Page 115 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“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 histalesm 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.

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