“If that’s all, then why do you speak of him with such affection? Why do your eyes take on a strange light when you say his name?”
“I… I care what happens to him.” She was as surprised by the words as Griffin. Surprised by the truth of it. “I know he’s done terrible things. I know he’s hurt people. He’s hurt us. But…”
“But?”
She exhaled. “He was once a little boy who played in my garden. Who submitted to my tea parties and gave me uncut keys as tokens of his friendship. He has suffered loss as we have all suffered, and he has borne it alone. He’s still alone. I simply care for him as I would care for any friend, in spite of what he has done.” She stared defiantly into Griffin’s eyes. “I’m sorry if you don’t understand that.”
He didn’t answer. Not right away. He simply stared at her, frustration and anger and something like love moving across his face.
Finally, he shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“What? What don’t I understand?”
His eyes took on a fiery light. “When you appeared at our door that night, I had resigned myself to a short life spent with my brother. The assassins would come for Darius and me as they had come for our parents on that dark London street. We might be able to fight them off for a time, but the likelihood of our apprehending the killer was unlikely. Not when so many others had been killed before us. I knew it all. Accepted it. Almost welcomed the knowledge of my impending death. And then…” He hesitated.
“Yes?”
He sighed, his expression softening as he looked at her. “And then you appeared in a nightdress with nothing but an almost-empty valise and eyes full of fear, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same. From that moment forward, I knew I would die to protect you, and over the last few days I’ve found myself wanting to live. Not just today and tomorrow. Not simply long enough to murder the ones who murdered our parents, but long enough to have a future. With you.”
His eyes were full of anguish. She wanted to banish it. To bring back the peace on his face when he’d slept with the kitten purring softly on his chest in the light of the fire.
She reached up to touch his cheek. “Griffin.”
“Don’t you see, Helen? There would be no life for me now without you in it.” He covered her hand with his own, bringing it to his lips. “I need to know that you’re mine. That I alone have your heart.”
His eyes shined with love for her. It was a love she could see and feel. A love as certain as the rising sun. Raum was a world away. A lifetime away. The little boy she had known was gone forever. There was no changing the past, whatever Raum believed.
“I’m yours, Griffin.” She spoke softly and meant every word. “Only yours.”
And as he lowered his mouth to hers, she consigned Raum’s blue eyes to the halls of memory, losing herself completely in Griffin’s fevered kiss.
THIRTY-ONE
Something’s happened! Wake up, Master Channing! Something’s happened!”
Helen woke with a start, blinking away sleep and wondering if she was imagining the boy standing at the side of her bed.
“What is it? Who are you and what are you doing in my chamber?” she asked him.
The windows were black, despite the fact that the curtains were open. She and Griffin must have slept for a long time. Still, that did not explain the presence of the boy at her bed.
Something must have happened to Darius.
Panic exploded inside her as Griffin sat up and addressed the urchin by name.
“Wills? What are you doing here? What’s happened?”
“It’s Master Galizur,” the boy named Wills heaved, out of breath. “They got him on the street.”
Griffin was up like a shot.
“What do you mean?” he demanded. “Where’s my brother?”
The boy gulped. Helen looked at his face and knew with certainty that the fear written there was not because of Griffin’s question.
“He’s already gone, Master. He told me to wake you and the miss.” His eyes darted toward Helen. “And he said you both should come, sir. Right away.”
Nothing that had happened thus far frightened Helen like the sight of the half-open door to Galizur’s building.
She and Griffin had exited the house less than two minutes after being awoken by Wills. They jumped immediately to Galizur’s, this time holding hands by choice. Whatever had happened, there was no question that it was not good. Helen drew strength from the feel of Griffin’s hand over hers as they stepped under the streetlamp, slipping into the darkness of light travel. A moment later, they appeared in front of Galizur’s building.
They stepped through the open door into the cold hallway beyond. The sconces had been broken, and their feet crunched over the broken glass as they headed cautiously toward the back of the hall. Helen thought of Anna, of her diligent attention to the locks that secured the building, and hoped fervently that she was safe.
Crossing the threshold of the second doorway, they took a few more careful steps before Griffin turned to her, one finger to his lips. Helen stopped in her tracks, tuning her ears to the sound emanating from within the building. The voices were low. Under the tone of simple conversation Helen thought she heard weeping, though she could not be certain.
A moment later, Griffin waved her forward. She followed him down the hall, her anxiety building as they passed through the frame of yet another unlocked door.
Something was very, very wrong.
At last, they came to the final door. It was open as the others had been, and Griffin stopped in front of her, gesturing her back against the wall. She understood that he thought it might be a trap. That he was preparing for an ambush. Trying to get a glimpse into the sitting room before waving her through.
Placing her hand on her sickle, she took a deep breath and said another silent prayer for Anna and Galizur just as a cry erupted from within. It was followed by the sound of Darius speaking in a tone she had never heard him use.
“Anna… Anna,” he was saying, his voice was steeped in helplessness. “What can I do? Tell me what to do!”
And then, Anna’s voice, softer but with no hint of duress or threat.
Griffin sighed aloud, glancing back at her. “I think it’s all right. Come on.”
She followed him into the room. And though she was prepared to greet her friend—to ask what had happened and what was wrong—she was unprepared for the sight that greeted her.
“Anna?” It was all she could think of to say as she took in Anna, kneeling beside the sofa and the still, prone frame of her father.
Anna turned her tear-streaked face to Helen.
“What’s happened?” Helen stepped to the other side of the sofa. “Is he all right?”
But she knew that Galizur wasn’t. His face was ashen, still in a way that went beyond slumber. Something dark was spreading beneath the back of his head, creeping like a disease across the fabric of the sofa.
Anna shook her head. “He’s…” Her voice caught in her throat. She took a moment to steady it before continuing. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean?” Helen was vaguely aware of the hysteria creeping into her voice. “What do you mean he’s ‘gone’?”
She asked the question even as she knew.
Griffin reached for her hand. “Helen…” he began.
Anna rose, smoothing her gown as she stepped toward Helen. She took Helen’s hands in her own, gazing into her eyes.
“He was coming home from the corner market when they got him. He…” She wiped the tears away from her porcelain cheeks. “He made it home but died soon after.”
“What? No.” Helen shook her head, backing away as if denial alone would make it all untrue. “No. That cannot be.”
“Was it thieves?” Griffin spoke beside her. “Wraiths?”
“I’m afraid not.” Anna said softly. “It was Alsorta—Alastor’s—men.”
Griffin’s eyes were lit with confusion. “I don’t u
nderstand. Why would they come after Galizur? He’s appointed by the Dictata as an intermediary. He has amnesty.”
“Alastor is not playing by the rules, brother.” Darius spoke bitterly, placing his hands on Anna’s shoulders. “In case you haven’t noticed.”
“How do you know?” insisted Griffin. “How can you be sure it was Alastor.”
Darius reached a hand toward them, opening his palm. In it lay one of Galizur’s darts.
Time seemed to stretch into infinity as Helen stared at it. She stumbled backward, pulling her hands away from Anna’s, turning her back on them all as the knowledge hit her. For a moment, she could not breathe.
A gentle hand closed on her shoulder.
“It’s not your fault.” Anna’s voice was soft. “Father wanted you to have them. It was his task to see that you remained alive. He has always been prepared to sacrifice his life to see it done.”
“But I left it,” Helen whispered, turning to face Anna. She saw the animals, snarling and snapping as they inched toward them, falling to the ground as the darts found their targets. And then, the last dog, hit too close to Helen’s position at the mouth of the tunnel. “I retrieved the first four, but the last dog came at us as we were descending into the tunnel. The men were right on the animal’s heels.”
“I understand, Helen.” Anna looked into her eyes. “And so did my father.”
Helen looked into her eyes and saw that Anna did understand.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
“I’m sorry, Anna. I’m so sorry.” She wanted to weep, but of course, she could not. She wanted to beg Anna’s forgiveness, but it would only be selfishness, asking Anna to give her something—something she didn’t deserve—at a time when it was her task to give to Anna. She leaned forward instead, wrapping her arms around the other girl in an embrace. A moment later, she pulled away to offer her the only thing she had.
A promise.
“He’ll pay, Anna. We’ll make him pay.”
And though Anna’s smile held only a remnant of its former brilliance, Helen was surprised to see that her eyes were the same serene pool that they’d always been.
“If Alastor pays for anything,” Anna said, “it will be for the execution of the world’s Keepers. Your safety was my father’s primary purpose.”
Griffin raised a hand to his forehead. “These are serious infractions of the treaty. An opening salvo to a war between the Legion and the Alliance. “
“Unless we can stop it,” Darius said. “Here and now.”
Griffin turned away, pacing the room. “Except now Alastor knows we’re after him. We won’t gain easy access to the grounds again.”
“We’ll storm the blasted grounds if we have to,” Darius thundered.
His voice caused Helen to flinch, but despite his assertion, she knew that would not be possible. They would be cut down by Alastor’s men, by his dogs, by his own power for all Helen knew, before they ever reached his inner sanctum.
“If you can find a way into Alastor’s grounds, there might be tools enough for you to defeat him,” Anna said, sniffling. “It’s true that many of Father’s creations were not yet tested and ready for use, but some were very, very close.”
Griffin nodded. “It’s something, but I’m afraid gaining access to the estate will be at least as difficult as defeating Alastor once we’re inside.”
“Unless…” Helen wanted to stop herself. Griffin would be angry. Worse than angry.
To say nothing of Darius.
And yet, what else did they have?
Griffin turned his eyes on her. “Unless what?”
She swallowed her fear, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Unless we enlist Raum’s help.”
For a moment, the room was so silent that Helen thought she’d gone deaf. She could not even hear her own breathing in the vacuum left by her words.
Darius finally spoke, his voice low and threatening. “How dare you mention that… that traitor in Anna’s presence? In our presence? I would rather die than—”
“If you would just listen, you’ll see why this makes sense. Why this will help Anna,” Helen broke in, wanting to stop him. To make him listen before he went so far down the road of refusal that there was no way back. She kept talking though Darius was still railing, and she could not even be certain how much of her own tirade he could hear over his own. “Raum has worked for Alastor, but that also means he knows more about Alastor’s grounds than we do. Has probably met him on those very grounds. How else could he have known about the dogs? Help is there, Darius. It’s right there. I know Raum will help if I ask. And if you refuse… if you refuse, you do so only out of stubbornness and anger, not out of a desire to protect Anna. Whatever you decide, at least be honest with yourself about that.”
She was surprised to find that the room was quiet. At some point in her speech, Darius had stopped talking, though she did not delude herself into thinking he’d actually listened.
“She’s right, Darius. And I think you know it.” Helen could not have been more shocked to hear Griffin come to her aid. “The Summit is the day after tomorrow. We’ll need all the help we can get to destroy Alastor before the Legion makes its move for control.”
“You, Griffin?” Darius turned on his brother. “You would allow this? After all that has happened?”
“It isn’t for me to allow or disallow, Darius. We’re equals in this. We all seek vengeance for our parents’ deaths. For Galizur’s death. We all want to see Alastor sent back to hell where he belongs. But we’re partners. We must decide together. I’m simply telling you the way I see it.”
“Would Raum submit to censure by the Dictata, if he were given amnesty to aid you?” Anna asked.
Helen thought of Raum’s flashing eyes. Of the straight set of his spine and the way he held himself apart from everyone in the world. She thought of it all and told the truth.
“I don’t know.”
Anna nodded, chewing her lower lip. She turned to Darius, taking his large hand in her small one. “If Raum can give you access to Alastor’s estate and information about his power, it’s worth considering.”
“According to the Dictata’s own rules, we should kill Raum on sight for what he’s done,” Darius said angrily.
“Yes.” Anna nodded. “But if he agrees to appear before them when it’s all said and done—assuming he even survives—I think they would agree that seeking his assistance is the wisest course of action.”
“And you would agree to such a thing, Anna?” Darius’s eyes searched hers. Helen looked away, trying to give them what privacy she could under the circumstances. What was passing between them felt too intimate, too personal, for Griffin and her to be party to it. “Wouldn’t it pain you to see us working with the person who is, ultimately, responsible for everything? Even your father’s death?”
“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Anna said. “We’ve all lost something, Raum included. I think my father would want you to rid the world—and its Keepers—of any threat by the Legion. And I don’t think he would begrudge you the aid of the lost one to do it.”
Helen felt the whole world hang in the balance of the silence that followed. The world in which they lived and the Orb spinning slowly below them. Both of them fighting for a chance.
Finally Darius turned to her. “How do you know he’ll come?”
If you need me, I’ll be there.
Helen had not realized she was holding her breath until she let it go.
“He’ll come.”
THIRTY-TWO
I don’t much like the idea of Raum being in your chamber, despite the fact that he’s been here before. Or maybe because of it.”
Griffin’s voice drifted to her from a corner of the room. He sat in the shadows, not wanting to deter a possible visit from Raum but unwilling to let Helen speak to him alone if—when, she told herself—he appeared.
And although there was shallow humor in Griffin’s voice, humor likely put the
re for her benefit, Helen could not even manage a smile. She kept seeing Anna. Even now, there was no escaping the desolation in the other girl’s eyes as she pulled a blanket over her father’s face and sent word of his death to the Dictata.
“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “For everything.”
“Helen.” Griffin’s voice was a caress in the soft light of the fire. “There’s no need to apologize. To continue apologizing. Anna was right. Galizur knew the risks. Ours is a dangerous task. Everyone who helps us shares in our danger. That’s no secret, to them or to us.”
“Still,” she said softly. “What will Anna do without Galizur?”
“What we all must do.” His voice was heavy with sadness. “Continue with the task our parents gave their lives for. Isn’t that what they would have wanted?”
Helen thought of her parents. Of her father’s laughing eyes. His patience in teaching her to fence, ride, and shoot a bow. Of her mother’s gentle hands and the many wise words, handed out like so many parcels for Helen to open when she needed them.
As if her mother had known all along that she wouldn’t be here to offer them herself.
Helen thought of them both and knew that Griffin was right. They would want her to fight. To rid the world of Alastor and take her place among the Keepers. To keep the Orb—and the world it represented—spinning until the Keepers would be replenished.
“You’re right, of course.” She directed her words to the shadowed corner. “It’s what they would want. And I know Galizur would want it that way as well.”
“And so we’ll see that it’s done.” There was a pause in which the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. “You should sleep while you can. I’ll alert you if he… if Raum makes an appearance.”
Her feelings for Griffin deepened as he stumbled over the name. He did not like to speak of Raum. Did not want to utter his name or entertain the idea of Raum entering his home. Did not want Raum in her chamber in the dead of night. But he allowed it for the same reason he allowed Darius to take the lead. He loved them. Helen saw that now. Griffin loved his brother.
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