The Scribe - Hunter Elizabeth - Страница 11

“We’re friends?” There was an amused smile on his lips, and Ava saw the hint of a dimple on his slightly stubbled cheek. He had thick dark hair and would likely have a full beard within days if he didn’t keep clean-shaven. Handsome? Not classically. But the man had definite appeal.

“Of course we’re friends. Do you think I habitually strike up conversations with random men in foreign countries?”

“I wouldn’t even try to guess the answer to that.” He had set the newspaper down and leaned back in the plush chair, bringing the glass of tea to his full lips as she watched him, watching her.

“I don’t. Strike up random conversations, I mean.”

“Is there something you want, Ava?”

She let her eyes wander over him, not caring that he noticed her perusal. “You said you’re from Turkey?”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t you stop following me and just show me around?” She surprised herself with the question. Usually she never asked for company. Prolonged contact of any kind could become maddening. But the treatments had calmed her mind, making the soothing resonance he exuded even more appealing. For the first time in her life, the thought of spending the day with a man was attractive, not overwhelming. “I’m bored by myself.”

He put down his glass of tea, almost scowling. “I’m not paid to be your tour guide.”

The disappointment was quick and sharp. “Fine.”

She spun around and turned her back to him, resisting the urge to get up and flee. It would be humiliating for him to see how his rejection had affected her. Besides, he’d just follow her anyway. She picked up her tea with tense fingers and sipped, grabbing a book out of her bag. She briefly debated taking out her small camera and capturing pedestrian traffic, but she’d been trying to take a day off from work and enjoy her newfound calm.

After a few minutes, Ava heard him rise and approach. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on her guidebook.

Damn, damn, damn. He’d rebuffed her. The least he could do was pretend to ignore her existence.

No, instead he was sitting down across from her, all six feet and something; his long legs slid under the table, unavoidably brushing against her own. She refused to move.

“Ava.”

“What?”

“My apologies. That was rude.”

“Yes, it was.”

She was still staring at her book. He continued to sit across from her silently. His inner voice took on an amused tone that made her scowl.

“Ava?”

“I’m reading.”

“That’s impressive.”

She rolled her eyes and finally looked up. “What? Reading?”

He tried to control the smile, but the dimple gave him away. “Reading upside down. I can do it as well, but it took many years of study.”

Her cheeks burning, she set down the book. “What do you want?”

Malachi was still wearing sunglasses, but she caught the quick glance he gave her. It wasn’t clinical.

So, not indifferent, after all.

Feeling slightly smug, she said, “Well?”

“You asked me to show you around the city. I would be happy to do that.”

“Maybe I should just hire someone.”

Oh, he didn’t like that. She could tell by the tightening in his jaw and the way his voice changed. “You could. But, as you pointed out, I am local, and I know the city well. I am already guarding you. It would make the job more…”

“Friendly?”

The dimple was back. “Yes.”

“Fine.” She picked up her book, flipping it right side up. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” His eyebrows furrowed together. “That’s not very friendly. Didn’t you just say we were friends?”

“Well, that was before you pissed me off, Mal.”

“Mal?” He sneered. “My name is not Mal.”

Ava cheered internally, pleased to have found something so convenient to annoy him with. “Oh, it can be.”

“When I piss you off?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you always like this? I think I should be warned ahead of time if we’re going to be… friends.”

“Like what?”

“Irritable and moody.”

She looked up in mock indignation. “This is me in a good mood, Mal.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, but the telltale dimple gave away his amusement, and his inner voice was practically laughing.

“Fine. Put down the guidebook. You don’t need it anymore.”

“It’s a good one, though. And I like learning about the history of the places I visit.”

“Trust me, I know the history.” She looked up, skeptical, but his voice was confident, bordering on smug.

“So you’re a historian as well as a bodyguard?”

“Something like that.”

The way his lip curled made her want to bite it. He must have caught her look, because the corner of his mouth turned up even more.

“Trust me, Ava.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “With me, no guidebook is necessary. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

It was cool and quiet; the echoes of people in the cistern melded together with the whispering voices, creating a mesh of quiet noise Ava glided on in the darkness. Beneath the bustle of the streets above, the Basilica Cistern stretched hundreds of yards into the black underground. Held up by endless marble pillars and dotted by gold lights, the shallow water rested, and Ava watched shadow fish dart over the flash of coins visitors had thrown in its depths.

Malachi followed her, letting her take in the grandeur of the vast room before he spoke in a quiet voice.

“Some people call it the Underground Palace. It’s the largest of the ancient cisterns in Constantinople, originally built by Constantine, then rebuilt by the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century. There are hundreds of cisterns beneath the city, but this one…” His voice held a note of awe. “It is the largest. It fed the palace itself.”

Ava was at a loss. “It’s…”

Stunning.

Eerie.

Otherworldly.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally said.

“It is that,” Malachi said softly. “The city cisterns were fed from aqueducts the Romans built. Some still lead back to their water source or have tunnels leading between them. During its use, the water would have been far higher. Over our heads.” They strolled along the raised platform, damp with water dripping from the domed ceiling above. “Modern Istanbul holds pieces of Greece, Rome, the Byzantines, the Ottomans. New conquerors, new rulers, new buildings. Still the same city, just with a different face. The bones remain the same.”

“Archaeologists must have a field day here.”

He nodded. “There’s much to discover still. Istanbul is a puzzle, and I doubt all her secrets will ever be revealed.”

“I don’t think I want them to be,” she whispered. “I like the mystery. I love this place, this Underground Palace.”

Malachi’s eyes took on a distant stare. “It’s set apart. Another world, almost.” He walked to the edge of the platform, looking out over the dark water. “There are many places like this in the city. Places where the present and the past seem to coexist at once. As if they live next to each other, only a ripple away.”

She watched him as he turned back to her, eyes still scanning the darkness. Who was this man?

He caught her glance. “What?”

“Who are you?” she asked. “You don’t sound like any bodyguard I’ve ever had.”

Malachi smiled. “I’m not so unusual. Perhaps you keep too much distance.”

“It’s necessary.”

“Why?”

Was it the darkness? In the quiet underworld, she felt as if she was talking to a shadow. “I just can’t be around many people. They make me uncomfortable. It’s exhausting.”

“Why?”

Ava turned away. “Find a new question, Mal.”

Silence fell between them, filled with the echoes of voices in the dark. Ava could feel him—actually feel him—approach from behind. She tried not to tense.

“You have been more at ease than when we first met.” He kept the question light. “Is your doctor helping?”