A Temptation of Angels (31 page)

“And they should skip this section of the fence on the next go-round,” Darius said from the shadows. “Which means we’ll move as soon as he passes to maximize our time.”

Raum, leaning against a tree on the other side of her, said nothing. Helen sensed his isolation in every move of his body. In the distance he had kept between them on the road to the house. In the position of his hand, on the sickle at his belt even when there wasn’t a guard in sight. As if he expected them to turn on him at any moment. As if they were not to be trusted, even as they cast their lot with his and prepared to enter Alastor’s lair.

“I’m going to take a look at the fence,” Griffin whispered from her right. “I might be able to formulate a strategy for getting over it more easily if I can get a closer look.”

Darius crouched low beside him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Stay here, Helen. Don’t move and don’t make a sound.” His eyes drifted to Raum. “Unless you need help, of course.”

She sighed, torn between apologizing to Raum and understanding Griffin’s concern. “I’ll be fine. Just be careful.”

Griffin nodded. They were gone a second later in a quiet rustle of leaves.

Helen turned to Raum. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “No apology necessary. If I were Griffin, I’d want to protect you from me as well.”

“Even still…” she said. “You’re helping us. It seems that should count for something.”

“In my experience, nothing counts for anything.” Despite the words, his voice was not bitter. It carried the same resignation she had heard before. As if he knew too much of the world. Had glimpsed the future and already knew there was no point in fighting the way things were.

“And yet, you’re here.”

She saw him nod in the dark. “That I am.”

“Why?” she whispered. “What made you change your mind?”

He picked a twig up from the ground, twisting it in his hands as he spoke. “My life. Or lack thereof.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been fine, taking care of myself these past years. Being alone.” She knew from his voice that it was a lie, but she couldn’t steal his pride by saying so aloud. She listened quietly as he continued. “But it’s no kind of life. Not really. I think it’s time I face the Dictata and be well and truly free. I’m tired of running.” He paused. “And then there is the matter of you.”

The last part surprised her. “Me?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“What about me?”

There was a long pause before he spoke again. “It’s been a long time since someone believed in me, Helen. A long time since I’ve believed in myself. But these past days…”

“Yes?” she asked softly.

He plucked absently at the leaves on the ground. “I’ve felt your belief in me, and though it seems small, I’ve begun to wonder if that’s all we really need. Just one person who knows us truly. One person who knows the darkness that lies within and believes in us anyway.”

She thought about the words, wondering if they were true.

“And there’s one more thing,” he said softly.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” He turned toward her, his eyes finding hers in the dark. “It’s mad, isn’t it? We haven’t seen each other since we were children, yet I feel the strongest desire to protect you.”

The confession made it difficult to breathe. What could she say? That ever since he had found her in the factory building she had not been sure of anything? That her own loyalties were constantly in question because of the distant remembrance of
a blue-eyed boy who looked upon her with affection and gave her uncut keys in the garden?

He had favored her with the truth. She would do the same.

“I feel the same way about you.”

He chuckled softly in the darkness. His laughter was tense and unsure, as if he hadn’t done it in a very long time. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I hardly have need of your protection. I’m a foot taller and outweigh you by a hundred pounds.”

She smiled at the truth of it as something warm and familiar moved between them. It was not unlike falling into one’s own bed after a long journey.

“Yes, but there are other kinds of danger,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Loneliness. Guilt. Despair.” She smiled. “To name a few.”

“What will you do when this is all over?” Raum asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll learn the things I need to know in order to fulfill my duty as one of the Keepers. I’ll rebuild the house I was raised in.” She met his eyes. “Plant a new garden.”

She couldn’t pull her gaze from his. Not when he placed his hand against her cheek. Not even when he rubbed his thumb gently against her lips. His skin was callused and rough, and she reveled in the feel of it. All of her loss—and yes, all of her affection—was reflected in his eyes.

“The guard’s coming.” Raum dropped his hand from her face as Griffin appeared next to her. “As soon as he passes we make our move.”

Helen nodded, her face afire with shame and, if she were honest with herself, something dangerously close to desire.

Darius settled against the trunk of the tree next to Griffin. A few moments later, Helen heard the boot steps of the approaching guard on the other side of the fence. She looked straight ahead, marking the guard’s position by the light that bobbed over the ground, casting strange shadows in the trees. It was a cursory pass, as they had come to expect. If Alastor had put his men on alert, they had their focus elsewhere. Clearly, no one was very worried about the wooded tree line at the back of the house. It made Helen angry. Obviously, Alastor thought they were stupid enough to use the same point of entry and exit twice in a row.

They listened as the guard’s footsteps faded into the distance, his light disappearing into the night. Then they all sat up and prepared to move.

“We think we have a way over,” Griffin said. “Come on.”

She followed him and Darius to the fence, feeling Raum’s presence behind her and forcibly banishing from her mind the moment that had passed between them while Griffin had been
gone. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was here and now—destroying Alastor and the Legion’s foothold in this world.

They came to the iron fence. Helen gazed upward, looking for its end. She couldn’t find it. Whether due to its height or the black iron that blended into the darkness around them, the fence seemed to go on and on, stretching endlessly into the night sky.

The first spasm of panic gripped her. She ignored it as Griffin began unlacing his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“We’re going to make a rope,” he explained. “We’ll tie our shirts together and you’ll add… whatever it is you can add while remaining decent—”

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted, certain she had not heard him correctly. “You want me to undress? Here?”

“It’s the only way,” Griffin continued, removing his shirt to bare his muscled shoulders. “If we knot the rope at the top, letting it hang on either side of the fence, we can use it to climb up and over. Darius will go first, followed by Raum. After that, I’ll give you a boost up.”

“And then what?” She was trying to imagine it in her mind, and while she thought she understood what he was suggesting, she sincerely hoped she was wrong.

He looked into her eyes. “You’ll have to use the knots on
the rope to place your feet and hands, but it will be easier than trying to scale the fence itself. The bars are smooth iron and run parallel to each other. There’s nothing to hold onto without the rope.”

She wanted to laugh aloud at the idea of it. She could barely ride a horse without falling off. Scaling an iron fence topped by sharp points in the dead of night did not bode well.

But she knew there was no point debating the idea. This was it. Their way in.

And if the men could do it, so would she, even if it did require climbing the rope and partially undressing in the middle of the woods.

She removed her jacket and handed it to Griffin, already knotting his shirt to Darius’s. A few seconds later, Raum handed his shirt to her to add to the rope. She caught the scent of something musky and warm in the fabric and flashed to the moment he had touched her lips with his thumb. She hurried to pass the shirt to Griffin before she could become even more distracted.

She had hoped her jacket, put together with the men’s shirts, would be enough. But when Griffin and Darius spread out the knotted clothing, even she could see it would not get them close to the ground on either side.

Griffin turned to her. “I’m sorry, Helen.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Do you have anything on under that?”

Her cheeks burned. “Just a corset and chemise.”

He inhaled deeply, his eyes apologetic. “I’m afraid we’re going to need your shirt. It still won’t get as close as I’d like, but every little bit will help.”

She nodded, aware that they were running out of time. Pushing aside her mortification, she started on her own blouse, avoiding the eyes of the men as she removed the shirt and passed it to Griffin.

It did not take him long to finish the rope. When he did, he double-checked the knots and turned to Darius.

“Ready?”

Darius nodded.

Griffin threw one end of the makeshift rope toward the top of the fence. It didn’t work, and he tried several more times before turning to them in frustration. “It’s too light. I can’t get the end of it over the top of the fence.”

Raum chose a large rock from the ground and reached a hand toward the rope. “Let me.”

Griffin hesitated a moment before handing it over.

Once Raum had the rope in hand, he created a pouch on one end, placing the stone inside and knotting it securely in
place. Then, he stepped back and threw. The rock, trailing the rest of the rope, flew up and over the fence. Helen watched their knotted clothing unfurl on the other side.

Griffin looked at Raum. “Nicely done.”

Darius reached toward the fence, grasping both ends of the rope and lacing them together. He walked backward, pulling them until the knot rose, bit by bit, to the top of the fence. He gave it one last powerful tug, ensuring that it was knotted securely at the top. Then, he let go, leaving one end of the rope dangling on either side of the iron fence.

Grasping the end closest to him, he glanced at Griffin. “See you on the other side, brother.”

He started climbing.

He made it look easy, but Helen knew that it was deceiving. Darius was strong. He pulled himself quickly from knot to knot, using his feet to steady himself on the swinging rope. Finally, they heard the sound of boots on metal and knew he had reached the top. He dropped to the ground on the other side less than a minute later.

Darius grinned at them through the bars of the fence. “Piece of cake.”

Raum took the rope, glancing once toward the top, and began climbing without another word. He was two knots up
when he stopped moving. A few seconds later he dropped back to the ground.

“What is it?” Helen asked. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated a moment before reaching for his belt. “I can’t move freely with the sword swinging at my side.”

He turned to the fence, his eyes meeting Darius’s through the bars. A moment later, he passed the sword through with obvious reluctance, returning wordlessly to the rope. No one said anything as he rose into the darkness. His ascent was as effortless as Darius’s, and nervousness built in Helen’s bones as he climbed. She would have to go next, never mind her fear.

Raum hit the ground on the other side. There was sweat on his brow when he held the rope out to Helen through the fence.

“You can do this.” He looked into her eyes as he said it, and in that moment, Helen believed it.

She took the rope, studying it as if it would offer a clue how to begin.

“Reach up as far as you can,” Griffin said quietly. “Take hold of one of the knots and pull yourself up until you feel another of them beneath your feet.”

“Then what?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Keep doing it,” he said simply. “Reach, pull, move your
feet to the next knot. The rope will swing a little, but you can’t spend too much time in one position. Your arms will grow tired that way. Try to keep moving.”

She nodded, repeating the words. “Keep moving. Right.”

Griffin glanced nervously around, and she knew he was worried about time. Time she was costing them by being nervous. She approached the rope, reaching above her head for one of the knots. When she found one, she hesitated, knowing that once she started, there was no going back.

But there was already no going back. Alastor had ordered the murder of their parents. If they let him reach the Summit tomorrow, he would use his power to overtake the world—with or without the key, which he would find eventually anyway. It was inevitable.

There were only three of them left. Three Keepers. One of them had it.

Once Alastor found it, he would change the course of history to suit him. Helen might cease to exist. Worse, she might find herself enslaved to Alastor himself or someone—something—even worse. The possibilities were horrific and endless.

This was it. It had to be done.

She forced herself to acknowledge the truth and then she
pulled, lifting her body a foot off the ground, as her feet flailed for purchase against the rope.

It was not easy. Not nearly as easy as Darius and Raum had made it seem. The rope twisted to and fro, making it almost impossible to find the knot with her feet. Her arms were already growing tired when she finally found the next one. She remembered Griffin’s instructions and resisted the urge to rest. To remain with the relative security of her two little knots.

Forcing herself to move, she steadied her feet and reached above her head for the next knot before forcing her feet from the rope. It was easier this time. She found the knot after only a few seconds of kicking blindly in the dark below her.

“Good!” Griffin whispered from below. “You’ve got it. Just keep going.”

She did. The rest of the world fell away. Even their mission to destroy Alastor was put on a remote shelf in her mind. Now, there was only the rope. The rope and darkness and the velvety sky above her. She reached and pulled and moved her feet even when her arms burned with the effort.