Page 167 of Nightshade

Across from me was a window overlooking the sea, and the stretch of room between was filled with easels and pallets, and paintings of all sizes.

All of them of a girl with dark hair, pale skin, and flecks of color in her eyes.

As if looking at portraits of myself.

Perhaps the creepiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

Standing in the middle of the room, I gasped and turned to find hundreds of portraits, decorated in cobwebs and dust. Some held a sensual nature--paintings of curves and breasts, their shape not unlike my own. Others were very dark, with morbid undertones of death and decay--a woman submerged in what appeared to be the deep of the ocean, her white dress flowing around her.

“You asked how I knew Lustina was reborn.” He lifted a portrait from the floor that showed her arm with the same marking as the one on my arm. “She’d been branded by the same mark. By the hatred of those who feared her.”

As he held the painting, I ran my finger over the symbol, where the thick strokes of the brush had dried in rough texture.

“This is Lustina?”

“Yes.”

“And you are the baron in the story?”

Unpatched eye watching me, he ignored my question. “I understand how this may be inconceivable to you.”

A nervous chuckle escaped me, and I shook my head. “This is beyond inconceivable, Mister Van Croix. This is in the realm of padded rooms and straitjackets.” Another scan of the room solidified that thought. The obsession was clear and terrifying. “Why are you only showing this now? Surely, you would’ve recognized the resemblance when I first arrived.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

His cheek twitched as if to smile, while he lowered the portrait back to the floor. “I knew the moment you came into being. Everything around me shook with a thunderous power, and there was an intense and indescribable ache in my chest. Not of pain, but longing. I was trapped here, for as long as it took to earn my redemption for the retaliation I took against the Pentacrux. I drowned my sorrow in these paintings, desperate to remember every detail of your face. Yet, I was determined to return to you. I sought out Virgil. The one I intended to kill last night.”

Head still in a fog, I couldn’t recall him talking about Virgil, but I did vaguely recall the conversation of murdering someone.

Very vaguely.

“I feared the Pentacrux would find you and take you away from me again. So, I made a deal with the Fallen to send me back.”

“And so, what was this deal?” I asked.

“A Faustian bargain. I would join the Fallen in their cause upon my return to Nightshade.”

“You didn’t return.”

“I couldn’t.” Jaw shifting, his gaze trailed over me, a wistful longing burning in his eye. “Not when I saw you. Heard your voice. Recognized your scent. I knew you’d returned to me. I watched you relentlessly. Waiting for the day you were old enough to steal away.”

The punch of his words struck me in the chest, and I let out a small cough of shock. “You planned to kidnap me? From my parents?”

“Yes.” His words were as unapologetic and cold as the thought he’d just planted in my head.

“And at what age did you consider me old enough?”

“I’ll be honest, Lustina. Age was inconsequential to me. I did not intend to corrupt you as a child, but when you were old enough to desire a man, I would have surely obliged.”

Jesus. The age I desired a man? That was probably fourteen years old, and I couldn’t have imagined myself in the bed of this one at such a young age. That would’ve been like a lion ravaging a kitten. “Farryn.” At his confused expression, I said, “You called me Lustina.”

“You are the same person, regardless of name.”

“We’re not, though. I grew up in a different time, different circumstances.” Running a hand through my hair, I urged my brain to attempt to make sense of everything he’d said. It refused. “I’m trying not to look at you as a complete nutjob, but you’re making that harder, the more you talk. I don’t honestly believe what you’re telling me.”

“In time, you will.”