Page 152 of Nightshade

The man lowered his gaze in a way that seemed shameful. Embarrassed. “Only that I might touch your skin. It has been so long since I’ve touched anything living.”

“Your condition … forgive my asking, but is it contagious?”

“No. Yet, others fear it, just the same. Though, to be fair, it is my ability to see what others cannot which makes them most fearful.”

“I found it comforting.”

The corner of his lip kicked up to a smile, as if that pleased him.

I held out a hand toward him. “I agree to your terms, Tartys.”

47

Jericho

Weaving through the crowd, I stalked the man dressed as a satyr, with his cloven heels and silver horns, his bare chest and back painted white with gold swirls. He carried a wooden staff that clicked along the surface, as he stepped up onto the stone bridge that led to a strip of small cottages. A place where all variety of carnal fantasies were entertained. While I should’ve been thinking about running my blade through his skull, my head wouldn’t relent the images of Farryn in that fucking costume.

I had a sense Virgil would eventually sniff her out in the crowd, the scent of hers like a sweet nectar to a horde of starving hornets. The demon couldn’t have resisted her if he’d tried.

The mayor of Keselshire, dressed in a white wolf headdress, chased a female around the perimeter of a nearby cottage, before swiping her up and disappearing inside with her kicking and screaming in protest.

Virgil opened the door to another cottage and stepped inside. After glancing around at the guests, who stumbled and laughed in drunken oblivion, I strode toward that same cottage. At my knock on the door, Virgil called, in a calm and expectant voice, “Come in.”

I pushed the door open to the shadowy room, still cloaked by my hooded coat, and unsheathed the heavy sword at my hip. A number of ways existed in which a fallen angel could be destroyed, none of them so absolute as one slice of the heavenly metal. It ensured that they faded into the nothingness, instead of returning to the infernal lands.

Blade leading the way, I stepped inside the room.

The flicker of an oil lamp illuminated the space, as Virgil sat in the only chair beside a small bed, a dagger clutched in his hand. “I could’ve sworn you’d forgotten about me after all these years.”

Instead of answering, I stood trying to decide whether to slice the blade across his throat, or stab it into his skull.

“You should know … what happened to you wasn’t on me.” He pointed a finger upward and rolled his eyes. “They wanted it that way. Now, I will take responsibility for some of the torment, but … it was me who let you go. Ask Cassiel. He’ll tell you.”

“Cassiel is dead.”

Rolling his shoulders back, he frowned. “How?”

“His wings were cut. I offered him a merciful end.”

Jaw clenched, he tipped his nose up. “Pentacrux?”

“I’m assuming so, though I was under the impression they went extinct sometime around the seventeenth century.”

“Ah, you know, the most horrible trends always circle back, don’t they?” The hand not holding the dagger curled into a tight fist, as Virgil sat grinding his teeth. “Anyway, if Cassiel were still with us, he’d tell you that I let you go. I could’ve killed you. I wanted to kill you, I’ll admit. But I didn’t.”

“Aren’t you so merciful.”

“I was. Particularly after what he told me about you.”

Everything that spewed from his mouth was nothing more than a distraction. A common tactic used by the Fallen. “Seeing as I can’t decide, would you prefer to have your throat cut, or your skull cleaved?”

Lips stretched wide, he chuckled and pointed a long, silvery painted nail at me. “This is your fault. You didn’t tell me that you were one of them. If you had, I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to … you know …” He shrugged. “But! I didn’t touch her in all those years. I want you to know that. She was beautiful. And tempting. Oh, so tempting.”

“Touch whom?”

An incredulous expression washed over him. “You’re asking me who? The one you nearly gave your soul up for? Hello?” While I continued to puzzle his cryptic words, he frowned. “You don’t remember? At all? Anything?”

I didn’t respond, only stared.