Deacon, seeking the allegiance of the demons.

Deacon, searching for the Oris Clef.

I didn’t want to believe it, and yet I’d seen it, and if the images in the dead demon’s head were true, then I’d once again stuck my trust in where it didn’t belong.

Dammit. You’d really think I would have learned by then.

Not that I had a chance to think about that, because the rest of the demons were moving in, and I was kicking, fighting, stabbing, and thrusting. I was in a mental funk, my thoughts getting darker and darker with each kill.

I was in such a funk that I barely noticed when Kiera came by, her color high, her breathing hard, and I saw that we were fresh out of demons; together we’d wasted them all, and right then that didn’t make me happy. I wanted more. More kills. More dark. And damned if I couldn’t have it.

I’d managed to shake off a bit of the darkness by the time we arrived at the basement, but not the terrible sense of betrayal. Clarence had already prepared the bridge, and he returned the necklace to me. Because we’d already determined that the relics of the Oris Clef were interconnected, it made sense that the game of hot-or-cold I played with my arm worked better if I had all the pieces to work with.

This time, he also loaded us down with a few more tools, though not many. Apparently the best way to travel through a portal is naked. The more stuff you carry, the more likely you are to get tossed off course.

Kiera was down with the naked plan. Me, not so much.

We ended up wearing our regular clothes—jeans, our Bloody Tongue tank tops—our weapons, and flashlights. Still nothing spectacular as far as blasting our way out of a rough spot, but when I suggested C-4, Clarence told me about a theoretical risk of detonation while we were on the bridge. That pretty much ended that conversation as far as I was concerned.

Finally equipped, we stepped into the portal, did the whole blood-on-the-symbol thing, and then the world was spinning, and we were on our way to the British underground. But not, as I would have preferred, the London Underground.

“You know what sucks?” Kiera whispered, as we crouched in a dimly lit passageway, breathing deep the scent of fresh earth. “I’ve always wanted to go to Britain. Always wanted to see Stonehenge. I mean, druids, right? How cool is that? And now here we are, as close to Stonehenge as I’m likely to ever get, and this is the view I have?”

We were, at the moment, somewhere underneath the famous stones. At least, I assumed we were. Since Clarence’s bridge had dumped us out in this underground tunnel, I really couldn’t be sure of anything.

By then, I was wondering if having a bit of plastic explosive wouldn’t have been worth the risk. “Look,” I said, shining my light in front of us. “The tunnel’s caved in.”

The beam from my flashlight played over a pile of rocks that reached from the floor all the way up to the top of the corridor. Through a few cracks and crevices, a hint of light shone. “Can you get up there?”

She climbed up, me lighting the way. “Can’t see anything,” she said. “And I can’t move these damn boulders.”

I sighed. “Come back down. Maybe there’s another way.”

With our narrow beams of light leading us, we headed in the opposite direction. We hadn’t gone that way in the first place because my arm burned as we approached the pile of rocks, and the pain eased up when we backed away. Now, though, I was hoping we could circle back around and find the pain again.

And didn’t that sound like a country-and-western song?

For that matter, I was feeling a bit like my entire life was a country-and-western song. The kind that’s sad, and bemoans losing love and trust and all that mushy stuff. I was also on edge, expecting to see Deacon any second. Because from what I’d seen in that demon’s head, Deacon Camphire was more interested in finding these relics than he was letting on.

More than that, the demon seemed to believe that Deacon knew where the third piece was. And if that was the case, then it explained why Clarence didn’t want him dead. If something happened to me, Deacon might be the only source of information.

What I didn’t get, though, was why Deacon would let me keep the first relic. If he really was intent on collecting them, then wouldn’t he have done everything in his power to get the necklace from me while we were in China?

I reached up to touch the necklace, realizing that Deacon had actually played it smart. If he didn’t know where the second piece was, then he needed me to find it. And that meant that as soon as I located piece number two, it was a good bet that Deacon was going to jump out and try to take the relics from me.

Damn his rotten soul. And damn me for falling for him.

Not that I had much time to curse either myself or Deacon, because Kiera had come to a dead stop in front of me.

“Here,” she said, her voice low. She’d found a fissure in the stone, about the shape of a keyhole but the height of a rather short person.

“Does it cut through?” I asked, shining my own light into the dark.

“I think so. Look.” She wiggled her light, and the beam seemed to reflect off something, giving the impression of an open space and not merely more caves closing in.

“Here goes nothing,” I said, then eased inside. At first it was pitch-black, and because of the tight quarters, I couldn’t get my flashlight arm to move in front of me, which meant I was heading in blind. After a few minutes of that, though, the space opened up into an actual cave, and I was free to move more easily. Kiera was right behind me, and we slowly inched forward.

Soon I realized that I could see beyond the beam of my flashlight. “Turn your light off,” I said, doing exactly that.

She did, then gasped. I did, too. We were standing in a crystal cave, and some unknown light source was illuminating the quartz that covered the walls and ceiling, making the place glow like something out of a storybook about heaven.

“I take it back,” she said. “Forget some stupid old rocks. This is amazing.”

I silently agreed. And, since my arm had begun to burn again, I also figured we’d arrived at the appropriate place. “It’s here,” I said.

She looked at me. “You’re sure?”

I held out my arm. “Major ouch. I’m sure.”

“Well, where?” She turned in a circle, taking in the place, as did I. She was right. There really wasn’t anything there that looked relic-y. “Maybe you should walk around some more? See if your arm really starts to hurt somewhere?”

Considering the size of the room, I wasn’t thrilled with that plan, but since I didn’t have another one, I did what she suggested—and realized right away what we’d missed at first glance.

“Kiera,” I said. “Come here.”

She hurried to my side. “Oh,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “There we go.”

I’d found a symbol carved into the floor. A geometric pattern that perfectly matched the design burned into the middle spot on my arm.

“Now what?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “But I can guess.”

I moved to the center, then pulled out my knife. In one quick motion, I sliced through the symbol on my arm, wincing as I did, and then tilted my arm so that my blood dripped onto the floor, and onto the duplicate symbol carved into the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened, and I was afraid I’d been too quick to assume that once again my blood was the key. Then the floor started to shake, and the symbol started to rise. I jumped to the side, then stood by Kiera, our weapons out and ready, as the stone lifted like a dumbwaiter, revealing a staircase beneath. We looked at each other, then cautiously proceeded downward.

We found ourselves in a smaller chamber, also crystal.

And this time, we weren’t alone.

An old man with a beard as long as his arm and rheumy eyes peered at us through a dancing flame. “You are not the one they said would come.” He spoke not out loud but directly into my head. And, considering the way Kiera straightened, then eyed me, he must have been speaking directly into her head, too.

The words, though, were meant for me and not Kiera. Of that, I was certain. His focus on me was intent, and I was certain his words referred to the prophecy.

“The champion,” he continued. “The champion turned from righteousness.”

I glanced over at Kiera, who looked utterly confused. As for me, I thought of the darkness I’d consumed. The darkness I couldn’t keep boxed up inside me, that kept leaking out around the edges no matter how much I tried to shove it inside.

Yeah, I’d say the description fit better than I would have liked.

“That’s me,” I said.

Beside me, Kiera’s eyes narrowed, and I wondered what she was thinking. More than that, I wondered about what Zane had told me. Then again, Zane hadn’t said she was good. Only that she was a good partner for me.

I didn’t even know who I was, much less who she was. All I knew was that if I went back to the beginning, I fit this guardian’s description to a T.

“I’m the champion,” I said. “And I once set out to kill a man only to find myself at the edge of hell. Does that satisfy you, old man?”

He blinked slowly. “You seal your own doom by the path you take.”

“So I’ve been told. But I’m doing my damnedest to unseal it.”

I realized then that a goblet had appeared in his outstretched hand. I took it and peered inside. It was filled with clear liquid, and at the bottom of the goblet was a crystal with a small metal loop on the end. A charm, I thought. Designed to fit on the chain around my neck.

“Drink,” he repeated.

“Why can’t I just reach inside?”

He inclined his head, as if offering to let me try. I did, and when my fingers reached the bottom of the cup, nothing was there.

“Yeah,” I said, testily. “I get it. What is it?”

Beside me, Kiera shifted.

“And I won’t know until I drink?”

“I shall give you reassurance,” the guardian said. “What you seek—I do not wish it released. From that, extrapolate my nature and determine if I would kill to protect my treasure.”

“Great. Logic.” It’s times like this—trapped in a cavern with a goblet full of possible poison—that I really regret dropping out of high school.

I looked to Kiera, but she just shrugged. Apparently, this one was up to me.

“Okay,” I said, thinking it through. “The gemstone is part of the Oris Clef, and we know that it will lock hell wide-open. You’re hiding it, so you’re one of the good guys. Good doesn’t kill. Except I don’t believe that. I think good will kill to protect. I think good has. And I think good should.”

“But that means it’s poison,” I said, and waited for confirmation. I got none, so I continued. “Or you could be a demon who wants to keep the Oris Clef yourself. And you would kill to ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“You just said that either scenario means poison,” Kiera said.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting the goblet to my lips and looking hard at Kiera, willing her to remember what she’d seen that night outside the dance club. “That’s what I said.”

“Ohhhh.” I saw her slow smile as she remembered. “I really do have one hell of a cool partner.”

But I didn’t hear any more. Because I drank. And, once again, I died.

The first time I’d died and come back, I’d felt the serpents of hell twisting themselves around me as the EMTs worked me over. The last few times—and I did seem to be making a habit of dying—there was only blackness. A dark, lonely emptiness that seemed almost more frightening than hellfire because it truly meant what I suspected: I was tainted. And lost. And utterly alone in a cold, dark place. The kind of place where demons dwelled. The kind of place that had the demons inside me waking up and moaning, keening for release into the cold, dank dark.

Whether I would be ultimately redeemed or lost remained to be seen, but as the demons within writhed and clattered and begged for release, I knew that at the very least, right then, the dark inside was winning.

And then, with a jerk, I was alive again, the dark vanquished, and the lights of the crystal cave so bright it was blinding.

I wanted to soak it up, to revel in it, but there wasn’t time. Kiera had taken the gemstone from the goblet and was slapping my face, trying to hurry my revival.

“He disappeared,” she said. “You drank, and he poofed. Man,” she continued, rambling on. “That not-dying thing comes in pretty damn handy.”

“It has its uses,” I agreed, still a little freaked-out by the fact that I’d been dead, but conscious enough to think deep thoughts about the state of my soul. “Let’s get out of here.” In truth, the whole place was giving me the willies.

I slapped my hand over the symbol, hoping to call Clarence, but nothing happened.

“Maybe the portal’s back on the other side?” Kiera suggested.

“Let’s go.” I hesitated only long enough to slip the gemstone onto the necklace and replace the whole thing over my head. Then I looked down at my arm, expecting to see and feel the third symbol lighting up.

“Weird,” I said, as we squeezed out from the keyhole-shaped doorway and back into our original corridor.

“What?”

“Last time the second symbol lit up when we got the first piece. But now that we have the second, the third symbol’s not doing a thing.”

She peered at my outstretched arm and frowned. “Maybe because we’re so deep underground?”

I shrugged, doubting that. I didn’t think my arm operated on the same theory as cell phone service.

What I was really wondering was if Deacon hadn’t already found the third relic. Because if he had—and if he’d hidden it in another dimension—then my arm wouldn’t burn. I could only find things in this world, after all.

“Is that the portal?” she asked, peering at the stone wall.

I looked but didn’t see anything, and said so.

“No, I feel it,” she said, pressing her hand to the stone wall. “Don’t you?”

I stood still and realized that, yeah, I felt it, too. Like the rumble of an approaching train. The portal? Or something more sinister?

Like Deacon, come to collect the two relics he needed to complete his collection.

I should be so lucky . . .

Because it wasn’t Deacon. It was Gabriel. And he exploded through the wall with such force that the tunnel began to collapse around us. “Run!” I shouted to Kiera, who really didn’t need the encouragement.

Neither did I, for that matter, and we raced together toward the opposite end of the tunnel, with Gabriel coming up fast on our heels, the rock walls imploding as he moved, as if sucked in by the magnetic force of him.

“Through here,” Kiera said, diving through a person-sized hole that had opened up in the wall.

I followed her, and I was almost through when the whole world seemed to shake.

I tried to shift away, but it was no use—the rocks came tumbling down, and I was trapped.

And somewhere behind me, a pissed-off archangel was fast approaching.