Page 211 of Nightshade

Breaths turned more rapid.

“What has you in a tizzy, girl? I can hear your panting like a little rabbit.”

The stranger raised the pronged weapon and, in the next breath, slammed it into Father Bane’s skull on a sickening crack. Before I could even process what I’d just seen, he reached into the old man’s mouth, ripped out his tongue, and tossed it aside.

Ripped out his tongue.

Rivulets of blood trickled down the priest’s face, and he crumpled to the floor.

Mouth agape, I gasped, but couldn’t release the scream caught at the back of my throat. Only a strained squeal of a whimper managed to slip past my lips.

Slam after slam of the weapon was interrupted by the wet sounds of flesh and gore. Another slam sent a spray across my cheek, and I kicked my head to the side, blinking away the droplets on my lashes. The attack seemed to last for minutes before the room quieted again.

Shock rippled through me, as I stared up at the man who stared down at what I imagined was a mess of Father Bane, and I was glad that I couldn’t see it from where I lay. Blood and small bits of meat covered the white robe, reminding me of a butcher’s apron.

A sob broke inside my chest, not for the priest, but the horror that gripped me so tightly, I could scarcely breathe.

“I was ten,” the stranger said in an eerily spacey voice. “Ten, when he and the others did what they did.”

Following an exceptionally long and terrifying pause, I inhaled a shuddering breath. “I’m … s-s-sorry. For what happened.”

Wiping off the bits of flesh from his robe, he shifted his attention to me. “The angel sent me. I was summoned here.”

“Angel?”

“He told me to kill those who hurt me.” When he looked back toward the floor, his ruined lips curved into a smile that quickly faded when he turned his attention back to me again. “You saw it all. You weren’t supposed to see. I have to kill you now, too.”

Panic exploded inside of me, and the cold numb feeling from before washed over me again. Frantically shaking my head, I squirmed in my binds. “You don’t … you don’t have to do that.”

“The angel told me to do it. He told me to kill him.”

“I b-b-believe you. But … I won’t tell a soul!”

“I’m sorry.” He raised the flail up into the air.

“Oh, God!” I slammed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain of that first swing.

At the sound of a sharp grunt, I opened my eyes and turned to see the scarred man twitching. His body, face, limbs. His head shook impossibly fast, a terrifying sight that had me twisting in my binds, desperate to get away.

The flail fell from his grip, falling to the floor in a clamor, and he dropped to his knees, convulsing.

I wanted to scream, but for whom? Drystan? The ongoing sound of Remy’s screams in the background not only added to the horror of my circumstances, but ensured the asshole wouldn’t hear my screams, anyway.

The stranger squeezed his eyes shut, his head shaking in a blur of movement. When he opened them, the horrific black had turned a pale blue, his face a mask of confusion. He lifted his arms, twisting them in front of him, then stared down at himself. When his gaze met mine again, I jerked back on a gasp.

“Farryn?”

“S-s-stay away from me.” I wriggled in my binds, desperate to get loose.

“It’s Jericho. It’s me, Farryn.”

Jericho? “You’re lying.” It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t have risked coming back for me. “This is a trick.”

“It’s not a trick. I took over this body, and fucking hell, it’s as comfortable as wearing burlap boxers on a hot day.”

The comment had me stilling, and I let out a nervous laugh.

He went to work unlatching my binds. “Where is Drystan?”