Page 150 of Nightshade

As she stared somewhere beyond me, her eyes widened, and she lowered her gaze. “Virgil.”

With a frown, I glanced back to see a man in a satyr costume approaching us, a slight limp in his gait. As he sidled up next to me, an oily sensation practically left a thin layer on my skin, and I recalled what Anya had told me earlier in the evening.

“Almost showtime.” His breath smelled of sulphur, his long body reminding me of a starving dog, the way his back curved slightly and long sinews of muscle stretched beneath his skin. “Who is your friend?”

“She was only complimenting my dress.”

Lifting his nose into the air, he breathed in, closing his eyes. “What a delicious scent. So clean and pure.” When he leaned toward me, sniffing in my direction, I stepped back. Hooded amber eyes, looking slightly intoxicated, roved over me appraisingly, and he licked his lips. “That costume is quite stunning.” His gaze finally lifted to mine, and a gleam of intrigue flickered in his eyes. Lips stretched to a smile, he tilted his head, seemingly riveted. “Strange. I feel like we’ve met before.”

“I don’t think so.”

His lips stretched wider. “Oh, I think we have. You have an unusual name … it starts with a … with an F. Fanny? No, that isn’t right. Fairy? No. Fa-fa-something.” There was something creepy about the guy that turned an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“Farryn,” Alicia said, much to my dismay, and I couldn’t help but shoot her a frustrated glare for offering it up. “Her name is Farryn.”

“Farryn! Of course, that’s it.”

“How exactly do you know me?” A thought struck me. With urgency, I opened my locket to the picture of my father. “Do you know him, as well? Have you seen him?”

The smile on his face faded, his eyes flitting from the image to me, and unless I imagined it, they seemed to hold a glint of recognition. “Of course not.”

“You’ve never seen him?”

“I never have.” Yet, the way he couldn’t tear his gaze away from it told me otherwise. He was lying.

“Then, how do you know me?”

Smiling again, he ignored the question and turned his attention back to Alicia. “Mister Barchiel intends to make an announcement, and then you’ll head up to the stage after. In the meantime, I would encourage you to mingle with his very kind guests.”

“Sure.”

When he reached out toward her, I caught the flinch of her eyes, before he rested a hand at the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, what was that, dear?”

Alicia’s brow twitched, her body stiff, clearly uncomfortable. “I’d be happy to, sir.”

“Very good.” Those amber colored eyes swung back to me. “Nice seeing you, Farryn. Again.” With his parting words, he limped back through the crowd, the tick of his wooden staff fading into the noise.

“Who is he?”

“My manager. The man is shadier than a willow tree.”

“Thanks for offering up my name.”

“He knew it. He was just playing with you. Virgil knows more than he lets on.”

“He hurts you?”

“Only when he has to. Not the worst in this place.”

The guy sounded pretty bad to me. Certainly worse than Van Croix. “The one who murdered you … he’s killed others. The Sisters of Saint Felix? That’s where you went to Catholic school, right?”

Something cold shadowed Alicia’s eyes at the mention of her old private school. She stared off, as if in a state of horror. “Dominus vigilans.”

“Wait, what?”

“From my dream. That’s what the killer said to me in dreams.”

Someone bumped into me, and I turned toward a man dressed in some unidentifiable woodland creature costume, with horns and hooves. That oily feeling hit my skin again, just as it had when Virgil stood beside me. Swaying on his feet, undoubtedly drunk, he swiped up Alicia’s hand. She squirmed in his grasp, as he dragged her after him.