Page 112 of Nightshade

Cassiel.

What looked to be sadness flickered in his eyes.

“What happened to you, my friend?” I whispered, watching his eyes shine with tears.

He hissed and snarled, but produced nothing coherent.

On a dismal sigh, I stared down at the blade in my hand, recalling that day on the mountain. “You still wish for me to send you to Ex Nihilo?”

He stared back at me, as if trying to understand my words, and when I lifted the blade, he gave one quick nod.

“Can you tell me who did this to you?”

Only snarls and grunts in response.

Gripping the blade tight in my hand, I frowned back at him. “Av’adeih et paej.”

Go in peace, in Pri’scucian.

I jabbed the blade into his chest and watched his body jerk, his movements slow. Vacant, black eyes turned to a warm ember, an effect I wouldn’t have otherwise seen in real time. In no more than a second, they focused on me, softening with tears. A breath later, flames erupted across his skin, licking out at me in a slow, blazing snap.

I released my hold on the air and let it consume him quickly.

Mercifully, as he’d asked of me.

37

Farryn

Up and down the hallway, I paced. Night had fallen, and my mind seemed to be consumed by the thought of Van Croix venturing into those woods alone with that thing. I’d battled the guilt of having left him, only to come to the understanding that I’d be useless against the strange and unusual beasts of this world. Compounding that guilt was the added stress of not having alerted anyone else in the house, per his request, and that if he happened to be severely hurt, or dead, I’d be the one to blame.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I needed to tell someone. Even if it was just Anya. At least she would know of someone who could help him, if needed.

At the sound of a creaking door, I raced to the bannister that overlooked the foyer, and my stomach eased when I watched him stride into view. On his way to wherever he was headed, he halted mid-step and met my ridiculously eager gaze. A look of surprise gleamed in his eye, the unspoken concern undoubtedly written all over my face. Cheeks heated with a flush of embarrassment, I backed myself toward my room.

Yes, I wanted him to return safely and intact.

I just hadn’t anticipated how much I’d needed to see him walk through that door until right then.

38

Farryn

Somehow, a week had passed, and every day, I worried. Surely, I should have begun to forget the details of my life. That was what I’d been told about Nightshade. Don’t forget who you are. Yet, I could easily recall Camael, Aunt Nelle in great detail–right down to the patch of freckles on Aunt Nelle’s nose, and the loud, coral paisley blouse my neighbor lady wore the day I’d dropped off Camael.

Why hadn’t I forgotten them yet? Did it take so long for memories to fade in this place? What torture to hold onto them for so long.

I stood at the precipice of the cliff, daring myself to edge closer and peer down. Without a guardrail, it’d only take one misstep to send me tumbling over that treacherous edge. Wind gusted my hair, taunting my balance as I slid my toe closer. Closer.

In one brief peek, my eyes swallowed up the horrific height of the cliff, where black rocks glistened along the outer shoreline of an unfathomable, dark sea. In order to miss those rocks, I’d have to get a running start, or make one hell of a leap.

Panic spiraled up my spine, and I drew in a sharp breath, screwing my eyes shut.

Jesus. Soon, I’d have to make that jump, no matter what, unless I wanted to remain in Nightshade. I couldn’t imagine it, though. Couldn’t picture myself stepping one foot off that cliff. The thought of it had my palms sweating, stomach twisted up in impossible knots. It was a stress that plagued me every day for a week, every time I looked out at the cliff and tried to imagine myself willingly diving off.

My routine had become a monotonous stretch of feedings, walks, playtime, and sleep. I’d explored the grounds and observed the village off in the distance, whose rooftops could be seen from the west yard of the cathedral. Aurelia kept me engaged in benign conversations at dinnertime, regaling me with stories of her day.