Twenty-Three
Jade flung her hands outfor the pipe. She hadn’t gotten a good grasp of it before she slipped, and now her gloves failed to find purchase as she fell.
The fall almost seemed to happen in slow motion, each second dragging out to make her perfectly aware of her fate. She plummeted from two stories high, the only thing to catch her solid earth. Her body braced for the inevitable impact.
Fear had no time to stab her heart as her hands continued to scramble along the pipe. The fall felt like a dream, as if her body was not her own, until her right hand caught one of the support bars. The momentum pulled her down even as she grasped the bar, and Jade swallowed a scream as her arm tore out of her shoulder. Her hand released with the pain shooting through her arm, sending her the rest of the wayto the ground.
Jade hit the earth hard feet first, but not as hard as she would have if she hadn’t stopped herself, and toppled onto her back. She lay there, unable to move even though she knew she had to, holding her right arm with her left hand. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes with the indescribable pain. If she didn’t see her arm still attached to her body, she would have thought it had ripped off.
Failure. She had failed—in every way she could have. She had lost the assassin yet again. She had gotten hurt. There would be no way to hide her injuries from Matherson.
Jade’s heart shriveled as her body pressed into the dirt. Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Even if she’d decided she trusted Nicolas, using his information to track down the killer and supposedly find a connection to Grannam, coming here alone was a huge mistake. She should have told Theo. He would have been here. He would have helped her.
Her tears came harder thinking how differently things would have gone if Theo had accompanied her. Theo, who cared for her. Theo, who would be horrified to see her like this.
Jade chided herself for her foolishness, her recklessness. She’d missed every opportunity she’d been given that night.
The least she could do was to get inside Arthur’s home and see if perhaps he still lived. Or, if nothing else, maybe she could find some evidence going back to Grannam.
She had to make this somewhat worthwhile; she wouldn’t return empty-handed.
Jade gritted her teeth and forced her body to stand, pushing off the ground with her left hand while her right arm hung limply at her side. She’d learned the theory of relocating joints in her training, but she’d never had to do it to anyone in the field, least of all herself.
Finger by finger, she tugged the leather glove off her right hand before putting it between her teeth. Bending at the waist to allow gravity to assisther, she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, then held her right arm near her shoulder and swayed her arm until the joint slipped back into the socket.
Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. A cry tore from the back of her throat, but the glove helped to muffle it as she bit down on the tough leather with the pain. Her shoulder ached, but at least it was no longer useless or pulsing with agony.
Jade hobbled on shaky legs in the direction the assassin had escaped. He was long gone by now, of course, but she would retrieve the knife that had sliced through his cloak. It glinted in the bright moonlight, the point still buried in the ground. Jade took it by the hilt and brushed it off on her pants before returning it to her boot sheath and turning to make for the manor.
Every fiber of her body protested as she walked, the adrenaline wearing off and giving way to the agony of the injuries she had endured. Jade sighed as she resumed her previous task of searching for an open window on the ground floor. The journey back to base would be nothing less than miserable.
Jade had ended up on the opposite side of the house from where she had begun, away from the staff entrance. Her mind was too consumed with the throbbing pain coursing through her to recall the manor’s floor plan and determine what rooms these were. But when she pulled on the corner of a pane and it opened, her heart jumped and the pain became an afterthought. She closed her eyes, diverting all of her brainpower to scan over her memory of the manor’s layout, and she eventually landed on the music room. Someone must have left the window unlatched—possibly Arthur’s daughter, Juliette—after enjoying a beautiful summer evening of playing the piano with the windows open.
Jade hooked a finger past the window frame and pulled, moving the pane of glass enough for her to slip her body inside. She hoisted herself up onto the windowsill, grimacing with the waves of pain rippling over her muscles, and climbed inside the dark room.
Stepping through the window set Jade right back in her espionage mode, as though the pursuit of the assassin on the roof and fall down thedrainpipe had never happened. Her eyes were peeled and her ears perked for any sign of life in the room around her or beyond. Jade pulled the piece of thin black fabric that she used to conceal the lower half of her face from her pocket and tied it behind her head, a final protection of her identity in case she happened upon anyone.
At this time of night, the music room was decidedly deserted. A grand piano sat in the center of the room surrounded by tiled floors, high ceilings, and a wall of windows. Jade imagined how lovely melodies played here would sound, carrying out across the grounds with the windows thrown open. Though if Arthur were dead, a good deal of time would likely pass before music echoed from this room again.
Jade pressed her ear to the door leading out of the music room and cracked it open when she determined no one was outside. Arthur’s study was on the other side of the house, but it was a straight shot. She just had to make sure she kept out of sight of any staff who might still be about.
The hallways were eerily empty and dimly lit, as if they carried secrets only meant for the darkest hours of night. Jade slunk through the darkened corridors, covering ground as quickly as she could. The rattle of a doorknob up ahead ground her progress to a halt, and she dove back around the corner. Without any suitable hiding spots in the hallway, she tested the knob of a door to her left, outlined in darkness, and she dipped inside the room as a refuge.
Jade closed the door soundlessly but didn’t latch it completely, keeping her body pressed against the door to peer out the crack. She scoured the floor plan in her mind again, deciding this had to be the drawing room. She was close. All she had to do was cross the entrance hall, and Arthur’s study would be in her sights.
A maid passed by the door where Jade hid, and when the sound of her footsteps had died away, Jade snuck out into the hallway once again.
She reached the entrance hall with ease, finding the lights turned down here as well and not a soul in sight. The staff must have been mostly relegatedto the bedrooms and the kitchens, cleaning up after dinner and making preparations for the family to go to bed. The family was likely tucked away in the sitting room after dinner, for now at least. They might be on the move soon, and staff in the bedrooms would come down, so Jade’s opportunity to slip through the house undetected wouldn’t last.
No more than a passing shadow, Jade sprinted across the entrance hall and down the corridor that led to Arthur’s study. Light leaked from the bottom of the door that separated her from the room—separated her from the answer of whether or not Arthur still lived.
She listened at the door for three heartbeats but heard nothing. Inhaling deeply through her nose and holding her breath behind rolled lips, she turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Jade’s heart dropped like a stone.
Arthur convulsed on the floor, a short glass overturned on the floor beside him in a puddle of amber liquid. Jade dropped to her knees beside Arthur, but there was nothing she could do. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his limbs locked up, confirming he’d consumed a large dose of the poison. The killer had ensured there would be no chance for Arthur once he’d so much as sipped the beverage.
Anger coursed through Jade at the injustice of it, how a man’s life could be so easily snuffed out and discarded. But she couldn’t deny that some of that anger was directed at herself too. It had been within her power to prevent this. Lord Arthur might have seen tomorrow if not for her failure to reach him in time.
