Free A Temptation of Angels by Michelle Zink Page A

suffering she heard in his voice. “How did you know it was related to the… executions?”
    “The bastard left something. He always leaves something.”His words were cloaked in bitterness. “Darius and I have been waiting ever since. So that we might exact justice.”
    “I’m so sorry, Griffin.” He flinched as she touched his arm.
    They walked in silence a moment as Helen steeled herself to ask the next question.
    “Who do you think is behind the killings?” It was difficult to say aloud. Her parents were dead.
    She knew it was true, but saying it somehow made it harder to bear.
    “I don’t know,” Griffin answered. They had reached a rougher part of town, and Griffin guided her around two laborers engaged in an altercation that involved pushing and foul language. “Galizur is still putting the pieces together. We’ll see him again tonight after our people return from inspecting the remnants of the fire.”
    “The fire?” she murmured. “The one that burned down my home?”
    He nodded. “So far, the killer has left something at every site. A clue, we think, though we’re still trying to figure out what it means.”
    “What kind of clue?”
    He hesitated before answering. “It will be too difficult to explain. I’ll show you later this evening.”
    They crossed the street, minding the carriages rattling past, and Helen tried to imagine a killer heartless and morbid enough to leave a clue at the scene of his crimes. Finally, Griffin came to a stop in front of an aging storefront.
    “Here we are.”
    She looked dubiously at the sign, so faded she could not even make out its lettering.
    He laughed aloud. She turned to the sound of it, realizing that he had a wonderful laugh. Heartfelt but slightly self-conscious.
    “I know it doesn’t look like much,” he said. “But like Galizur, Andrew works on behalf of the Dictata. He doesn’t advertise his services. A place like this is less likely to draw the casual customer. Trust me, Andrew can make anything you need.”
    She hesitated at the mention of the man’s name. She had only ever had female seamstresses. It would be strange to have a man pinning and measuring her. After a moment, though, she realized that a gentleman would serve her purposes quite nicely.
    She nodded, reaching for the door. “All right, then.”
    He stayed her hand, stepping forward. “He doesn’t know you. He won’t answer unless he sees me.”
    Griffin stepped close to the glass door, covered in draperyfrom the other side, and knocked. A sliver of the curtain was pulled back a moment later. Helen caught a glimpse of an eye in the seconds before she heard the locks disengaging. The door was pulled open in one fluid motion.
    “Master Channing! What a pleasant surprise! Do come in.” The man, small and lithe, stepped back, allowing them entry. “And is this… ?” He gestured toward her nervously.
    “It is, indeed.” Griffin waited for the man to lock the door, pulling the curtain back over the glass, before continuing. “Helen Cartwright, Andrew Lancaster. Andrew, Helen.”
    The man held out a hand. She reached out to grasp it, taken aback when he stooped to brush his lips across the top of her hand.
    “I am sorry to hear of your parents. They were wonderful people.”
    She could not hide her surprise. “You knew them?”
    “Distantly. They had a reputation for being kind and just.”
    Helen nodded, noting the warmth in the faded blue of his eyes. “How did you hear about their… about the fire? It only just happened last night.”
    “Word travels fast in our circle, Miss Cartwright. And, lately, we have become accustomed to bad news.”
    The silence, full of dark matter, sat between them.
    Finally, Griffin broke the quiet. “Helen needs some things made quickly, Andrew. Can you help?”
    He rubbed his hands together, already heading toward the back of the shop. “Of course, of course. Come. I’ll get Lawrence.”
    Helen looked questioningly at Griffin, but he