CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A blinding light faded and when my eyes refocused we were standing in the same place, but everything was muted—the color, the sounds, the falling snow. And nothing moved. It was as if time had stopped. Nearly snapping my neck off, I twisted toward Jenna Marie—the girl I didn’t know. The girl who held more power than I thought possible. My stomach felt as if I’d eaten a bucket of nails. With my mouth hanging open, I slipped my foot backwards, away from her. Uncertain of everything now.
As my head swiveled around, I took in the gray snow that had been brilliant white, and the light gray building that had been red brick. Snowflakes hung suspended in the air in front of us. My breath had frozen and hung in the air where I’d been standing. It was no longer cold, but it wasn’t warm. The biting winter wind was frozen with the snowflakes, neither moving or howling. It no longer caught our hair and thrust it with its unseen fingers.
Jeanna Marie repeated herself, “You do not know more than me.” Her voice was tense. Her delicate arms were folded over her fluffy coat.
Finally finding my voice, I said, “You’re not one of them, are you? You’re not a Martis at all.”
She shook her head. Jenna Marie’s eyes were strange. It was as if they were made of water and gemstones—smooth and so clear that I should have been able to look into her skull. But her eyes had become gray and the only thing I saw was my own reflection. “You think that we’d leave you here to destroy everything in one act of complete stupidity. Angels wouldn’t do that! I could kill that boy! He shouldn’t have saved you. But then, Kreturus shouldn’t have been out. It made using the stone pointless.” She shook her head, as if she was dislodging an unwanted memory.
There were so many things that I wanted to latch onto. But I bit my tongue, and when she stopped speaking I asked, “The stone? You used the Satan’s Stone?” My eyebrows rose as I stepped towards her.
A rushed breath of air released from her lungs. “I can’t pull off this Stasis for much longer. I can only hold time still for a short while. It’s incredibly draining, but you are about to make another mistake. Listen, Ivy. I’m an angel. I was there from the beginning. Before you, before Al, and before Kreturus. I’m one of the ancient ones, the oldest of our kind. I have more power in my pinky than you have in your whole body. You need to know—you’re a pawn in this whole thing.” As her pink shimmering lips moved she spoke at a hurried pace. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s too late to free you from this. Too many things were set into motion that can’t be undone. I did not use the stone. Another angel did. He paid the price and died because of it. Satan’s Stone destroys as it grants power.” Her lashes lowered as she looked to the gray snow-covered earth, “Lorren gave his life to use it during the first war. And everything stopped. The war ended. Demons and angels alike, dropped their weapons, and left. There was peace for a long time—until Kreturus. Until that demon raised his head and started the war over again. But this time, it was more violent than the last. This time, he wouldn’t be stopped. Another angel sacrificed himself. He aided the Martis in trapping Kreturus in that hole in Hell. We lost two of our best warriors trying to defeat the demons. The price of the stone is death, Ivy. You cannot use it.” She glared at me with her bewitched eyes. Her pale skin had taken on a slight shimmer as she spoke. Passion laced her voice as she tried to convince me to stop looking for something that couldn’t save me. But it only made me more interested in the Satan’s Stone.
“An angel used the stone, and died to stop the demons both times?” She nodded. “The solider, the angelic warrior who stopped the first war by holding up the Satan’s Stone—his name was Lorren?”
She nodded again, “Yes, and he died. His wings were stripped off his back as he was smashed to bits. Nothing remained of him. And no one remembered him.” Her expression shifted, looking past me to the horizon as if she could see something that I could not. Her eyes didn’t blink. “Lorren was the warrior who held up the stone.” Her eyes pressed closed. Long lashes swept against her cheeks.
A million questions raced through my mind, but there was no time. “Lorren? Tall, young, thin Lorren? Lorren with black hair, a snarky mouth, and an affinity for healing?” Her eyes flicked open, wide. “That Lorren?”
She nodded. “The gate of the Underworld was named for him… I named it after him. To remember him by… ”
“Ah,” I said, “then I have some news for you.” My lips turned up in a smile. “Lorren is alive.”