My smugness over having been right was short-lived when I realized the confirmation also meant that the Harbinger was in possession of angelic weapons.

“Wait a second.” Layla crossed her arms. “The Harbinger just left those spikes behind?”

“Appears that way,” Zayne answered as he scanned the writing on the wall.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Roth turned to us. “Angel blades are not just left lying around. Those suckers can kill just about anything. Actually, not just about. Totally can kill anything, including another angel. If this Trueborn left those blades behind, he’s either extremely careless or had a reason.”

“He doesn’t seem like the careless type,” I murmured, staring at the faint markings.

“If those blades weren’t found, how in the world did a Trueborn take them from an angel?” Layla asked. “I know a Trueborn is badass and angels aren’t exactly invincible, but to possibly disarm or even kill an angel?”

“Not just any angel, Shortie.” Roth inclined his head. “Only archangels carry angel blades and I doubt one would hand them over to their half-angelic spawns.”

“Nobody really knows what Trueborns are or aren’t capable of,” Zayne said. “It’s been too many years since they were anything more than myth.”

“I don’t even know if I share the same abilities with this one, other than him being able to see spirits and ghosts. That’s an angel thing, but this isn’t something we can google or read about in a book.” I thought about what Thierry had shared with me this morning. “I think our history has been purposely forgotten. Erased.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Roth looked at Zayne.

He met Roth’s stare, expression hard. I had no idea what that was about, nor was it important at the moment. “Can you read it?” I asked.

“Not exactly an expert at angelic language. One would think that you’d be more apt in that area. It’s similar to Aramaic.”

At least Gideon had been on the right track.

“I recognize some words.” Walking a few feet down, Roth stopped. “I think this is some kind of spell. Not the witchy kind—more of an angelic ward.”

“What kind of ward?” Zayne held the torch close to the wall.

“A trap,” he said, stepping back. “I think it’s a ward to trap souls, preventing them from entering these tunnels. Now I’m wondering if a similar ward is written inside the school.”

Tiny hairs rose all over my body. “If so, it would stop the souls from leaving the school.”

“God,” Layla murmured. “Nothing good can come from this.”

“Not at all,” Roth agreed.

Layla unfolded her arms. “Stacey has two weeks or so of summer school left.”

“She went back?” I asked, surprised.