my
arms against my chest. It was a suicide mission, and he had no
reason to go.
“ I have to finish my
mission. I swore I would prevent the prophecy from occurring the
way the Martis thought. It’s not you that worries me—it’s Kreturus.
You can’t go into the Underworld alone, unprotected. And I can’t
stay here either. The Martis are after both of us.”
I bit my lip. He shouldn’t come. I
should say no and send him back. He was better off staying topside
and running from Martis, rather than being eaten by Valefar
below.
I shook my head and spoke with certain
resolve as I turned back toward the fresco. “No, I can’t ask you to
come with me. I have to do this alone. I caused this to happen. I
have to fix it.” I touched the plaster again looking for anything
to indicate an opening. I needed Eric, but I couldn’t ask him to do
this.
He laughed and grabbed my shoulder,
turning me around. Shock showed on my face, as he laughed, “You
really think you can tell me no? You think you can make me stay
here and hide until you get back—if you get back? And then what?
The Martis see that they were wrong and all is forgiven? No. Things
don’t work like that and you know it.
“ And what if you don’t
come back at all? What if Kreturus finds you as soon as you step
inside? He’ll catch your scent, with the faint smell of angel blood
that flows through your veins. His demons will drag you back to
him. That’s the part that scares me. Not only do I prefer you
alive, but if he gets you, he gets your power. The prophecy is
about him using you. I can’t let you go alone.” He released my
shoulder.
I stared at him and felt my jaw lock.
I didn’t want him to come. Asking him to take this risk because of
me was unfathomable. But, I recognized that look in his eye. It was
the same utterly determined gaze that I knew well. It was clear
that it didn’t matter what I said, Eric would do what he thought
was right. There was no stopping him. I just hoped I was getting
saintly Eric, and not evil Eric. There was no way to
know.
I folded my arms and said, “Fine. Show
me how to open it.”
“ Not so fast,” he said,
blocking the fresco. “The living can’t enter the Underworld. Both
of us are alive. You need to seal yourself so the demons can’t
sense you. And so the Guardian can’t tell you’re alive. They need
to think you’re a Valefar. They need to think that both of us are
Valefar.”
“ Damn it,” I pushed my
hair out of my face, annoyed that I’d already forgotten things Al
had told me. “I forgot about the Guardian. Al said it would be the
worst thing I could imagine.” I paused wondering what that would
be. The worst thing I could imagine wasn’t possible. It already
happened. Apryl already died. Collin was already in Hell. “I don’t
know what the Guardian will be.” Uncertainty plagued my stomach,
but I had no choice but to go forward. I had to take this path.
There was no going backwards. “I know how to trick them into
thinking we’re Valefar—both of us.”
I concentrated, and pressed my finger
against the ruby in my ring. Shadows slinked from their hiding
places in the cracks and crevices of the tomb. The cold fingers of
shadows stroked my skin making me shiver. They were impossibly
cold. I pulled as many shadows as I could tolerate. They coated my
skin as they traveled down my throat and pooled in my stomach. The
shadows would shroud me, locking in my scent, as long as I held
them in place. They reeked of death and decay. That fragrance would
mask my scent well enough. I’d have to get used to the discomfort
of their corpse-like coldness inside of me. As for Eric, he was a
pure Martis. His blood smelled like a Christmas buffet. I had to
mask it with something stronger. Shadows alone wouldn’t
work.
Looking around the ancient tomb, I
what I needed and decided to do it. There were no other options.
Surely the deceased wouldn’t mind. I walked to a pile of bones
stacked neatly to the
arms against my chest. It was a suicide mission, and he had no
reason to go.
“ I have to finish my
mission. I swore I would prevent the prophecy from occurring the
way the Martis thought. It’s not you that worries me—it’s Kreturus.
You can’t go into the Underworld alone, unprotected. And I can’t
stay here either. The Martis are after both of us.”
I bit my lip. He shouldn’t come. I
should say no and send him back. He was better off staying topside
and running from Martis, rather than being eaten by Valefar
below.
I shook my head and spoke with certain
resolve as I turned back toward the fresco. “No, I can’t ask you to
come with me. I have to do this alone. I caused this to happen. I
have to fix it.” I touched the plaster again looking for anything
to indicate an opening. I needed Eric, but I couldn’t ask him to do
this.
He laughed and grabbed my shoulder,
turning me around. Shock showed on my face, as he laughed, “You
really think you can tell me no? You think you can make me stay
here and hide until you get back—if you get back? And then what?
The Martis see that they were wrong and all is forgiven? No. Things
don’t work like that and you know it.
“ And what if you don’t
come back at all? What if Kreturus finds you as soon as you step
inside? He’ll catch your scent, with the faint smell of angel blood
that flows through your veins. His demons will drag you back to
him. That’s the part that scares me. Not only do I prefer you
alive, but if he gets you, he gets your power. The prophecy is
about him using you. I can’t let you go alone.” He released my
shoulder.
I stared at him and felt my jaw lock.
I didn’t want him to come. Asking him to take this risk because of
me was unfathomable. But, I recognized that look in his eye. It was
the same utterly determined gaze that I knew well. It was clear
that it didn’t matter what I said, Eric would do what he thought
was right. There was no stopping him. I just hoped I was getting
saintly Eric, and not evil Eric. There was no way to
know.
I folded my arms and said, “Fine. Show
me how to open it.”
“ Not so fast,” he said,
blocking the fresco. “The living can’t enter the Underworld. Both
of us are alive. You need to seal yourself so the demons can’t
sense you. And so the Guardian can’t tell you’re alive. They need
to think you’re a Valefar. They need to think that both of us are
Valefar.”
“ Damn it,” I pushed my
hair out of my face, annoyed that I’d already forgotten things Al
had told me. “I forgot about the Guardian. Al said it would be the
worst thing I could imagine.” I paused wondering what that would
be. The worst thing I could imagine wasn’t possible. It already
happened. Apryl already died. Collin was already in Hell. “I don’t
know what the Guardian will be.” Uncertainty plagued my stomach,
but I had no choice but to go forward. I had to take this path.
There was no going backwards. “I know how to trick them into
thinking we’re Valefar—both of us.”
I concentrated, and pressed my finger
against the ruby in my ring. Shadows slinked from their hiding
places in the cracks and crevices of the tomb. The cold fingers of
shadows stroked my skin making me shiver. They were impossibly
cold. I pulled as many shadows as I could tolerate. They coated my
skin as they traveled down my throat and pooled in my stomach. The
shadows would shroud me, locking in my scent, as long as I held
them in place. They reeked of death and decay. That fragrance would
mask my scent well enough. I’d have to get used to the discomfort
of their corpse-like coldness inside of me. As for Eric, he was a
pure Martis. His blood smelled like a Christmas buffet. I had to
mask it with something stronger. Shadows alone wouldn’t
work.
Looking around the ancient tomb, I
what I needed and decided to do it. There were no other options.
Surely the deceased wouldn’t mind. I walked to a pile of bones
stacked neatly to the
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