The Scribe

Leo flipped through channels on the television as he ate another massive sandwich Ava had ordered from room service. His accent sounded Russian, but he reminded Ava of a giant happy Labrador with his gold hair and cheerful disposition. They sat in the hotel’s library, which doubled as a lounge. Books lined the walls and a television sat in one corner, streaming international shows from all over the globe. Ava was processing images on her laptop, so Leo had turned on the television.

She’d met her new bodyguard that afternoon after Malachi had called him to meet her in the hotel lobby.

“Who’s this?”

“This is Leo. He’ll be guarding you tonight if you need to go anywhere.” He’d handed over a small slip of paper. “This is his number. You already have mine.”

Ava had turned to Leo. “Hi.”

The blond giant gave her a boyish smile. “Hello, Ms. Matheson.”

Malachi said, “She likes to be called ‘Ava.’ Don’t leave her unguarded; you have my number.”

Then Malachi had turned and walked away without a glance back.

Asshole.

Ava turned to Leo. “Care to come inside? I was just about to order room service because I don’t feel like going out. I’ll buy you dinner since you’re on babysitting duty tonight.”

She saw Malachi pause at the door. She’d never once invited him into the hotel. They always met in the lobby.

“Sure,” Leo said. “Thanks!”

Malachi half-turned, then stopped, meeting her eyes over his shoulder before his narrowed and he spun around again.

“Night, Mal!”

Now she was wishing her silent shadow would return. There was nothing wrong with Leo; he was friendly as a pup, but he exuded energy, not calm, the way Malachi did. His internal voice bounced and jumped, almost always cheerfully, but much louder than Malachi’s did. And though his voice held the same odd resonance, it felt slightly out of tune. All in all, his presence was distracting.

A voice from the television caught her attention.

“What was that?” she asked.

Leo lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“The TV.”

He’d already flipped past the channel. The one he’d stopped on looked like a soap opera set in Topkapi Palace.

“Turn it back.”

“Turn it back to what?”

Ava stood and grabbed the remote.

“Hey!”

Not that. Not that. Not that… There.

“Him.” She pointed at the TV. It was a news program, and an old man was being interviewed on the screen. “That man. What language is he speaking?”

Leo frowned. “That’s Farsi. It’s a Persian program; I’m surprised they even have it at this—”

“No.” Ava shook her head. “I’ve heard Farsi. I’ve been to Iran. That doesn’t sound like Farsi.”

The bodyguard shrugged. “Well, it is. His accent is odd. Let me…” Leo’s voice trailed off as he listened intently. After a few minutes, he said, “He’s Assyrian; that’s why it sounds different. He’s speaking Farsi with an Assyrian accent. They’re interviewing him for a cultural program. It’s just a different part of Iran. The accent is different.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.”

“Why did you want to know?”

“I didn’t… It just reminded me of a language I heard once. That’s all.” Ava watched the old man for a few more moments, memorizing the rise and fall of his voice before she handed the remote control back to Leo. It had to be a coincidence, but for a brief second, the man had sounded like he was speaking the silent tongue of the voices she’d heard her whole life. Ava had studied languages. She’d traveled the globe, listening to accents and intonation. The peculiar rhythm of foreign lands. She’d spent years searching for the language that haunted her.

She was never successful.

Leo was still watching her, clearly suspicious of her excitement over the news program. She concentrated on the computer screen, ignoring him, but his silent voice was colored with curiosity.

Ava tried to change the subject. “So how many languages do you speak?”

“I…” He hadn’t been expecting the question. “I’ve never counted, to be honest.”

“That many?”

Leo shrugged. “I’m not fluent in all of them, but I speak many. It helps when you travel.”

“Have you worked for Malachi long?”

“We, uh, we work for the same company. He’s more senior than I am, but we’ve both worked for the company a long time.”

“Oh?” She continued fiddling with the color balance on one file. “You’re not from Istanbul, I’m guessing.”

“Outside Moscow, originally. But I’ve traveled a lot.”

Ava snorted a little. He couldn’t have been older than his late twenties. Of course, she knew firsthand you could cover a lot of ground when you wanted to avoid home.

Leo asked, “How about you?”

“Malachi didn’t tell you?”

“No.” His answer caused Ava to look up. He’d finished his sandwich and was wiping his mouth. “He wouldn’t. He hardly talks at all except to yell at me and my cousin if we drink his beer and don’t replace it. He’s known for being very focused when he’s on a job.”

For some reason, Ava found that endearing. It sounded like her shadow was a cranky old man to more than just her.