"Something's wrong," past-Death said moments earlier, pushing away from the wall in the dark passageway. "He should've been back by now."
"Stay put, cupcake. I like my head where it is," Jared growled.
She fingered the hilt of the knife at her waist. A familiar, blue-green glimmer caught her attention, and she peered into the darkness. It was leading away from the roof, back down the hallway. The glow had tried to lead her somewhere before and appeared to be waiting for her again.
Fate had identified the deity that died in the dungeon as Peace. Since entering the cell, she'd been haunted by something, perhaps the deity itself in some sort of dreamwalk form. If there was one deity that could end this chaos, it was this one. How was it possible for it to be alive when she'd seen the bones?
"Will you at least peek out and check on him?" she asked.
"I did a moment ago. He was killing the sentries. He should be done and the roof clear by now."
"Look again."
The demon grumbled something.
"Please," she added.
Jared opened the door. The relative brightness of the underworld blinded her.
"Take care of him, demon." Past-Death closed her eyes and shoved him out of the passageway. "I need to do something." She slammed the door closed and stood blinking until the sunspots left her vision.
Turning, she spotted the green-blue glow once more and strode after it. The stones scraped and groaned as the passageway molded into a new direction, one she wasn't dictating. Past-Death drew a dagger and continued into the darkness, heart pounding.
A doorway appeared. She slowed and approached it with some angst, uncertain how much to trust the spirit of a deity she accidentally killed in the dungeon. With a deep breath, she stepped through …
… and into the hallway of the subfloor above the dungeon.
The burst of color was halfway down the hall already, past the room teeming with death dealers where Jared had slaughtered several earlier. If they noticed her, if any one of them decided to leave the room before she passed them and reached the stairwell … her hands shook and she wiped sweat from her brow.
For Gabriel.
Steeling herself, past-Death moved quickly down the hallway on tiptoes. She sucked in a breath and held it as she darted by the open doorway packed with death dealers. A quick glance made her think they had recently returned from the battle outside.
She raced down the hallway and caught her small frame against the wall of the stairwell before descending fast. Past-Death waited to hear the sound of pursuit, for someone to figure out she was there. None came, and she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, scouring the area for any sign of the glow.