by April White
“Get ready to run.”
Archer pulled his arm back like a major league baseball pitcher and hurled that chunk of brick so hard my own shoulder ached with the effort of it. A few seconds later a piece of white exploded off one of the corner towers of the White Tower, and the echo of the hit sounded like a shot.
Men’s voices yelled from every tower rooftop in the complex.
I stared at Archer. “Damn!”
He shoved me in front of him, and all three of us sprinted past Wakefield Tower, across the bridge, and past the Bloody Tower. We kept going right across the battlement toward the Bell Tower, and I could hear guards calling to each other as they ran toward the White Tower. I figured it was only a matter of time before they mobilized at the gates to protect against intruders.
Below us was a walled garden that must have grown the food for the Lord Lieutenant’s Lodgings. I saw two small flashes of something pale running on the garden paths and thought for a second that we were busted. But there were no other calls of warning, and we continued our mad sprint across the narrow battlements behind the Lord Lieutenant’s Lodgings. This was the really stupid part of the non-plan because we were in full view of anyone who turned toward the perimeter walls. I crouched as low as I could so I was hidden at least part of the time. I felt like we were ducks in a barrel with every gun trained on us, except maybe they didn’t have guns yet, and maybe they were still all looking at the White Tower.
The sheer stone walls of Bell Tower loomed in front of us.
And so did a very big problem.
“What the hell?” There was a gap between the tower and the battlements, as if the wall was unfinished or it was under repair. It was different than what I remembered from my date-night stealth tag run with Archer in the modern Tower.
“There’s no purchase between the battlements and the window.”
Ringo had pulled ahead and was already scanning the walls above him. Archer wasn’t out of breath, of course, but I was gasping air into my lungs so fast it burned. There was a tiny window ledge near the very top of Bell Tower, but the stone walls under it were built with tightly fitted stones. The slight curve of the face added to its impossibility, and the only variation I could find in the stone was a lip where the battlement might someday connect to the tower, and a small gap behind a badly wedged stone about chest-height.
Impossible. But then again, I believed in impossible things.
I ran down a list of our assets. Ringo was light and agile. Archer was strong. And my hands were the smallest.
Right.
“I’m open to options, but here’s what I see. I’ll jump the gap and wedge my hand behind that rock. Archer, use me as an anchor and climb on my shoulders. Then Ringo, you climb us both and Archer will throw you up to that ledge.”
Both guys stared at me like my hair had suddenly turned hot pink.
“Are ye daft?” and “Not bloody likely!” Their voices mingled in whispered outrage. I was right, though, and they’d see it soon enough. The question was, did I wait for them to get it on their own, or point out the obvious? Pointing out the obvious was much more fun, so I put on my most patient smile.
“Of course I’d love not to be on the bottom of the human pyramid, but I’m not strong enough to throw you up to the ledge, Ringo, and you’re a better climber than me if Archer misses. Besides, I’m the only one with small enough hands to wedge into that handhold.”
Archer was shaking his head grimly. “I don’t like it. Any of it. There’s too much risk.”
Ringo’s whisper was almost silent. “I’ll just steal it somehow when Wilder’s done with me. This isn’t worth either of you getting hurt.”
I tried very hard to stay calm “You’re not getting tortured by that freakshow. We’re here to change things, so that’s what we’re going to do. And unless you have a better idea, I’m jumping.”
I gave them about two seconds to come up with something before I backed up and launched myself at the wall. I heard the sharp intake of breath and a stifled grunt of surprise right before I hit. Every fiber of my being was focused on trying to force my hand into the fissure in the rock before my body could rocket backwards off the lip and into the abyss below me. And in the split second after I wedged my hand into the gap, I made a fist and locked it in place.
Effing OW! Rock climbers were insane if they did this on a regular basis. The fist-lock business had seemed like a good idea, except for the fact that I was pretty sure my hand was going to detach at the wrist and leave me stuck with a nickname like ‘Stumpy’ for the three seconds I’d have left to live. Before I hit the ground and shattered into a million stupid pieces.
“Saira? Are you alright?”
“No.”
I made the mistake of looking down, and then I realized that my very bad plan had no exit strategy. It was about thirty feet off the wall on the outside, with a bunch of crazy, pitched roofs full of guards on the inside.
“Crap.” I adjusted my feet so there was a piece of ledge available for the guys to aim for, found a chunk of loose mortar to dig into with my other hand, and tensed my fist-lock. “Do it, Archer.” My whispered voice sounded mad, probably because I was.
He hesitated and I think I might have growled. So then he jumped.
“Shit balls!” Damn, it hurt. His hands clutched at my waist, and his hips pushed mine into the wall. I was going to have bruises, that was for sure. To Archer’s credit he stabilized really fast and didn’t pull us both off the wall. He also whispered in my ear, which gave me a chill all up and down my skin. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
I gritted my teeth in anticipation of the weight on my clenched fist. “Just climb me.”
“A rain check, perhaps?”
Okay, that made me laugh. A little. For a second. Until Archer’s foot found my thigh and his other one hit my hipbone. “Bloody hell.” I couldn’t get enough breath to actually say it, but I’m pretty sure the scream inside my head was loud enough for him to hear.
A lifetime, or maybe thirty seconds later Archer was standing on my shoulders. Based on the scrabble noise I heard above me, and the pieces of mortar that fell on my head, he had found a place to grip.
“Are you okay?” His whispered voice was full of concern.
“Shut up.” I needed to concentrate on staying locked to the wall, and sympathy was very distracting.
“Brace yourself, Saira.” Ringo’s whisper sounded strained. He was nervous, but I knew it wasn’t nerves for himself.
“Just do it.” I clenched everything, and I could feel Archer try to lift his weight off my shoulders as Ringo landed behind me. His hands clutched my waist, and he almost stepped away from my back right off the ledge.
“Sorry. Sorry.” If I could have broken concentration long enough to roll my eyes at his embarrassment I would have.
“Climb or I’ll push you off.” I ground my teeth with the effort to stay attached to the wall. Ringo chuckled softly, and in one fluid movement pulled himself up to my shoulders.
“Pardon me, Ma’am.”
I gasped with relief. “You’re excused.”
His weight was still on my shoulders as he climbed Archer, but I only had to focus on my locked fist and burning thighs. Keeping my knees from buckling became the center of my entire being; the lives of my two best friends literally rested on my shoulders. No pressure. I might have squeaked. It probably sounded like pain because Archer tried to lift his weight off me again.
“I just need a better grip so I can send Ringo up.”
“It’s fine.” My fist was starting to numb, and I tried to feel the edges of the stone biting into it just to know it was still closed.
And then I pictured what Archer was about to do.
And my knees started to buckle.
Oh, God.
Archer spoke through gritted teeth. “I have to push Ringo about five feet straight up for him to catch that ledge.”
With one hand.
I was going to be sick.
<
br /> “You ready?”
No. Except he wasn’t talking to me.
“Do it.”
Crap. I locked every single muscle I still had control over and braced myself. Archer seemed to double in weight as he launched Ringo off him. It took everything I had to stay attached to the wall. The skin ripping off my hand was making it slippery, and I didn’t think my muscles could hold on much longer.
“Aaaahhh!”
Ringo’s voice sliced through the night, and I expected to see him fall past me to the yawning darkness below us. But somehow he didn’t fall.
Crash. The sound of breaking glass dared me to look up. Archer was struggling to keep his hold on the tower above me, which was bad. But even worse was the sight of Ringo, his eye socket bleeding and rapidly swelling, dangling from one hand on the narrow ledge while the other one flopped around searching for something to grab.
What the hell happened? Had he missed?
“Ringo!” I didn’t think I had any voice left, but apparently it was enough for him to shush me. My fist was beginning to let go and my knees wobbled dangerously.
“I’m going to fall, Archer.”
“No. Don’t let go!” Archer’s whisper was urgent, but I could barely hear him through the buzzing in my ears. I locked eyes with Ringo and his mouth set into a grim line.
“No.” I saw his mouth move. Saw the word instead of heard it, just as he swung himself up to the ledge and slid into the window.
“I’m sorry.” I met Archer’s gaze and a moment of complete connection passed between us. And then a strip of skin tore off my hand and my fist let go. I could feel the backward momentum on my body and saw my own terror reflected in Archer’s eyes.
“Nooooo!” Archer let go of the tower wall and plummeted with me toward the blackness below. It might have taken two seconds, maybe three, and I don’t think I took my eyes of his the whole time.
Bloody hell, this was going to hurt. I hadn’t seen the ground below us, but I assumed it was stone. Worst case I was dead. Other worst case I was brain damaged. Pretty much anything else would probably kill me slowly, but maybe I’d survive long enough to tell Archer how much I loved him.
SLAM!
We landed together, in a tangle of limbs. That I was aware of it meant maybe I wasn’t dead. I hurt. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were still tightly shut, or I was blind. All the breath had been knocked out of me, but then I gasped and found the air again. I touched my head, feeling for blood. I didn’t break my skull. Or my arm. I hadn’t landed on rocks. That was something. I tried to roll over, and I rolled off instead. Off … Archer.
“No, no, no, no.” I slid the rest of the way off Archer’s body. Somehow he landed first. Broke my fall. Saved me.
It was so dark there, I couldn’t find his face. I felt his body with my hands, found his back, his shoulders. Nothing moved. Was he dead? Could he die?
I was afraid to move him. Afraid to turn him over. What if his neck or spine was broken? How was I able to move and I couldn’t even feel his muscles twitch?
“Archer.” I found his ear, smoothed his soft, dark hair back from it, leaned over and whispered. “Don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead.”
“Okay.”
“Oh!” I crouched down to find his face. “Can you move?”
“Probably.” His voice sounded pale. Was that possible? Could sound be pale? His definitely was. Which meant he was hurt. Badly.
“Can you feel your legs?”
Archer’s voice got a little color back, or maybe texture. It was soft and low and the sound of it was like velvet around my heart. Even his groan sounded good to me as he rolled himself over and laid on his back. His eyes found mine in the dark. “I’ll live.”
I started to cry. And laugh. “You broke my fall with your body.”
“Good.”
I kissed him through my tears and his arms went around me. He felt so good. So alive.
“Saira?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to move away from me now.”
Nothing like a cold dose of … something cold. I leapt backward, or at least moved as fast as my very sore body could go.
“Did I hurt you?”
“You’re bleeding. I can’t …” His voice was a bright red growl and I suddenly remembered. He wasn’t alive. Not in any medical sense of the word. And my blood was making him growly.
“Do you need … to drink?” My hand felt like raw hamburger meat and I knew it would be easy to give him access to the human blood that healed him.
“No.” The word was sharp and pointed.
My voice was small. “I want to help you.”
He sighed and shifted his body so he could lean against the tower wall. It hurt him to move, but he could do it. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t want … your power.”
To Clock. Because if he had my blood he might be able to do what Wilder did.
“Oh.”
Archer raised a hand with effort and touched my face gently, then he looked up. “Did Ringo …?”
My gaze followed his up the side of Bell Tower. The battlements were so high above us, and the upper window where Ringo had hung by one hand seemed impossibly far away.
“He made it inside.”
A man’s head was visible as he leaned out the window, and a voice that made the blood freeze in my veins said nauseating words. “Ah, you’ve come.”
It was Wilder.
Escape
Wilder had Ringo.
No!
“Bring them to me.” Wilder spoke to someone inside the room as he pulled his head inside.
“We have to go, Archer. We have to run.”
“I won’t leave Ringo.”
I scanned his body, which should have, by all rights, been broken beyond repair. As it was, he was definitely damaged. “You can’t fight him. Not yet. You have to heal first, and we need to go, Archer. Now.” My whispered voice was urgent and I stumbled to my feet.
I heard a door slam somewhere inside the tower just as Archer finally pushed himself to his feet. He moved slowly, painfully, but I wasn’t exactly winning any races myself at the moment. Breathing was hard, and I might have bruised some ribs, but I didn’t think anything was broken. The way Archer held himself so tightly, I couldn’t say the same for him.
There were guards on the Tower grounds. Lots of guards. Our earlier diversionary rock throw had brought them out in force. But they seemed to be focused toward an imaginary threat outside the walls, and with some fairly clever cat, mouse, and Monger dodging, we managed to stumble and weave back to the Royal Apartments.
Lurch burst out of the building and sprinted toward the Bell Tower, and I was more certain than ever that some dark and demonic connection between Wilder and Lurch existed. We slipped into the building through the kitchens, and I grabbed a linen dishcloth to wrap around my still-bleeding hand.
We were silent all the way upstairs, and we got to the pages’ annex without meeting anyone on the way. Pancho was asleep on a pallet by the far wall, bundled in every blanket we’d managed to scrounge up for ourselves. Archer closed the door softly behind us, and I heard a thud.
I spun to look at him, really look at him. He had fallen back against the door, and the wall was the only thing holding him up.
And he looked like he was dying.
“Archer!” I shouted my whisper as his legs collapsed under him. There was a line of blood from his ear to his collar, and that side of his face looked like a piece of very raw steak. The blood had congealed as the superficial wounds closed, but there was internal bleeding too. I was sure of it.
I rushed to his side to help him to his sleeping pallet, but he flinched away from me. “Don’t … touch my … blood.”
“I don’t care about that.”
He got himself over to his pallet and collapsed onto it.
“You need blood, Archer. This is bad. You need it to heal.”
His face was a mask of pain, and he wouldn’t look me in th
e eyes. “My body will fix itself if I sleep.”
I glared at him. “Just take some from me, damn it! So what if it gives you Clocking skills?”
He finally looked at me. “I … won’t be … like him.” He ground the words out, and I gasped at how much they hurt me to hear.
“So, you’re going to sleep? They’ll come for Elizabeth, you know. If you go down now, I’m on my own.” I was angry, and Archer turned away from it. Which made me want to hurt him more. “I pretended to be her before, maybe I can fool them again.”
Archer stared at me in horror. It made his voice stronger. “It’s too dangerous. Ringo is bait. Even Lady Elizabeth is bait. Wilder wants you and he will … kill … you.” His voice was raspy and I could hear a sucking sound in his chest.
“God! If you won’t take my blood, then Pancho’s … anyone’s!”
“No one I care about. I just need … rest. Don’t go … to Wilder.” There was so much fear in Archer’s eyes. I couldn’t stand that it was there because of me, and I started to cry.
“I’ve never seen you so hurt, Archer. I don’t know if you can heal without blood.”
Archer reached for my face and his hand cupped my cheek. “Do not let them take you. If they come for … her … you have to hide.”
A sob caught in my throat as I looked at him. “You promise you won’t die?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You can’t … get rid of me that easily.”
I wiped the snot and tears from my face as I studied his. The wound on his cheek was a little less angry. “I trust you.”
The sucking sound in his chest had quieted and his eyes met mine. “I trust you too.”
Archer was asleep almost before I left the room, and Pancho had never even moved. I slipped into Ringo’s room through the interconnecting doors. It was empty and the fire had gone out.
Courtney met me when I knocked. “I need to see Elizabeth.”