Page 104 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
I clung to the rail, straining to hang on. “If you push me, Elder will put you in such pain as you have never known.”
“You speak truth, so let us go down together, and you’ll be my companion for the trip to hell!” Still clutching my shoulder in one hand, Barnadine slammed his other fist down on my arm.
My grip loosened. I screamed.
Elder roared and rose off the floor in fury.
From the ground below me, I heard shouts and cries, but all I could see was Barnadine’s brutal face, his lips peeled back from his horrible teeth.
He grabbed for my clutching fingers—
In a rush of silent savagery, Cal tackled him from the side.
I was saved!
CHAPTER57
Except that Barnadine staggered sideways and slammed me on the head with his elbow. The impact twisted me sideways. My foot slipped, my hands lost their grip, and I fell.
As the uprights flew by, I grabbed them, shoved my elbows between them.
A hand seized the back of my bodice.
I jerked to a halt; my ribs slammed against the bottom edge of the balcony. My shoulders felt as if they’d been wrenched out of their sockets. One slipper fell from my foot.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’tbreathe.
Then I could. I sucked in one huge breath of air after another.
Above me, a man’s voice shouted . . . something.
Elder?He’d done great things to Barnadine, but could he have grabbed me and helped halt my descent?
I worked my hands in and around to hook my elbows around the stone posts. The apparently corporeal hand still gripped me, and I dangled there, gasping in pain and fear, heart thumping.
I’d spent my whole life making fun of the maidens in plays who when in peril screamed and kicked. A new enlightenment took me; forthwith I understood screaming and kicking was a totally reasonable response to dangling in midair, weighed down, muscles clenched, joints straining, fighting for breath, knowing at any minute I could fall and thus end my sinful, joyous, conflict-ridden life.
I pressed my face between the uprights, closed my eyes, heard the thumps and the yells as Cal fought Barnadine.
Cal was fighting Barnadine.
I opened my eyes again.
The two men danced back and forth, each with a dagger in one hand and a stiletto in the other, so close to each other the blades flashed sunlight across their faces.
Above, the man shouted again, and this time I understood him. “I’m holding you, Lady Rosaline. I shall not fail you!”
Friar Camillo! Somehow Friar Camillo had recovered consciousness, staggered to his feet, and caught me in time.
Elder shouted, “Good man, my son!” He flung himself—his essence?—onto the floor and put his face close to mine. “Friar Camillo grasps you in one fist and has his arm braced around the rail. He can’t lift you alone, and I’m afraid to help.”
I shook my head vigorously. Blessed Mother Mary, no, I didn’t want Elder sparking Friar Camillo. Or me. “Does he see you?” I whispered. “Does he hear you?”
“No. No.”
In a louder voice, I said, “I do see you . . . and you’re blocking my view!”
Elder huffed and vanished.
