Page 172 of Nightshade

At that, he cocked a brow, flipping the coin faster.

“How would it be possible for her to return? The book never quite explained that.” I hated the way his lips pulled into that devilishly handsome smile. The knowing smile of a man who’d effectively won over my curiosity.

“She was cursed. Her mother carried the curse before her and passed it onto Lustina.”

“If it’s passed down to generations, then, why would I be cursed?”

“Lustina perished according to the prophecy. It’s taken centuries for it to reawaken. I know this because I waited with bated breath every day for your rebirth.”

Lips pressed to a straight line, I shrugged. “Lucky me. Guess I should’ve bought a freaking lottery ticket. So, what, I’m fated to die on the blood moon?”

“Yes. Unless the curse is broken.”

“Broken how?”

The coin rolled across his fingers faster, the corner of his lips curving to a much more sinister smile than before. “There is only one way to break the curse. It’s why I called you into my office.”

My mind puzzled the information I’d been fed so far about Lustina. Her mother. I frowned back at him. “I have to become pregnant?”

“Yes. Only an angel can break the curse.”

“But you’re not an angel. That’s what you said.”

“I am half angel, half demon. And fully qualified to break your curse.” The lust burning in his expression as he raked his gaze over me was so thick, it was a wonder I didn’t burst into flames. “In fact, nothing would give me more pleasure.”

Clearing my throat, I shifted on the seat and crossed my legs. “I am not … I’m not getting pregnant. And what then? You curse the baby, too?”

“It would afford me some time to figure out how to break it.”

“Haven’t you had centuries to figure this out?”

“In all fairness, I wasn’t entirely confident you’d return to me.”

Rubbing my forehead failed to calm the chaotic thoughts in my head. The bazillion questions floating aimlessly in my skull. “Bishop Venable murdered her. I just assumed. There was no end to the story.”

The coin rolling stopped and the smirk on his face faded for something more serious. Brows pulled tight, he sat quiet. If the man was capable of feeling pain, of understanding it, at all, then Lustina was clearly the blade.

“The pain of a thousand lashes could not have matched the agony I felt in that single moment, when I lifted you from that cold river.”

“You killed the bishop, then?”

“You’re fortunate if you didn’t read how I went about it. Sadly, I’ve a feeling he ended up here.”

“What? Here?”

“Yes. If I’m not mistaken, he was the host at the little soiree we attended. Goes by Mister Barchiel these days.”

How crazy did fate have to be for putting me in the same room as Lustina’s murderer. “That doesn’t trouble you? That he’s here? In Nightshade?”

“Not much he can do. He’s really no match for my power here. And I’m no longer the same young boy.”

“No, you’re not, are you? What are you, Mister Van Croix? A Sentinel, right? More demon than angel?”

By all accounts, he looked entirely human, though something sinister seemed to simmer beneath his surface. He clearly wasn’t, though. Even if a soul had the propensity to live in Nightshade for an eternity, his carried a more ancient charm. And when he spoke, I could see he’d come from another time. Evolved, but never quite fully assimilated to the present.

He resumed rolling the coin over his knuckles. “Are the morals of man always so black and white, Miss Ravenshaw? I have killed in ways that would seem merciless, and have loved just as ruthlessly.”

“You loved. Therefore, you must have goodness in your heart.”