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him, not really paying attention to what he was doing. My mind was spinning faster than I could think. If he was an angel, and was left here by the old guard, it was possible that he didn't just live in this hideous maze. Dread filled me as words flew out of my mouth before they fully formed in my mind, "You made the Lorren, didn't you? The angels left it here. It wasn't something that was made by demons. The Lorren was made by you." There was an accusatory tone to my voice. I hated this place. The person who made it was one screwed up bastard. And yet, it was this guy - and he was an angel. Confusion contorted my face, although I tried to hide it.

He finished covering the last painting and turned back toward me. "Yeah," he laughed, "I'm an arrogant bastard, and after I finished with it, I named it after myself. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The Lorren was the strongest defense to hold back the demons. No one has passed through it and lived - except you." He flicked a glance at me and scoffed, "And I seriously wonder how that was possible."

I shirked off his jab and said, "That's why you can live here, and the magic of this place doesn't affect you? It's not because you defeated the Lorren, it's because you are Lorren." He nodded. I looked at him again, as if seeing him for the first time. He was an angel that was living inside a tomb. In Hell. I folded my arms and looked up at him, suspiciously. "So, did the angels kick you out, or what? Why are you down here?" Eric had told me that all the old guard pulled out. There weren't supposed to be any remaining angels down here anymore - hence the hideous traps.

Lorren shrugged and began walking back down the golden passages that we passed through before. I followed him, still wary, not knowing what to think or if I could believe him. It was so weird. Why would he stay here? I wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible. Everything from the cold, damp air to the eternal night made me feel twitchy, like I was trapped in a tomb. Why would anyone stay here by choice? Lorren walked with a confident stride, but his shoulders slumped forward a little bit like he thought he was too tall. I raced to keep up with him.

He'd been quiet; walking away from me quickly like my question pissed him off. "By choice," he shot me a sharp look. "And, I wasn't kicked out. I check on things once in a while. We noticed there was a lot more going on in these parts than there had been - portals being opened from the wrong side." He shot me a snide look, "Ya know, from up there," he gestured upward with his thumb, "and that's a bit unusual. Most people don't want to go into the Underworld. A few months ago a portal was opened somewhere near New York. And then another one was opened a few weeks ago near Rome." We entered the golden room where he drew most of the poison out of my chest. The silver rose that he used to heal me lay on the ledge where he left it. He picked it up before turning to me. Tipping the petals toward me, he said, "That was you. You were the one responsible for opening the portal to the Underworld. Both times." It didn't sound like a question, but it seemed like he was asking me. It seemed like he was leery of something, but he didn't give me any idea of what.

Hesitantly, I confessed, "I opened the catacomb in Rome, and I was there when they opened the portal in New York. But it wasn't me who opened it. It was the Valefar."

He walked toward me and stopped less than a foot from me. I could feel the heat pouring off of him like he was on fire. I tried to step back, but he took another step toward me. Why did everyone think they could intimidate me? I was short, but I wasn't powerless. Angel or not, I could fight back. Part of me wanted to scream at him to back off, but part of me wanted to know what he was afraid of. I could see it in his