The Scribe

“How is the woman?” his watcher asked, by way of greeting.

“Coping.” He paced, frustrated and anxious for some activity after being cooped up in the scribe house for over a week. “Have you learned any more about Dr. Sadik?”

“The therapist seems to be on holiday, from what we can tell. No one is in the office, not even nurses or the receptionist. No sign on the door, either. Considering the summer months, it could be a coincidence—”

“Or it could be that his reason for remaining open left the city.” Malachi drummed impatient fingers against his thigh. Part of him craved the energy of the city. Part of him knew he was only looking to escape his own temptation.

Damien said, “Tell me more about the human.”

“She’s not human, and you know it.”

“She cannot have Irina blood. I spoke with Evren yesterday. There is no evidence from family history that she is anything but a normal human woman.”

“A normal woman who can hear the voice of the soul? A normal woman who can bear our touch? Who craves it, even?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“To answer the question you didn’t ask…,” Malachi said, “Yes, I’ve been keeping my distance. Even though it has been difficult.”

There was still more silence.

“Rhys has been keeping an eye on her, though there was an incident where she became very upset yesterday. He told her about the Rending, and she… She became distraught, as you can imagine. I was eventually able to calm her.”

“Completely understandable,” Damien said quietly. “It is still upsetting for all of us.”

“We have been without Irina influence for too long,” he said. “We become too blunt. I don’t think Rhys expected her to become so upset.”

Another moment of silence, until the watcher said, “Rhys told her?”

“I told you, I have been trying to maintain my distance,” he snapped. “She was curious, so she asked him.”

“But you were the one to comfort her?”

“I sensed her distress.”

“And she asked for you?”

“Not exactly. But she wouldn’t let Rhys touch her, so… She reached for me. I held her until she calmed. Was I supposed to ignore her when I seemed to be the only one who could reach her? The only one who—”

Damien interrupted him with a low chuckle that grew into a longer laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Malachi asked.

“You’ve really been staying away from her all this time?”

“Of course!”

“When have you ever followed my orders so precisely, brother? At most, you take them as suggestions.”

“I was trying to do what was right for Ava. You told me—”

“I think you misinterpreted my advice.”

Malachi stopped the drumming of his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“I only wanted you to slow down. I know how rash you can be. I advised you to give the woman space, not ignore her completely. She’d just had a huge shock, and you were hovering over her like a worried mate. But if you gave her space and she still showed interest in you, then what are you waiting for, you idiot?”

“I thought you said—”

“Do you care for the woman?” Damien asked. “That’s the real question. Not just the thrill of a woman who can stand your touch, but her?”

Did he? Was it too soon to be feeling as strongly as he was? What did he know about Ava, really?

He knew she was intelligent and funny. She was independent. He knew that beneath the tough exterior lay a vulnerable soul, and he suspected a deeply sensuous nature. She was cautious, but unafraid of him, or any of the other scribes she had met. He remembered her, standing boldly among the Grigori, flush with wine and unafraid of the creatures she challenged. Eyes flashing with indignation. Eyes that swung to him, as Malachi saw…

Recognition.

There you are, reshon.

He’d known in that moment, but it had seemed like an impossible dream.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I care for her. Deeply.”

“Then, Malachi, see her for the gift she is and cherish her.” Damien’s voice grew rough. “We know how unexpected life can be.”

“You’re right.” He nodded, feeling a profound peace for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve probably angered her thoroughly and will have to convince her to let you court her.”

“I haven’t courted an Irina in over two hundred years.” Malachi had begun pacing the garden without realizing it. Thinking of the volatile relationship between Damien and his mate, he asked, “Any advice?”

“You’re asking me? My wife hasn’t allowed me to see her face outside of our dreams for over ten years. Though Sari is unusually stubborn. Even for an Irina.”

“Good point. Why did I listen to you in the first place?”

“I’m your superior. It’s required. Now, I have to go.”

“Sadik,” Malachi said, remembering the reason he’d called. “I want to continue watching him. I’ll ask Ava if she’s called him. I think there’s still something we’re not seeing.”

“I would agree with you. You said that his visits seemed to calm her? Release some of the tension she’d been having?”