The Scribe

  I heard you.

  Malachi blinked as his vision scattered, and then he focused on the fearless woman in front of him.

  “What did you say?”

  Chapter Two

  I heard you.

  Time stopped as the words left her mouth of their own volition, launching into the air between Ava and the stranger who stood at the mouth of the alley. A thousand whispers surrounded her, and the voices of the city washed over her mind. The words flew, cutting through the cacophony that followed her. Three words that never should have left her mouth.

  The man halted immediately, eyes widening as they reached him.

  “What did you say?”

  He knew.

  “Nothing. Leave me alone.” Forget her questions, she had to leave. Ava stepped over the prone bodies of the strange men who were still writhing on the ground. Instinct told her the man whose voice she’d heard following her since the day before was far more dangerous than the thugs who’d caught up with her near the bridge. She’d been lulled by it; something about the tone and pitch of this man’s inner voice was more resonant than most. She’d allowed the voice to follow her, soothed by its tone. It had been the one pure sound in the redolent, clashing air of Istanbul.

  “What did you mean, ‘I heard you?’” he called.

  He was following her out of the alley, abandoning the wounded men to their own moans and the growing crowd of concerned citizens and tourists. Ava slipped through them, never gladder to have perfected the art of weaving through crowds with as little contact as possible.

  The stranger’s whispers followed her, alive with excitement. Curiosity. Hope? She walked faster, trying to leave his voice and the memories it brought behind.

  He wasn’t completely unique. Ava had come across the strange resonance before in India. Another time back in Los Angeles. Once, outside a lonely house in Ireland. The resonance of his inner voice was different, though no more understandable, than the rest. Most of her waking hours were filled with the whispers of anyone and everyone she passed, but Ava had no clue what they were saying. It was as if she stood in a crowded room where everyone was whispering. Crowds blended into an off-key hum she’d battled to control for as long as she could remember.

  What do your whispers mean, Mommy?

  What whispers?

  Everyone has whispers.

  The strange looks, then the voices others could hear, too.

  Crazy.

  Troubled.

  Dangerous?

  Ava’s eyes caught the corner of a leg sticking out of a blanket. A homeless man sat up from a bench near the entrance of the park, eyes wild and body swaying. Their gazes locked for a moment and Ava fought back the pang of sympathy and kept moving. If not for her mother, she might have been him.

  She crossed the road at the entrance to the park, headed back to the hippodrome and the relative safety of the heavily touristed areas. Her camera banged against her hip as she walked. Normally, it would be out. She wouldn’t pass up a chance to capture the smiling couple or the woman rolling out bread in a window. She would have captured the small dog watching the young woman tying a carpet in a store window. The two boys ducking behind a display in a shop. Snatches of life in the city. Family and friends going about their lives.

  It was a bittersweet triumph, to capture moments she would never have.

  The stranger’s voice still followed, the lone bright thread running through the tapestry of the Sultanahmet. It was as if a single voice whispered to her, not off-key, but in a melodious timbre that stroked her mind. It wrapped around her as it had the day before. She had known it followed her, but she felt no instinct to run. The voice called to her, tempting her to turn and follow it. Urging her to abandon caution and seek it out.

  The tone of the stranger’s voice revealed his mood, though the meaning was still a mystery. Disbelief, frustration, and hope, all wrapped together. Ava ignored the urge to turn, stubbornly focusing on navigating the streets, dodging traffic, and avoiding the frightening swarms of tourists trailing mechanically behind the cruise ship guides.

  Despite the crowds, she couldn’t stop the thrill and awe as she passed Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque. She loved it here, which had been a surprise. Ava hadn’t loved a city in a long time. But this city was seductive. Layer upon layer of history. East meeting West. Modern colliding with ancient. Istanbul had been a revelation of the senses.

  The stranger’s voice was still following her when Ava turned the corner near her hotel, almost jogging up and down the completely unnecessary hill the house sat on. If you didn’t look closely, it might have been no more than a very gracious residence in the heart of the city. In reality, it was an exclusive hotel that catered to travelers looking for luxury, safety, and privacy. Made of wood in the Ottoman style, it was almost plain from the front. But as she approached, a guard opened a door, letting her into the cool interior of the refuge, searching behind her when he saw the hint of panic still evident on Ava’s features.

  “Ms. Matheson?” he asked in lilting English. “Is there a problem?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks. I thought… It was just my imagination, I’m sure. Is the roof garden open?”

  The guard’s eye widened. “Right now? It is open, but the day is very hot, miss. Perhaps when the sun goes down—”

  “It’s fine.” She shot him a tense smile. “I just need some privacy.”

  “Of course.” He nodded and lifted a hand toward the elevators, but Ava didn’t want to chance that someone might join her. Voices always grew more agitated in confined spaces, and the elevators in the hotel were small. She walked toward the stairs instead. Her phone was already out and she was dialing her mother’s number when she pushed the door to the terrace open. Sunlight flooded over her, baking the tile that covered the roof. Ava took shelter under one of the generous shade covers that marked a quiet corner. As she suspected, the terrace was deserted. Keeping away from any windows or open doors, she let the phone ring across the world in Los Angeles.

  “Hello?” Lena Matheson answered in a groggy voice. “Ava, what’s wrong?”

  It was just past midnight in L.A.

  “Did you and Carl hire someone local?”

  “What?” She heard Carl’s voice in the background, a quiet growl that her mother shushed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you hire someone, Mother?”

  There was a quiet huff. “Well, really, Ava, what did you expect? You asked Carl to have pepper spray delivered to your hotel. He—”

  “That’s precautionary, Mom! I do that anywhere I’ve never been before when I’m traveling alone.” A tight, nervous part of her stomach relaxed. It wasn’t a stranger after all. Despite the unusual voice, the man following her was just another guard hired by her overprotective mother and stepfather. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

  “Just go about your business and ignore him. He has a job to do, and you know Carl won’t fire him.”

  No, but he might hire more if he got wind of the incident in the alley today. “This is Istanbul. It’s very safe as long as you’re smart. I’d probably be in more danger traveling in New Jersey. You really don’t need to—”

  “Have you forgotten Cassie Traver? She was in Paris and she was kidnapped. Let’s not take any chances, Ava. You know how he worries.”

  You mean how his accountant worries. The only reason her stepfather had started up with the guards again was because of the enormous amount of money the Travers had been forced to pay to Cassie’s kidnappers. Ava had no illusions of paternal concern.

  “Just tell him to keep his distance. I know you won’t fire him, but I don’t want to see him anywhere near me.”

  “Do you want to talk to Carl?”

  “What do you think?”

  There was a heavy pause on the line. “Okay. Are you… having fun?”

  She heard Carl growl again. Her mother covered the phone with her hand.

  “It’s late, Mom.” Ava swallowed
the lump in her throat. “I’ll call you back another time.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll just—”

  “I gotta go. There’s someone I need to meet with. For work.”

  “Call me back tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Later, then. Just call me later.”

  “Sure.” Ava collapsed in one of the luxurious chairs under the shade and ran her fingers along the frond of a potted palm. “I’ll call you later.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.” Ava hung up before Lena could say anything more, then stared over the rooftops of Istanbul, far above the crowds.

  Silence. At last, silence.

  Ava started early the next day. She’d been to Topkapi Palace before but had woken when the first prayer calls floated over the city and couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay in bed for a few hours, loading and editing work on her laptop, then decided to beat the crowds and some of the heat. She headed toward the opulent palace in the center of the old city, walked past the first gate, and started working.

  Photography had been her escape for years. There was something about the intense visual focus that helped Ava block out the voices around her. She could get lost behind the lens. An observer instead of an outsider. She snapped pictures of the stunning architecture, trying to capture it from unique angles in the morning light. But more and more, she found herself drawn to the people who began crowding the various courtyards.

  Whispers of excitement.

  Routine hums.

  The clear, pure thoughts of the youngest children, uncluttered by the static of their parents and guardians.

  And each and every one completely unintelligible to her. She recognized common words and phrases. She could probably quote things from memory, though she had no idea what she would be saying. People’s inner voices didn’t work the way their spoken voices did. They thought in slips and starts. Their minds drifted from one emotion to another, often so quickly it made her ill.

  “Excuse me,” she said, working her way through a tour group and toward an empty corner where she could watch the growing crowds.

  Workers. Tourists. Families on holiday and the odd wanderer like herself. Ava turned her camera on them, capturing their fleeting expressions and sudden smiles. People were nice… from a distance. She’d avoided cities for years, preferring the peace of wilderness destinations and hidden enclaves where the voices of the locals weren’t quite so overwhelming. She was still in shock that she’d agreed to come to Istanbul. Couldn’t explain why, exactly, but she’d felt drawn to it. Maybe it was the promise of help. She couldn’t allow herself to believe this doctor—Doctor J. Sadik—could actually help her. But perhaps she could allow herself to be curious.

  She wandered the edges of the palace, looking out over stunning views of the sea and snapping pictures for hours. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of him at the edge of her frame.

  Hello, stranger. Ava snapped another picture of him, pushing a button on her camera to examine him more closely.

  At least they’d hired an attractive one this time.

  He looked Turkish. Taller than average. Most professional bodyguards were far from the romantic notions portrayed in movies or books, even farther from the giant thugs who followed musicians around. The best were men and women who could blend into any crowd. They were overlooked until they became necessary, and they rarely garnered an admiring stare.

  But this man was… not handsome. Compelling. Something about him made her eyes want to linger. Lean muscle covered his frame, and despite the heat, he was clothed from head to toe, though his suit appeared to be made of linen and not some hotter material. His collar lay open, exposing the edge of an intricate tattoo. That was unusual. His hair was dark and straight, falling onto his forehead and almost into his eyes. He could use a haircut, which meant he was probably not married. She glanced at the three college-age girls who checked him out as he pretended to read a book at the café. He didn’t even give them a glance. Focused. He blended into the crowd admirably for someone as physically imposing as he was, but there was still something about him that drew Ava’s camera over and over again.

  Or maybe it was just his voice.

  She’d caught it almost as soon as she’d left the hotel. Thankfully, the bodyguard was keeping his distance. Carl must have clarified his instructions. The man followed, but not too closely. Occasionally, Ava would turn and deliberately snap his picture, letting him know she’d seen him. He looked away every time she did, a slightly irritated expression crossing his face.

  She caught him at the edge of another frame just as he was pulling out a mobile phone. Probably calling Carl to complain about her.

  “Won’t do any good,” she sang under her breath.

  Her stepfather had tried for years to understand how Ava could pick up on any security he assigned to her. He knew she could hear them—her mother had never hidden her secret from Carl—he just chose not to believe. He wasn’t a bad guy, really. Carl adored her mother, and he was honest to a fault. The fact that he’d been saddled with a stepdaughter who was slightly crazy was just the cost of capturing Lena Russell’s heart. Ava couldn’t fault his indifference as she’d never made an effort with him, either.

  The stranger was still talking, so Ava grabbed a coffee and perched on a bench, lifting her camera to capture a boy who was laughing at something his mother had said. They teased and giggled with each other as Ava clicked. A common moment between mother and child set in the grandeur of the old Ottoman court. It was exactly the kind of photograph she loved.

  A young man brushed a little too close, causing her to tense, to grip her cup as her coffee spilled hot over her fingers. Her bodyguard started toward the man, but Ava gave a small shake of her head.

  Not a threat. The unspoken message seemed to reach him, because he stopped, looking between the retreating man and Ava.

  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to rid the angry sound of the young man from her mind.

  Sharp, piercing tones. His thoughts were shot through with a deep thread of pain. Most people’s inner voices were like tiny orchestras in the moments before a concert. An odd cacophony of emotion and tone only occasionally smoothing out into a discernible voice. The young man who had just passed her was angry, but also in pain. It was all there in his voice.

  Ava took a few more deep breaths and looked up to find her bodyguard staring at her. His voice, in contrast, was the smooth, clear note the moment before the orchestra played. Perfectly in tune. She didn’t know quite what to make of it.

  Time to say hello.

  If she wanted him to cooperate and leave her be without reporting every flinch to her mother and Carl, she’d have to play nice. Tossing her coffee in a nearby trash can, she stood and walked over. He didn’t run. Didn’t look away. He stared at her from behind shaded lenses as she tucked her camera in her bag and held out her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Ava. I imagine you know that already.”

  The bodyguard just blinked at her, staring at her hand as if it might bite. Finally, she dropped it. She had surprised him. His silent voice whispered in circles so rapid she felt as if she was in the middle of a minor storm. But he didn’t speak to her, not out loud.

  “I know I heard you speak English the other day. It might not be your first language, but I’m sorry, I don’t speak any Turki—”

  “English is fine.”

  His spoken voice was deeper than his silent one, but it held the same odd resonance that had drawn her since she first heard it. Ava tried not to lean closer, even though the urge was there.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

  “Hello.”

  What about his one-word greeting did Ava find amusing? She didn’t know why she smiled, but she did. “That back there? With the guy… I get headaches—it’s a medical thing that’s not a big deal—so don’t panic if you see me looking like I might pass out. I’ve n
ever passed out in my life. And I have no idea why Carl hired you, but since I can’t get him to fire you, we might as well be friendly.”

  He just shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “I know you’re going to be following me, so please don’t feel like you have to hide. If you could just keep your distance and stay as unobtrusive as possible, that’d be great. I’ve had guards before, but I’m pretty independent. I’m honestly not sure why Carl felt like he had to do this, but since there never seems to be any reasoning with him, let’s just go with it, okay?”

  The big man was still blinking at her silently. Ava tried not to sigh. His eyes had seemed intelligent enough, but maybe they hadn’t hired the guy for his intellect.

  “What I’m trying to say is… The incident you saw in the alley doesn’t need to be reported to my stepfather. I took care of it, and we really don’t need more people at this little party, do we?”

  Complete and utter silence. It was almost inhuman. She caught him taking a breath when the collar of his shirt moved, revealing more of the tattoo work around his collar. They were letters, she thought, but nothing like she’d ever seen before. Other than that one breath, he could have been one of the statues on display.

  “Do you have a name?” she asked.

  He frowned. “You want my name?”

  “Well, it would feel rude to refer to you as ‘the big, silent guy’ in my internal monologue, so yeah, a name would be nice.” He was still silent. Ava frowned. “Is that not part of your job or—?”

  “Malachi.”

  She smiled. “Malachi?”

  “My name is Malachi.”

  “Nice name.”

  “I like yours.”

  She shrugged off the internal pleasure. “It’s… easy to spell. Anyway, I have an appointment this afternoon, so I’ll be heading back to my hotel now. I’ll be trying to take a nap for approximately forty-five minutes, but will realize it’s too hot, so I’ll then take a shower and read a book. Maybe dump my pictures on the computer. All of this will be happening in my hotel, which has very good security, but please feel free to lurk around the entrance so you can shadow me to my appointment later.”