anything is possible, as your human Irina proves. But is it probable? No.”
“And yet, it seems there are all sorts of improbable things going on lately.”
“If you’re right, why? Why her?”
Malachi stopped pacing to look at the sun, setting west into the hills and painting the sky in vivid purples and reds. “She could be a miracle, Damien. The first Irina born from human bloodlines the world has ever seen. Why wouldn’t she have attracted their attention?”
“It’s worth looking into. If you’re right, then her description, and Leo’s eyes, mean nothing.”
“He could be anyone.”
“Not anyone… There aren’t many.”
“Keep me updated?”
“Of course. Keep her safe.”
“I will.”
By the time Malachi made it back inside, Evren had packed up his notes for the day and Rhys and Ava were chatting by the computer. Ava appeared to be checking her e-mail while Rhys read over her shoulder, laughing about something in a friendly way. Looking up, the scribe spotted Malachi coming into the library and the teasing look fell from his face. Stern grey eyes met narrowed green ones as Malachi approached. He glanced at Ava with a possessive gleam, then looked back to Rhys.
Cocking his head, the corner of Rhys’s mouth lifted before he asked, “Hey, Ava?”
“Hmm?” She never turned to look at Malachi, even though he knew she must have sensed him.
“Where did you want to go for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know. You know the town better than I do.”
Malachi stopped. Bastard. He’d planned on taking Ava out to dinner in the village to get her away from the scribe house, but apparently Rhys had already thought of that.
Continuing toward them, he took the seat on Ava’s other side. “I’ll join you. There’s a place I know with a beautiful balcony I think you’d like.”
Finally turning, Ava sighed. “Malachi, I don’t…”
She trailed off as he picked up her right hand, casually playing with the ring on the middle finger the way he’d wanted to for weeks. It was her own nervous gesture, but he’d been fascinated with her hands every time she did it.
“Do you remember that coffee shop you liked near the Bosphorus?” he asked, continuing to play. “The owner of the restaurant is a cousin of the man who owns the coffee shop. We’ll get a good table, I promise. And the food is excellent.”
He didn’t let go of her hand. Her cheeks flushed, and she pursed her lips as if she was holding back words.
Rhys said, “It’s Friday night. Are you sure you can get a table for three?”
If Rhys wanted to tag along, Malachi could work with it. “I’m sure. Ava?”
He finally set her hand down, letting his fingers trail over hers as he drew back and crossed his arms across his chest, flexing his forearms and the intricate spells he’d worked over them. He’d seen her looking at his talesm many times. He knew she was fascinated by them. Her eyes grew wide before she looked away.
“Yeah, that sounds fine. Table for three?”
“Of course. I should have taken you out before. I’m sure you’re tired of the kitchen here. It can be rather simple food.”
“It’s been fine.” Her voice was a bit rough and the color on her cheeks was heightened. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll put my stuff away. Meet you two in the garden?”
Rhys said, “Good idea.”
They both watched as Ava gathered the bag with her laptop computer and left the library. When she was a suitable distance away, Rhys turned on him.
“I see someone has finally removed his head from his posterior. Congratulations. You’ve thoroughly pissed her off at this point. Hope you like a challenge.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never backed away from one.”
“Good.” Rhys stood. “Neither have I.”
“Rhys.” His friend froze halfway to the door. “I’m not backing away again.”
The scribe shook his head and grimaced. “You changeable bastard.”
“She doesn’t feel that way for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.” Malachi rose and walked toward him. “The same way I know she’s for me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Rhys’s eyes met his in challenge.
“Absolutely sure.”
The three met in the garden as the sky took on the deep, midnight blue of the evening. It was late, but Malachi had already called the restaurant, reserving his favorite table in a corner of the balcony. They walked toward town, Ava between them, and Malachi forced himself to remain casual, even when the scent of her perfume drifted to him on the breeze. It held notes of jasmine and smoke, a sweet fragrance with hidden depths he knew would be even stronger at the curve of her neck where he had kissed her before. Kissed her neck. Her mouth. He imagined nibbling on the skin that peeked from above her waistband when she wore the green shirt he liked.
