My heart had crawled so far up my throat, I was gagging on it. Beside me, Phoebe stifled a yelp as Bran gave a little hop. The wood bowed the tiniest bit under his weight, but didn’t break. “I’ll just tie the other end of the rope over there, to use as a safety line and voilà! Simple as pie.”
As Bran scampered the rest of the way across the beam, I looked back at Collum. He stood in the very center of the roof, as far from any edge as he could possibly get. One arm was wrapped firmly around a chimney. The other was pressed against his stomach. Bran began gathering up the slack in the rope. When the line went taut with a snap, Collum flinched.
I nudged Phoebe. Her small blue eyes went all soft as she looked at her brother. “He fell off a cliff once, see?” she said quietly. “When we were kids. Gram and Mac had taken us on holiday and Collum snuck off with some local lads to go cliff climbing. Gram was livid when she couldn’t find him. Then we got the call.”
They’d rushed to the emergency room to find Collum already in surgery with a broken femur.
“He told me about it once,” she said. “Halfway up, his crampon had come unmoored from the rock. Ever since, well . . .”
I nodded. No one understood the power that phobias could have over a person better than me. I wasn’t a huge fan of high places, either. But they didn’t ruin me the way enclosed places did.
Bran crossed back over the beam, gripping the now-taut rope that stretched a foot or so above his head as he went. When he hopped off on our side, his face looked grim.
“Sorry, but we need to go,” he said. “I heard shouting down below. I think we’d best hurry.”
Phoebe scowled. “If this thing breaks, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days, Cameron.”
“I’ve missed you too, Phoebe.” Neatly avoiding the punch Phoebe jabbed in his direction, Bran called out to Collum, “Ready, big guy?”
Collum looked as unsure as I’ve ever seen him. Phoebe sighed. “I’ll go first. Show him it’s safe.”
She stepped onto the beam. My best friend possessed both a natural athleticism and a spine of steel. Even with all those gifts on board, I could still hear her muttering death curses at Bran as she reached up to grab the rope. One hand and one foot at a time, she inched her way across the wobbly beam to the other side.
“It’s not that bad,” she called as she stepped down onto Tesla’s building. “Just don’t look down, that’s the trick.”
Bran gave her a thumbs-up, then motioned to Collum, “Okay, sunshine. You’re up.”
When Collum only stared down at his feet, Bran frowned. “What’s wrong with—?ohh.”
Hands stuffed in his pockets, Bran strolled casually over to where Collum stood. I watched, waiting for Collum to tell Bran to go to hell. When Bran’s hand rose to grip Collum’s shoulder, I thought, Mm-hmm. Here we go. You’re just begging to get punched, aren’t you?
I couldn’t quite hear their exchange, but even from where I stood, I saw it. The instant when Collum’s careful stone-faced fa?ade began to crumble. His stiff posture drooped. His gaze slowly rose to meet Bran’s.
No. Way.
My mouth dropped open in complete and utter astonishment as Bran pulled Collum in for a back-slapping guy hug. Collum nodded, and—?shoulders back—?walked with Bran to the beam.
Collum’s hands scrubbed back through bristly, sandy-colored hair in a gesture I knew all too well. Stubbornness.
He stepped onto the beam. Near the edge of ?Tesla’s building, Phoebe gaped at her brother, then spread her hands in a question I had no idea how to answer. I shook my head. No freaking clue.
“All right.” Bran spoke quietly to Collum. “You got this, mate. Just like we discussed. No fear.”
The rope shimmied as Collum’s shaking hands reached up to grip it. He paused to take in a deep, deep breath, then began inching his way across.
Frozen, I could only stare as Bran called out words of encouragement. “Doing great, mate. Past halfway. Almost there. Yes!”
When Collum stepped down off the beam onto the other side, Phoebe threw her arms around her brother’s waist. Collum shoved her off and stumbled a few feet away, where he dropped to his knees and began to retch.
“Good man,” Bran murmured, before turning back to me. “You ready?”
His arm came around my waist. My heart gave a little zing. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
I stepped onto the beam and grabbed the rope. The wind blew, molding my skirts against my legs and whipping my hair out behind me.
“Slow and steady,” Bran said.
“I got it.”
One foot after the other, hand over hand, I moved out over open space. I stared straight ahead, forcing myself not to look down at the hard ground six stories below.
My heart was pounding so hard my eyeballs pulsed in rhythm.
Not far. Not far. Keep going.
Halfway across, the wind changed abruptly, until it seemed to gust straight up from the deep crevice below. It belled my skirts out around me, the wind filling them like a hot air balloon that lifted me to my toes.
As I tried to force my heels down, I wobbled precariously on the narrow plank. “Oh crap. Oh crap.”
Bran was already running along the plank toward me. I steadied myself, but when he staggered to a quick halt, he pitched forward. I grabbed one pinwheeling arm and yanked it up. He grabbed the rope, breathing hard.
“Thanks for that.”
“Payback for Westminster,” I said. “Now we’re even.”
Chapter 43
FROM BELOW, DEEP INSIDE THE BOWELS OF THE BUILDING, came a series of soft whoomphs. We felt the brick and mortar and wood structure quiver beneath the soles of our feet.
“The hell?” Collum squinted down at the flat surface as if he could see past the bird droppings and pebbles and six stories to the basement furnace far, far below.
An image flashed in my head, of a wall hanging I’d seen in medieval London. A ship full of sailors preparing themselves for death as a monstrous leviathan ascended to consume their doomed ship.
“That can’t be good,” Phoebe said as she wobbled her way across the roof.
“Nope.” As I watched, wisps of black smoke rolled up from the side of the building and dissipated in the starless sky.
A rusted, metal trapdoor opened up onto the unoccupied sixth floor. Collum yanked it aside as if it weighed nothing, and climbed down the ladder without a word. Before I could blink, Phoebe followed.
“Hey.” Bran, poised on the top rung of the ladder, grinned at me. “Plus side: no blasted tunnels this time.”
Just as he disappeared I heard the jingle of tack, the clop-squeak of a carriage arriving at full clip.
Ignoring Bran’s call, I darted across the roof. On the sidewalk some eighty feet below, the two guards from the ballroom had already stepped out of the carriage. A mist of thin smoke haloed the nearby street lamp. Blasi’s blond hair glowed near white as he exited the carriage. Gabriella got out next.