We continued on several more football field lengths of twisty, winding tunnel before I stopped, exasperated, cold and starting to feel a little claustrophobic. “We’re not going to find anything,” I said, and they stopped, turning toward me. “I don’t understand why there’s no writing. I don’t know if my eyes were playing tricks me on me or what, but it’s clear we could walk forever and die down here before we find the Harbinger.”

Up ahead, Roth glanced at Layla. “I hate to say it, but you’re probably right.”

“But we can keep going,” Layla insisted. “Who knows what we’ll find down here.”

“Probably a group of cave-dwelling giant bats,” I said, placing my hand against a wall. “And—”

Something happened.

A vibrating hum radiated under my palm. My head jerked toward the wall. A dim golden glow flickered and then rolled over the walls and ceiling in a quick flash before vanishing. The marks were now there, but if I’d blinked, I would’ve missed the quick golden light. “What the what?”

“Whoa.” Zayne stepped in with his torch. “Did it do this last time?”

“No. I mean, not that I noticed, but it was completely dark when I touched the wall and I was...” I looked at Zayne. “I was kind of panicking.”

“Understandable,” he murmured, stepping closer to the wall. “You guys seeing this?”

“Yes,” answered Layla. “It looks like...a really old language or something. This is what you saw?”

“Exactly.”

“We’ve all touched these walls, right?” Layla was nose to wall. “And it didn’t do this?”

Everyone had touched them except for me, which begged the question of why it responded to me. Slowly, I removed my hand as Roth walked toward us. The marks didn’t fade, at least not yet.

“It’s the same as the marks on those spikes,” Zayne said, lifting the torch.

I was going to have to take his word for it. I stared at the scrawling marks etched into the stone. They looked like words spaced into sentences.

Roth had become very still behind us. “You have spikes with these words on them?”

I looked at him. The glow from the torch Layla held cast flickering light over his face. “You know this language? That these etchings are actually words?”

“Yeah, and I’ll ask again—you have spikes with words like this written on them?”

“I don’t know if it’s the exact same words, since we can’t read it,” I replied. “But we found them impaling a Warden to a church. They also glow.”

“Well, of course they do.” Roth swore, and I tensed. “I know what this is, and I know why your spikes glow.”

“What?” I asked.

“That’s angelic writing,” Roth answered, staring at me. “And that means you have angel blades in your possession.”

31

Angelic language.

I’d called it!