Page 109 of White Hot Kiss

That meant...

Roth lifted his head, breathing deeply. The hall had quieted. When he stepped back, I willed my heart to slow and followed him out of the alcove. It took a few seconds to form words. “Where did the bats go?”

Roth lifted his chin. “My guess is they went through the crack in the ceiling.” Picking up the forgotten torch, he moved toward the open door.

I followed him through the opening. It was a small, circular chamber dimly lit by torches. Toward the back of the chamber was an archway leading to another tunnel. Roth held his torch close to the wall, casting light on strange carvings etched into the cement.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The old language,” he said, moving the torch farther along.

“Latin?” The words covered the entire chamber, from ceiling to the floor.

Roth snorted. “No. This predates Latin. The Key has to be here.” He turned to the center of the room and knelt. “What do we have here?”

I peered over his shoulder. A square about three feet wide in diameter was cut into the floor. In the center of the square were two handprints. Both roughly about the same size, and something about the prints reminded me of a Warden’s hands. The fingers were long and slender, palms wide.

Just like Roth’s hands in his true form.

Roth placed the torch on the floor and glanced up at me. “Put your hand in one of the prints.”

I got down on my knees beside him and watched him stretch out and place his hand in the one on the left. I thought about what the seer had said about a Warden and demon working together to hide the Key. I fitted my hand to the print. Mine was much smaller.

A low rumbling started underneath the chamber, and I started to move back but Roth said, “Don’t. It’s working.”

Tiny rocks fell to the chamber floor. A crack broke out across the ceiling. Dust plumed, catching in the flames, turning into tiny sparks that glided through the air. Man, I hoped this chamber didn’t cave in on us.

The square trembled and then began to rise. I pulled my hand back then, as did Roth. Standing together, we took a step back as the hunk of cement erupted out the floor in a loud groan of cement grinding.

“Bingo,” Roth said.

In the middle of the cement block was a cubby, and in that cubby was what could only be the original Lesser Key of Solomon.

Roth swiped up the torch and held it close. The cover was just like he’d said before. It looked like aged beef jerky. Bound in human skin—really old human skin.

I already wanted to hurl.

Carved into the cover was the same symbol that had been on the replica Roth had. A circle with a star in the middle was outlined in gold. The star was slightly crooked to the right, making it off center. Tiny numbers and letters were carved near the four points.

Roth handed me the torch, which I took gladly. No way did I want to touch that thing. I watched him reach inside and gingerly place his hands on either side of the book. It would totally suck if the thing imploded in dust, and I almost laughed at the image, except in reality it wouldn’t be so funny.

Roth stepped back with the Lesser Key in his hand. The crack in the ceiling suddenly exploded. Chunks of the roof crashed to the floor. Roth jumped forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the way of a large section. It hit where I’d just been standing.

Another piece came down, blocking the way we’d come in. Horror poured in, as thick as the dust filling the cavern. “Roth!”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me around the raised square. We darted under the archway. “Do you know where this goes?” I yelled.

There was a wild sort of laugh. “No. But it has to go somewhere.”

Somewhere was better than where we were. We hit the tunnel at a dead run. The entire chamber came down behind us, triggering some sort of faulty seam in the craftsmanship. Or maybe it had been designed this way. That once the Lesser Key was moved, the whole thing would collapse, trapping the Key and whoever took it.

Hearts pounding, we raced down the tunnel, hanging a right when we came to an intersection. A plume of dust and rocks chased us through the maze of tunnels, snapping at our heels. I stumbled once, nearly face-planting the floor, but Roth caught me at the last minute, hauling me to my feet.

When we finally passed under a larger archway, there was a drop. We landed roughly, stumbling over tracks. Gaining my balance, I turned just as the very last section of the tunnel came down, sealing it off.

I let out a harsh breath. “Well, we won’t be returning the book, will we?”

“No.” Roth stepped off the track and placed the book up on a ledge. He grabbed my waist and lifted me up. “There you go.”