Page 78 of Frosted Torment

“Yeah,” I mumbled, unconvinced. “This place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’m feeling buzzy, and it’s a different kind of cold here.”

As if on cue, a gust of icy wind whipped past us, cutting right through me. I shuddered again and burrowed deeper into Baz’s side, and he rubbed my arm as he tightened his hold on me.

“That’s hellfire cold,” he said. “A temperature of fire so high that it turns cold and invisible.”

Lex looked back at Baz and shook his head in what I assumed was a gesture to not tell me more than I needed to know about hell. He was right about my not wanting to know.

“We’ll be through here soon,” Lex said over his shoulder. He scanned the perimeter, ever vigilant. “Stick close and don’t let your guard down.”

I sprinted ahead of Baz and stayed between him and Lex as we walked. An otherworldly hum emanated from the ground through the soil as we walked farther, and I stopped Baz.

“I need Vincent’s dagger,” I requested and held out my palm.

Once Baz located it and the knife was in my possession, we continued down the path. My gaze drifted once more to the charred half of the valley. The blackened soil seemed to writhe in my periphery, as if tormented by unseen phantoms of the fallen angels.

I blinked hard, telling myself it’s a trick of the fading light. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something watched us - something sinister lurking beyond the shadows, biding its time. Biting my lip, I matched my steps to Baz and Lex’s brisk pace. But as we walked, the unease in my gut grew stronger.

We needed to get out of the valley—and fast. Before the shadows gathering at the edges of my vision took form and the whispers on the wind became something far worse.

“Why did we have to come this way?” I asked, my gaze darting between the charred wasteland and the vibrant purple of the lilacs. “Couldn’t we have gone around?”

Baz’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the horizon. “It’s the fastest way to the tree.”

“It won’t matter.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Vincent and Maros are bound to be waiting for me now.”

“They don’t know about what’s happened with the bracelet,” Lex reminded me, kicking a rock out of our path. “And they don’t know you think Vallen’s prison is here.”

My stomach churned at the thought of facing Vallen, and the horrors I had to traverse to get there were beginning to weigh on me.

Baz’s hand found mine, his fingers lacing through my own. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Noa. How are you doing?”

“Her enhancements will help her out,” Lex said as he turned around to face us but kept walking backward. “She’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” I yelled back to him. Spinning the dagger sideways in my hand, I flipped Lex the middle finger.

Baz cleared his throat, his voice low and hesitant. “Do you want to talk about the bracelet? What it’s doing to you?”

I glanced down at my wrist, and the memory of it sinking into my flesh, of my bones shifting and reforming, sent a wave of nausea rolling through me.

“It was like something out of a horror movie,” I whispered. The thought of it made my hair stand on end. “The way my skin just... ripped open. And the bracelet, it didn’t just attach itself, it... it became a part of me.”

Baz’s hand tightened around mine, his thumb strokingsoothing circles on my palm. “I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like.”

Lex approached us, his brow furrowed with concern. “Noa, may I see your wrist?”

I hesitated, then released Baz’s hand and held out my arm. The strange, foreign script tattooed into my skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the valley. Lex studied the markings and inscription, his fingers tracing over the now-scarred lines with great focus.

His eyes widened with recognition. “I’ve seen this somewhere before,” he murmured.

“Yeah, it’s for protection,” I confirmed with a nod.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pay closer attention until now,” he apologized, shaking his head. “But this is in some of Father O’Neil’s tomes from around the time of the crucifixion.”

My heart skipped a beat with that information. “What does it mean?”

“I can’t remember all of the details,” Lex admitted, shaking his head. “But it has something to do with the crucifixion. With the apostles, and how they stayed behind after Jesus ascended.”

A shiver traced my spine as we listened to Lex’s story. “What do the apostles have to do with me?”

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