He slowed. “Bought what?”
Ingrid peered out at Marco, who continued his dizzying circuit around the pillar.
“That I still have some of her blood inside of me, and that there is more elsewhere,” she said. “We just needed to get close to her, and then Vander was going to capture her with Gabby’s net.”
He narrowed his eyes. Gabby’s net? What on earth was that?
Ingrid shook her head. “Never mind! It’s not going to work up here. Vander can’t get a clear shot, not with all this ironwork.” She struggled against his grasp. “We can’t go up, Grayson. We have to get Axia down onto the ground.”
Grayson put more pressure in his fingers and Ingrid yelped. “She won’t come down. She isn’t a fool.”
Ingrid huffed as they spun onto yet another section of steps. “Then what do we do? Why are you even here?”
Grayson loosened his grip. “I have a plan. And like I said, I need you to trust me.”
Ingrid made a little annoyed growl while gasping for air. “You don’t need to ask. Of course I trust you. I just want to know what you plan to do.”
They had nearly made it to the thin waist of the Iron Lady. They’d be at the second level within moments.
“I can’t tell you everything, there isn’t time. And there are too many ears,” he said. As if on cue, a corvite wheeled through the gaps in the iron pillar, most likely to tease Marco. “It’s going to seem bad, Ingrid. But you know me.” He wished he could stop and look her in the eye. There wasn’t time. “You know that I’d do anything to make things right. To fix this.”
He knew he wasn’t making sense, but being vague was both deliberate and necessary. If this was going to work, Ingrid needed to react convincingly in front of Axia. She needed to appear horrified. And truth be told, she was an awful actress.
“Grayson, I’m afraid.” Their feet slammed onto the metal steps, drumming up an echo that nearly drowned out her voice. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but you should know that Axia is faster than before. She has the blood of a severix demon—”
He hushed her when he saw the turnoff for the second level up the next flight of steps.
“Trust your big brother,” he said.
“By a whole six minutes,” she muttered as they turned onto the second level. He tugged gently on her hair, which was loose around her shoulders.
Their footsteps clanged against the iron platform. Grayson suppressed the amusement the old argument usually brought him—Ingrid had been griping about her status as the younger twin for ages. Had the situation been different, Grayson would have kept at it, asking her if it was six minutes to the hour, or if she thought that climb up the stairs had lasted less than six minutes.
But his wistful grin couldn’t withstand the stench of Axia’s hellhounds. They greeted Grayson and Ingrid in front of the stairwell.
Wind from the elevation whipped at Grayson’s coat and trousers, batting his hair back and forth into his eyes. With one hand still clutching Ingrid’s arm, he reached into his trouser pocket and closed his fingers around the needle and syringe. The glass barrel had gone cold.
Ingrid tensed under his hand. He felt her nerves and his as a bubbly sensation in his chest, heard the change in her breathing. When this was all over, Grayson intended to make up for lost time with his sister. Walking so close beside her as the hellhounds led them to the outer rim of the platform, along the promenade, felt natural. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so alone.
Marco appeared on the promenade railing, but the gargoyle made no attempt to rip into the hellhounds. Not yet, at least. That would change within a minute or two, Grayson figured.
“You have come to me to strike an accord, Ingrid Waverly?” Axia’s silky voice preceded her hooded figure, which emerged from the curve along the gallery walkway ahead. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon, and the smoke from the fires raging unchecked around the city consumed whatever light dusk usually granted. Below, the spectacle continued, the esplanade having filled with more Alliance and gargoyles.
“I’ll give you back your angel blood.” Ingrid’s hand opened to present a glass vial she must have been clutching the entire climb. Her arm trembled and her voice lacked confidence. Good. Axia would prefer it that way.
“Take it. There is more. If you cease these attacks, it’s yours. If you do not, it will be used against you,” Ingrid said.
Axia had not pushed back her hood, but if the lazy sway of her robes was any indication of her expression, she was not intimidated.
“I believe you do have my blood, though not within your veins,” the fallen angel said. Ingrid shifted uneasily under Grayson’s hand.
“Of course it is in my veins.”