She hoped it would be enough.
The trip to Galizur’s was a necessary precaution. She had watched the streets after Raum’s departure, committing to memory all that Griffin had told her about jumping and hoping for the best.
By the time the lamps were finally lit, darkness was already hovering, waiting for its turn to take over London. Helen waited until the streets were clear before lifting her foot over the windowsill. She would not have attempted it had she not seen it used recently for the very same purpose. She may not be as quick on her feet as Raum, but if he could do it, so could she.
That the window faced the home next door rather than the street was not surprising. Raum had obviously chosen the entrance—and exit—point for its discreet location. Helen was grateful for it as she straddled the windowsill, throwing both her legs over before she had a chance to change her mind. She sat there a moment with her legs hanging out the window, trying to calm the unruly gallop of her heart. Then, she gripped the ledge with both hands and dared a look down.
It only took a moment to spot Raum’s method. An elaborate stone molding, at least six inches thick, seemed to run the length of the building just below the sill. She thought back, imagining the front of the building as if she were still standing in front of it the first night of her arrival. She could see it, as clearly as if it were before her now. And yes, above the front door, an ornate peak crafted of stone or marble.
If she shuffled along the molding to the front, she could hold onto the top of the peak, sliding down to the point where she could safely let go and land on her feet.
Or this is what she hoped, at least.
It made her nervous to attempt such a feat where any passerby could look up and see her there, hanging like a common thief. But Raum had managed it and so would she.
Sliding carefully off the windowsill, she moved slowly until her feet came to rest on something solid. For one terrifying moment, she hung by her elbows, bent at an almost-painful angle behind her as she attempted to gauge exactly how solid the placement of her feet was. Finally, her hesitation left her by force. Her arms began to shake, and she let go, pressing herself back against the cold stone of the house as she forced her breathing steady. The sooner she got to the front, the sooner she could get back on solid ground.
Shuffling along the length of the building, she stopped for a minute when she reached the corner. The molding was wider here, a scrolled cornice set into the right angle of the building. It gave her a place to catch her breath, and she lifted her head, looking toward the front door and trying to gauge its distance. Thankfully, it was growing smaller.
When she at last reached the decorative molding that topped the massive doorway, she spent only a few seconds looking it over and plotting strategy. The ground was about eight feet below. Not as near as she’d hoped, but it would have to do.
Grasping the top of the molding, she dropped her belly flat against one side of the peak before letting go. The slide, which was faster than she’d expected, took her by surprise, and she let out a small cry as she tried to slow her progress enough to give herself time to prepare for impact.
The ground came upon her too fast. She hit it hard, almost stumbling down the stairs before she placed a hand against the stone facade of the house to regain her balance.
It had all been clumsier and louder than she’d planned. She half expected Darius or Griffin to open the door and inquire about the noise. No one came, and a moment later, she brushed herself off and made her way down the steps to the street below.
The light they usually used for jumping was there, but she walked past it, looking for one less obvious. She had no idea how the brothers spent their time when they weren’t fighting wraiths and seeking justice, but with so much time before their rendezvous, it was entirely possible one or both of them would leave the house, to say nothing of the passersby that still walked the street. Observing the people walking to and fro, she understood why Darius and Griffin preferred jumping so late. It was far more uncommon to see people about at midnight than it was at five o’ clock in the evening.
She continued down the street until she came to an alley. It stretched, dark and mysterious, to the street one block over. She couldn’t make out any light within it, but she noted a streetlamp at the end. Thanks to the many times she and Father had strolled after tea and her uncanny knack for remembering things, she could see the streets surrounding the Channing house as clearly as if she were looking at a map. She saw where they intersected, ended, and where they ran past popular theaters and attractions. She saw it all and knew with certainty that the street at the other end of the alley was less populated than the one on which the Channing house stood.
Of course, it was still early. There was every possibility of pedestrians, even on the more deserted streets of London, but it was better than trying to jump where Darius or Griffin could see her should they decide to leave the house. And with no light in the alley itself, the odds of a wraith appearing were slim.
She stepped into the blackness. Almost instantly, everything in front of her disappeared. Glancing back at the street behind her, she was relieved to see light leaking from it. But here, in the alley, the darkness was total.
She took a step forward, willing her eyes to adjust to the total lack of light. A few steps in, she was surprised to find that they did. It was still dark, but now she could make out piles of rubbish along the walls of the building sheltering the alley. Her boots crunched on rock and the odd bit of trash as she made her way deeper into the alley. The sound of her own footsteps only highlighted her isolation, her vulnerability. She forced herself to continue even when she heard the rustling of small creatures nearby and saw their bodies creep and scuttle across the road. That they were likely simple rats was little consolation.
She was halfway to the other side when she noticed a weak yellow glow leaking from beyond a stack of wooden crates. Halting her forward motion, she listened, trying to place the source of the light and the possibility of others. But the alley remained quiet, and she continued, stepping more hesitantly when she came to the crates, wanting to be sure no one lurked in the light. She stopped at the edge, peering beyond the crates stacked halfway to the roof of the adjacent building.
It was some kind of lamp built into the wall, its flame licking around a broken, smoky glass cover. Obviously meant to illuminate the door set into the brick of the building, Helen couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to frequent a place where one had to gain entrance through such a desolate alley. She wasn’t even tempted to use it to jump. The light was too weak, the location too dangerous, and she continued past it, almost screaming when a rustling near her feet revealed a bundle of rags much larger than a rat. The movement was followed by a slurred mutter and a groan. A vagrant, sleeping off too much drink.
She continued down the alley, anxious to put the light behind her. She was still some distance from the streetlamp that was her destination when she heard the strange but unmistakable rustling of air.
She froze, the breath catching in her lungs as fear coursed through her body. Instinct told her to run. To run and not look back no matter what.
But she couldn’t.
She had to know, and she turned her head ever so slowly, gazing back at the broken lamp. The wraith was there, standing in the frail light, his fist closed around something Helen was sure was a sickle. She could see the silver shine of his teeth as he came toward her, his steps reverberating through the alley in a way her own had not.
She had nothing. No defense of any kind. The promised weapon that was a result of her exercise with Darius had not yet come. Helen had assumed it would be given to her before they made the trip to Victor Alsorta’s. Which did her absolutely no good now.
Alone and unarmed, she was left with only one recourse.
Simply forcing her eyes from her pursuer took strength of will, as if not looking at him would make his presence more immediate, his pace quicker. But she did it. She pulled her eyes fro
m his face and ran. Her footsteps beat against the ground as she flew toward the light at the end of the alley. It took effort not to look back. Not to check the progress of the thing giving her chase.
And he was giving her chase. She could hear his footfalls as he raced toward her. Her only hope was to reach the light before him with enough time to conjure herself into the light to Galizur’s.
Would the wraith follow her there? Could he, given that he didn’t know her destination?
The questions were fleeting, touching upon her mind like a leaf in the wind. In the inevitability of her actions, the answers didn’t matter.
She was almost to the end of the alley. Could see the light from the streetlamp growing brighter and brighter with every step. She had a moment, one small sliver of hope when she thought she would make it. Then her foot caught a piece of rubbish and she went down, thrown to the pavement with the full weight of her body.
She lay there, sprawled across the pavement, half in and half out of the alley as the wraith came closer. Her mind was roaring both with the shock of her fall and the fear of her swiftly approaching pursuer, now at the end of the alley and looking down at her with a mixture of pleasure and disdain.
Afraid to take her eyes off him even for a moment, she scanned as much of the surrounding area as she could, looking for anything that would give her hope of escape. She found only one possibility. It was neither clever nor assured, but her mind could find no reason why it shouldn’t work.
Griffin had not said standing was a requirement for jumping.
She took a deep breath, recalling everything Griffin had told her about traveling through the light. Then she pushed herself forward across the dirty ground, scrambling on her hands and knees toward the light, until she was close enough to throw herself into it.
The wraith was already moving when she closed her eyes, imagining all the little pieces of her body and soul traveling through the energy of the light and landing under the streetlamp in front of Galizur’s.
For a split second everything went quiet, and she wondered if she was already dead.
TWENTY-FIVE
You’re a quick learner, to travel here so quickly under such conditions.” Anna, her eyes worried, handed Helen a cup of tea. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
Helen nodded. Her knees were scraped and she was fairly certain her heart was still beating too fast for its own good, but she was otherwise fine.
She had been surprised to find herself under the streetlamp in front of Galizur’s, despite the fact that it had been her intended destination. When she realized she had made it, she raced up the stairs, banging with no thought to discretion. Anna had opened the door only moments later, as if she’d been expecting Helen all along.
Now, in the comfort of the parlor with a cup of hot tea by her side, Helen raised her gaze to Anna’s. “How did you get to the door so quickly? I’d only knocked a moment before.”
Anna smiled. “We have monitors in the laboratory. They project images of all the exterior entrances.”
“There are other entrances?” She and the Channings had only ever come through the front.
Anna simply smiled, taking a sip of her tea without speaking.
Helen raised her eyebrows. “I see. You’re not allowed to tell me.”
Anna reached over and took her hands. “Our secrets are kept on your behalf, Helen. You must know this.” She removed her hands and placed her teacup back on the tray. “Now, Father told me you and the Channings are making your way to Victor Alsorta’s tonight. Your reason for being here—alone, no less—must be important.”
Helen nodded. “We went over the schematics for the Alsorta estate today. They seem very thorough, but I believe they may have left something out.”
Anna shook her head. “What is it?”
“Dogs,” Helen said. “I think Victor has guard dogs.”
Anna sat back in her chair, a look of concentration passing over her face. “Well, the plans do focus on the layout of the house and grounds, with the addition of the more obvious guards. I can see where dogs might be omitted from mention.” She met Helen’s eyes. “How did you find this out?”
Helen rose, walking to the firebox as if to warm her hands. In truth, she simply wanted to escape Anna’s piercing gaze. She stared at the fire as she spoke.
“I’d rather not say.”
There was a pause behind her as Anna considered her words. “All right,” she finally said. “I take it you don’t wish to tell Darius and Griffin about your source, either?”
Helen turned. “Not if it can be helped.”
Anna sighed. “So be it. What can we do for you?”
“How are you with a knife?”
Helen turned to Galizur as he spoke, trying not to show her alarm. They had found him down in the laboratory, tinkering with his many tools and inventions. He had not seemed surprised to see Helen. She was beginning to wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.
“I don’t like them,” she said in answer. “I’ve never liked them.”
Galizur’s forehead was wrinkled as if she were speaking another language. “But you fence?”
She shook her head. “Not really. That is, Father was trying to teach me, but I’m afraid I’ve never been good at the more… physical aspects of my schooling. We’ve only ever sparred with a foil.”
He rubbed the wiry hair at his chin. “Archery?” he asked hopefully.
She tipped her head, recalling her lessons with Father in the fields surrounding the country house. He’d told her all about Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, and her golden bow and arrow. Helen was instantly smitten, seeing in the deity all the things she would never be.
“Moderately better.” She paused. “But I wouldn’t like to kill a dog, even one of Victor Alsorta’s guard dogs.”
Galizur laughed. “I’m not expecting you to kill it, my dear girl! How uncivilized! No.” He shook his head, rising from the chair and making his way to one of the worktables against the wall. “Now, where in God’s names did I put it… ?”
Helen’s thoughts turned to Anna as he searched. She had left them to go upstairs after delivering Helen to her father. Helen couldn’t help wondering what her new friend would think if she knew about her encounters with Raum. Would Anna consider her a traitor? Would she, in her devotion to Darius—to all the Keepers—think Helen disloyal for conversing with the man who had ordered their execution? And would it make any difference if she knew that Raum’s motivation lay in the hope of saving his parents? Of turning back time so that they might choose a different course?
Helen still wasn’t sure if it made a difference. The empty part of her, the part left barren by the loss of her parents, said no. Motivation didn’t matter. The ends did not justify the means.
Raum’s words echoed through her mind; if there were a way to bring your parents back—to right my wrong—would you do it?
The matter of right seemed less certain in such a context. It was a crime that her parents had been taken from her as they had. A crime that they had been murdered because of Helen’s position as a Keeper. Would it, then, be wrong to bring them back? To use the records to restore that which was wrongfully destroyed?
She thought of Griffin. Of the anguish on his face as he’d talked about his parents, murdered on the street, a cold, metal key left in the palm of his dead mother’s hand.
And there were others. Other families murdered so that Alsorta could gain access to the records. Other Keepers destroyed for one man’s greed.
Would Helen bring them all back? Would it be enough to restore her sense of justice, or would there be an endless stream of wrongs to be righted?
She again saw her father’s words, written in a letter she was destined to read only after he was dead.
Time—and all the events held therein—plays out as it must. We cannot impose our will on it.
Her father had thought her honorable. Had thought her strong enough to bear the demands of time and fate.<
br />
Which meant the answer to Raum’s question was obvious. Her parents wouldn’t want her to abuse the records in such a way. Not for them, not for anyone. Even in her anguish, she knew it was true.
Galizur’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Ah! Here we are.”
He made his way back across the room, holding a small pouch tied with string. Sitting next to her, he placed the pouch on top of the table and began untying the laces.
“They’ve not been field-tested. Not properly anyway.” He opened the flaps of the pouch, exposing what looked to be five minuscule darts. “But they work here in the laboratory and I think they might just do the job.”
“Darts?”
He pulled one from the pouch, avoiding the pointed end. “Not simply darts. Tranquilizer darts of my own design.” He held one up to the light, giving Helen a better look as he touched the end. “Hidden in this part, here, is a small motor which allows the dart to move through the air with the power and force you would find in a much larger arrow expended by a typical bow.”
“I don’t understand,” Helen said. “How will this help us with the dogs?”
He looked away from the miniature weapon, meeting her eyes as if surprised by the question. “Why, you will throw it at them, of course. As long as you hit your mark, it should take the animal down in less than five seconds.”
“And it won’t hurt them,” she said softly.
“Not a bit.” He pointed to the sharp tip of the dart. “The ends are covered in a sleep-inducing toxin. It’s under a protective coating that dissolves only once the dart is deployed.”
“You mean the darts will put the dogs to sleep?”
Galizur’s forehead wrinkled as he considered the question. “It’s a bit more than your average slumber, to be sure, but the point is small and should do no long-term harm to the animal.” He hesitated. “Although, there is one important thing you must remember.”
“What is it?”
He met her eyes with his own. “Don’t leave any of the darts on Alsorta’s premises. Once the dogs are down, retrieve the darts and return them to the pouch. Just be careful not to touch the ends once the dart has been released or you will experience firsthand symptoms of the chemical at its end.”
A Temptation of Angels Page 17