She frowned. "But that would mean no soul could move on and be reborn."
"Yes, but they don't care about that. They just see the bigger picture."
"But surely the number of demons who break out of hell is minor when compared to the chaos that closing the gates permanently would cause."
"As I said, I don't think the priests care." Not about the human race in general, and certainly not about babies being born without souls and ending up as little more than inanimate lumps of flesh. "They just want their life of servitude to the gates ended."
Which is how I'd gotten involved in this whole mess in the first place. The Raziq had developed three keys that would permanently open or close the gates. The only trouble was, my father, who was one of the Raziq responsible for making the keys, had not only stolen the keys but had arranged to have them hidden—so well that even he knew only a general location. And as he could no longer take on flesh form, he now needed me to do his footwork, since only someone of his bloodline could detect the hidden keys.
In fact, everyone needed me—the Raziq, the reapers, the high vampire council. And all of them wanted the keys for very different reasons.
Adeline said, "And this is why you wish to speak so urgently to this ghost? He knows of the keys?"
I hesitated. "No. But he might have some information about a dark sorcerer who could be tied up in all this mess. We questioned our ghost when he was alive, but someone very powerful had blocked sections of his memories. We're hoping death might have removed those blocks."
"It's a rather vague hope."
"Which is still better than no hope." I took a sip of tea, then shuddered at the almost bitter taste and put the cup down. Tea had never been a favorite beverage of mine.
"When do you wish to start?" Adeline asked.
"Now, if possible."
She frowned again. "Your energy levels feel extremely low. It's generally not considered a wise—"
"Adeline," I interrupted softly, "I may not get another chance to do this."
Mainly because I'd been ordered by my father to retrieve a note from Southern Cross Station later this morning, and who the hell knew what would happen after that? But if past retrievals were any indication, then hell was likely to break loose—at least metaphysically speaking, if not physically.