A Temptation of Angels

by Michelle Zink

Everything seemed to slow down while the blood raced through her veins. She had the oddest sense of euphoria as she pulled the first dart from the pouch. It was a signal to the dogs that the waiting was over, and they started forward, sliding a little on the dead leaves as Helen took quick aim at the one in front and let go.

  She heard the tiny motor whir to life, saw a red light come on at the flight of the dart. It picked up speed remarkably fast. She was almost surprised when it hit the dog’s muscled chest, just as Galizur had said it would. She was already letting go of the second dart when the first dog fell to the ground with a twitch. Helen hadn’t had time to aim properly, but it didn’t matter. The second dart hit its mark just as the first one had.

  One more, she thought, holding the third dart in front of her, watching the last dog close the last few yards between them.

  She let go, expecting to see it whir toward its intended target like the others. But something went wrong. The dart sputtered, emitting a dry cough as it flew erratically for a few feet and then crashed to the ground.

  The dog was perilously close by the time she pulled the fourth dart from the pouch. So close that she could smell its hot, rancid breath. She took an extra second to level her aim, and then she let go, already moving and praying the dog would fall.

  A second later, it did. Helen raced forward, bending over the paralyzed dogs.

  “Helen! For God’s sake! What are you doing?”

  She looked over at Griffin. He had not followed Darius into the tunnel. He sat at the mouth of the tunnel entrance, his legs dangling into the abyss. As promised and despite her wishes, he had not left her.

  She pulled the darts from the dogs’ fur, shoving them back into the pouch on her way to the tunnel.

  “I told you to go!” she shouted.

  “And I told you that I wasn’t leaving you here.”

  Helen heard in his voice that there had never been any question of his abandoning her, but there was no time to argue. That would come later. Now the men were almost upon them. She felt for the top rung, settling her foot on it and beginning to descend.

  Her head had almost cleared the ground when another dog burst through the trees with lantern light just behind him. She counted the darts she had thrown.

  The first dog. The second dog. The defective dart. The third dog.

  Four darts used.

  Reaching into the pouch, she closed her fingers around the last dart. It was out and flying through the air before the dog had crossed half the ground between them. And then Helen was climbing down the ladder as fast as her feet would allow, pulling on Griffin’s legs until he, too, began his descent.

  He pulled the cover over the tunnel entrance and the world fell into darkness.

  THIRTY

  It’s an anagram,” Helen said softly, looking out onto the street through a gap in the parlor curtains.

  “What is?” Darius asked from behind her.

  “Alsorta.” She turned to face him, avoiding Griffin’s eyes.“It’s an anagram of Alastor.”

  The revelation had come to her, suddenly and without forethought, when they had arrived back at the house.

  Darius took a deep breath, running his hands along the stubble at his jaw before slamming his hand down on the tea table. A silver dish and cut glass candlestick rattled against his outburst.

  “I should have checked.” His voice was laden with self-recrimination.

  “You couldn’t possibly have known.” Helen was surprised to find herself sympathetic. Feeling anything other than annoyance toward Darius was new. “You thought he was a man. We all did.”

  She felt him seething in the silence that followed. And then Griffin spoke, asking the question that she had been expecting, however much she hoped he wouldn’t.

  “There’s something I don’t understand, Helen.” He paced the room, his voice was tight with anger. “How did you know about the dogs?”

  They had raced through the tunnels, following Darius and not daring to stop or look back. This time it was a blur rather than a wonder. Helen listened carefully for anything behind them that might indicate that Alsorta’s men had given chase, but the tunnels were labyrinthine. Even if Alsorta’s men had pursued them beyond the grounds of the house, it was unlikely they would follow the exact twists and turns taken by Griffin, Darius, and Helen.

  Still, Darius had led them up through a different tunnel entirely, one far from the Channings’ house, just in case. They jumped the rest of the way, barricading themselves inside the house, sickles at the ready, as they peered through the curtains. Watching and waiting.

  It was only now, hours later, that they had let down their guard enough to even speak about what had happened.

  Helen stood at the window, watching the sun come up over London. She had been searching her mind for an answer to the inevitable question since the moment they’d arrived back at the house.

  There was no way around the truth.

  “Raum told me,” she said softly.

  “What did she say?” It was Darius, speaking from the sofa where he had finally sprawled once they had deemed themselves safe. For the time being. “I thought she said Raum told her.”

  “She did.” Griffin was closer, his voice at her shoulder. “Tell me that isn’t true, Helen. Tell me that you have not been collaborating with the man who murdered our parents.”

  “I wasn’t collaborating. And he didn’t murder them.” She knew she shouldn’t say it, but she was still unprepared for the noise that followed.

  Jumping back from the window, she looked at the now-empty place on the wall. Griffin had smacked it with the palm of his hand, sending the painting that had once rested there crashing to the floor.

  “That… doesn’t… matter.” Rage simmered under his words. “We’ve already discussed this.”

  “Well, maybe it matters to me,” she said hotly. “It’s easy for you. You didn’t know him before. You don’t have to reconcile the boy he once was with the man he is now.”

  Griffin became very still. “And what man is that, Helen? What kind of man is he now?”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I only know that he gave me information that helped us fend off the dogs. Had he not, we might very well be dead. Can’t you understand why it would be difficult to brand him an enemy, despite all that has happened?”

  Darius was unusually quiet, but Griffin shook his head. “No. I don’t understand. And there is something else I don’t understand.”

  She waited, bracing herself for the next question. The next accusation.

  “When did you find time to meet with him, Helen? When and where was that traitor able to give you such information?”

  She had to swallow around the lump in her throat. She had known it would come eventually, but she hadn’t had time to tailor her answer in such a way that it would not hurt Griffin.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She took a deep breath. “The first time he found me was when I went to see the ruins of my home. The day we figured out Alsorta was the one who had hired him.”

  She had hoped he would be satisfied, but of course, he was not.

  “The first time?”

  She nodded. “I saw him a second time. Yesterday. He…” She hesitated, trying desperately to think of a way to say it that would not sound so inappropriate. She came up with nothing. “He found me in my chamber.”

  He stared at her, almost uncomprehending, in the moment before he found the words to speak. “In your chamber? Here? In our home? You stood there, speaking to him like any gentleman, in the home owned by people he was responsible for murdering? In your private chamber no less?”

  It sounded so much worse when he spoke of it. She wanted to shout, No! It’s not like that. He was trying to help. It was the only way he could find me alone, and I had to be alone because he knew you wouldn’t listen!

  But she said none of it. It was exactly the way Griffin made it sound. She should have killed Raum when she had the chance—or at t
he very least sounded an alarm so Darius and Griffin could do it—and they all knew it.

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  His nod was slow. “I see.”

  He turned away, rubbing a tired hand over his face, but it was too late to shield her from the pain in his eyes. Pain she had put there.

  The silence sat between them until she actually wished Darius would say something. She didn’t care if it was rude or sarcastic or patronizing. She simply wanted someone to fill up the space left by the hole she had just blown in her relationship with Griffin.

  “These are matters you can discuss privately,” Darius said, as if hearing her silent wish. “We know now that Alsorta is no ordinary man seeking greater power. The Summit is two days away. If we don’t destroy him before then, it will be too late.”

  Helen considered his words. Turned over in her mind the players and pieces of the game. Something didn’t make sense, was not lining up as it should. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was, but it came to her a moment later.

  “Why would the Summit matter to him?” she asked. “Why would Alsorta even bother with the Syndicate? Access to the records will give him far greater power than control over a mortal organization, even one as powerful as the Syndicate.”

  She hoped Griffin would answer. That he would give her some sign that he did not intend to remain silent and angry forever.

  But it was Darius who spoke. “He can only have access to the records if he can find the key. And that is a very big if. He’s down to three Keepers, and he still hasn’t found it.”

  “And if he doesn’t…” Helen started.

  “Then, he would need a backup plan,” Darius finished. “Listen, this isn’t just one demon we’re talking about. Alsorta is a member of the Blackguard. They get their orders straight from Lucius, Master of the Legion. And they aren’t looking for a little foothold. Not this time.” He paused, shaking his head. “No. They’re making a play for the mortal world, and they intend to win control one way or another. If Alsorta doesn’t find the key, the Legion will bring the world to its knees through their control of the Syndicate.”

  “People wouldn’t stand for it!” Helen exclaimed. “Not once they knew what he was. They would fight.”

  “Mortals wouldn’t stand a chance.” They were the first words Griffin had spoken since her revelation about Raum. She almost winced at the pain on his face. “Not against an army of wraiths and an organization capable of shutting down every aspect of their lives.”

  “But didn’t you say that the wraiths are minor demons? That they’re easy to defeat?”

  “They’re manageable when they appear in twos and threes,” Darius said. “But the Blackguard controls the Legion, and those with the power of Alsorta can summon them in droves. Take a few mindless, soulless demons and multiply them by millions—all controlled by one of the most powerful, supernatural beings in the history of time—and you have an army that will overcome humanity in less than twenty-four hours.”

  Helen could see it. A world in which the demonic wraiths streamed from lights everywhere. All controlled by Alastor and the greater demons of the Legion.

  It would be the end of the world as they knew it.

  “So, he doesn’t need the records at all,” Helen said softly.

  “They would give him control over the past,” Darius said. “But if Alastor can’t find the key, it seems the Legion will settle for the future.”

  His words rang through the room like a death knell. Finally, Darius broke the silence.

  “We should rest today and go to Galizur’s once it gets dark. We’re going to need more information if we’re to fight Alastor.”

  “Someone should stand guard.” Griffin spoke without turning.

  “I’ll take the first shift,” Darius said.

  Helen waited, wanting to say something, anything, that would make it all right with Griffin. But it didn’t take her long to realize it was an impossible desire.

  She was lying on the bed, her body exhausted but her mind too busy for sleep, when a knock sounded. Crossing to the door, she was glad she had remained dressed. Although her bare feet and unlaced shirt were not entirely appropriate, it was certainly better than a nightdress.

  She opened the door, both surprised and anxious to find Griffin there. She had half hoped for and half dreaded his appearance. What more was there to say?

  “Come in.” She opened the door wider.

  He stepped into the room reluctantly, as if it was the last place in the world he wanted to be. She closed the door behind him, watching him cross to the window. His body was illuminated in the golden morning light streaming in through the glass.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, unable to bear his silence.

  He shook his head, a rejection of her apology, and all at once she wasn’t sorry anymore. She was angry. Angry that she should be faulted for saving their lives with knowledge gleaned from Raum. Angry that the brothers were more concerned with holding Raum responsible than bringing in Alsorta or Alastor or whatever his name really was, since he was the one who had actually ordered the execution of their families.

  She crossed the room quickly, coming to a stop next to him.

  “I’m sorry you’re angry, Griffin. And I’m sorry I…” She had to swallow through her emotion to get the next part out. “I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry for using information from Raum to get us out of Alsorta’s tonight.” He didn’t move. Didn’t even turn away from the window to look at her. She kept going, wanting to rid herself of every word she’d been holding inside. “I know you want Raum dead. That you believe he’s responsible for the deaths of our parents. But it’s not that simple, Griffin, don’t you see? It was on Alsorta’s orders that Raum hunted us. And if he had not hired Raum, he would have hired someone else. I’m not trying to excuse him—”

  “Really?” Griffin interrupted. “Because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “I know it does.” She sighed. “It’s just so difficult to explain.”

  “Try.”

  “Raum lost everything, and although we might say the Baranovas had it coming to them for their betrayal of the Alliance, Raum had no part in it.”

  “He could have come in,” Griffin said stubbornly. “They were looking for him. He could have come in and still served as one of the Keepers.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know,” Helen said. “Maybe he didn’t know they were looking for him.”

  Griffin turned an angry stare on her. “You don’t think he would have heard? He seems resourceful enough to me.”

  She threw up her hands, her own anger rising once again. “I don’t know, all right? Maybe he thought they were going to imprison him or kill him or whatever else the Alliance does to traitors who don’t manage to kill themselves first. All I know is that he was young and alone. He had lost his parents and every semblance of the life he had. And someone came along and promised him something that would bring it all back.”

  Griffin narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Alsorta told Raum that if he saw to the executions and found the key, he could have access to the records to change anything he wished.”

  She saw the realization dawn on Griffin’s face but was not naive enough to believe it changed anything.

  “He wanted to go back and change what happened to his parents,” Griffin stated.

  “Not just that,” Helen said. “To change what they’d done. To make it right.”

  She let the silence sit between them, hoping that perhaps this new knowledge would soften Griffin’s heart. Her hope died when he shook his head.

  “It doesn’t matter. Terrible things happen every day to people who don’t use their circumstances to justify killing others.”

  “I’m not justifying what he did. I’m simply saying that he was just a pawn in Alsorta’s—”

  “Alastor’s,” he interrupted.

  Helen waved it away. “Whatever. Raum was a pawn as we have all been. A
nd if Raum has information that might help us bring Alastor to justice—”

  Griffin turned to her with disbelieving eyes. “You’re not suggesting we work with him?”

  She hurried to explain. “I’m simply saying that Alastor is the greater of the evils in this situation. Raum has worked with him. Knows his grounds. He probably knows the way that Alastor operates. Raum is sorry for what he’s done. I know it. I can see it in his eyes.” She could not stop the words now. They were tumbling out of her mouth with hardly a thought. “He’ll help us. I know he will. If we solicit his assistance, we can stop Alastor and perhaps Raum will quietly submit to his punishment at the Dictata’s hands.”

  She knew it was a lie even as she said it. Raum would submit to no one and nothing, but she did not have time to analyze her own willingness to lie on his behalf.

  “I’ll never work with him, Helen.” Griffin’s voice was steely. “Never. Not for any reason. And if you do…” He shook his head.

  “What?” she whispered. “What will happen if I do?”

  He turned to her, his eyes aflame. “Do you have feelings for him? Is that it?”

  She started to shake her head. To deny the accusation. But Griffin stepped closer to her. So close that she backed up against the wall in an effort to avoid seeing the emotion swirling in his eyes.

  “Did he come close to you like this?” Griffin’s body was up against hers now. She could feel the heat of him as he touched a finger to her forehead, tracing the line of her cheekbone as his eyes burned into hers. “Did he touch you, Helen? Here, in your chamber, as I have done?”

  She shook her head, unable to find the words to answer.

  “Did you flush with his nearness,” Griffin continued, bending lower until his lips were inches from hers, “as you do with mine?”

  She did not answer. They were both breathing hard, though neither was moving a muscle. She could feel the strength coiled in Griffin’s body, but it was not fear racing through her veins. It was desire. His strength would only be used to protect her—with his very life if necessary. This, she somehow knew.

  “It’s not like that,” she finally managed, pushing aside the remembrance of Raum in her chamber, his eyes seeing through her until it felt as if her every secret was laid bare. “We spoke of everything that had happened. Of his regret. And of our plans to go after Alastor. He warned me about the dogs. That’s all.”