Page 15 of The House Saphir
Mallory backed away. One step. Two. Outside, there was no tree to climb, only a long fall down to certain death.
Her heart choked her. Cold sweat prickled the back of her neck.
She couldn’t jump. Shewouldn’t.
“Please.” Armand’s voice was strained. “I’ll break your fall. I won’t let you get hurt.”
Surprise sparked in her thoughts. Less at his words than the tenderness with which he said them. As though he meant it.
She drew in a shuddering breath. Looked at his outstretched hand. Her heart convulsed.
“I amnotjumping.”
“And I amnotleaving you here.”
Her lips parted. “Why would you care about—”
The voirloup lifted an arm, long claws catching the moonlight.
Fear took hold of Mallory as she braced for those sharp nails to dig into her flesh. She hardly felt Armand’s arm snaking around her waist until it was too late.
He yanked her toward the window.
Mallory screamed. Thrashed. Felt the shift of the earth, the windowsill hitting the backs of her knees, saw the dark ground below—too far, way too far below—
The world spun. White terror swirled in her vision. Wrapped around her throat.
“Stop fighting me!” Armand cried.
Realizing that his other hand was wrapped around the dead wisteria vines that covered the exterior of the mansion, Mallory grabbed for the vines herself. The moment she took hold of them, the vines stripped free from the limestone blocks. Armand’s arm tightened around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt herself falling.
CHAPTER SIX
Regrets flashed through Mallory’s thoughts. She would never take her sister to Verene. She would never know if the fountain at the Saphir château really turned to blood on the anniversary of Le Bleu’s death. She would never tell their greedy landlady to take their rent payment and shove it up her—
She struck the ground with an impact that radiated through every bone, though it was admittedly not as painful as she expected it to be.
Whether intentional or not, Armand had indeed broken her fall.
Rolling away from him, Mallory pressed herself onto her hands and knees.
Armand’s eyes were closed. His mouth lolled. There was blood on his jacket and wisteria leaves in his hair, and he was quite possibly dead.
Cursing, Mallory leaned down and pressed an ear to his chest,already wondering if she had time to forge a document willing the Saphir estate to her and her sister before anyone else found the body. All she needed was his official seal…
She reached for his throat and found a thin chain. But as soon as her fingers clenched around the cool metal, she also felt the pulse of his heartbeat.
“Damn,” she muttered.
A thump shivered the ground beneath her. Mallory pushed herself up to her knees in time to see the voirloup—which had leaped from the upstairs window and landed on the overgrown, weed-infested lawn, effectively cutting off her path to the gate, and any hope of escape.
Mallory cast around for anything she could use as a weapon or a distraction. The beast had chased that ball—er, head before, so maybe—
She grabbed a rock. Threw it past the voirloup. It bounced into a garden bed.
The monster watched it go, before snarling at her in annoyance.
She started to scramble backward. Her hand landed on something cool and familiar. She curled her fingers around the handle of her dagger. She braced herself and lifted the knife, angling it toward the voirloup, when her attention caught on a cloaked figure beneath the yard’s ancient willow tree. The drooping branches swayed—revealing a boy one moment, disguising him the next. He came closer, emerging through the trailing leaves.
