Page 61 of Frosted Torment

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. I pulled my shoulders up to my ears with a grin. “I’d rather you go with me, Baz, but Lex isn’t wrong,” I sang.

“Fine.”Baz released a deep, irritated growl.“But get inside before I change my mind,”he ordered.

“He’s in.” I gave Ena and Lex a thumbs-up, then I sauntered up the steps with them.

Baz trotted to the corner of the house, pausing as if weighing his next steps.“You’ll need a weapon,”he declared.

Giddy with anticipation, I clasped my hands behind my back. “And I get a weapon.”

“Don’t get too excited, Noa.” Lex leaned in with a teasing expression. “The tree is warded, so we’ll need to find it first.”

“I’ll go around and come through the back,”Baz sighed, done with the conversation.

I cast a doubtful look at Baz, but before I could ask how, he was gone. Lex opened the door for Ena and me, ushering us inside.

“Besides,” Lex added. “You might get a dagger at most.”

Dagger.

I turned and ran back down the steps toward the empty field. Smoke curled upwards from the remnants of the totem pole, reducing Sasha’s body to ash. Tears blurred my vision; I needed the dagger—the one Vincent had forced me to wield against Sasha.

There was no sign of it anywhere. Not even the glint of a hilt. I sprinted into the house, shock painted on Ena’s and Lex’s faces.

CHAPTER 23

“Where is it?” The sound of my voice reverberated off the towering walls.

Jossy flung open a pair of majestic oak doors to my left as I was about to step into the living room. “What’s wrong?” he inquired, concern etching his brow.

Desperation surged through me as I grasped his shirt. “Where’s the dagger, Joss? I need it!”

He clasped my trembling hands, his thumb tracing soothing circles in my palm as he guided them away from his chest with care. “Breathe, Noa. We have it in here,” Jossy assured me.

He led me through the grand foyer, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and dried herbs. The whitewashed wood floors creaked beneath my feet as we walked, the sound echoing through the house like ghostly whispers.

I trailed him deeper into the house, my eyes darting to every shadowed corner. Ena and Lex followed closely behind, and aswe entered the expansive living room, Nevaeh met us with a bottle of water extended toward me.

“You could use this.” She offered a warm smile as I gulped down its contents.

“Thank you,” I replied, my hands still trembling as I wiped my parched lips.

“There’s bannock bread on the kitchen counter, and I opened a jar of my homemade chokecherry jam. Help yourself if you’re hungry,” she added.

I nodded in appreciation. She glided to the center of the room to join Dawson, where he was sorting ammunition. Knives and an array of medieval weapons were strewn across the floor in front of an oversized stone fireplace. There were maces with intricate designs, various war hammers, and what appeared to be several customized firearms.

A metal garage door had replaced a section of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that comprised the back wall of the house. My understanding deepened when I spotted Baz standing beside the fireplace, focused on Dawson’s work.

To my right stood an imposing wooden table that once hosted family dinners but now lay strewn with ancient maps and tomes steeped in history. Father O’Neil paced back and forth, thumbing through one of the worn volumes, clad in white gloves that contrasted against the pages’ yellowing edges. He peeked over his glasses and smiled before returning to his reading—a picture of scholarly dedication.

Behind O’Neil hung a painting ofThe Last Supper, timeless and poignant on its canvas backdrop. Jossy approached the table and reached for the dagger resting precariously on its edge. Ihadn’t realized he was offering it to me hilt-first until it warmed my palm. I’d been too caught up in my inner turmoil.

The dagger was carved in the shape of a wolf’s head—something I had overlooked before releasing my grandmother from her pain. The sheath encasing the blade was crafted from weathered leather adorned with delicate engravings on either side. Leather ties dangled from its top.

I unsheathed the blade and set the empty case back on the table, mindfully running my finger along its spine while avoiding the sharp edge. No traces of blood marred its surface. Any evidence that I had used this very weapon to end my grandmother’s life remained absent, rendering Jossy’s act of cleaning it a compassionate gesture.

I’d keep the dagger close to serve as a reminder that adhering to my plan was paramount. Reach the cherry blossom tree to help the angel and learn the steps of the ceremony, then hunt for Vallen. After that, Vincent and Maros were mine.

I didn’t know how, but I was grateful for the few angels who hadn’t betrayed me. I prayed we could find a way. As I tucked away the weapon in its case, Nakoma rounded a corner, clutching another map in his hands.

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