Page 13 of Nightshade

I fear I’ve made a grave mistake. That I’ve unearthed something not meant to be found. God, forgive my ignorance.

The rest of the page had been torn out, leaving me to puzzle the meaning of his words, and I flipped it over to the next.

In my studies and inquiries, I was made aware of someone who might help me traverse this plane. He goes by the name of Xhiphias. A very knowledgeable man with insights I’ve not previously come across in another human being. For the sake of my Farryn’s life, I must cross over to Nightshade and find Van Croix before the next blood moon. I’m certain Xhiphias can help accomplish this.

It’s only a matter of time before the Pentacrux find her.

My blood turned cold on reading that, recalling the message in my dream.

Find Van Croix in Nightshade.

The clammy feeling of nausea had me breathing through my nose. I’d heard stories of people communicating with the dead through dreams, but I couldn’t say I actually believed it to be possible. Even then, I sat shaking my head, certain I must’ve read that prior to dreaming.

Besides, I didn’t even know for sure if he had died.

And who the hell was this Van Croix, and what did he have to do with anything? What was the significance of the blood moon? What had my father unearthed?

The questions in my head crashed and bounced, stirring up an awful ache. I rubbed my temple, trying to make sense of the cryptic little messages, and deciding that maybe I had just stared at this too damn long. Lifting the book from the desk, I read the last sentence again, just to be sure I was reading it right, and as I did so a thought struck me.

What if my father was alive somewhere, and what if Xhiphias had been the last to see, or speak to him?

On the back of the torn page, I found an address in Chicago. Not the best neighborhood, for sure, but about twenty minutes from where I lived. A quick Google Maps search showed it as a business address. An apothecary store, where, hopefully, there might be other patrons. A public place versus some shady abandoned factory. Red flags practically flashed across my eyeballs, but my curiosity had already been piqued.

A bell rang, and I shot my head toward the foyer beyond the office door. Had I ever actually heard it ring before? The last visitor I’d had was the neighbor lady telling me her dog had pissed all over Aunt Nelle’s rose bushes.

Frowning, I stood up from the desk and padded out of the office toward the front door. Through the peephole, I saw Detective Hines staring back.

What the …

After a moment’s hesitation, in which I mentally debated whether or not I was lawfully required to acknowledge him, I unlocked the deadbolt, all three of them, and opened the door a mere crack.

His lips stretched to a smile. “Miss Ravenshaw, I’m sorry to bother you so late. I just had a couple things I was hoping to discuss with you.”

Jesus, it had to be midnight. “How did you …. How did you know where I live?” I silently dared him to tell me that he’d searched for me, because I’d gone through painstaking efforts to remove my information from the internet. Or worse, that Father Bane had given him my address, after all.

Lips flattened, he crossed his arms and huffed. “Look, I’m going to level with you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “It’s not every day that I seek someone out and invite them to review my files.”

“You still haven’t answered the question. How did you know where I live?” Even if he’d used some super-invasive police database to track me down, I wanted to hear him say it.

“I followed you home.”

“Well … that’s creepy as hell.”

“So … we’re going to have this conversation through the door? I won’t take up much of your time. I promise.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about talking to him about my findings. “I’m going to level with you. I’m inviting you in under the pretense that you’re a professional, here to discuss religious cult symbolism.” Well, that didn’t come out sounding right, either.

“What else would I be here for.” It was then I noticed the folder tucked under his arm, and after the dream I’d had, and seeing the picture he’d shown me of the murdered woman, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that file contained.

With reluctance, I glanced over my shoulder toward the opened door of the office, where the feather lay on the desk in plain sight. “Can you excuse me one moment?” I said, closing the door on him. I dashed across the foyer and yanked the office door closed before rushing back, and when I swung open the door, he quirked a brow.

“You live alone?” Scanning the place, he stepped inside, and for whatever reason, my stomach lurched.

I’d never invited anyone into my personal space. Just seeing him standing within Aunt Nelle’s foyer felt invasive. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Hands fidgeting, I led him toward the kitchen. Could’ve been leading a psychopath to the one room in the house which held all the knives, and yet, I still took the lead like the freaking tour guide to Butcherville. An oily sensation crawled over my skin, and I glanced over my shoulder, making sure he kept his distance behind me.