The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  As much as I wanted to stare in wonder at what had just happened, I had to act fast before I lost my chance.

  I looked down at the briefcase, still strapped to my chest. I thanked my lucky stars that the soldier had kicked me in the back, not the front, or we’d all be blown to pieces.

  I lifted my eyes to the armory window. Almost there. And I had an angel to kill.

  I broke into a run, blocking out the terror of the fact that I had a bomb strapped to my chest, blocking out the awe at the bodies strewn over the courtyard. I leapt over them, one by one.

  When I got to the western castle wall, I leapt up, fingers wedged between the stones. I heard the front door of the castle groaning open. But it didn’t matter now, I was halfway up to the window, moving faster than I ever had. Rage gave me strength, speed, focus.

  The window was open a crack, and that was all I needed. I opened it the rest of the way, then carefully hoisted myself up, taking care not to press too hard on the briefcase. I touched down in the empty armory, then ran behind the armor.

  When I looked at myself in the mirror, my jaw dropped. For a moment, it looked as if my hair was moving, snaking around my head. My eyes gleamed with a silver shade. I blinked, and the illusion was gone again. Maybe the nightshade had affected me after all.

  Focus, Lila.

  I pressed the button, and the door slid open.

  Once I’d shut the mirror behind me, I reached for the belt, desperate to get the fucking bomb off me.

  And yet … it was pitch black in here, with no candle.

  I could accidentally bang it against the wall if I unstrapped it.

  So instead, I held my hands out to either side, tracing my fingertips over the cold stone walls. Tonight, the castle felt alive. I moved swiftly, feeling like I had each turn memorized in here.

  “Alice, I’m doing this for you.”

  The image of her death was still burned in my mind, but it had started to take more shape now. A moving scene, until I could see Alice kneeling before him, begging him not to kill her. I wondered if she had the chance to tell him she had a family who’d miss her. With his eyes flaming, with the fiery chains writhing around his powerful body, he brought his sword down through her neck.

  By the time I got to his room, pure fury lit me up from the inside out, burning away any reservations. Only then did I slowly unhook the belt from my chest, and lower the briefcase.

  I peered through one of the slits in the wall, scanning for signs of movement. Some of the candles in the chandeliers were lit, flickering back and forth over the stacks of books. To the right, the archway that led into Samael’s bedroom looked dark.

  I pressed my ear to the wall. Silence greeted me, just my heart thudding, blood pumping.

  I found my way to the hidden doorway. Slowly, I pushed through it, then slipped out from behind the tapestry. I glanced from side to side. It seemed completely dead in here. I wondered how far the blast would go.

  I could only hope it didn’t destroy too many of the books.

  I crept quietly into his bedroom, finding it dark apart from the dim light beaming in from the library.

  Go quickly Lila.

  I lit one of the candles on the mantelpiece, giving myself enough light to see what I was doing.

  It was only when I pulled open the drawer that I felt the slightest bit of hesitation, seeing his little glass jars of tea neatly lined up. It all just seemed so normal and domestic. Almost human. Something about knowing Samael’s nightly ritual, innocuous as it was, gave me pause. And how he’d fallen because he cared for someone, and he drank the tea because it reminded him of her.

  My heart squeezed tight, body breathless. I felt a strange connection to him, a sharp flash of protectiveness.

  Samael was a mystery I wanted to unlock. If he died, I’d never know his secrets.

  But this wasn’t the time to go soft, was it? My loyalty was to Alice, not to him. Samael had beguiled me, and I’d fallen for his beautiful face, for his kiss. The sad fact was, he was slaughtering innocent people. My sister included. That was it.

  I lay the briefcase down to rest on the flagstone floor, and carefully opened the latches.

  My heart was thudding like a loud bass drum. Boom, boom, boom.

  Swallowing hard, I tried to steady my hands as I pulled the little explosive mousetrap out of the briefcase. First, I tried it out in the drawer, making sure I knew exactly where I needed to glue it so the string would tug down on the switch without killing me in the process.

  Then, as instructed, I painted two neat lines of glue on the bottom of the bomb. As I gently placed it in the drawer, affixing it to the wood, my breath shallowed. This was the most dangerous part—pinning the string into the back. If I pulled it too tight, the bomb would go off. If I opened the drawer, the bomb would go off. And if I jostled the switch while I was pinning it in—you guessed it—the bomb would go off.

  So I closed the drawer part way, then slid my hand inside with the pin. I held my breath, thinking of Alice. At last, the pin pierced the soft wood at the back. Now, to get my hand out without setting it off.

  My throat tightened, and I moved my arm slowly, carefully, trying to still the shaking, but my hand was trembling like I was Finn. Don’t touch the switch, Lila.

  Only when my hand was out did my chest unclench a little. I unleashed a long, slow breath and closed the drawer.

  For just a moment, I closed my eyes, catching my breath. I could see Alice vividly in my memories. When I was five and she was six, she painted a king and queen on our wall. We had no toys, and it was supposed to liven up the tenement. They were horrific things with spindly fingers and crowns of golden spikes, but I loved them anyway, since she’d been trying to cheer me up.

  Samael’s death wouldn’t bring her back, of course, but it would stop the next Alice from meeting the same fate.

  But before I even left his room, I felt it—Samael’s fiery power moving closer, skimming along the stones beneath me.

  I popped up and blew out the candle, then snatched the briefcase from the ground, and rushed for the tapestry. Sliding behind it, I opened the door into the passageway. I dropped the briefcase so I could run as fast as possible.

  Then I broke into an all-out sprint through the darkness.

  45

  Lila

  Part of me wanted to stick around, to see if I would hear a blast. But that was a terrible idea for a number of reasons. So I forced myself to run.

  Except I felt this terrible sense of wrongness. I was destroying something divine.

  I supposed no one said war was easy.

  So I simply pressed on. Escaping the castle again wasn’t hard. The magical cloud of nightshade had been so powerful, the soldiers were still unconscious. All of them—every soldier in the courtyard. I scaled the wall easily, then moved quietly, stealthily through the streets.

  There were soldiers out here looking for me, but it was easy enough to evade them. I took the side streets, the alleys, and I slunk in the shadows.

  I’d never assassinated anyone before, but this I was good at. Blending in. I tried to keep moving so I wouldn’t give in to the sharp, agonizing grief I felt, like my heart had been carved out.

  When I got to the music hall, I lingered in the shadowy park opposite for a few minutes, looking for Finn. He’d said he would be working the door tonight, but he wasn’t. It was a guy with ginger hair I recognized, but I didn’t know his name.

  Odd. Where was Finn? I wanted to tell him what had happened.

  A lump rose in my throat. Something was … wrong. Had the Clovians found him? Were they rounding up the Free Men?

  A little panic started crackling through my body, and now I needed to know Finn was fine.

  From the shadows behind the line of trees, I scanned the street. If Clovian soldiers were inside right now, I’d see the dancers and revelers streaming out, looking panicked.

  When I saw two women striding out laughing, I thought it must be fine in there. />
  I rushed over to the doorman and nodded at him. Smiling, he pulled the door open, and I hurried inside.

  First item on the agenda, find Ernald, ask why Finn wasn’t here. A sense of dread was coiling around my ribs.

  I tuned out the music, the dancing, and I pushed my way through the crowd.

  I slammed the door to Ernald’s office open. I found Zahra there, too, sipping a cocktail.

  “Where’s Finn?” I blurted.

  The real Zahra raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too. We were just discussing Finn.”

  “What exactly are you doing here?” Ernald snapped. “Why aren’t you at the castle?”

  “Sorry, but …” Make up a lie. “I had a night off.”

  “A night off? You expect me to believe that?” Ernald, unfortunately, always saw through my bullshit.

  “Where is Finn?” I asked again.

  Ernald leaned back in his chair, puffing his cigar. “Fired.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  Zahra frowned at me. “Lila, you’re not mixed up with Finn’s Free Men bollocks, are you? Because those people are dodgy as fuck.”

  I looked between the two of them. I wasn’t about to tell Ernald about the bomb, or about Alice. If I could get a moment alone with Zahra, I’d tell her everything. But not with Ernald here.

  I was heading for the door. “I have to go.”

  “Wait!” Ernald shouted. “Did Finn get you mixed up in the resistance?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about that.” I remembered his key, and pulled it out of my pocket. I handed it to Zahra. “Can you make sure he gets this?”

  Ernald blew a smoke ring. “Lila, this is important. You met the Free Men on the Merry Cauldron. You’re a sensible girl. What was your impression of them? Did they seem like the kind of men who are actually saving our country?”

  “Absolutely not.” They seemed like wankers, honestly, but that was neither here nor there. We had a common goal. “But Finn isn’t like them. And sometimes, you have to work with people you don’t like to achieve the goals you want.”

  “Wait!” Ernald pounded his desk. “Lila. They’re not on our side. Do you understand? They’re not bloody on our side. Finn’s putting on an accent around them. He’s not who you think he is.”

  I knew what he meant—they were rich, we were not. The aristocrats treated us with contempt, which was why we lived in slums and didn’t learn to read. But I wasn’t looking to be one of them. I just wanted to get rid of Samael, and they happened to have a bomb I could use. “Ernald, why did you fire Finn?”

  “He’s been lying to me,” said Ernald. “I came into my office today to find five Free Men in here, in their black shirts, buttoned all the way up like a bunch of pricks. He’s been meeting with them here. Bringing the Free Men into my establishment after I forbade it. My office. I know Count Saklas didn’t want them here. I don’t want nothing to do with them. Not to mention I found chemicals in here. Don’t know what he was doing with them, but I doubt it was good.”

  “Chemicals?” What was he talking about? “But why would he meet with them here?”

  “No idea,” said Ernald.

  “Do you know what Annie saw?” said Zahra. “In Cobbler’s Row. Two men in the black shirts the Free Men wear, strangling a woman. Those women murdered in alleys? She said that’s the Free Men, punishing women who had sex with angels. They’re trying to start a war with the angels. An uprising.”

  I stared at her, feeling sicker by the moment. “Zahra, Finn wouldn’t do that. You know he wouldn’t. Annie must be confused. Look—I’ve seen photographic evidence of what the angels have done. I found Alice’s locket in the servant’s room at the castle. Alice worked there, just like Finn said. And all the servants were murdered. And I’ve seen the proof.” I hadn’t meant to divulge this much, but it was just coming out now. “I’ve seen the proof with my own eyes. The count killed Alice. I saw the picture. Maybe the Free Men are first rate wankers, but a photo doesn’t lie. It was Alice, unmistakably. Her platinum hair and dark eyebrows. And Samael had killed her. He was holding up her severed head, smiling. If I stayed there any longer, I’d meet the same fate. I’m sorry the Free Men are rich, but Samael has to go.”

  Ernald dropped his head into his hands. “If you’ve done something, Lila, I suppose you need to get the fuck out of here before you drag me into it. I’m not having any part of this war between the angels and the Free Men.”

  My jaw clenched, and I turned to the door. “Fine. I’m leaving anyway.” But when I took a step, something snagged in my mind. It was the hollow sound of my footstep.

  Something about that sounded an alarm in the recesses of my mind. It was, after all, a sound I’d heard earlier today. And when I sniffed the air, I smelled an unfamiliar chemical scent.

  I glanced down. Beneath my foot was a slightly raised floorboard.

  Just like I’d seen in Finn’s room.

  I stepped back and crouched down.

  “What are you doing?” Ernald shouted.

  “Hang on.” I reached down and pried the board up. Horror washed over me. Paints, photographs lay beneath. Film negatives, and the scent of chemicals.

  These were the chemicals. Photography chemicals.

  I picked up the photographs, my hands shaking violently. “Oh, God.”

  “What is it?” asked Zahra.

  “Art supplies,” I stammered, a tear spilling down my cheek. “Fucking betrayal is what it is.”

  It was a photograph of Samael—one that looked exactly like the one Ludd had brought to me. Except he wasn’t smiling, and more importantly—he wasn’t holding my sister’s severed head. No, he was simply pointing at something.

  I gripped the photograph hard, but the one beneath it was more shocking. It was my sister—Alice. Her eyes were closed, and she was kneeling.

  She was also unmistakably alive, because she was kneeling in something like a studio, with a white sheet behind her. A man in a black shirt was gripping her hair, holding it up like a severed head.

  She’d posed for this. She was alive. What the fuck? Was she part of this? Setting me up. I wasn’t sure if I should be happy or full of rage. Though I seemed to be settling on rage, and I wanted to hunt Alice down right now and slap the living shit out of her. Then perhaps toss her in the river.

  Patriot. I guess that meant you betrayed your family for the cause.

  “Lila!” Zahra cried. “What is it?”

  “Finn faked the photograph of Alice’s execution,” I stammered. “And Alice helped him. I thought she was dead … He said to me … before I went to the castle he told me he wanted to become one of the Free Men. But that he had to prove himself, first. I guess he did.”

  “See!” Ernald shouted, victorious.

  “What in the world?” said Zahra.

  “Why was he doing all this here?” asked Ernald.

  I glanced at the fake window painted behind Ernald’s head. “Because there’s not a single source of light in here if the doors are closed. He was using the office as a darkroom. An artist’s studio.” I couldn’t breathe. “He was probably showing off his work to the other Free Men. He printed and painted over the original photograph of Samael. I knew he was skilled, but I didn’t know he was that skilled.” Horror was splitting me open. The bomb. Samael could be dead already.

  “What did he ask you to do?” asked Ernald. “Exactly how much shit am I in right now?”

  Part of me was thrilled to learn that Alice was alive. The other part of me wanted to murder her myself.

  She’d done this to me, too.

  My mind was a storm of darkness.

  She’d always called herself a patriot, just like the Free Men. She’d told stories of Albia in the old days, the old folk tales. But I didn’t imagine she’d be capable of this.

  And more importantly, she’d tricked me into murdering Samael.

  “I need to get back to the castle,” I blurted.

  “Why?” Ernald demanded.
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  I wanted to be sick. “You don’t want to know.” I dropped the photographs, and ran for the door.

  46

  Lila

  I was out the door, flying through Dovren’s streets, my feet hardly touching the ground. I rushed from one lane to another, taking sharp turns, the fastest routes toward the castle.

  As I ran, I kept seeing Samael’s gray eyes in my mind, no fire in them. Just his mournful expression, or the line between his eyebrows that made him look perplexed.

  A strange fluttering above me distracted me for a moment. I looked up, shocked to see a silver hot air balloon drifting along in the sky. Someone was throwing tiny pieces of paper from it, littering the streets.

  I picked up one of them, and there was the picture of Alice. The faked picture of Alice.

  I couldn’t clear my head enough to read the text, but I knew what it was anyway. Pure propaganda.

  Around me, people were picking up the papers, clamping their hands to their mouths. I crumpled up the picture, and kept running.

  “It’s not real!” I shouted, to anyone who would listen. “It’s not real!”

  I looked like a madwoman.

  I felt like my heart was shattering, and I just had to keep moving.

  But when I saw bright blond hair and a crow perched on a shoulder, anger lit me up. There was Finn—walking next to another Free Man, black shirts buttoned up, cufflinks gleaming. They were walking fast, heading for the castle. Probably going to see if the bomb had gone off.

  I wanted to beat the living shit out of him.

  “Finn!” I shouted.

  He whirled, eyes wide. His friend turned to face me, too.

  Darkness slid through me as I rushed toward them. My fingers twitched, and I deeply regretted not stealing Finn’s gun earlier. The clouds of rage in my mind roiled so wildly it was hard to form words, hard to think straight at all.

  Finn looked a little unsure of himself. “Lila! Tell me what happened. Did you do it?” His accent had changed, ever so slightly. But enough for me to notice. He was putting on an aristocratic accent for his new friend.