Page 53 of Samhain Savior

It was nothing more than an urgent whisper, more of an idea than an actual word, but I knew, instinctively, that it was right.

Tilting my head back to stare at the low roof of the room, above which I knew rose several more feet of steeple into the gray Boston sky. When it came to me, I felt a slow smile spread across my face. “Itisat the top. And we haven’t gotten there yet.”

Chapter twenty-three

Archer

She was right, and I was an idiot.

Of course Nathaniel had hidden it in some ridiculous way; the man was nothing if not eccentric.

Running my hand down my face, I blew out a breath, knowing we were running out of time.

“Alright,” I said, making my way to the nearest window and throwing open the sash. The small space was immediately filled with an icy wind that rattled the panes and knifed beneath my clothes. Tilting my head, I eyed the sky, watching as a bank of dark clouds rolled across the water. The weather had turned, the clear autumn sky having devolved into a bruised and swollen mass of storm clouds, thick and restless beneath the wind.

We needed to hurry.

Leaning out as far as I could manage, I twisted to look up at the very tip of the steeple above me. There, jutting probably another twenty feet above me, was the spire. Painted white, it shone brightly against the red bricks of the surrounding buildings. And atop the spire, gleaming dully in the watery afternoon sunlight, was a golden weathervane spinning gently in the wind off the harbor.

“Do you see anything?” the witch asked, and I clenched my jaw.

I wanted to hate her. Fucking Hell did I want to.

But she was so fucking innocent that I was finding it impossible.

Judgment was my calling. I weighed the scales of a person’s soul and delivered the punishment that fit their crime.

And with Delilah, I was finding her only crime was driving me out of my fucking mind with desire.

Pulling my head back into the building, I gave her the coolest stare I could muster, considering how fucking hot my blood was running. Even in that frumpy dress—a juvenile attempt on Persephone’s part to make Delilah less attractive, I believed—I still found her beyond alluring. Those bright blue eyes, staring at me with a mixture ofcuriosity and fear, were something I didn’t realize I enjoyed until she tumbled into my life.

“It goes up,” I said unnecessarily, and her luscious mouth twitched in a smile she tried to fight.

“And?”

“And, nothing. There’s no way up from inside, so I’ll have to climb it.”

“I can do it,” she offered urgently, and I scoffed.

“Not likely.”

“I can!” she insisted, her arms crossing under her full breasts, drawing my eye. “Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean that I can’t do physical things.”

“It has nothing to do with you being a woman,” I began, but she cut me off.

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent climber.”

“Witch—”

“It’s really shitty of you to discount me just because I’m not a man, Archer.” She was getting heated now, her ire building as she ranted, and I stared at her, wondering why she was so worked up about it. “I bet you wouldn’t discountPercy, would you? I bet you’d let herclimball over, wouldn’t you?”

I blinked, my mind turning over not just her words, but the cadence with which she spoke them, and a fissure of heat began to burn in my chest.

She was jealous.

My feisty little witch with the sharp tongue and narrowed eyes...wasjealous. Taking her in, I noticed the way her gaze burned with envy at the thought of Percy having my respect and trust. Delilah practically seethed, the scent of jealousy pouring off of her in waves.

How delightful.