Page 14 of The Seeker
Stormy skies hung low over the strange hamlet of grey and black marble graves in various states of disrepair. Ferns and moss peeked from exposed stones while many graves bore fresh bouquets and evidence of care.
Rhys sidestepped a puddle that had formed in the middle of an alley between the graves. “But even with all the tourism, there are relatively few Grigori attacks?”
Zep glanced at him sideways. “There’s more than what our watcher in Houston wants to acknowledge. We’ve been asking for additional men for years now—and a level of independence—but they’re reluctant to send more.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.” Zep shrugged. “Some of the brothers here say pressure from the haven keeps scribe numbers low.”
Rhys frowned. “You mean Meera’s haven?”
“Nah.” Zep hopped over a larger puddle. “She’s never lived there. Doesn’t claim it. Her parents are another story.”
“They’re the guardians, correct?”
“Indeed they are. About four years now.”
“You’ve met them?” Rhys avoided the question of Meera for the moment. He’d noticed the scribe became closemouthed about the mysterious Irina, and Rhys didn’t want to push his luck.
A man under an umbrella crossed the alley in the distance, sidestepping the growing puddles as rain continued to fall. He flashed across Rhys’s line of sight, then disappeared behind another line of graves.
Zep continued. “I’ve met her daddy. Who is one scary fucker, I might add.”
“How so?”
“You know the quiet type that sits in the corner and you barely notice ’em until they stand up and you realize just lookin’ at ’em they could kill everyone in the room and not blink?”
Rhys chuckled quietly. “My former watcher is exactly like that.”
“That’s Meera’s daddy. And I hear her mama is just the same.”
“So Meera’s parents are both warriors, but she became a librarian?” It was just another confusing facet to an already confusing singer.
“Meera’s a softer type.” Zep smiled. “She’s plenty powerful, but I ain’t ever seen her pick up a knife.”
Zep’s expression revealed his admiration, and Rhys felt an unexpectedly territorial objection to it.
“So she’s soft,” he challenged.
The other scribe narrowed his eyes. “Not soft. Just… not a soldier. She doesn’t have to be. She’s under our protection here.”
“Of course.” Rhys forced a smile. “It’s clear she feels very safe here. She must live near the scribe house.”
“She lives close enough. None of your business where she lives.”
You don’t know any more than I do.Rhys backed off. “I would never intrude on her. I’m simply curious. It’s not typical for Irina to live independently.”
Unless it was Renata or Ava or any number of the Irina Rhys knew. Opinions about Irina independence diverged wildly among younger scribes. Rhys hadn’t managed to read Zep yet.
“There ain’t much typical about Meera.” Zep stepped to the side to let a couple of rain-soaked visitors with fresh flowers in hand pass them, wandering farther back into the graveyard. “She’s unique.”
That’s what I’ve heard.Rhys said, “I look forward to consulting with her on my research. She’s clearly a brilliant woman with a much deeper knowledge of the native Irin of this region than I have.”
Zep smiled at Rhys again. “You know, Iamfrom around here. Just sayin’ if you’re looking for local sources, I can hook you up.”
Rhys had already guessed that from the scribe’s accent. “Then I suppose I’ll be interviewing you as well.”
“But you gotta buy me dinner first,” Zep said. “I ain’t some cheap date.”
