CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“I’m still surprised she let me go.”
“Let you go?” Renata’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s not some despot. You wanted to go. You went. We’re not military, like scribes.”
Mala signed something and Renata interpreted. “Mala says we’re also not as organized or efficient.”
Ava leaned back in her chair as they sat in the small restaurant beneath the room Renata kept in Bergen. “It probably also helped that Sari and Damien appear to have reconciled.”
Mala snorted and began signing again.
“Yes,” Renata said with a laugh. “Very loudly.”
“I don’t even need to speak sign language to get that,” Ava said. “But yes, I don’t think they’re noticing much about anything except each other at the moment.”
It was nice to see. Painful, but nice. Everyone was happy for them. Damien hadn’t slept a night in the guesthouse since the night they’d argued there. Argued and not returned. Now Ava’s nights were guarded by a series of friendly scribes and singers who watched over the house while she slept. She could hardly begrudge Damien his time, and it made her early nights less noticeable to the others. She escaped into dreams. It was none of their business how often.
They sat near the window, not chancing the freezing temperatures outside. The window was cold enough. A few tourists still wandered the streets of the charming Norwegian town, taking pictures of the bright houses and soaring, snow-covered mountains.
Winter had descended on the fjords, and though the small valley where Sarihöfn lay was protected from the worst of the elements by Sari’s magic, Bergen was not shielded. It was a bone-chilling cold that Ava hadn’t experienced for a few years, though it wasn’t anything she could forget. She looked with longing at the visitors loading skis into cars, wishing she had the time to join them.
But, as Renata reminded her, this was work. Not fun.
Mala and Renata had fallen silent, sipping their coffee and allowing Ava to listen. Other than brief snatches of conversation, she’d been scanning voices for hours. Most of it was still meaningless babble to her, but she was beginning to recognize a few common words and phrases in the Old Language.
Humans, she realized, were more than a little repetitive.
Worry. Worry. Longing. Joy.
A frustrated man stormed past. His voice felt like anger. She caught the word for “wife” in his thoughts, but not much else.
Worry. Worry. Joy. Contentment.
Love her.
Happy.
Stop. Must stop.
Understanding came in flashes. The drone of the whispers never ceased. Adults were anxiety and longing. Children were laughter, but simple worry was still there. Names flashed. Voices rose and fell.
Ava rubbed her head. In the safety and silence of Sarihöfn, she’d forgotten how exhausting people could be. Luckily, both Mala and Renata hummed low repetitive tunes that blended into a kind of white noise. If she’d heard them in isolation, they would have driven her crazy. But among the throngs of other voices, the background music helped her focus.
…he comes…
Where? Here? Now?
…pretty, pretty human…
Her ears perked at the odd tone of the whisper. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the single voice that had mentioned the human.
…work… morning…
So much meaningless babble. She couldn’t wait to understand more than just—there!
…human …want…
It was faint and scratchy. Discordant. Just like the Grigori she remembered from Istanbul.
“I’ve got one,” she said softly, closing her eyes. Mala and Renata were silent, but she could hear their humming stop. Their inner voices jumped, alive with curiosity. Excitement.
“Shut up!” Ava said. The humming started again as she tried to track the voice. It was moving away. Ava stood and grabbed her jacket, desperate to find it.
I’ve got you, asshole. No humans for you today.
She bumped into two people near the door, but she didn’t apologize. She walked out into the snow-covered streets, searching for it, hoping that Renata and Mala were following. Not paying attention to anything but—
“Got you,” she whispered when her eyes fell on him. Like all his kind, he was beautiful. Golden-brown hair shone in the low sun. He was laughing, flirting with a woman in front of a hotel who looked at him as if he’d hung the moon in the sky along with all the Northern Lights. If Ava didn’t know what he was, she would have stopped and stared, too.
Ava paused at the corner and turned to Renata and Mala, who hung back, careful not to get too close. “Him. On the corner in the blue sweater.”
“Oh yes,” Renata said with glee, “I see him now.”