The Scribe

“This is a war, and it’s been going on far longer than either of us have been alive, canım. Everything happens for a reason. Rhys will be fine.”

Despite his comforting words, Ava couldn’t escape the grim tone of his voice.

“You guys are practically indestructible, right?”

“Exactly.”

Ava still had smoke in her nose when they pulled up to the modest carpet shop on the other side of the bridge. It was dark from the outside, but Ava could see a light glowing dimly on the second floor.

“Stay here,” he said, pulling the car into a deserted alley.

Malachi got out and walked around the corner, returning after only a few minutes with a set of keys and a determined expression. He opened the back door and started to ease Leo out of the seat. The young man winced and Ava saw the blood start seeping from the wound again, black and thick.

“Help me,” Malachi grunted. “You’ll need to get the door.” He tossed her a set of keys and Ava rushed to pick them up.

A few minutes later, the three were climbing a narrow staircase next to the rug shop. Ava opened the door to a deserted apartment with a small sitting room and a kitchenette.

“There’s a bedroom in back.” Malachi was carrying Leo, the tall man cradled like a child in his arms. Considering Leo was the tallest in the house, Ava wasn’t quite sure how Malachi was even standing, but she didn’t question it. She opened the door to the back to see a bed, narrow but clean. She knocked off the pillows and stripped off the covers, clearing the bed for the wounded man. Malachi laid him down gently, and Leo immediately curled to the side. Ava saw him bite his lip so hard that it bled.

“Rhys?” she asked.

“I lost my mobile. Do you have yours?”

“In my purse in the car.”

“I’ll get it. Stay with him and stay away from the windows.”

“Can I turn on some lights?” The house wasn’t pitch-black, but close. The windows let in light from the street lamp on the corner, but other than that, the low light in the front room was all that shone in the small apartment.

“Wait for now. There are more in the rooms upstairs and the windows are blacked out on that floor.”

He ducked out of the room, and Ava heard him on the stairs as she sat next to Leo and stroked his forehead. His skin was starting to burn with fever, so she got up and looked for a washcloth or rag to cool him. She found a towel in the kitchen and returned to him, placing it on his forehead as he relaxed under her touch.

For the first time all day, Ava tried to gather her thoughts.

Jaron had been protecting her; she was almost sure of it. He might be evil—and nothing about their conversation had convinced her otherwise—but he had been protecting her for some reason.

Something very bad was happening among the fallen angels and the Grigori, and something in the city had shifted. Was it a coup like Maxim had predicted? If so, any protection Jaron had offered her was gone. There seemed to be countless Grigori in Istanbul, and they were bold enough to have burned the scribe house.

Ava had no idea where they would go. Did they have other safe houses? Should she go back to Los Angeles and take shelter in Carl’s fortress of a house? Somehow, she doubted even her stepfather’s hired guns could get her out of this mess. Besides, the thought of leaving Malachi was unthinkable at this point.

Reshon. She was the one saying it this time. The vision Jaron had given her only confirmed it.

I show you what has been. What will be. And what could be.

“What could be…,” she whispered, still holding the cool rag to Leo’s forehead.

They were her children. Hers and his. With her dark curls and Malachi’s grey eyes.

“Do not fear the darkness.”

Jaron’s words caused her to shiver, even in the over-warm room. What had he shown her? Was it his vision or hers? And why had she seen her childhood? Had he been watching her since then?

Questions still swirled in her head as she heard Malachi climbing the stairs, talking quietly on the phone. He was just hanging up as he entered the room.

“Well?”

“Rhys is on his way. No car, so he’s going to have to walk. They won’t let him on a tram carrying coals in a clay cooking pot he stole from a restaurant, but they should last until he gets here and can stoke the fire again.”

She heard Leo mutter something that sounded like relief.

“And that will heal him?”

Malachi winced, but his eyes did seem less strained. “How good are you at sewing?”

“Horrible.”

Malachi opened the small closet and pulled out a black bag that he tossed on the end of the bed. “You can hold him down or sew him up. Sounds like our stitching’s about the same. Leo, you have a preference?”

“I’ll hold still,” he muttered. “You do it, Mal. I’d rather curse at you than Ava.”

Ava’s stomach began to churn as Malachi stripped off Leo’s shirt, peeling the cloth away from the clotted wound. “Can’t we wait for Rhys?”

“He’s bringing the fire to cauterize it,” Malachi said. “We’ll stitch it up, and Rhys will seal it. Has to be done, Ava.”

“Just get it over with,” Leo said. “If I’m lucky, I’ll pass out again.”

Malachi and Ava were as pale as Leo by the time Rhys showed up. The wound was over eight inches in length, and it seemed like it took Malachi forever to stitch it after Ava had helped clear the blood as much as she could. According to Malachi, infection wouldn’t be a problem. Once the fire cleansed the wound, Leo’s own magic would heal him, and having Ava’s hands on Leo during the stitches would boost his energy, since she was Irina.