Page 50 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“In the Old Language,” Damien mused. “If this is true, then you hear as the Irina do.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Irina hear the voice of the soul. It is one of their gifts.”

Her chest was tight. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t understand what that means. How can the soul have a voice?”

“How can it not?”

“I don’t understand any of this.” She was overwhelmed. Part of her wanted to keep firing questions, and the other part wanted to run away.

As if sensing her panic, Malachi grasped her hand in both of his. “We are all confused. None of us understands how this happened, Ava.”

“I don’t even know—”

“Know this: I believe you are one of us.” His grey eyes met hers. They burned with passion. “I know it. We will find the answers. We will help you.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on his. Even if nothing else made sense, some instinctive part of her trusted Malachi. Through all of this, he had watched out for her. He grounded her with his utter and complete confidence. She allowed herself to take a deep breath.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Okay.”

“Malachi speaks the truth as he believes it,” Damien bit out. “I am not convinced. We know your mother is not one of us.”

“My mom?” She looked between Malachi and Damien in confusion. “What about my mom? What do you know about my mom?”

“You look just like your mother,” Damien said. “Almost exactly.”

“Yeah, so?” She was starting to get irritated. “And how did you get pictures of my mom?”

Damien turned from her and spoke to Malachi. “Irina only come from Irina.”

“That’s what we’ve always been told.”

Ava asked, “So why do you think I’m one of these Irina?”

Both men ignored her and continued to argue in low voices.

Malachi said, “She’s reacting like the Irina. She hears the soul-voice. She can bear our touch. Judging from the color in her face, she even seems to thrive on it.”

“It’s not enough. We need to know how this could happen. Admittedly, she looks healthier than she did when she first came here, but—”

“What do you mean, ‘when I first came here?’ Who all was following me?” As irritated as she was, Ava had to admit she did feel great. Malachi was holding her hand and she felt calm. He was like the medication she’d tried once, but without the awful side effects. Holding his hand muffled Damien’s inner voice, making it easier for her to concentrate. She felt centered and easy. Relaxed. Her head was clear, and she was starting to remember more about the day.

“She can’t go back to the hotel,” Damien said. “She has to stay here. Stay protected.”

“Hello?” Her voice rose. “I am still in the room.”

“The Grigori still followed her yesterday?”

“Leo and I lost them on the way back from the islands, but—”

She squeezed Malachi’s hand, trying to get his attention. “Who the hell are the Grigori, and why are they—” Her eyes widened. “Shit.”

That one word was enough to silence the two irritating men.

Damien asked, “What?”

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