The Scribe - Hunter Elizabeth - Страница 21

“Tell me more about this organization you’re after, Mal.”

He wasn’t prepared for the question. Luckily, he’d rehearsed an answer that morning while he was waiting for her to wake. “They’re an organized, international criminal enterprise that specializes in human trafficking. They’re very secretive; you won’t find much about them online. Officially, they don’t exist.”

“Really?” Her voice had that distant, skeptical tone again. “No international task forces? Interpol? United Nations?”

“Governments don’t want to acknowledge things they don’t know how to combat. It makes them feel helpless.”

She raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses. “So why are you guys after them? I’m assuming your company is being paid.”

Curious woman. Curious, bothersome woman. The surge of reluctant admiration annoyed him. “Let’s put it this way—they’ve hurt some very powerful people in the past. Those people want to make sure it doesn’t happen again, and they’re willing to put their resources behind our company to take care of them.”

“You mean kill them?”

“Ava, I don’t—”

“‘My dagger hungers for your neck.’” She mimicked his voice from the night before. “Who talks like that? I’m assuming you were threatening his life.”

They were past the houses now, on the edge of the park. Pine trees lined the road along with fluttering scraps of ribbon and cloth, markers left by the pilgrims who’d traveled the road before them. Ava didn’t look at him, but he knew she was waiting for his response.

“Yes, I was threatening him. According to the law, he is not a criminal, but he kills and kidnaps with impunity. What should our response be if one of them threatens an innocent person?”

The color on her cheeks was high, and she was starting to breathe more heavily the longer they climbed.

“But you’re not police. You’re not military. Basically, you’re out for revenge on these guys.”

“We’re keeping them from hurting more women and children. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Her fingers trailed along the brush, twisting around one particularly long ribbon that was tied to a low branch of pine. “What are these? What are they for?”

“They’re prayers. Pilgrims tie them as they walk up to the monastery. Most of them are from women who want children. The monastery is associated with fertility.”

He saw her pause, her fingers twisting around a ribbon, clutching it for a moment before she released it and continued walking.

Malachi saw the quick crease between her eyebrows, and his fingers ached to smooth it.

“Do you want children, Ava?”

She glanced at him, surprised. “None of your business.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed back a frustrated curse and kept walking. “It is none of my business. I apologize.”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t have them.” Her voice was soft, but he caught the words muttered under her breath anyway.

He stopped, turned. “Is it because of your health? Your… headaches?”

“We’re not talking about my headaches,” she said with a glare before she marched off the path and into a stand of trees.

Malachi watched her, confused for a second before he followed. “Ava, where are you going?”

She was still walking, ducking under low branches as they walked over the forest floor covered with pine needles. He could barely hear her steps as she headed even farther off the path, toward a rocky outcropping that overlooked a desolate beach.

“Ava!”

She stopped. Turned. And pointed a gun at his chest.

“Why don’t you stop lying now, Malachi?” she asked softly, her voice chilling him to the bone. “And start telling me the truth about your ‘organization’ and who really hired you?”

Slowly, he brought his hands together in front of his body, subtly tracing the talesm prim on his wrist. The old spells took hold, covering him with magic. “I can explain.”

“Good. Start talking.”

“Please put the gun down.” He was more concerned about her injuring herself or some random hiker than he was himself. “Ava, please put the gun—”

“You are not ordering me around, Malachi.” Her hands didn’t tremble on the weapon. She stood in a ready stance, obviously well-acquainted with the weapon. “You’re not being honest with me. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Really?” he stepped closer. “And how do you know that, Ava?”

“I just do.” Her eyes were cold. Nothing remained of the teasing, friendly woman he’d come to know.

“Ava, please,” he repeated her name again softly. “Put the gun down. Do you really think I would hurt you?”

For the first time all day, he saw her expression crack. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I have been with you for over two weeks. If I wanted to hurt you—”

“Who hired you, Malachi?”

“—I could have done it. But I won’t, because I don’t want that.”

“Just tell me who you’re working for.”

He took another step closer, holding his hands out. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t!” Her voice rose. “Why don’t you take this opportunity to explain it to me? That seems like a good idea when I have a gun pointed at your chest!”

“Please, Ava—”

“Stop saying my name like that!” Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. “You’re a liar. And I trusted you.”

He shook his head. “I would never hurt you.”

“You already have!”

“Ava, put the gun down.”

“Just tell me what is going on!”

“Don’t you understand I can’t!” he shouted, then muttered a frustrated curse under his breath.

As soon as the words left him, her mouth dropped open. Ava froze. The hand holding the gun sank and the weapon fell with a soft thud on the pine needles. Malachi dove for it, grabbing it to put the safety on, only to realize it had been on safety the whole time.

“Ava, what on earth—?”

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“I said what on earth—”

“Before.” She was taking rapid breaths. He looked up from the gun. Her eyes were panicked; she was reaching for him. He had to back away. “What did you say before, Malachi?”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Before!” she shouted with a choked sob. “What was it? Please!”

She looked ready to collapse. She was trembling, tears rolling down her face, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Ava, I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Please.” Her face crumbled. “Just tell me what language it was. I heard you. Just… just tell me I’m not crazy.”

Malachi wanted to grab her. Calm her, but he couldn’t. She was wearing nothing but a tank top. She’d taken off her long-sleeved shirt halfway up the mountain. And his touch would hurt her. No matter how much he wanted, he would never—could never…

He finally registered what she’d said.

Tell me what language it was.

He’d cursed in the Old Language. Most people never even noticed.

Her eyes pleaded with him, and her shoulders shook. “Tell me I’m not crazy, Malachi.”

“Ava, did you…” He drew in a quick breath as the pieces began to fall into place.

The headaches. Her nervousness in crowds. His instincts had warned him, but everyone said it wasn’t possible.

‘I heard you…’

Malachi shook his head.

Defeat washed across her face. “Please… I’ve heard it for so long.” She fell to her knees. “I just need to know—”

“What language are you talking about, Ava?” He knelt cautiously next to her, still stunned. Ava shook her head, eyes glassy and dazed.

“My whole life…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “They called me crazy. And now I’m imagining it out loud. I am—”

“This language?” he asked softly, whispering in the ancient tongue of the angels. “Ava, is this the language you’re talking about?”

She gasped and clutched the front of his shirt. “Malachi?”

He continued in soft words he knew she couldn’t understand. “Where have you heard this, beautiful one?” Malachi lifted trembling fingers to a curl of her hair, then he asked in English again. “Where have you heard this, Ava?”