Page 44 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“I saidwhat 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—couldnever…

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. Iam—”

“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?”

She clutched his shirt tighter. “Everywhere,” she choked out. “I hear it everywhere!”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “It can’t be.”

“Every person. All over the world. I hear them, Malachi. In my head. The same language, over and over.” Her tears kept falling, and she wouldn’t let go of his shirt, almost as if she was afraid he would run. “I’m crazy. I know it. I told myself if I could just figure out what they were saying, it would make sense, but—”

“You’re not crazy.” Malachi lifted a tentative hand to her cheek.He had to know.“You’re not crazy, Ava, you’re—”

He broke off when she leaned her face into his hand, resting her cheek against his frozen palm.

Ava whispered, “You make the voices go away.” Then she closed her eyes, let out a soft breath, and Malachifelther.

The rush of energy filled him, lifted him. His heart raced as the force of it elevated him. Malachi lifted his other hand to her neck, tracing the ancient letters over her skin, watching as the faint golden glow illuminated in the shadow of the pines. A choked laugh bubbled up in his throat and Ava’s eyes flickered open. His hand traced lower, brushing over her bare shoulder, down her arm, and everywhere his hand went, her skin gave off a faint, shimmering gold.

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