Page 222 of Nightshade

He puffed on his pipe, the expression on his face contemplative. “If the girl was cursed, then it is entirely possible that an angel broke the curse of her mother before her.”

“As I understand, one did. So, then, that would make Lustina half angel?”

“She would have had to be.”

“Jericho never mentioned that. He only told me that Lustina’s mother carried the curse.”

“Perhaps, as I said before, the girl had not yet come into her power.”

“But my mother wasn’t cursed, as far as I know. She didn’t die on a blood moon.”

“Not every generation is. As you are the reborn, the curse would reawaken in you. Lustina is her name? Her grandmother may not have been cursed, either. It’s only a guess, of course. But it’s entirely possible that Lustina’s father was an angel.”

The first pangs of a headache needled my skull with the puzzle I wasn’t entirely grasping. “​​So, what does all this mean?”

“It means you have a small, albeit distant, connection to her father. He might be able to help you. Certainly a better option than risking your life and the baby’s by traversing back to Nightshade. Who knows what would happen now that the curse is broken? Your physical body might not survive the next time.”

“How? Do I summon him?”

“I wouldn’t. Angels become upset that way. They don’t like being ripped from their existence to chat with ignorant mortals. But if you learn his name, I can find him for you.”

“How?”

“I happen to possess a scrying mirror.”

“You’re asking me to track down the name of Lustina’s deadbeat angel dad? I’m not sure it gets any more impossible than that.”

With a shrug, he puffed his pipe and blew the smoke off. “I’d start with the name of Lustina’s mother.”

“The woman existed centuries ago. It’s not like I can Google it. How the hell am I supposed to figure that out?”

“You are Lustina, are you not?”

66

Farryn

A week had passed since I’d visited Xhiphias. Every day, I sat at my computer, scouring the internet for information. One morsel that might lead me to the name of Lustina’s mother. Of course, nothing could be found on the city of Praecepsia itself, aside from debate as to whether, or not, it had even existed. The articles which referenced it were the same articles that spoke of Atlantis and other infamous lost cities.

I’d tried meditation, prayer, everything to summon her name to the forefront of my mind. To tease it from the bank of memories that stretched from centuries before my time.

Nothing.

Not having slept much, at all, in weeks, I lay my head against my folded arms, giving my eyes a break from the hours of staring at the computer, but the flash of a winter blue eye flickering through my mind sent me upright.

It happened every time I closed my eyes. I saw him. Him. The apology and resigned look he’d shared, just before flames engulfed his body.

The computer screen blurred behind a shield of tears. It was a wonder they hadn’t dried out, as much as I’d cried over the months.

The visuals of him remained stuck on a loop inside my head, tormenting me with the same, vicious end. I could still feel the heat. Could smell the burning flesh.

“Lustina!” a voice rang in my ear.

Startled by the sound, I glanced around the dark room, finding nothing but Camael sleeping in her usual spot on a window bench between the two bookcases.

“Lustina! I will see you again, my sweet child! In the next life, I will see you.”

Flames. Screams. Hands reaching out.