strangely! What did the wiggling fingers mean? But she couldn’t ask now. She was alone with a demon, or maybe a bunch of demons. Who could tell how many? And knowing that they probably couldn’t escape did little to ease her mind. She edged back into the darkness, letting her feet pad noiselessly from toe to heel. She didn’t want that . . . that thing to know she was still around, but as its light cast a glow over her retreating body, she couldn’t shake the chilling fear.
A loud click sounded from somewhere beyond the abyss. The angel’s image vibrated. “Is someone still here?” he asked.
Sapphira halted. The angel probably couldn’t see her at all. That face was just a projection of some kind, and the eyes were really blind.
The click sounded again. “Someone is here,” the angel said. “Who is it?”
Sapphira held her breath. Elam had gone the other way, so he didn’t make the noise, and she had never gone farther than the pit, so she had no idea what could be beyond it. Bats, maybe? Something worse? She took another quiet step backwards.
A coarse, female voice crashed through the silence. “Well, if it isn’t little Miss Mara!”
The chill pierced Sapphira’s heart and made her freeze in place. Morgan! Sapphira scanned the chamber in the direction of the voice, but the pit’s brilliant aura blinded her.
Framed by the angel’s shining profile, Morgan’s familiar silhouette sashayed around the abyss, her face shadowed. Still, Sapphira could imagine the evil smile on Morgan’s lips just from the crackling sarcasm in her voice. “So nice of you to greet me at the back door, Mara dear. You must have known the front door was locked, so you rushed down here to form a welcoming party with Samyaza.”
That name sounded familiar, but Sapphira didn’t want to let Morgan know. She twisted her face in mock curiosity. “Samyaza? Who’s Samyaza?”
Morgan turned her sarcastic tone to its maximum setting. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t been properly introduced?” Her shadowy hand rose to her mouth. “For shame! Samyaza is such a friendly angel. I wonder why he hasn’t told you who he is.”
The name finally clicked in Sapphira’s mind. Enoch listed Samyaza as one of the Watchers! She squeezed her scroll tightly and slid her free hand into her pocket, groping for the Ovulum. It was growing warm, a soothing kind of warmth. Maybe Elohim was ready to help her battle this witch.
Sapphira held the scroll high and waved it. “Maybe Samyaza didn’t introduce himself because he knew I learned his name from a certain book you’ve been looking for.”
Morgan’s voice pitched up. “You found Enoch’s scroll?”
Sapphira stared at the tightly wound parchment. “Ignite!” she shouted. A vigorous flame burst forth at the upper end, growing larger by the second.
“No!” Morgan lurched toward her, but Sapphira leaped out of the way. She dashed to the abyss and held the scroll over the edge, poking Samyaza’s image in the nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Leave this place forever,” Sapphira said, “and I’ll give you this scroll.”
Morgan set her fists on her hips. “What good will it do me if it’s just ashes?”
Sapphira nodded at the scroll. “Enough,” she said, and the flames dwindled away. She rolled it out a few inches and studied the text. “Hmmm. I can still read it.”
The angel’s image vibrated once again. “She is not holding Enoch’s scroll. I sent Elam to get it. He is preparing to play the role of Judas, just as you had hoped.”
Morgan’s face lit up. “Ah! Excellent!”
“Judas?” Sapphira asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Elam is putty in my hands,” Samyaza continued. “Naamah’s song has broken his will, and his temptation to yield to Lucifer’s call is strong. The girl will soon be out of our way forever. Now we merely have to paint the proper portrait of our little oracle of fire.”
Sapphira kicked a pebble and shouted, “What are you talking about?”
Morgan pressed a finger over her lips. “Hush now. Fits of impatience are so unbecoming. Little slave girls like you need to learn their place. You’re just an overgrown plant, a freak of nature without a soul. You might as well get used to the idea” she smiled wickedly and poisoned her final word with sarcasm “Mara.”
Scorching heat surged through Sapphira’s body. The scroll burst into flames again, burning downward until it concealed her hand in fire, but she ignored it as she raged at Morgan. “I am not Mara!