Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(32)

“Okay...” She took another breath.

He lifted his free hand to touch her shoulder. “As soon as the weight goes, your arms will feel numb and useless. You still must use them to climb down. It has to be you, you’re lighter.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, Nick, it’s too late.”

He smiled. “You’ll be fine. I will take the weight, now, okay? Let go when you’re ready.”

She looked at her hands around Duardo’s wrists. “My fingers won’t let go.”

“Think of what it would be like to put them into nice warm, soapy water. The way the warmth seeps through to the bones.”

She thought of her kitchen in Montana, the morning sun shining in the window over the sink, water in the sink. She would plunge her hands into the water and spread her fingers, enjoying the sensation...

Her fingers uncurled as if she had flexed them as she had in in her mind.

Duardo dropped another few inches, while Nick’s grip on the leather stayed firm. He checked the strain on the leather then looked up at her.

Her shoulders were white ice, cold and locked solid. She gave a little choked groan and rested her head against the branch, fighting back tears. It was as bad as Nick had forecast. She was glad of the hands holding her steady on the branch because she could not have held on for herself.

“Calli.” Nick’s voice. He had curled up a little to watch her. “Ready?”

“Okay.” She’d lied. She wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted.

He pointed to his eyes. “Watch me. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Reach out for my hand.” He held out his left hand, across his body, for his right arm stretched below, holding up Duardo.

She reached and her arm obeyed. It was lifeless, light and insubstantial. There was no strength. She forced her fingers to curl around his hand.

“Now lower yourself down.”

It took all her courage to lower herself off the branch and let go. For a moment she hung purely by Nick’s grip. It brought her swinging into Duardo’s body.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I don’t think he noticed. Can you grip the leather?”

She knew what to do now. She squeezed the leather above the buckle around Duardo’s wrist. Imitating Nick’s controlled movements, she transferred her weight from her left hand in Nick’s to the leather belt. Nick released her hand. She let herself down, hooked her arm over Duardo’s shoulder, then let go of the leather. With mental apologies to Duardo, she hooked her right hand into the band of his jeans and let herself down. She wrapped her left arm around one thigh and let herself slither down until she had her arms about Duardo’s calf.

She looked up. Nick’s face was marred by fierce concentration. On the branch where she had been clinging like a burr, Pietro sat straddled. Another man...Jose, she thought, sat right behind him. A third sat on the main branch and a fourth behind him.

“Okay!” she called. “Quickly!”

Nick had both hands around the leather now. Straining, he pushed with his arms. The tiny movement traveled down to her and translated into a miniscule sideways motion. Nick kept up the effort, pushing and releasing, pushing and releasing, until the arc of her swing grew wider and wider. Gravity added its effect.

“Watch the ground,” Nick said.

She twisted her head around. With each inward swing of the arc she moved closer and closer to the ground. A few more inches and she would be able to put her foot on the ground.

“Find something you can grab!” Nick called.

She looked and saw one of the emerging tree roots had formed a big loop. There was nothing else but raw earth and rocks. “I see it!” she called back.

“When you’re ready, grab it and keep hold of Duardo!”

She swung outward, swooping across the valley. She didn’t look down. Instead, she watched the loop of tree root come rushing toward her. She imagined grabbing it.

Now. She reached out, snagged the root with her hands. It was cool and grubby. It held.

She thrust out her foot and dug for a foothold as the pendulum motion tried to take her backward. The strain transferred to her shoulder, although it was minimal compared to the pull from holding Duardo’s full weight. She still hugged Duardo’s leg to her, only now she stood anchored to the ground, a bare six feet from the top of the cliff. Those six feet were vertical, unstable earth.

Distantly she heard the men on the trunk clapping and cheering. She hooked her leg through the root.

Nick hung patiently, his arms outstretched. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“As Duardo is lowered, take a better hold of him, so he doesn’t roll down the valley.”

“Okay.”

Nick rolled his head up. “Listo?” he asked Pietro.

“Sí!”

“Ahora!” Nick shouted. He let go of the leather with his left hand and flexed, rolling up. He thrust his hand toward Pietro, who clamped both hands around Nick’s wrist.

The tug on Duardo’s leg came. Calli, forewarned, hung on.

“Obtuvolo!” Pietro declared triumphantly.

Got you, Calli guessed.

Nick and Pietro adjusted their grip, so that each had their fingers gripped around the other’s wrist. Pietro reached over to grip the man next to him in the same way. In turn, the man reached to the one next to him and so on along the tree.