Page 4 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

She frowned, and Asner wondered if he was the first mental health professional to ask that question. Ava Matheson had seen more than her share.

“No. No, I don’t hear them in my dreams.”

He smiled. “That must be a relief.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Is that part of the reason you prefer to work alone? No voices?”

“Yes.”

“And happy, relaxed places. Vacation spots instead of conflict areas.”

“It’s all falling into place, isn’t it, Doc?”

“Have you tried medications?”

“All sorts of them.” She reached out and grabbed the arms of the chair she sat in. “Most of them make me sleepy. Kill my appetite. That’s about it.”

He nodded, jotting down more notes as she examined him. “Do the voices… are they always the same volume? Are some louder than others?”

“Everyone is different. Some people are clearer than others. Yours right now is very quiet, but… urgent. You want to get this information as quickly as possible, but you’re trying to remain calm.”

He stopped and looked up at her. “That’s very disconcerting, Ava.”

She gave him an innocent smile. “Imagine what it must be like for me. What do you want, Doctor? You want something.”

He paused, trying to decide how to answer. “I’d like to refer you to a colleague. He’s someone I think might be able to help you.”

“Why?”

“I remember him speaking once about a patient with similar symptoms. Do you mind traveling to see him?”

She waved at the distant ocean. “I was in Cyprus when my mom called and told me to go to a doctor in Israel for my yearly ‘what’s-the-matter-with-Ava’ appointment. What do you think?”

“Excellent.”

“I might not go, though.” She shrugged. “Carl and Mom get pushy about once a year, but mostly, they leave me alone. Especially now that I have Jasper’s money.”

“Jasper is your father?”

“Yeah.” A hint of a smile crept across her face. “I guess you could call him that.”

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I know we’ve gone over the hour—no charge, of course—but…” Asner scribbled down a name and telephone number from memory. “I do hope you’ll see my colleague. He’s in Istanbul. Have you been before?”

Ava’s eyebrows furrowed together. “No, but I’ve been told it’s beautiful, even though it’s crowded.”

“And you don’t like crowds because of the voices?”

“That and the lack of deodorant on hot days. I might check it out.” She shrugged. “Like I said, no guarantees. If I happen to be in Istanbul, I’ll look him up.”

He smiled politely and rose to his feet as she stood to gather her things: a large messenger bag, a battered camera case, a light scarf thrown around her neck to keep the dust of the city away. She grabbed the paper from Doctor Asner’s hand and had started toward the door before he spoke.

“May I ask…?”

The young woman turned, tucking a curl behind her ear before she put her sunglasses on. “You can ask whatever you want. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

He frowned. “Your name—Ava—means ‘voice’ in Persian. Did you know that?”

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