chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Jenna Marie stared at me as snow fell around us. Her face said she wanted to believe me, but there was something in the curve of her mouth that said something else. “Take me to him.”
“I can’t, not yet.” I glanced at her and back at the school. “I need you to tell me something. You’ve been alive long enough to know the truth.” She turned her gaze toward me, suddenly more interested. A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t want to ask her. Part of me didn’t want to know, but I had to know. “How old is Collin Smith?” She started to scold me, telling me to stay away from him, but I cut her off, “Just answer the question! If you were around so long, you would know. The only other person helping me is a f*cked up Valefar who’ll rip my throat out when I least expect it! I need you to tell me. Tell me the truth. How old is he?”
Jenna Marie tilted her head to the side, and bit back a word or two. Snow clung to her hair in tiny pieces making the golden tresses sparkle like they held tiny diamonds. The snow didn’t melt when it touched her. “Collin’s young, less than a millennium. But that doesn’t mean he’s safe. There is no such thing as a safe Valefar.”
“There’s no such thing as a safe angel either,” I said. Then before she could speak, I asked, “Why would he hide? Why would Lorren not want anyone to know he was alive?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”