That night,Oliver and I went to the library, determined to find our way out. He grabbed the large door handle, then paused when he noticed I was staring at the mosaic.
It was still the image of the black dagger.
Oliver scanned the doors up and down. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not seeing what I’m seeing? Unless you’ve grown overly fond of staring at black and red swirls.”
“The doors show me things,” I admitted.
He released the handle and stood next to me, scrunching his eyes like that would reveal the mysterious image. “Is it demons again?”
They show me important scenes that will impact the future.
If you ever want to save Aspen, steal the bastard’s knife.
This dagger. There is only one of its kind. Its name is Tsal-mawet.
Their words circled in my mind, each sentence clicking into place and forming the borders of the puzzle. Could it be that easy? Was this our answer?
“Oliver, remember that voice I told you about in Elora?”
“Yes. Why?”
“She told me the way to save Aspen’s life was to steal Michael’s dagger.”
“I’m not following.”
I pointed to the doors. “The mosaic is of that same dagger. And these doors show images that will impact the future. What if she knew we’d be stuck in Hell? What if she knew the only way to escape and rescue Aspen was with that dagger?”
Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “Then why not just tell you that?”
“She was never forthcoming with information. She only gave me little bits, like telling me to find you and Magda.”
“Yeah, and we both betrayed you and handed you over to the enemy. I wouldn’t say this mysterious female in your head is trustworthy.”
I turned to him and touched his arm. “But, Oli, if I never did what she told me, how do we know we’d ever end up in this position like we are? I have a best friend now.”
His disbelieving expression softened, and he pulled me into his side, giving me a noogie. “Yeah, you do.” Then he kissed my forehead. “But she might’ve had nothing to do with that. Her intentions could be more sinister than we realize. All I’m saying,” he added before I could protest, “is to be wary of her suggestions.”
“Well, she’s been quite silent lately.”Except for that time I had the same three nightmares a few weeks ago.But that was nothing like Elora. Why was she so absent now? Was it the same reason why I couldn’t feel Aspen anymore? I had a feeling that had more to do with his Hell Runes than anything else.
“That could very well be a good thing.”
“Maybe. Regardless, I think the dagger is our key. There are too many coincidences.”
He sighed. “Okay. Then where’s our door?”
“Let’s go look for it.”
Later, Oliver and I were hunched over a book about Tsal-mawet. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much about it—only a single paragraph:
The Weaver’s blade:An artifact of legend, the Weaver’s Bladeis a sentient black dagger, distinguished by the bloodstone set within its center. This weapon is said to hold the ability to unmake and remake through the act of sacrifice. It is written that the Weaver alone possesses the skills to wield this blade, for it is a living entity with a will of its own. Only the Weaver can command its tendencies to create or destroy when the stone turns black.
Oliver droppedhis head on the table. “That gave us nothing.”
I sat back. Why couldn’t we get one straight answer? I stared at my hands and the scar that filled my palm. If Aspen had never touched it, if he hadn’t brushed his thumb across the raised wound and insulted me with his words, it would’ve taken me longer to believe my suspicions.But did he do it on purpose?Aspen was smart. What if he was working around the rune and Lilith? He’d done it before. What if he egged me on so I would figure it out? He wanted me to know Lilith controlled him. Something about that needled at my mind. Something I was missing.
“What was it?”
Oliver turned his head, his cheek smooshed against the wood. “What’s what?”
