Satan's Stone (20 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Thoughts of the prophecies consumed Collin. After fumbling his lines beyond belief, he excused himself from rehearsal and walked backstage. Pulling open the metal door that lead to the basement, he walked through and bounced down the steps into the darkness. He could have gone home, but he wanted a chance to think about this on his own. This school was one place where he could be at ease. A new Valefar wouldn’t suddenly show up and attack him. Valefar were slow and methodical, certain to thoroughly destroy their victims in every way possible.

Collin rounded the corner at the bottom of the landing. He moved through the darkness with ease and threw his body onto a well-worn couch. Threading his fingers behind his head, he laid there, staring into space thinking about what would happen if he killed the Prophecy One. It couldn’t be that easy. There had to be repercussions to destroying her. Would the prophecy just stop? Collin wasn’t certain. He’d never seen the prophecies himself. He’d only heard stories of them. The Martis were diligently searching for the girl in the first prophecy painting in the series. And Collin was dying to wrap his fingers around it. Not only would the painting show the face of his assassin, but it would also reveal the ancient words that had been forgotten—words he needed to break his bargain with Kreturus. Collin’s chest swelled, and his heart raced at the thought.

No one knew where Collin’s power came from. The other Valefar assumed he took the throne to the Upperworld the same way any other Valefar had—through blood and deception. Only the most powerful of Valefar survived. Being ruthless was expected, but Collin’s power didn’t come from centuries of battles. It came from a bargain—a bargain that cost him more than he realized. Collin pressed his eyes closed, trying to force back the memory. There were few things that truly terrified him, and this was one of them. Try as he might, it was no use. Thinking of the prophecies conjured the memory.

It washed over him in a second and chilled him to the bone. Collin could see himself, ages ago, standing in front of the most powerful demon alive. Kreturus had been trapped in a cave in the Underworld. No one was crazy enough to go looking for him, but Collin did. He moved through the Underworld, killing everything in his path, hell-bent on finding the demon who owned him—and all the other Valefar—so that he could demand his freedom. Collin laughed at the thought. His plan was flawed from the start. There is no such thing as a compromising, level-headed demon. But back then, Collin didn’t care. He didn’t want the life that had been thrust upon him. He hated the Valefar, though he was one. They were responsible for the pain that he remembered with vivid intensity. He saw it burned onto the back of his eyes every time he blinked - his wife; his child; both ashen faced and laid lifeless on the pyre with flames flickering high into the night sky. The Valefar were to blame. Determination made him reckless, and so Collin found the demon.

The demon’s presence was terrifying. He flowed like black ink into every crevice of the cave. The angels contained him in that prison, but the ancient demon shifted his form as needed to make his imprisonment tolerable—until he could find a way to escape. Collin’s tenacity didn’t falter when the demon’s presence wrapped around him like a cloak made of liquid ice. Collin didn’t back away, or run screaming as the demon’s vapors filled his lungs, as he breathed. Any other man would have cried out in terror. Collin did not. Rage consumed him. The demon’s touches only made Collin more irate.

Collin roared, “Return my soul to me! Lift the Valefar curse and let me go free.” He looked around in the darkness, expecting to be killed instantly for demanding anything.

But, a low rumble filled the room as Kreturus laughed at him, “You can take all the souls you want.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t take the one soul I need,” Collin growled. His jaw locked tight as his hands shook in the darkness clenched into tight fists. There was no way to force the demon to do anything. Collin would have to convince him. He would have to persuade Kreturus into giving him what he wanted. But, Collin had nothing to barter. Kreturus already had his soul.

As if the ancient demon could read his thoughts, the inky blackness seemed to purr. “There is one thing…
One thing that I would bargain for.”

Shaking, Collin shot upright, and hung his legs over the side of the couch and ended the memory. His heart raced in his chest, beating wildly as he repressed the recollection to the deepest depths of his mind. Leaning forward, he clutched his head between his hands trying to forget. He had given too much. It was a mistake. A mistake that cost him more than he’d already lost.

Startled by the creak of the steps above him, Collin slowly stood and moved through the darkened room trying to see through the metal stairs. The stage lights illuminated the person standing in the doorway until the door clicked shut and darkness cloaked the person. Collin couldn’t see who was on the landing above, but heard the creak of each step as the person came closer and closer.

Thinking it must have been an enemy, Collin’s body tensed. He moved quickly and pressed himself between two flats that stretched high above him that were leaning, angled against the wall. Moving slowly, he crept behind the canvases. The person moved down the stairs and stopped on the last step, and sat. Collin carefully stepped over props and moved silently through the room. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of brimstone. Pressing his finger to the side of the sharp stone, he drew blood and rubbed it against the rock. Instantly, the stone became fluid and changed shape in his hand elongating into a blade, while the section of stone under Collin’s grip swelled into a hilt. His grip tightened around the dagger as the stone became hard in his hand. Crouching close to the floor, he approached the staircase from the back. The person sitting there failed to move. They sat utterly motionless breathing in sharp breaths that were too loud for a Valefar, or for someone hunting him. When Collin slid up behind the staircase, he hesitated. Holding his weapon ready to strike, a familiar scent hit his heightened sense of smell. The grip of the blade in his hand loosened as he realized who it was. Collin ran his finger along the blade slicing open his skin. When the blood sank into the black metal, it melted back into a small stone. By the time Collin pressed it into his pocket, his finger had already healed.

He stared at her back for a moment, certain of her identity, and backed away from her. Her lungs expanded filling her body with air as she shook. Collin could hear her sniffle as he moved away, back toward the couch. Pushing his hair out of his face, he looked at her in the darkness one last time. He wished she’d talk to him and tell him what was bothering her enough to sit and cry in the shadows, but he knew she wouldn’t.

So, he retreated to the couch and silently sprawled out again. When he reached his hand for the switch behind the couch, he flipped on the lights. With a smile in his voice he said, “Only creepy people sit in the basement in the dark, Ivy.”

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