And he loved her.
His love was not selfish or prideful or domineering or full of expectation.
It simply was. And she knew now that whatever happened, she loved him as well. She would fight to protect him and would die doing so if necessary.
“Griffin?” She called out to him across the room.
“Yes?”
“You’ve become my friend, and I love you.” It was right and true and that made saying it easy.
She heard his surprise in the intake of his breath. “And I, you, Helen. I think I’ve loved you since the moment you first stood on my doorstep.” He paused. “But now, I really must insist that you sleep. My love will still be here when you wake up.”
She smiled, though no one could see it, and then marveled that she could find a smile on such a night. It was the last thing she thought about before drifting off to sleep.
“Helen? Wake up! Someone’s coming.”
She didn’t know how long Griffin had been calling her name when she finally came around, but she was not yet coherent when she heard scratching at the window, the scuff of boots along the sill.
She lay still, waiting to sit up until she heard the thud of boots on the carpet.
She sat up. “I knew you’d come.”
It was not what she had planned to say.
“I heard what happened.” Raum stepped carefully across the floor, stopping at her bedside. “I told you I’d be here if you needed me.”
She felt suddenly like a traitor. She had allowed Raum to come knowing that he would be blindsided by Griffin’s presence. It placed her in a precarious position, trapped in the web of her own torn allegiances and her affection for two men who were, for all intents and purposes, mortal enemies.
But it was too late to worry about that now. Raum was here, lowering himself to sit on her bed even as she heard Griffin rise in the corner.
“I think that’s close enough, don’t you?”
Raum froze in the moment before he stood up, backing slowly toward the window like a caged animal as he peered into the shadows.
“Who’s that? Who’s there?” Even now his voice was as calm as if he were inquiring about the weather. It was the voice of someone who had taken care of himself for a very long time and gotten himself out of more scrapes than Helen could ever imagine.
“Griffin Channing. You killed my parents.” It was said calmly and with resignation.
Helen swung her legs over the bed as Raum turned his face to her.
“You knew about this?” he asked her. “Set me up?”
She shook her head. “It’s not like that. We need your help.”
“While that may be true, I find it hard to believe that one of the Channing sons would ever seek my assistance. They know what I’ve done.”
“Yes, we do,” Griffin said.
“Well, then.” Helen noticed with surprise that, as he spoke, Raum had one hand on a sickle at his belt. She had thought they were only for the Keepers. “I imagine you’d like to kill me. Send my body to the infernal Dictata as proof that the executioner is dead.”
Griffin’s nod was slow. “I won’t deny that there is a part of me that would like to do exactly that. But I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
Helen jumped in. “You were right about the dogs. We would be dead if you hadn’t told me. Galizur gave me tranquilizer darts to put them to sleep, but I left one behind and they…” Her voice broke and she cleared it before continuing. “They traced it to Galizur and murdered him.”
There was regret in Raum’s eyes. “I’m sorry. He was a good man. I remember his kindness when I was young.”
“Now we have a problem,” Griffin said.
Raum raised his eyebrows. “I thought you already had problems.”
“Not the least of which has been you.”
Helen heard the coiled rage in Griffin’s voice and knew he was close to losing his temper. She started talking, hoping to head off an explosion between the two men that would cost them all time and energy they could not afford.
“Victor Alsorta isn’t just the leader of the Syndicate,” she explained. “He’s Alastor, a member of the Legion’s Blackguard, seeking control of the records on their behalf. He doesn’t want them to increase his own wealth and power as we first thought, but to change the course of history that has led to the Dictata’s rule for centuries.” She looked into Raum’s eyes, speaking softly. “But then, I imagine you already knew all of that.”
“I did.”
There was no point asking why he hadn’t told her. “We think the other members of the Syndicate are planning some kind of overthrow at the Summit, which would accelerate the Legion’s plans considerably. The Legion would prefer to have access to the records, but if they can’t find the key in time, there’s every reason to believe that Alastor will take the world by force.”
Raum crossed his arms over his chest. “What does this have to do with me?”
Helen continued while Griffin brooded. “We won’t be able to access Alastor’s estate again. Not the way we did before. He’ll be on alert. And he’s going to be ready for us.”
“I’m waiting,” Raum said.
Griffin saved her by saying aloud what she could not. “You’ve worked for him. You obviously know his security setup and probably a lot more that we don’t know about. We need your help getting in and killing him before he can kill the rest of us.”
Helen allowed herself to hope in the silence that followed. Then, Raum laughed aloud.
“You expect me to believe that you want my help? That you would trust me to fight beside you? After what I’ve done?”
His voice was incredulous, but Helen heard the self-loathing in his words.
“It’s not our first choice, believe me,” Griffin said. “But we don’t have any other options.”
Raum narrowed his eyes, looking at Griffin and Helen with suspicion. “That isn’t all, is it? You won’t say ‘thank you very much and have a nice life’ when it’s all said and done.”
“No, it won’t be that simple,” Griffin confirmed.
“Then, what?”
Helen tried to find the words to appeal to Raum. She had a feeling they would not be as carefully chosen by Griffin.
“You would help us as a show of good faith,” she finally said. “When it’s all over, assuming we survive, you agree to present yourself before the Dictata for judgment. In return for your assistance, we will plead with the Dictata to show you leniency.”
He did not laugh or otherwise deride the suggestion. “So I’m to believe the Dictata will simply forgive me for the execution of the world’s Keepers—”
“You said you didn’t kill them,” Helen interrupted.
He nodded. “Nevertheless, you expect me to believe that the Dictata will let me walk away, knowing I ordered the murder of the Keepers?”
“Not you. Alastor,” Helen protested. She heard Griffin’s snort of contempt at the rationalization and fought the urge to argue the point all over again.
Raum turned his eyes on her. “It’s true that Alastor ordered it done, Helen. But I hunted you. I found you. I ransacked your homes for the key. And then I ordered my own hired killers to murder you and your families.”
The sorrow in his eyes told her what the truth cost him. She knew it was a truth that he had repeated to himself a hundred times since they’d found each other, even though he was saying it aloud to her for the first time.
“And yet, if you help us set things right, I think the Dictata will take into consideration the… mitigating circumstances of the situation.” Helen was surprised at Griffin’s conciliatory tone. Perhaps Raum’s regret was not lost on him after all. “It won’t be a free pass, no. But it might be a fresh start.”
Raum paced to the firebox. He turned away, seeking what little privacy he could find while still maintaining a visual on the room in which they all stood. Helen recognized the maneuver. They had all been taught to trust no one. Raum more than anyone.
r />
He rubbed his jaw with one hand, his face pensive. There was no guarantee that they would prevail over Alastor even with Raum’s help, but without it, they were almost certainly doomed.
He turned to face them. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”
“But, why?” Helen had difficulty speaking around the despair that rose in her throat. She stepped toward him, placing a hand on his arm. “Can’t you see? We need you. This is your chance to set things right. To begin again.”
“I’ve already had to begin again,” he said wearily. “I don’t have the energy to do so once more, and the truth is, I’m not even sure I care about the outcome.”
She flinched at the words. “You don’t care what happens to us? What happens to me?” She lifted her chin, pushing on. “I don’t believe you. I know you care. I can see it in your eyes.”
Her words struck him like a hammer. For a moment, there was such vulnerability, such tenderness in his eyes that she wanted to weep. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Something slammed down over the emotion and his expression returned to nonchalance.
“I wish you well, Helen. That much is true.” He brushed past her on his way to the door. “But I can’t do anything to help. I have my own worries. Every low-life criminal in the city is looking for me at the moment, mortal and otherwise. It’s all I can do to keep myself alive.”
“I should have known that you would look after yourself first. It’s what you’ve always done.” She knew it wasn’t fair even as she flung the words at his retreating back. Raum had been forced to look after himself. There had been no one else to do it. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself, and she continued shouting as he reached the door. “Run away, then. Run away from the possibility of something lasting and good. It’s your strong suit, after all.”
He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob. Griffin stepped up next to her as if to protect her from an impending explosion. But in the end, Raum said nothing at all. He simply opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.
Gone as if he had never been there at all.
THIRTY-THREE
What is all of this?” Helen exclaimed, holding up a coiled metal contraption before adding it to the pile on the worktable. “I can’t make sense of any of it.”
They were in Galizur’s laboratory, sifting through stacks of paper and crates full of mechanical remnants. After some discussion, they had agreed to see if it held anything that might aid them in a battle. They would proceed to the Alsorta estate this evening. Getting onto the grounds would be at least as difficult as gaining access to Alastor a second time, but they had little choice.
The Summit was tomorrow. They wouldn’t get another chance.
Raum’s refusal to help still stung. Helen had been so sure. So certain that he would come to their aid if she asked. But in the end, he hadn’t cared for her at all. He would see her die at Alastor’s hands before risking his own life to save her.
“Father was always at work on new gadgetry,” Anna said from across the room. “I’m afraid it will take me a long time to figure it all out.”
Although Darius had implored her to rest, Anna insisted that grieving would come later. At the present, she needed to keep moving. To contribute to the cause that had cost her father his life.
“We should take the new glaives.” Darius held one of the small rods up to the light. A moment later, it extended into the spear Helen remembered from her second visit to Galizur’s. Darius continued. “I know they haven’t been tested beyond the melons here in the laboratory, but they seem to work well enough to me.”
“I’m all for it,” Griffin said. “Glaives, sickles… what else?”
“How about some new darts?” Anna rose from her chair at the table, holding something out to Helen.
“But…” Helen looked down, surprised to see a row of darts nestled inside a leather pouch. To her eye, at least, they looked identical to the ones fashioned by Galizur. “I thought there were only five.”
“There were five finished darts,” Anna explained. “But there were a few more that simply needed adjusting. They should be fine now, though. I’ve given you extras just in case.”
Helen counted ten of them.
“Why don’t you let me hold on to those…” Darius began, reaching for the darts.
Anna pulled her arm away, tying the pouch closed before handing it to Helen. “Helen did a fine job with them before.”
Helen could only look at the leather in Anna’s hands. She had not done a fine job. Not at all. But Anna’s offer was a benediction. Forgiveness for her oversight.
“Thank you.” Helen took the darts. She looked into Anna’s eyes and knew the other girl understood.
“All right, then.” Darius looked around. “What about fire? Wasn’t your father working on a weapon that spewed fire?”
Anna shook her head. “It won’t work. Not on Alastor. He’s a demon—a creature of fire. And while you can fend him off with the sickle and glaive, even those things will not destroy him.”
Griffin looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean? The glaive is the only way to destroy otherworldly creatures.”
“Wraiths, yes,” Anna said. “Even minor demons. But not those like Alastor. You can only hope to send a demon of his strength back where he came from with the sickle or glaive. Though he has been banished from this world from time to time through the ages, he has never been destroyed. If he had been, he wouldn’t be able to make a stand now.”
“Are you saying he’s indestructible?” Helen asked, wondering why they were bothering to arm themselves if Alastor couldn’t be destroyed.
Anna sighed. “Not exactly. There is one way…”
“What is it?” Darius asked.
“This.”
Helen was stunned into silence when the answer came, not from Anna as she had expected, but from the tunnel leading into the laboratory.
The voice of a man.
Raum.
He strode carefully into the workroom, holding something long and slender in his outstretched hand.
Darius lunged for him and was stopped by Griffin, whose own arms bulged with the effort of holding his brother back.
“Think, brother,” he said. “Think before you act.”
Raum did not seem to take the threat seriously.
“Not exactly the welcome I envisioned,” he said, stepping farther into the room. “I was, after all, invited.”
Helen crossed her arms over her bosom. “You declined the invitation, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes.” He met her eyes. “But I’ve had a change of heart. Assuming you still desire my assistance.”
The room descended into silence, save the sound of Darius’s strained breathing as he struggled to gain control over himself. A moment later, Griffin let his brother go and tipped his head to the object in Raum’s hands.
“What is it?”
Raum was still watchful, as if he expected Darius to lunge at him again and was bracing himself for the attack. Finally, he grabbed the end of the object and pulled.
Helen could not stop the intake of breath as the sword emerged, shimmering and slightly curved, from the sheath in Raum’s hands. It was an object of such beauty, such perfection, that everything seemed to dim around it.
“Is that…” Anna stepped closer to Raum, her eyes riveted to the blade, until Darius put a protective hand on her arm.
Raum nodded. “It is.”
Anna shook her head in wonder. “But how did you get it? Where did you get it?”
“I’ve had it in my possession since I realized Victor Alsorta was Alastor,” he said. “You might call it an insurance policy of sorts.”
“But there are only three.” Anna looked up at him, obviously reluctant to take her eyes off the sword. “Only three in the whole world.”
“Ahem,” Griffin interrupted. “This might be a good time to tell the rest of us what it is, exactly. I realize it’s a sword, but what makes this one s
o special? How will it destroy Alastor when nothing else will?”
“It’s the Sword of the Ages,” Anna said, as if they should all know to what she was referring. “One of them.”
“And what is the… Sword of the Ages?” Helen felt almost ridiculous saying it aloud.
It was Raum who answered. “In the beginning, there was one point of entry to this world for all of your—our—kind. A place where the angels who were joining this world entered and those who were leaving it exited. When the Alliance was formed, a great fire was built there. Many, many angels had walked its ground even at that time. It was thought to be hallowed. Those who were chosen to found the Alliance gathered to forge and anoint three swords containing all of their power, concentrated for eternity in their blades. It’s only with one of these swords—forged in honor of the original three Keepers—that one of the Blackguard can be destroyed.”
“And only if it is used in precisely the correct way,” Anna added.
“Is there a correct way to use a sword?” Griffin asked. “I’ve always thought it was a simple device.”
“Not this one,” Raum said.
“A greater demon can only be destroyed by one of the swords, and only if it is used to pierce the demon’s heart at sunrise.” Anna made it sound simple. As if such an extraordinary set of circumstances were commonplace.
“You cannot be serious.” Darius’s voice was disbelieving.
“She’s telling the truth,” Raum said. “The old ways are filled with rituals. Many of the terms of the Treaty are based on them. This is one of them. A way to guarantee that even the Legion have some peace in this world if they adhere to the Treaty’s terms. The swords have been locked away by the Alliance to insure some semblance of order between us and them.”
“Then how did you get it?” Helen asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Raum avoided the question, his eyes shifting away from hers. “It will aid us in destroying Alastor.”