Page 219 of Nightshade

I made my way to the end of the pier, where a big, burly man, dressed in a long, black, hooded robe held out his palm. In it, I dropped the coin and waited as the man studied it. He held it between his teeth, as if testing its authenticity. Then, with a jerk of his head, he urged me onto the small boat.

Six benches made up the deck of it, four of which were already filled by the other passengers. An older woman eyed me up and down, and I pulled my robe closed to both the cold air and her prying eyes. Head low, I took the seat behind her.

As the ferryman unhitched the boat from the dock, I turned toward the water again, and something on the bench beside me captured my attention. Frowning, I scooted closer, my heart caught in my throat as I lifted the book.

The Baron and Witch’s Daughter.

A quick glance around showed the other passengers seemingly oblivious, some looking off toward the water, while others stared downward. With a shaky hand, I cracked open its cover, and something slipped from its pages, falling to the floor on a clink.

A coin.

I lifted it to see it was the same coin I’d given the ferryman. When I glanced toward him, he turned away, steering the vessel away from the dock.

As the boat set into motion, I held the book to my chest.

65

Farryn

Three months later …

Hunched over the desk in Aunt Nelle’s old office, I flipped through pages upon pages of my father’s journals. For weeks, I’d studied them, searching for his notes on how to bring a soul back from Ex Nihilo. After all, according to Drystan, my father had been the one to return him from the nothingness. I’d gone through every journal at least a dozen times, though, and all I’d gleaned was that the symbol branded on my arm was a sigil which had been stolen from an ancient Pri’scucian language. In my father’s notes, he mentioned that the Pentacrux had swiped it centuries ago, but its meaning still remained a mystery to me.

I needed to return. The threat of Barchiel finding me, of hunting me there, still lingered in the back of my mind, and I’d be a fool to put my unborn baby at risk. But there wasn’t enough information at my fingertips to bring Jericho back. My father had taken a lifetime to study and understand it, and I didn’t have that kind of time. Jericho wouldn’t have given up on me, he’d have never accepted such finality, and therefore, I refused to give up on him.

My father could’ve undoubtedly helped me, but if he’d forgotten all his memories, as I suspected he would have, it would pose a very real barrier. Even if he recognized me, it didn’t guarantee that he’d remember a lifetime of work. At the very least, though, I knew he was in Nightshade.

Setting the journal aside, I exited the office and hurried to get dressed.

I needed to see Xhiphias again.

* * *

Standing in the misty alleyway, I raised my hand to knock on the heavy, iron door, when it swung back on its own.

Xhiphias stood in its frame, brow quirked. “Well, well. Look who returned.”

“Should I thank you for that?”

“I’m curious how you accomplished it.”

“I’m sure you are. So, I’ll tell you my secrets, if you’ll tell me yours.”

“I’m not that curious.” He pushed the door to close it, but I pushed back.

“Please, Xhiphias. I didn’t come here to chastise. I need your help.”

“And I don’t care.” He slammed the door with a hard thunk that echoed down the alleyway and through the hollow parts of my heart.

I banged on the door again. Waited. Banged again. And waited again.

I waited a few minutes more. Paced in front of the door, the anxiety spinning like a vortex in the pit of my gut. I felt like a lunatic, standing there, in an empty alley, begging him to let me in. I knocked again. No answer.

The opportunity flitted from my grasp. I was lost and sinking deeper and deeper.

I fell to my knees.

And I finally broke.