The Scribe

Chapter Twenty

The Antea Hotel sat on the corner of the Piyerloti Caddesi, just at the end of a quiet string of hotels. A few hundred meters from the tourist center, the old street was sheltered by tall trees and staid municipal buildings. A quiet street in the Sultanahmet, but still central enough to the main thoroughfare, it was the perfect place to store an emergency vehicle.

Malachi held Ava’s hand as they crossed the intersection, passing the empty cistern and the fountain in the center of the square. Pigeons startled from the sidewalk, but no other pedestrians interrupted them as they made their way into the lobby.

The young woman at the front desk eyed Malachi, causing an unexpected flair of possessiveness in Ava that caught her by surprise. Since the night before, she’d been on edge, bristling with borrowed energy and heightened senses. The passing cars distracted her. The lights were too bright. But her voices, thankfully, had become easier to ignore. The only one she heard clearly was Malachi.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the woman said in perfect British English. “How may I help you?”

Malachi lowered his voice and switched to Turkish as Ava took in the gold-accented lobby. It wasn’t the fanciest hotel she’d seen, but it was clean and bright. The ground floor was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Instincts pricked when Malachi took her hand and led her out toward the sidewalk.

“The car is here, but she said our package hasn’t arrived yet. She suggested waiting in their restaurant, but I’d rather be out here.”

“Me too.” Ava looked around at the peaceful street that suddenly seemed ominous. “I don’t like it here.”

He frowned and smoothed a hand over her cheek. “What do you hear?”

“Nothing specific.”

“Then we have to—”

“Not enough,” she said in a low voice. “It’s too quiet. Where are the other guests? There aren’t even any tourists around here.”

“It’s the middle of the week, canım. I think you may be overreacting.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth. “Which is completely normal considering your new senses.”

She shook her head but couldn’t find anything to argue with in his reasoning. He was probably right.

Since the mating ritual, Ava had been flooded with power. She was stronger. Quicker. She healed faster. She’d deliberately taken a knife to her forearm that afternoon while Malachi had been napping, just to see what would happen. The cut she’d made on her forearm had healed within minutes.

He was stroking her hair, leading them to the bench by the locked cistern. Ava looked at the sign announcing the renovations. It was in Turkish, but she could see the future plans for the new tourist attraction around the historic site.

“Did you get the car keys?” she asked when they’d sat.

“Yes. She said the messenger already called to say he’d be late. She said he’d probably arrive in the next half an hour.”

“And Damien? Max?”

“Headed over to the rug shop right now. We’ll call them once we get on the highway.”

Ava nodded, a sense of unease still heavy in her belly.

“It’s fine, reshon. Everything will be fine.”

Malachi watched her, wondering what had happened to the confident, fearless woman he loved. Since the night before, she was jumpy. A cloud seemed to hang over her shoulders. Was she truly that worried, or was their new intimacy making him more aware of her moods?

It wasn’t uncommon for Irin mated for years to be almost telepathic with each other. Though they couldn’t speak to each other’s minds, the awareness of mood was hard to ignore. He’d know when she was angry or happy. Upset. Worried. He felt them all now as her emotions flooded the magic he’d given her. It was both intoxicating and distracting, and for the first time, he wondered whether the ritual had been the right thing to do.

Too late to second-guess himself.

Malachi watched the front of the hotel as two men exited. They looked up and down the street, then sauntered off in the direction of the Sultanahmet tram station. A few minutes later, a couple entered the hotel from the opposite side. Normal traffic on a quiet afternoon.

And still Ava sat, a silent knot of tension at his side.

“Tell me a story,” she finally said.

“What kind of story?”

“Something not serious. What’s your favorite childhood memory?”

He broke into a smile. “Swimming at the beach. We’d go to the North Sea in the summer when we lived in Germany.”

“Wasn’t that cold?”

“Freezing.” He put an arm around her, thankful for the distraction. “My father had a good friend with a cabin there. I think it’s still there, probably. It was quite old, but very nice. My mother and father and I would stay for two months in the summer. Living in a retreat can be very hectic sometimes. Families live in their own homes, but the children go to school together, the adults all work together. Even meals are communal. So my parents tried to make some time for only the three of us. That was our family time. I would play in the water even though it was frigid. My mother thought I was crazy.”

A tentative smile crossed her face. “You were.”

“We should go there,” he said. “When we have children, we’ll take them there.”

There was a smile on her face. “We should.” Ava took a deep breath. “We’ll really have children, Malachi?”

“Hopefully.” He squeezed her. “Irin don’t have many children. One is normal. Two is fortunate. But I hope we have two.”

The vision of children Jaron had sent her flashed in her mind again. A dark-haired boy with his father’s eyes. A golden-eyed girl laughing. It should have warmed her, but there was a dark side to the vision, as well. The animals had stood at attention, prowling around the girl and boy. Clearly guarding them, but from what?

“Do not fear the darkness.”

The memory of Jaron’s voice calmed her as she sat. Then she tensed again when she felt Malachi’s arm tighten.

“What is it?”

“Grigori,” he said, freezing as he watched two men enter the hotel lobby. “Two of them just walked in. Damn it.”

Ava looked around them. They were completely exposed in the center of the square. There were no barricades to hide behind, no buildings they could duck into without being conspicuous.

“I can’t kill them in the hotel lobby or out in the open here,” Malachi said. “We’ll have to wait for them to come out. Draw them somewhere isolated.”

“Is it just the two?” Ava’s eyes landed on the grated door of the Theodosius Cistern. Though it was locked, it was only with a simple padlock. No guards stood nearby. And the dark passageway had a view of the hotel.

“More coming this way,” he murmured, taking her hand. “From the direction of the mosque.”

Looking uphill, Ava spotted two attractive men strolling down the street toward them. They were looking toward the hotel, not at Ava and Malachi, but Ava knew as soon as they saw their friends leave the lobby, the Grigori would start looking for them.

“More from that street, too.” Malachi pulled out Ava’s phone and sent a quick text to someone. Somehow the drop location had been compromised.

“We have to get out of here,” he said.

“How?” Ava’s heart raced. Six streets converged at the cistern park, and from each direction, a group of men strolled toward them. There were two there. Three there. “Malachi, they’ve cornered us.”

“No,” he muttered. “There has to be a way…” His eyes landed on the locked grate leading to the cistern entry just as the call to prayer started and birds scattered in flight. The Grigori converging on the square turned their heads toward the mosque on Divan Yolu, and Malachi used the distraction to drag Ava toward the cistern. “This way.”

“That goes underground!” she hissed. It was one thing to stroll through the Basilica Cistern with its dramatic columns and modern walkways, but the Theodosius Cistern looked like nothing but a black cave. “Malachi…”

“We’ll watch and wait for now,” he said, twisting off the lock that held the grate closed. He opened the door, and Ava was grateful the calls of the muezzin hid the rusty groan. “We can see the entrance of the hotel from here. There are too many to fight alone while I’m not at full strength. If we run, they’ll catch us. Until Max and Damien get here, we need to hide.”

She knew that ritual had been a bad idea. The thought of a weakened Malachi sent her heart into overdrive. “Did you text them already?”

“Yes.” He shoved her farther into the shadowed passageway, and Ava almost tripped over the heavy rubber boots covered in mud that the workmen had left on the platform. “They should come soon. They’ll create a distraction, and we’ll grab the car. We can figure out documents later. Right now, I just want you out of this city.”

“Okay.”

Malachi sucked in his breath and darted back from the door. “Brage.”

Ava’s heart sank. From the darkness of the metal walkway, she could see the blond Grigori soldier walking out of the Antea Hotel and turning his head to look up and down the street. His eyes were narrowed with purpose.

The soldiers knew they were nearby.

Malachi shot off another text to Max, who had yet to respond. Where the hell was he? Annoyance and worry competed in his mind. What had happened to the documents? Had Maxim been set up? And further, how could Malachi get the car from the hotel while avoiding the dozen or more Grigori who had taken up residence at the intersection?

When he realized who the blond Grigori outside the hotel was, thoughts of the car fled. He had to get Ava away. Eyes darting into the blackness, he racked his memories for everything he knew about the cistern where they were hiding. It was an old one, and he suspected it connected to the Valens Aqueduct, the ancient waterway the Romans had built to transport water throughout the city. Many of the cisterns still had tunnels leading between them. Was the Theodosius one of them?

Malachi tossed one last look toward the square. The sky was growing dim, and the street lights in front of the hotel had switched on. He could see Brage and the other Grigori milling in front of the hotel. He could wait for them to leave the square, or he could look for another way out.

He looked down to the boots at their feet, then bent down to slip on the biggest pair, handing another to Ava.

“Put these on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Down.” He saw a small flashlight near the edge of the platform. Flicking it on and hoping the light wouldn’t be seen from outside, he peered over the edge. “We’re going to see if there’s a tunnel.”

“What?” Ava squeaked. She might have protested, but she was already pulling on the boots. “We’re going farther down? Shouldn’t we wait here for Max and Damien?”

“And wait for Brage to notice the broken lock on the gate?” Standing in the boots, he tested them, finding himself not unbearably clumsy in the yellow rubber footwear. “There could be a tunnel out of here. There often are in these old places. And if they do find us in here, I want a wall to my back and you behind me. It’ll be easier to kill them if I don’t have to worry about them coming from all directions.”

He didn’t mention Brage wielding an angelic blade. That was the real problem.

“I knew you shouldn’t have given me a bunch of your magic,” she said, pulling on the second boot.

Malachi was doubly glad that he had. If she was injured in all this, improved healing could be the difference between life and death for her. And with Ava’s improved eyesight, they barely had to use the flashlight.

“Come on.” He took her hand and started down the creaking staircase.

“Are you sure this thing is safe?”

“Workmen have been climbing up and down on this for months, so I hope so.” He paused when one of the steps wobbled under his feet. Then he started climbing at a slower pace. “We’re not that heavy. We’ll be fine.”

Once they’d safely reached the bottom, Malachi turned on the light. Sweeping it from side to side, he could see the soaring columns belted by steel bands for reinforcement, marching like grey soldiers into the black. The domes of the cistern towered over them, the ancient brick causing the slightest noise to echo. He could hear water dripping overhead and the splash of muddy water as Ava walked behind him.

“They’re renovating it right now,” he whispered, “but it used to have as much water as the Basilica Cistern.”

“Looks more like mud to me.” She almost tripped over a shovel leaning against the wall. “Holy cow, it stinks.”

“People throw all sorts of things down here. Try not to think about it.”

Malachi carefully led them around the periphery of the cavern, but he couldn’t spot a tunnel or other exit. If there had been one, it was closed off or under mud or brick. The water grew deeper the farther they went, and thick mud sucked at their feet.

“Anything from Max or Damien?” she whispered behind him.

He glanced at the phone. “I can’t get any reception down here. I told them where we were hiding. I just hope they get the message.”

“If they don’t… then what?”

Then what? He had no idea.

Ava’s sense of dread grew with every step they took into the dark cavern. The water sloshed at their feet, and the flashlight seemed unbearably bright in the pitch-black underground. She was certain anyone looking in from outside would see it.

“You know,” she whispered, glad her voice didn’t waver, “of all the sights for us to see, this is one I probably could have skipped.”

“I did promise to show you an authentic side of the city.” He scooped up a dead fish and tossed it to the side.

“Malachi?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, even though you’re dragging me through really stinky water and mud right now.”

He turned and she could see his smile even in the darkness. “I love you, too. I say we deserve a vacation after this is over. Didn’t you mention you were rich?”

“Extremely.”

“Know any places with better water and less dead fish?”

“I just might.”

She saw his shoulders shake with laughter as they continued working their way around the walls of the cistern. Despite careful inspection, no tunnel appeared. No alternate exit presented itself.

Finally, Ava sighed and said, “It’s been a while. Maybe they’re gone. Or some have left and we could sneak away. We should go check to see if they’re—”

The sound of the door creaking stopped her. All ease fled as she heard the whispered voices from the platform above.

It wasn’t Damien or Max.

Heart racing, Malachi traced over his talesm prim, activating the magic that remained. He was still strong. Still able. He would be able to defend her. He felt the creep of magic and took her hand, slowly moving behind one pillar and out of the line of sight from the door. He listened.

“—gate open.”

“Is this cistern linked through the tunnels?”

“I don’t think so.”

They were speaking German, the rough syllables echoing over the water as he and Ava stood as statues in the dark. Even a ripple in the water would give them away. She was pressed against him, her heart racing against his chest, but her breathing was deliberately slow. She was concentrating on not panicking.

Good girl.

If they could just remain silent enough…

“There are lights.”

Malachi heard a fumbling on the platform, and then the cistern was flooded with work lights hanging from various pillars.

Damn.

Another, heavier step sounded on the metal platform. The other Grigori fell silent.

“I can smell your fear, Scribe.”

Brage’s deep voice didn’t boom. It curled and twisted in the darkness, seeking them where they hid. Malachi felt Ava tremble.

“The scribe and the woman are here,” Brage said. “Spread out. Find them.”

As soon as he heard the splashes, Malachi moved. Carefully stepping in the shadows, he went farther into the cistern, toward the deeper water where the mud lay thick on the bottom of the floor.

The Grigori were as slow as Malachi and Ava were, their normal speed negated by the pulling mud. He wrapped an arm around Ava to still her so he could listen.

One.

Two. Three.

Four in the water.

Splash!

Five.

A louder splash as one jumped from the railing and into the water.

Six.

“Matteus. Alfred. Stand watch with Mikael by the fountain. If any of the others scribes approach, alert me.”

Brage. Three by the fountain. By Malachi’s calculations, that meant eight in the cistern. Two more splashes confirmed his estimate, then the water fell silent, save for the isolated curses as the Grigori tripped over each other and the detritus of the work site.

Ava’s hand squeezed his own, and he had to force her to release it so he could grab the silver daggers he wore under his shirt. He frowned. Weaponless. His mate was weaponless.

That is, she was weaponless until he saw her pick up the crowbar from a niche in the wall.

He smiled proudly.

“I think I saw some ripples in the water over there!” one said.

“Where?”

“Are there fish in this water? It could be fish.”

“Yes. I feel them.”

They moved deeper, Ava had sunk to the waist, but was still moving slowly, deliberately, behind him. He’d spotted a corner earlier where he thought she’d be best protected. A round, half dome carved into the wall. He suspected it had once been a walled-off exit, but nothing remained except a few steps. He didn’t have time to investigate more.

Once they got there, he drew up her arm and started writing with his finger. The low luminescent writing was hidden in the shadows.

He hoped.

Stay here. I’m going to even the odds.

She shook her head violently, but he kept writing.

Use the crowbar.

He had to wait for the letters to fade before he wrote again.

Swing for the neck and the groin. Don’t hesitate. If you can sink the clawed end into a neck, PULL. Do as much damage as possible and stay as quiet as you can. I’ll be back.

She shook her head again, tears at the corners of her eyes. Malachi bent down, kissing them away before he whispered, “Don’t worry. I told you, I’ll be back.”

Then he slipped into the darkness.

Ava wanted to scream. She felt helpless. Choked by silence, mysterious words whispered in her mind, teasing her as she waited in the darkness. The Old Language called her, the magic begging at her lips.

Powerless.

She was stronger. Faster. Healed more quickly. But she knew nothing about how to protect herself or make her mate stronger. She gripped the cold, gritty handle of the crowbar and lifted it against the dark, tensing when she heard the first sounds of struggle.