Page 168 of Nightshade

“No. There is no in time. I’ve heard what happens to those who stay here too long. I can’t stay here, Jericho. I have to return.”

“That’s not possible. I have crossed the endless void of time and space, over the centuries I’ve waited, with a yearning to see your face once more. If you think that I could just let you go now, when fate has gifted me the impossible, then you’ve not yet met the depths of my obsession. It has no bounds where you’re concerned, Farryn. I would fight all the evils of hell for you, but I do not possess the strength to set you free. I won’t.”

No escape?

No escape?

Adrenaline and panic coursed through my veins, and as subtly as I could muster, I glanced toward the door beyond him, wondering if I could possibly outrun him.

“You can’t,” he said, tipping his head. “Hunting you would be no more a challenge than plucking an already-captured fly from a spider’s web. And I don’t particularly want to resort to locking you away.”

“Then, you’ll let me go.”

“I didn’t say that.” The corner of his lips curved upward, as he slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin I’d seen him toy with on a few occasions. “I’d like to make a wager with you.”

“I don’t like wagers.”

“You came here for a reason. Searching for your father. I’ll set Cicatrix out to search for him. If he’s here, the birds will find him. In the meantime, you will stay.”

“A flock of birds to look for my father?”

He gave an insouciant shrug. “They’re exceptional.”

“And if I don’t stay?”

“That’s not a choice.”

An uneasy feeling gurgled in my stomach, but I’d watched enough crime shows with Aunt Nelle to know better than to show my fear. “You never answered my question about why you didn’t recognize me.”

“You’re very astute. No, I didn’t finish the story, did I? When Virgil discovered who it was that had occupied my time, he sought you out.”

“You came for me.”

“Always. I was prepared to destroy anything that got in my way. So Virgil came for you himself. Convinced your own father to drown you, in order to punish me. I nearly killed your father.”

“What stopped you?”

“I couldn’t risk the Sentinels finding me. I used to hear them frequently as a child, but the night I took revenge on the Pentacrux, they silenced and banished me to Nightshade. When I saw your father holding you beneath the water, I could have torn him apart as easily as paper shredding in my hands. Perhaps it was the mere thought which condemned me, because they showed up, anyway. They offered me a choice: to watch you die, or to forget you eternally.”

“You …. You were there that day?” Cold tendrils of disbelief crawled over the back of my neck. “No. I don’t know how you know about that day, but I don’t believe any of this.”

“The moment I made my choice, the world set into motion again, and the arrow Virgil had intended for you struck my eye instead. When I awoke, I had returned to Nightshade as Virgil’s prisoner. My memories of you had faded to nothing but dreams.”

Hand to my stomach, I felt the cold nausea of shock stirring in my gut. “I don’t feel so good right now.”

Still, he kept on, in spite of the distress that had to have been written all over my face. “The mark on your arm is embedded with a sigil I placed there long ago, so that, should I ever see you again, I would know you. I would remember. My soul would recognize yours. I noticed it last night when I brought you home. And I remembered everything. Every moment. As if they’d been perfectly preserved.”

“You remembered Lustina. Not me.”

Arms crossed, he rested his shoulder against the doorframe, and for a moment, he quietly watched me, expression swirling with contemplation. “I remembered the days it would rain, and you would sit under your father’s desk and read. You enjoyed the fairytales with happy endings most. I remembered the night your mother died. You wrote her a letter that you placed into a bottle and threw out to sea in hopes she’d find it.”

“You …. How could you know that?”

“I watched every moment of your life, up until my banishment,” he answered shamelessly. “And when I couldn’t watch you any longer, Cicatrix did. For a number of years, he relayed his observations back to me.” The smile on his face faded for something more sobering. “Unfortunately, I no longer remembered you. And after a while, he stopped sharing his stories of you with me.”

“This can’t be real. It can’t be. I’m not who you think I am. Whoever Lustina was to you … this magnificent girl you loved … I’m not her. I’m an ordinary girl with a shit ton of baggage and long stretches of really bad hair days.”

“You are anything but ordinary, Miss Ravenshaw.” The appreciation that shimmered in his eye felt foreign, like it wasn’t for me. “As you’re not feeling well, I’ll arrange to have dinner brought to your room. In the meantime, you agree. To stay.”