A Temptation of Angels (35 page)

The parlor. The library. The garden where she had held tea parties with a blue-eyed boy.

It was this she was thinking of as she stepped through the front door, making her way down the front hall. She entered the ruined parlor, and for a moment, it was just as it was. There was Father with his paper, grumbling about the state of affairs. Mother was at the piano, playing so beautifully that it made Helen’s heart ache. She turned in a circle to take it all in. Remembering.

She was surprised to feel wetness on her cheeks. Lifting a hand to her face, she touched the tears with wonder. They were proof that it had all been real.

And that maybe, she was real, too.

“It was lovely,” a voice said from the door. “I can still see it.”

She turned, realizing she had expected Raum all along. Had hoped he would find her here.

She turned her gaze back to the room, seeing it all one last time before it faded into the ashes around her.

“I can see it, too.”

They stood in silence. Raum stepped carefully toward her. He touched a gentle hand to the cut on her brow, a reminder of her battle with Alastor.

“Are you all right?”

“Do you care?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “I’m afraid I do. Too much for my own good.”

“Then why did you leave?”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to face the Dictata on my own terms.”

The words startled her. “You’ve… you’ve seen the Dictata?”

He nodded.

“And what…” She was afraid to ask. Afraid to know what they would do to him.

He chuckled. “Well, it’s a funny thing. It turns out they aren’t going to do anything at all. Unless you count indentured servitude as punishment. And it may be.”

She shook her head. “What do you mean?”

A hesitant smile turned his mouth up at the corners. “It seems the Dictata wants to be more proactive in the future. Get them before they get us, you might say.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.” Helen felt daft, but it was true.

“They’re expanding the existing corps of assassins to form an elite battle group that will be able to act on threats like the Blackguard before they reach such dire proportions. It will provide Descendants an opportunity to serve, if they so wish, though I think it will be most fitting for those of us with less… conventional talents.”

Helen looked into this distance, trying to imagine this new world in which she would take her place as Keeper and others like her would hunt for demons to keep them—and their world—safe.

It would be a dangerous task for all those involved.

She looked into his eyes. “And they’ve agreed to let you be a part of this new corps?”

The grin came more easily this time. “You might say they insist. I think returning the sword went a long way toward proving my allegiance.”

She smiled up at him, knowing there was more, and knowing she would not like the next part at all. “What will happen now?”

He looked away before turning back to her. “Now I prepare to leave.”

She nodded. “Where will you go?”

He shrugged. “Wherever they need me, I suppose. They’re still recruiting. Still puzzling it out. But the general idea is that we’ll travel to the site of possible threats and go undercover to investigate them. If they’re real, it will be up to us to destroy anything from the Legion before it can do significant damage to the Keepers.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “To you.”

His eyes burned into hers, and she turned away. She could not afford to be lost in those eyes again. “When do you leave?”

“As soon as I have my orders. Probably tomorrow.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Helen, look at me.”

She swallowed hard, trying to banish her emotion before turning to meet his eyes.

“Come with me,” he said.

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Because of him?” His voice was bitter and she knew he referred to Griffin.

“Because of many things,” she said. “I’m one of them. A Keeper. They need me now more than ever.”

“You don’t have to renounce your role as Keeper. They live all over the world.” He took her shoulders in his hands.
“Just come with me, Helen. Be with me. I can keep you safe.”

His eyes burned into hers, the strange, indefinable shock wave moving between them.

She wanted to deny it. To push the idea away without a thought. But for a split second, she saw it all. She saw herself in Raum’s arms, traveling the world with him. Loving him.

He leaned toward her, his mouth inches from hers. His lips were smooth and supple. She could imagine them on hers. Imagine the warmth flowing between their bodies as they kissed. His mouth was so close to hers she could feel the heat of his breath. She put her hands flat against his chest.

“No.”

He stopped, hovering near her mouth.

“I can’t, Raum.” She paused. “I won’t.”

He leaned away slowly, the space between them growing cold as he turned from her.

“Do you love him?” he asked in a broken voice.

“I love you both.” And as she said it, she knew it was true.

He spun on her, his eyes full of anguish. “Then, why not?”

She crossed the empty space between them, looking into his eyes. “There’s more to it than love. Too much has passed between us, Raum. Too much sadness. Too much death.”

He nodded as she said these last words, as if he had known all along.

“I’ll always have… affection for you.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She marveled that after so many days of not being able to find them, now she could not keep them at bay. “But the things that have happened—”

“The things I’ve done,” he corrected her.

She shrugged. “What does it matter which words we use? It can’t be wiped away.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

Remembering something, she opened the bag dangling at her wrist. She found what she was looking for a few seconds later and held her hand out toward him.

“This belongs to you.”

He took the object, his eyes full of questions. When he opened his palm, it held an uncut key.

He shook his head. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s the one you dropped in the factory that first night.” She hesitated until her curiosity got the better of her. “Why did you leave them? At the murder scenes.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I suppose part of me wanted the Dictata to know that it was me. That I could steal from them as they stole from me, though of course,
that isn’t the way it is, is it?” His voice was bitter and full of shame as he closed his fingers around the key, letting his hand fall to his side.

She reached for his hand, cupping it in hers. “Perhaps you’ll remember me and all we’ve shared when you look at it. Perhaps you’ll remember that serious girl with soft hands who cares for you still.”

They stood in the ruins of the house, staring into each other’s eyes. There was nothing else to say, and Helen braced herself for the moment when he would leave. The moment when he’d say good-bye forever.

Instead, he said something unexpected. “There’s one thing I must ask you before I go.”

She nodded.

“Do you forgive me? Well and truly forgive me for everything I took from you?”

She thought for a moment, not wanting to give him empty reassurances. There had always been honesty between them. That was something, at least.

Looking into his eyes, the blue sky of her childhood, the answer was as plain as day. “I do. Well and truly.”

He lifted a hand to her cheek. “And what about yourself, Helen? Will you ever forgive yourself?”

She swallowed the emotion that rose in her throat. How could he have known that of all the enemies she had fought, it was this foe that haunted her most?

She tried to smile. “That might be more difficult.”

“It shouldn’t be,” he said quietly. “Forgive yourself as you have forgiven me. As we all must forgive our own failings. I don’t think we can be free otherwise.”

His words rang through her mind.

Was it really as simple as that? Could she give herself the benediction of forgiveness that she had given Raum? She didn’t know the answer. But as she leaned on tiptoe to kiss Raum’s cheek, she knew she would try. She would try to remember the girl from the garden and her friend Raum. Their innocence and kindness to one another in the giving of small trinkets and simple friendship.

She would remember it all and grant that love and acceptance to those around her.

And maybe, just maybe, to herself.

She made her way out the door and down the path, closing the creaking gate behind her. She thought of Raum’s words in the darkness outside Alastor’s estate and wondered if perhaps he had been right. If perhaps each person simply needed one other who believed in them.

She didn’t know. But as she walked away from the house and toward her future, she knew she had all that and more.

Two men who knew all her darkness and believed in her—loved her—still. And though she cared for both of them, there was only one who was her best friend. Only one who represented all the love and honor and sacrifice to which she would aspire.

And he was waiting.

As with a child, it takes a village to raise a book. I have been very, very fortunate to have so many people in my corner. It seems only right to thank them if given the opportunity.

First, a big thank-you to to my editor, Nancy Conescu, at Penguin/Dial. We have made quite a journey together. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have it any other way. You continue to make me a better writer through a unique kind of alchemy that combines a firm hand with a gentle touch. I don’t know how you do it, but I’ve learned so much from you and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Another thank-you my agent, Steven Malk, who always, always has my back. By dealing with all the stuff that makes me crazy and stresses me out, you make it possible for me to write my
very best. I trust you implicitly, Steve, and there are very few people in this world who have heard those words from me.

Thank-you to Don Weisberg and the Dream Team that is Penguin/Dial for making me feel so welcome and for giving me—and my work—a new home. You are not only incredibly astute and innovative, you are also some of the nicest, warmest people I have ever met.

To Lisa Mantchev, Jessica Verday, C. Lee McKenzie, Jon Skovron, Stacey Jay, Saundra Mitchell, Carrie Ryan, Daisy Whitney, and the 2009 Debutantes who have shared this journey with me through good times and bad. We’ve come a long way.

A special thank-you to Tonya Hurley, Juliette Dominguez, and MJ Rose, who have become friends and confidantes. In this world, neither is to be underestimated.

To my mother, Claudia Baker, for teaching me the lesson of unconditional love.

And to my father, Michael St. James, for teaching me the lesson of self-acceptance.

To Morgan Doyle, whom I love like a daughter, and to all the teens who talk to me on Facebook, let me be a part of their lives, and listen in on their conversations. It’s because of you that I feel so connected to teens everywhere. Most importantly, it’s because of you that I’m able to write for them.

To the many, many readers who e-mail me and talk to me online, reminding me why I do what I do, why I love doing it, and why it’s so important. Each of you means more to me than you could possibly know.

Lastly, to Kenneth, Rebekah, Andrew, and Caroline. There is nothing without you.