A Temptation of Angels (21 page)

“That’s right.” Griffin agreed. “There’s a dark side to the house here.” He tapped the grounds to the right of the house, and Helen could see a thick patch of diagonal lines drawn in close to the building. “The trees come almost all the way up to the house and there’s only one small light near the front. If we use the wooded area to skirt the more open grounds, waiting to move in closer until we get around to this side, we should be able to find a way in from there.”

“Should?” Darius raised his eyebrows at his brother.

Griffin shrugged with a smile. “It’s the best we can do.”

Darius dropped his eyes, scanning the center of the schematic. “How will we know where he is once we’re in the house?”

“We won’t,” Griffin said simply. “He could be anywhere. And as you can see, it’s a rather large house. But Galizur has confirmed that he’s in residence. The rest is up to us.”

The room grew silent as they stared at the plans spread out in front of them.

“When do we leave?” Helen finally asked.

“Nine o’clock,” Darius said. “It will be fully dark by then
and easier to slip into the tunnels unnoticed. Until then, it would be wise to rest and prepare. It will be a long night.”

She said good-bye to Griffin with a chaste kiss at the door to her chamber, and though they did not linger as they had before, Helen felt herself dissolving once again into his embrace. This time, it was she who pulled away. It would be too easy to lose herself in the feel of his mouth on hers. The press of his body against her own.

And now was not the time for distraction.

They agreed to meet in the hall just before nine o’clock, and Helen closed the door resolutely behind her. She was halfway into the room when she heard a voice from the shadows in the corner.

“That was touching.”

“Oh, my goodness!” She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I hope you’ll forgive my unconventional entrance.” The voice was masculine, with a tinge of wry humor. “I didn’t think my presence would be welcome through the front door.”

She peered into the shadows, the smudge of darkness in the wing chair finally clarifying.

“Raum?”

He rose, stepping toward her. “The one and only.”

She took a step back, too many thoughts and possibilities running through her mind. She gave only passing consideration to screaming or running for help. Raum would be gone by the time Darius or Griffin arrived. And besides, he had helped her, in a manner of speaking, discover the identity of Victor Alsorta. Or had opened her eyes to it, at least.

“Your ‘unconventional’ entrance hardly excuses you.” She continued into the room, stopping at the small sofa in front of the firebox to remove her boots. “I think it’s safe to say you aren’t welcome through any door—or window—in the Channing house.”

“It’s not surprising.” He stopped near the bed. “I don’t seem to be welcome anywhere anymore. Even those few places that once offered me solace.”

His sarcasm was steeped in sadness. Helen looked at him, trying to see beyond the rough exterior. “What do you mean?”

He laughed a little. “Let’s just say that my employer has not been pleased with my work of late.”

“Alsorta?”

He waved away the question. “It doesn’t matter. I was alone long before I came to know Alsorta. I’m no stranger to isolation.”

His words were not a ploy for sympathy. There was not
martyrdom in them. They were instead cavalier, and for one fleeting moment she understood all that keeping her alive had cost him.

She took a deep breath, pushing aside the sympathy that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“What are you doing here, Raum?”

“I heard you figured out Alsorta’s part in the killing of your parents.”

His mention of her parents’ death caused her to feel their loss anew. She swallowed against it. “How do you know that?”

He wandered to her dressing table, lifting from its surface a jar of face powder and holding it up to the light for inspection as if it were a foreign object. “I hear many things.”

His knowledge of their discovery made her blood run cold. “Because of Alsorta?”

He laughed, setting the powder back on the dressing table. “Hardly. Alsorta only knows what money can buy. There’s greater knowledge which cannot be had for any price.”

She tried to decipher the cryptic words as Raum picked up a vial of her perfume, squeezing the bulb and spraying it into the air. He closed his eyes. “This smells like you.”

She blushed, crossing her arms over her bosom as if to
defend herself from the words. “How do you know what I smell like?”

He opened his eyes slowly, as if reluctant to return from a pleasant dream. “I don’t know. I simply do.”

The statement sat between them in the moment before Helen gathered her wits enough to speak yet again.

“You should leave. I’ve let you stay too long already, and for no good cause. I should call Darius and Griffin right now. You deserve whatever is coming to you for what you’ve done to our families.”

His expression darkened. He turned to the window. “I’m sorry, Helen. I already told you; I didn’t know it was you. Didn’t even know you were one of them.”

She stalked toward him, stopping a few feet away. She relished the anger sparked by his words. She wanted—needed—to feel something. Anger was better than nothing at all, and certainly better than the sorrow that threatened to overtake her if she thought too long and hard about all she had lost.

“The fact that you would even say such a thing only validates how despicable you really are.” She practically spat the words at him.

It took him a few seconds to answer. “You think I’m despicable?”

“What would you call it? You’ve murdered people—families, children—for your own personal gain.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Not just for my gain. And not the way you think. It isn’t as if I was paid.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you; I need something.” He didn’t turn as he spoke. “Something Alsorta promised me.”

And all at once, Helen knew. She saw Raum as a little boy, handing her the key in the garden. She heard Galizur, speaking in the depths of the laboratory, the Terrenious Orb turning its movements laborious and slow.

Have you heard of the Lost Keeper?

When the Dictata got wind of it, the Baranovas were banished from the Alliance. Andrei Baranova and his wife both committed suicide a short time later.

She stepped closer to Raum, still facing the wall. “You want access to the records.”

Raum turned to meet her eyes. And now, she saw the anguish there laid bare. “Alsorta promised that if I found the key and brought it to him, he would allow me into the records so that I could change the past.”

“You want to bring your parents back.” She heard the wonder in her own voice. “But that’s… That’s mad.”

His face flushed with anger. “Spoken as someone who was not orphaned at the age of sixteen.”

She stomped toward him, stopping only when she came within inches of his body. “Spoken as someone who was orphaned days ago. By
you.
”

“You don’t understand.”

“Yes,” she said. “I do. I understand that you sought to ease your own pain, whatever it took. Even murder. Even bringing that pain upon others.”

She saw his throat move, as if swallowing her words was painful. “It’s not that simple.”

“It
is
, Raum.” She looked into his eyes. “It is.”

“What would you have done?” He said suddenly. “What would you do now? If there were a way to bring your parents back—to right my wrong—would you do it? Would you lie to do it? Would you kill to do it?”

He seemed to look into her very soul in the moment before she turned away, making her way to the firebox, his questions ringing in her mind. She didn’t want to think about the answers. Didn’t want to imagine herself in Raum’s shoes. Most of all, she did not want to find reason for the sympathy she had felt for him almost all along.

“I’d like you to leave now,” she said quietly.

At first, she thought he had left. That he had gone through the window the way he came without another word. But then she felt the touch of his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t flinch. As if his touching her were the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m sorry, Helen. I…” She heard him suck in his breath behind her as if drawing strength from the air in the room. “Now I have more than one reason to wish I could go back.”

The admission sent a wave of regret crashing through her body.

“Will I ever see you again?”

He didn’t answer right away. She wondered if she had gone too far. If she had pushed the limits of their strange acquaintance beyond that which even Raum could abide. But then he spoke, his voice soft.

“If you need me, I’ll be there.”

She turned in time to see him sitting in the window frame, his legs dangling out-of-doors as he prepared to lower himself to the ground.

“And Helen?” He looked back at her.

She swallowed, steadying her voice. “Yes?”

“Watch out for the dogs.”

I
t was just after five o’clock, and the afternoon was as gray as ever. Helen didn’t know how much light was required to jump, but it did not seem advisable to attempt it in the dim glow of the table lamp. Especially since she’d only jumped on her own once before and that was with Griffin’s help.

She had less than four hours to see to her errand. Four hours until Griffin would expect her in the hallway outside her chamber.

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.