A Temptation of Angels

by Michelle Zink

  “So Raum and his family were isolated before his parents were actually caught and tried as traitors?” Griffin spoke from the sofa.

  “That would be an accurate assessment,” Galizur confirmed.

  “Which means he’s probably bitter. And angry,” Darius said.

  A harsh laugh escaped Helen’s lips. “I should think that would be obvious.”

  She was surprised when Darius shot her an annoyed glance without the cutting comment that would usually accompany it. She busied herself squeezing more lemon into her tea, oddly uncomfortable in the conversation. Her fury toward Raum was dulled by a traitorous sympathy.

  She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  Galizur straightened in his chair. “Yes, well, it’s apparent that there is some kind of connection between Raum and Victor Alsorta. Let’s see what we can find.”

  He reached toward the black box, turning a couple of the knobs that marched along the bottom until a hum emerged from within the box’s interior. A moment later, there was a visible shimmer on the surface just before a vaguely familiar, multifaceted object made up of interlocking circles took shape on the screen before them.

  Incredulous, she leaned toward the machine. “What is it?”

  “It’s a simple delivery system for data,” Galizur said. “The Dictata put information in, and this device keeps track of it so that I may call upon it later. A visual library, if you will.”

  Helen’s eyes were drawn to the symbol on the screen. It twisted and turned, morphing into a figure eight, a long, interlocking strand, a hexagon, a multifaceted cube, and finally, a doorway.

  “And what is that?” she asked.

  “It’s the Flower of Life,” Galizur explained.

  “It’s… It’s beautiful.” She said it because it was true and because the symbol both moved and frightened her in a way that she could not explain. “I think I’ve seen it before.”

  “You probably have. It’s a geometrical figure said to hold within it all of the mysteries of mankind. It’s also the symbol of the Alliance. Of our connectivity to the mortal world we are tasked to protect,” Galizur said, leaning forward to place his hands over a rectangle covered with alphabetized buttons. The Flower disappeared as Galizur’s hands flew across the keys. “Let me see what we know about the Syndicate.”

  Helen was transfixed as a series of letters and numbers spilled across the screen, too fast for her to properly register any of it.

  “Here we are.” Galizur, oblivious to her awe, leaned back in his chair. He lifted some spectacles from his pocket and placed them on his face. “Victor Alsorta. Head of the Syndicate, a partnership between four of the world’s most powerful business owners.”

  Galizur pushed a button, and the grainy image of an older man, gray at the temples, emerged on the screen. It was the same man Helen had seen in the newspaper. Even through the screen, Helen could sense his royal bearing, feel the intensity in his gaze. As if he were, even now, looking at her from some far-off place. She would not have been surprised if his eyes were an icy blue, though she could not make out their color on the screen.

  “Born in Romania, Victor is fifty-four years old and has no living family. At least, that’s what we’re led to believe,” Galizur added.

  “What do you mean by that?” Darius asked.

  “All the information I was able to find on Victor was from secondhand sources. Press releases, company biographies, news articles. That kind of thing.”

  Helen turned to Galizur. “Where does your… information usually come from?”

  “Typically we can find birth records, death records, marriage certificates. Sources of a more official nature,” he said. “But Victor Alsorta may as well be a ghost. The only facts we can find could easily have been manipulated. And were it not for his association with the Syndicate and the volumes that have been written on them across the world, there would likely be far less.”

  Helen could see from the pained expression on Galizur’s face that he was unused to such a lack of results. She stared at the image on the screen, contemplating what little they knew about Victor Alsorta and how they might use it to further their quest for information.

  “What of his involvement with the Syndicate?” she asked Galizur. “Could that have something to do with the executions and Raum?”

  “We do know something about the other members of the Syndicate.” Galizur tapped away at the buttons, the image of Victor replaced by one of a younger man, his hair as black as ebony. “This is Clarence Thurston, head of a multinational technology corporation holding more than two hundred patents on the most advanced technological developments of our time.”

  “Wasn’t he involved in a treason scandal a while back?” Griffin asked. “Accused of selling our enemies technology that was developed exclusively for use by Britain’s military?”

  Galizur nodded. “That he was.”

  Helen wanted to ask about the scandal. About what kind of power would allow a man to commit treason and walk free rather than go to prison. But Galizur had already moved on.

  The image of a strong-faced woman appeared on the screen. She looked to be the age of Helen’s own mother, though the steel in her eyes hinted at none of the warmth that had been in Eleanor Cartwright’s.

  “Margaret Latimor,” Galizur intoned. “She heads up the Finance Council as well as the largest bank in the world, Western United.” He pushed a few more buttons. “Lastly, we have William Reinmann, Speaker for the Symposium on Multinational Security that meets once a year. He owns a consulting firm that specializes in advising political figures on damage control.”

  Helen tore her eyes away from the screen, looking at Galizur. “Damage control?”

  But it was Griffin who answered. “Scandal, personal and professional. People like this cheat and steal and lie. When they get caught, they need someone to come in and tell them how to behave. How to manipulate the public so it doesn’t ruin their careers.”

  Galizur nodded. “Griffin is right. And because of Mr. Reinmann’s vocation of choice and his position with the Symposium, it’s believed that he’s owed more favors from politicians the world over than any other person in the world.”

  “Which makes him one of the most powerful people alive,” Griffin added.

  “Quite right,” Galizur said. “But perhaps the most important thing of all, aside from Mr. Alsorta’s astonishing lack of recorded history, has to do, not with these people individually, but with the Syndicate itself.”

  “And what would that be?” Helen’s mind was already turning over the possibilities.

  “Apparently, there’s turmoil within its ranks,” Galizur said. “The others want Victor out, and the rumor is that they plan to force him out at the Summit in three days time.”

  Griffin leaned forward in his chair. “A power grab?”

  “From the looks of it.” Galizur nodded. “And it makes sense given the recent acceleration of the murders.”

  Helen turned to look at him. “What acceleration?”

  “The executions have been happening with greater frequency of late,” Galizur explained. “In the beginning, we were losing one Keeper every few weeks, but the past couple of months we have sometimes lost more than one a week.”

  “As if whoever is responsible is in a hurry,” Helen murmured.

  “How does the hierarchy within the Syndicate work, Father?” Anna asked. “Couldn’t they simply vote Victor out of his leadership position?”

  “I don’t know the inner workings and politics of the Syndicate,” Galizur said. “But one thing is certain.”

  Helen stopped pacing, finishing Galizur’s thought. “Whoever controls the past, present, and future, controls everything.”

  Galizur nodded. “If Victor can gain access to the records before the Summit, it won’t matter what the others plan to do with him. All it would take is one change and ultimate power would be his. By changing the past, he could render the Syndicate helpless, erase the Alliance entirely, even el
iminate each of you from the face of the Earth simply by preventing your birth. The changes he could make are limitless.”

  “More than enough of an incentive to murder the Keepers in search of the key,” Griffin added. “Alsorta would be able to alter the course of not only the future—but history itself. All of which would keep him in control not only of the Syndicate, but of everything imaginable.”

  The words echoed in Helen’s mind. There was another person who had everything to gain by altering the course of history.

  Raum.

  His alliance with Victor was beginning to crystallize. She pushed it aside for the time being, unprepared for the train of thought.

  “Now what?” she asked. “Supposing this is all true, what do we do about it?”

  “We kill the bastard,” Darius asserted.

  Galizur’s voice, when at last he spoke, was low. “It would be a crime against humanity. The Dictata would not stand for it.”

  Darius stood, pulling his hand from Anna’s and pacing the room in long, angry strides. “I don’t care about the Dictata, at the moment,” he said. “Where were they when our parents were murdered? When we were orphaned by our task to keep the world in balance? A task they assigned us?”

  “Mother and Father wouldn’t want this,” Griffin said quietly.

  “Are you afraid, little brother?” Darius’s voice took on an ugly edge.

  Griffin stood, his own face flush with anger. Helen was surprised to see that he was just as tall as Darius. That the differences in their height—their strength—had been an illusion cast by Griffin’s willingness to allow his brother to take the lead in all things.

  Suddenly, Helen saw it for what it was. Not weakness, but strength. Griffin had given his brother the lead willingly. Not out of fear or uncertainty. Out of love.

  But now, they were standing toe-to-toe.

  “It’s not the Dictata I fear, Darius. It’s the shame of our parents, wherever they may be. The soiling of their legacy.” He shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

  The silence seethed between them, the air growing thicker and heavier before Darius turned to the concrete wall. Helen was horrified when, a moment later, he reached out and punched it with all his might. Anna rushed to his side, taking his hand in hers.

  “Darius.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Don’t.”

  Helen wondered if Galizur would admonish Darius for his outburst, but he simply cleared his throat and began speaking.

  “Though I understand your desire for vengeance, Darius, your brother is right. It would dishonor the memory of your parents and all those killed.”

  “Can’t the Dictata send someone after him?” Helen asked. “Isn’t there some type of enforcement within their ranks?”

  Galizur nodded. “There are… resources that are used to maintain peace when necessary. But deploying them takes time. There are processes which must be adhered to and I’m afraid none of it would be done before the Summit.”

  “Then, what?” Darius still faced the wall, but Helen could hear the anguish in his voice. “What can we do? Alsorta can’t simply get away with it. Nor can that traitor, Raum Baranova.”

  A shiver ran down Helen’s spine at the mention of Raum.

  The answer came not from Galizur, but from Griffin. “We’ll bring them in. Alsorta first, before the Summit, and then Raum.”

  A sarcastic laugh escaped Darius’s throat as he turned to face them. “And let the police take care of them?” He answered his own question before anyone else could. “A man like Alsorta would be free in an hour.”

  Alsorta, but not Raum, Helen thought. He would be left to rot.

  “Not the police.” Griffin said. “The Dictata.”

  A surprised silence descended on the room. Helen had no idea how the Dictata worked, but Griffin’s idea was the closest they’d come to something that made sense. She turned to Galizur.

  “Would the Dictata accept the task of meting out punishment to someone like Victor? Someone who is neither one of them nor one of us?”

  “Well, it is a bit irregular. The Dictata normally keep order only within their own ranks. The mortals consigned themselves to their own law long ago.” Galizur rubbed at his jaw. “However, the murder of a Keeper is a capital crime by the Dictata’s laws. Though Victor is a mortal, I would think the Dictata would have to see him punished were he brought to them.”

  “Victor Alsorta is a powerful man.” Anna spoke from beside Darius. “Bringing him in would be dangerous. Might we speak to the Dictata first, Father, to insure their willingness to see justice done?”

  Helen felt a rush of respect for her new friend. Even with Darius’s safety at risk, Anna did not seek to shield them from harm. She knew what must be done and was willing to make her own sacrifices. She sought only to make the sacrifice measured. It was all any of them could do.

  “Very good, Anna. Most wise.” Helen heard the note of pride in Galizur’s voice. He continued. “Better not to risk anyone’s safety in the interest of bringing Victor to justice at the hands of the Dictata until we know for certain that justice will be done.”

  Galizur tapped the buttons a few more times until Victor’s face appeared once again on the screen. Helen could not take her eyes off the man. Though he looked like any gentleman on the outside, Victor Alsorta was anything but ordinary. He was the key. The key to her parents’ death and the strange mission Raum had committed to support, despite his apparent misgivings.

  “I’ll wait twenty-four hours.” Darius’s steely voice broke into the silence. “No more. Every minute that passes takes us closer to the Summit. And the closer to the Summit we get, the more at risk we become. If we’re right, Victor will only increase his attempts to locate the key—and eliminate every one of us.”

  But Raum won’t kill us. Not now. Helen didn’t say the words aloud. She didn’t even know how they could feel so true. It was more than the fact that Raum had twice let her go. That he had even given her a clue—however cryptic—to the identity of the man who had commissioned their death.

  It was something in his eyes when he’d looked at her in the ruins of her home. Something that spoke of their forgotten history. Of a bond they shared across time and all reason.

  As if reading her mind, Griffin glanced her way before speaking. “Raum has had our address for some time. He knows who we are. What we look like, even. Yet he hasn’t come for us.”

  “That’s no reason to be careless,” Darius snapped. He met Galizur’s gaze and Helen felt her blood run cold. “Twenty-four hours. Then I’m going after them—with or without the Dictata’s approval.”

  TWENTY

  Let’s jump,” Darius said, making his way down Galizur’s front steps. “I’m not up for a wraith attack.”

  Helen gathered her courage before speaking.

  “I’d like to do it on my own, this time.” She aimed the words at his back, trying to project her voice so that it wouldn’t betray the fear coursing through her veins.

  Darius turned. “You’d like to try what?” He narrowed his eyes. “Jumping?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, but… Well, you’ve never done it before,” Griffin interjected.

  Helen rolled her eyes with a smile. “That’s rather obvious. But I think I can.”

  “Jumping is complicated,” Griffin said. “Complicated and dangerous.”

  Helen folded her arms across her chest. “You can do it and you’re not that much older than I am. You must have learned somewhat recently.”

  He stood up a little straighter. “I learned earlier than most, actually. Circumstances called for me to learn many things before the age of Enlightenment.”

  “Right.” Darius’s laughter split the night air. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You’ve been jumping for all of nine months, brother.”

  She raised her eyebrows in Griffin’s direction, trying to stifle a triumphant smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.”

  “She’s right.” Darius ste
pped under the light before Griffin could answer. “Teach her. I’ll see you both at the house.”

  A moment later, he was gone.

  Griffin turned to her, grumbling. “I didn’t mind jumping with you. And it’s much safer than trying to teach you under such circumstances.”

  She realized suddenly why Griffin hadn’t wanted her to jump alone. He was concerned for her safety, just as he said. But there was something more and she suddenly understood what it was.

  “I’m only trying to pull my own weight. I don’t want to be a liability.” She reached out, smiling. “And I would imagine I’ll still be required to maintain close contact with you while I learn. At least in the beginning.”

  He looked at their joined hands before turning his eyes to hers, a slow smile spreading across his own lips. “It would be, ahem, wise to maintain physical contact while learning, that is true.”

  Pulling her under the lamplight, Helen didn’t think it her imagination that he stood closer than necessary while explaining.

  “The most important thing about jumping,” he said, “is knowing you can do it. Not thinking or hoping you can do it, but knowing you can. You were born with the ability, as we all were, and would have learned soon in any case.”

  “Right.” She nodded, mumbling to herself. “I can do this. I was born to do it.”

  “It helps if you close your eyes, but don’t do that yet. Just listen,” he instructed. “You have to see the light as the energy source it is and then, imagine yourself breaking down into the tiny pieces of matter that you are.”

  She scrunched up her face, trying to see herself as billions of tiny dots that could be broken apart and put back together at will. It didn’t work. Questions flooded her mind, drowning out the understanding that seemed to float just beyond her grasp.