Page 44 of Alchemy of Souls

As he does, we hold on to each other for balance.

“The beam isn’t shaking,” I say, confused. “It should have by now.”

“Yes, it should have,” he says, and our gazes lock.

The air suddenly feels charged in a way it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s how close we are or the fact that he cared that I lost my balance. But whatever it is, I pull my hand back.

The moment I do, the beam starts thrashing double-speed. But there’s no time to correct my mistake because the end of the beam bends like it were a diving board, sending him sliding right off.

I hear a loud thud below and then a string of curses. But I can’t look, can’t even ask if he’s okay, because my feet lose purchase and I fall, too, my chest slamming onto the beam. My legs go over the side, as I wrap my arms around the awkwardly shaped wood.

I swing a leg up, but just as I do it starts to thrash. My fingers slip and I dig my nails in. But it’s all for nothing.

My grip gives out.

And I’m free-falling.

CHAPTER 25Eloise

Like a cat, I maneuver my body in the air and land on the wooden floor with my knees bent and my legs in a crouch. But despite my efforts, my hands burn and my ankles feel like they got shoved up into my legs.

I lift myself to a standing position, and realize I sprained my ankle. I let out a yelp as I put weight on it.

Grayson catches my elbow. “You all right?”

But all I say is, “How much time do we have left?”

Grayson looks behind me to the wooden wall clock. “Twenty-three minutes.”

We’ve used up half our time, and I have no idea how I’m going to balance on a sprained ankle. As though the beam sensed my frustration and was laughing at me, there’s a creaking sound.

Our heads snap up, just as the beams and the pouch above them shoot up an additional ten feet in the air. My heart sinks and I look at Grayson.

But he only seems more determined. “Screw it. I’m going back up,” he says, shoving the paintbrush into my hands.

“Grayson, you got your pouch,” I say. “It should be me who goes back up.”

But he doesn’t stop. He just jogs toward the thirty-foot stairs.“Like I said, I got us into this, Claws, and I’ll damn well get us out. Plus, I’m betting this room’s after-hours security system is ten times worse than a bucking balance beam. Lesser of the two evils and all that.”

Damn this ankle. All I can do is watch from the ground as Grayson reaches the top of the platform. High. Way too high.

Strangely, he doesn’t look scared. The opposite, really. Grayson looks strong and confident like he’s in his element, the same way musicians own a stage. And it resonates with me in a way that feels comforting. Attractive even. Not that I’d ever admit that.

His eyes momentarily flit to me. “Not now, Claws,” he says.

I startle. “Excuse me?”

“Do not think about me that way right now. I can’t be distracted.”

My eyes widen. Embarrassment is an understatement. I’m pretty sure I turn a shade of red never to have been recorded on human skin.

“I most definitely was not thinking—”

He cuts me off. “That’s better,” he says as though he’s aware of my shift from attraction to embarrassment.

My mortification is cut short, however, because Grayson steps onto my beam in one sure stride. He takes off, moving fast, and the beam holds steady. But as he nears the end, our luck runs dry and it shakes. Only it doesn’t stop this time, it just keeps going, getting more violent. And with zero caution, he launches himself in the air.

His hand tightens around the pouch, but he doesn’t immediately fall back onto the beam like I expect. Which is when I realize he’s not holding the pouch at all, but the thin rope above it. There is a faint snapping sound and the rope rips out of the ceiling, slamming him onto the shaking wood, stomach first.