Although I wasn’t surprised that he was keeping secrets. That seemed to be par for the course for everyone searching for these damn keys.
"I am sure that when the keys are destroyed, everything will remain as it currently is."
"But aren’t the keys now tuned to the power of the gates?"
Or the portals, as the reapers preferred to call them. Apparently there was only one gate into heaven or hell, with each gate consisting of three interlocked portals. Each portal had to be locked behind a soul before the next one opened. It was a system that prevented those in hell from escaping—although it wasn’t infallible. Things still escaped when enough magic was used either in this world or the other.
"They are," my father said. "Destroying them should sever the link, and the gates should remain intact."
It was those shoulds that were worrying me. "You know," I said slowly, "it seems that it would be a whole lot safer for everyone if these keys were to remain as they are—indefinitely hidden."
Energy surged, making the hairs along my arms and the back of my neck rise. "Do you honestly think the Raziq will let matters lie?"
"Honestly? No. But they can’t kill me if they need me to find the keys."
"Then what about your friends? Such a move could place them in peril."
"Not if I let the Raziq grab me. Once they realize I can’t help them, I’m guessing they’ll forget me and start concentrating on you again." After all, he might not know where the keys actually were, but he had some general knowledge of where they’d been sent, and he knew what they’d been disguised as.
Although admittedly, handing myself over to the Raziq wasn’t at the top of my list. I’d barely survived their interrogation the last time.
The threat in the air was growing stronger. My father’s energy was so sharp and strong that it hit with almost physical force. Part of me wanted to cower, but the more stubborn part refused to give in.
"You forget it is not just the Raziq who want the keys."
"The reapers aren’t going to—"
"I am not talking about the reapers." His cultured tones had become soft, deadly. "I am talking about me."