“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.
And then, she was at the top. Pausing, she realized she hadn’t asked what to do once she reached the top. Probably because there was a part of her that didn’t believe she would make it that far.
Yet here she was, and it would be foolish to call down to Griffin. It was a fence. She might not be an athlete, but she knew there was only one way over it.
It was the top that scared her. Less points and more spikes, she worried about catching her clothing, or worse yet, being impaled. The thought, morbid though it was, gave her an idea.
Her right arm shook as she let go with her left, reaching through the bars for the other side of the rope. When she finally had it in her hands, she wove it through the bars, using the fabric to cushion the spikes at the top of the fence. She worked quickly, knowing her strength would not last forever. It was not perfect. Some of them still showed through when she was finished. But where before there was only the intimidating point of metal, now there was some cushion for her to use in hoisting herself over. It would mean a shorter length of rope on the way down, but she could not afford to worry about that, dangling as she was high above the ground, desperate for a way over the fence so that she could begin the descent.
She placed her left hand on the bars at the top and did the same with her right, using them to steady herself as she moved her feet up one or two more knots. Then, when her feet were uncomfortably close to her hands, she heaved a leg over the top of the fence.
She felt the bite of metal into her skin almost immediately. It was temporary. After that, everything moved necessarily fast and she could not be bothered to wonder at the extent of her wounds. Her corset ripped as she dragged her abdomen across the fabric-covered bars, throwing her other leg over at the last minute.
It was all she could do not to let go and allow herself to fall, but she forced herself to take a few seconds to steady her body before feeling with her legs for the knots in the rope. Going down was easier, though her arms shook with the effort. At least she was over the worst of it. She had made it up and over. Whatever happened now, she was getting closer and closer to the ground with every step.
Until she reached the end of the rope.
“I’m out of rope,” she whispered to anyone who would listen. “I had to use it to get over the top.”
“It’s all right.” Raum’s voice came from below her. “I can see you. You’re not that far from the bottom. Let go and I’ll catch you.”
“Are you sure?” Her hands were sliding on the rope now, slick with sweat and something she feared might be blood.
“I’m sure,” he said. “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
It was these words that made her let go. Raum would not let her fall. Despite everything, he had said it. Promised it.
And she believed him.
She let go, and a moment later was in his arms.
THIRTY-FIVE
He held her a few seconds longer than necessary, their breath mingling in the cold night air. Finally, he let go, and she stepped away as casually as she could.
“Thank you.” It seemed too simple for such an intimate moment, but it was the only appropriate thing to say with Darius standing nearby and Griffin only feet away on the other side of the fence.
Griffin made it up and over with far less drama. He must have uncoiled her cushion at the top of the fence, because a minute after he left the ground on the other side, the rope dropped closer to the ground in front of Helen. Griffin was standing next to them in seconds.
“What about the rope?” Helen asked as Griffin caught his breath.
“We’ll have to leave it,” Darius said. “It doesn’t matter. The guards won’t be back this way for some time. Besides, even if one of them shines the lantern right on the fence, it will be difficult to see the rope through the trees.
Helen was not happy with the thought of completing their task with only a corset and chemise atop her skirt, but there was nothing to be done about it.
“What’s the best way into the house?” For the first time, Darius looked directly at Raum.
“Depends,” Raum said.
“On what?”
“On which maid is sneaking out of her chamber to meet a beau or which old butler left a door unlocked.”
“It’s all chance, then?” Helen asked. “Getting into the house?”
Raum leveled his gaze at her. “Everything is chance, Helen.”
She didn’t have time to decipher the message in his words.
“We still have some time before the next patrol,” Griffin said. “If we’re careful and keep to the trees, we should be able to get a look at the house without being spotted.”
They were already moving when Helen realized Raum wasn’t following. She turned back to see him standing with his arms folded across his chest.
“What is it?” Helen whispered.
The brothers had stopped walking. Raum extended a hand toward Darius. “The sword?”
Darius held Raum’s gaze, and for a moment, Helen wondered if he would give it back at all.
But then he stepped toward Raum and unlaced the sword, handing it over without a word.
Raum nodded, tying it to his belt as he began moving toward the house. “Let’s go, then.”
They moved through the woods, slowing when the lights at the back of the house became visible
through the trees. Raum pointed to the left, and they followed him without speaking. They reached a point where they could see the rear of the house in its entirety, and they looked upward, scanning the facade for a way in. A moment later, Raum waved them closer. He pointed to the house.
“There. On the second floor.” They all turned to look as he whispered.
A window was open on the second floor, a trellis extending beneath it to the ground, the room dark beyond the glass.
“We can use the trellis to climb up,” Raum said.
“How do we know the room will be empty?” Helen asked.
“In my experience, a late night rendezvous is the only reason a window would be open over a trellis this time of year,” he answered. “But the real answer to your question is ‘we don’t.’”
“Wonderful.” She couldn’t help being sarcastic. Her arms were still numb from her journey over the fence, and she felt entirely too exposed without her shirt. But she had asked to come, and Darius and Griffin had allowed it against their better judgment. It wouldn’t be fair to seek their sympathy now. She would make it up the trellis one way or another—and face whatever was in the room above them.
“Let’s go.” Darius was already heading for the house when Raum put a hand on his arm. Darius froze, looking down at it in shock as if he could not believe Raum dared to touch him.
Raum removed his hand. “Once we’re inside, I’ll head to the cellar to cut the flow of gas to the lamps. Try not to confront Alastor until they go out.”
“What about you?” Helen asked. “How will we find you?”
She felt Griffin’s eyes on her and wondered if it pained him to know she cared about Raum’s safety.
“I’ll find you,” Raum said. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on the task at hand.”
And then they were moving along the tree line. They waited until they were even with the open window, not wanting to break from the cover of the woods before it was necessary. Then Raum waved them forward and they were racing across the lawn, running for the trellis and the shallow shadows of the house.
As with the fence, Darius went first while the rest of them watched for guards. Reaching the top, he disappeared for a moment before reappearing at the window, waving them through. Raum went next, followed by Helen. Despite the ascension of the men, she stepped carefully at first, not wanting to push her luck with the trellis. But after a few steps, it became obvious that it was as sturdy as oak, and she climbed the rest of the way without incident, marveling that it could seem easy after the rope and the iron fence.
Leaning out the window, Helen kept watch as Griffin began his ascent. He had only gone a couple of feet when she saw lantern light moving along the edge of the house. It bounced along ahead of its source, and while she could not yet know where it was coming from, she had seen enough like it during the three cold hours they spent waiting to get over the fence to know what it meant.
She leaned farther over the sill, whispering as loudly as she dared. “Hurry, Griffin. Someone’s coming.”
Griffin looked away from the trellis, following Helen’s eyes to the light at the edge of the house.
“I think it’s one of the guards,” she said.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he climbed furiously as Helen watched the light bob across the ground, becoming brighter and brighter with each passing second. Griffin was only five rungs beneath the sill, then three, then two. A trouser-clad leg extended beyond the edge of the house, the light illuminating the corner of grass at the man’s feet. He cleared the building and Helen recognized one of the guards who had been behind the dogs as she had disappeared into the tunnels the previous night.
Now the man stepped forward, heading for the back of the property. He didn’t look their way as Griffin heaved himself over the windowsill, Helen tugging on his arms as if it would make any sort of difference. He tumbled into the room on top of her with a muffled thud, and she said a silent prayer of gratitude for the thickly carpeted floors.
On his feet in seconds, he reached out a hand and helped her up from the floor.
“All right?” he whispered.
She nodded, looking around.
They were in a simple bedchamber. There was a small bed against the wall, a bureau, a wardrobe, and a night table. A muslin dressing gown was laid out on the bed, and for a moment, Helen imagined the maid who probably occupied the room. Perhaps she had escaped into the night to meet her lover. Helen wondered if her life was simple. If she cared for one man and one man only and had a mother and father she visited on holidays.
And then, Helen saw Raum heading for the door.
“Remember,” he said as he passed, “don’t confront Alastor until the lamps go out. Otherwise, you’ll have more on your hands than just one demon. I’ll find you as soon as I’m able.”
“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Griffin called after Raum as he reached the door.
Raum turned around. “What would that be?”
“The sword?” Griffin raised his eyebrows in question. “We’re the ones going to find Alastor. It seems we should be the ones with the sword.”
“And give you even more of a reason to leave me behind?” Raum shook his head. “I don’t think so. I told you I would help you fight Alastor and I intend to honor my word. Besides, sunrise is still some time away.”
“But how will we know where Alastor is?” Helen asked.
Raum shrugged. “I have no idea.”
He turned away, disappearing into the hallway.
It took them a few minutes to get moving. They debated whether to try the upper or lower floors first, finally agreeing to edge their way into the hall and head for the upper floor. That was, after all, where they had found Alastor last time.
Griffin stood against the wall by the door listening before he stuck his head into the hall, making sure it was clear before waving Griffin and Helen forward. They inched slowly toward the staircase, careful to stay on the carpets and tread lightly, lest any of the floorboards should squeak.
They were almost at the stairs when Darius stopped them with a raised palm.
Cupping a hand to his ear, he indicated that they should listen. Helen stood very still, trying to tune out the sound of her own breathing and the ticking grandfather clock somewhere in the house. At first, she could hear nothing else, but a moment later she caught something in the air. She tipped her head, straining to hone in on the sound.
The music came to her as if on a breeze, strings and wind instruments, coming from the floor below.
Darius raised his eyebrows, pointing downward in silent question. Griffin nodded, and they began descending the stairs, Helen hoping fervently that none of the servants were wandering the halls in the night.
They made it to the bottom without seeing another soul. Darius stepped onto the landing, turning toward a niche in the wall. They were nearly to its shadowed safety when a man’s voice drifted to them from an open doorway.
“Come, come,” he said, his voice low and friendly. “Don’t be shy. I’ve been waiting for you.”
They froze, eyes wide with alarm.
“Yes, I’m speaking to you, my fine friends,” the voice said. “Please do join me in the library. You didn’t come all this way only to run, now did you?”
There could be no doubt now that the unseen man was speaking to them, though how he could know of their presence, Helen couldn’t begin to fathom.
But it didn’t matter. She heard the intake of Griffin’s breath and knew they were caught. His mouth was set into a tight line as he stepped toward the door, pulling Helen behind him in a gesture of protection as Darius stepped up to his brother’s side.
A fire snapped in the firebox, the warmth hitting Helen full in the face as she stepped across the threshold of the room. It could have been any lavishly appointed private library. Bookcases lined the walls, reaching the ceiling in all their polished glory. Catching the scent of lemon, Helen had no doubt that the
wood was oiled regularly, for the shelves glowed even where they extended into the shadows.
“Ah. There you are.” A man rose from a chair near the fire.
No. Not a man.
A monster, Helen reminded herself, however he may look on the outside.
“So nice to make your acquaintance.” He stepped toward them, extending a hand in greeting.
Griffin and Darius ignored the proffered hand.
“As you wish.” Still smiling, Alastor shrugged off their obvious disdain. He directed his gaze to the brothers. “You must be Griffin Channing. And I assume the fierce-looking gentleman at your side is your brother, Darius.” He leaned around them both, his eyes grabbing hold of Helen like a starving man finding bread. Helen didn’t understand the hunger in his gaze, but she didn’t like it. “And this must be the beautiful Keeper, Helen, of the Cartwrights. Despite everything, I should tell you that I had quite a lot of admiration for your parents. They stayed alive far longer than the rest and kept you alive as well.”
Helen flinched at the words. She didn’t want to think of this thing hunting her parents. Plotting their deaths. Ordering the fire that killed them.
He turned his back on them, making his way to a drink tray atop a cupboard against the wall. His lack of concern for their presence—and their obvious plans to destroy him—worried Helen. He was too confident for someone outmatched three to one.
“May I offer you something?” he asked, his back still turned as he poured something into a glass. “Spirits? Wine, perhaps? Or do you partake of that insipid British concoction called tea?”
Just above the collar of his shirt, Helen caught a glimpse of the mark on Alastor’s neck. It was a dragon rising out of a great fire like the mythical Phoenix.
She moved forward so that she was even with Darius and Griffin, watching as their eyes skittered to the lamps, still licking flames behind their glass covers. She saw in their expression what she already knew; they would have to wait until the lamps were put out to make their move. Besides, Raum still had the sword and they couldn’t finish Alastor without it.