Page 224 of Nightshade

“Are you ready?” Xhiphias asked beside me, only stoking my nerves.

With a frantic nod, I rubbed my hands together, palms sweating and cold.

He gave a nod, then closed his eyes, facing the mirror. Head tipped back, he spoke a quiet chant of words I didn’t understand. After taking a puff on the pipe clutched in his hand, he blew the smoke toward the mirror then spoke the name. “Ceallach O’Ruairc.”

More foreign words followed. The smoke seemed to absorb into the black of the glass, creating a misty reflection.

He spoke the name again.

The smoke in the mirror cleared away to show a stormy sea and a ship. Deckhands scrambled to draw up fishing cages, as waves crashed against the boat, rocking it over the rough and turbulent waters. The mirror narrowed its view onto a man. A tall, hearty-looking male who moved about the vessel, as if unbothered by the storm. He drew up an empty cage and tossed it onto the pile behind him.

“Gabriel!” Someone on deck called, and the man turned and strode over to help another, who seemed to struggle with his balance. The much smaller man teetered as he reached for one of the lines, and when he tipped forward, over the edge of the boat, I slapped a hand to my mouth on a gasp. The man named Gabriel lurched after him, taking hold of his foot before it could slip out of reach, and pulled him back onto the deck.

“It seems he goes by Gabriel these days,” Xhiphias said beside me. “And what surname?”

The scene clouded with smoke, turning the mirror a foggy white, then cleared again, showing a newspaper article. Local Man Saves Fellow Seaman During Storm. There was no picture, only a small story at the bottom of the first page. Gabriel Angelus was listed as the hero.

The date was two days prior. Tempest Cove Gazette.

My pulse hastened as the possibility of seeing Jericho became more tangible than even a week ago. “Are we sure this is him?”

“What else do you have, Farryn? Or, more importantly, what do you have to lose, if it isn’t?”

67

Farryn

Rain pelted my face as I stared up at the rickety sign that read The Shoal. I’d driven all the way from Chicago, to a small fishing island off the coast of Massachusetts, called Tempest Cove. Over sixteen hours of driving alone. I only hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a wasted trip.

The door creaked when I pushed it open to the smell of fried fish and stale beer. As I lowered the hood of my drenched raincoat, the few faces at the bar swung my way. Ignoring them, I dropped my gaze and crossed the room to one of the booths in the back, where no one else sat.

I’d grown wary of people in recent months, and particularly nervous in public places and crowds. Squeezing into the booth, I took a moment to exhale and pressed a hand to my stomach, which hadn’t quite begun to show yet. “Just breathe,” I whispered.

“Can I get ya anything, honey?” I opened my eyes to an older woman, who stood alongside the booth with a cigarette tucked behind her ear. The moment I made eye contact with her, a smile lit her face. “Wow, look at you!” Her comment left me shrinking into myself, the sudden attention sending alarms through me. “My, I can’t get over how much you remind me of my niece!” Twisting around, she waved toward one of the guys sitting at the bar. “Don’t she look like Isa, Mac?”

“Looks just like her,” he agreed, before tipping back his beer.

Waving her hand in dismissal, she shook her head. “Ah, he didn’t even look. Well, you do look like her. It’s a compliment.” Leaning in just enough to set my teeth on edge, she lowered her voice, “She’s practically royalty. Livin’ in a castle like a princess. Folks ‘round here don’t care much for her prince, though.” The woman sighed and rolled her shoulders back. “So. What can I get ya?”

I pondered the question for a moment. “Um … can I get a water?”

“Water?” She snorted a laugh and pointed out the window. “What? That rain wasn’t enough?” Her light pat to my shoulder startled my muscles. A reaction she seemed to notice, as she added, “Just kiddin’, hon. Little jumpy, are ya? I’ll get ya a water, sure. You hungry, at all?” Her gaze dipped to my belly and back.

“I … just need a minute. To decide. What to eat.” The truth was, I hadn’t had much of an appetite, at all, in recent months, which probably wasn’t good on the pregnancy. Pleasures like food, shopping, life. They all seemed pointless to me. As if the world around me didn’t notice the breadth of what it’d lost by taking Jericho. How it could keep going the way it did was a mystery I couldn’t crack.

“Got it. You sure you’re okay?”

Ask her, the voice inside of me compelled.

“I’m … looking for someone, actually. Do you know a Gabriel Angelus?”

“Oh, yeah! Gabe comes in here all the time!” She craned her neck back and frowned. “He ain’t here yet, though. Strange.” Another dip of her gaze toward my stomach where my hand still rested against it, and she cocked a brow. “Say, the two of you aren’t involved … no, never mind.” Throwing her hands up, she shook her head. “Not my business. Not. Isa tells me all the time, I need to let go of the gossip.”

I forced a smile for the sake of being polite. “Can you let me know if he comes in?”

“Sure thing. I’ll get that water for ya.” With a smile and wink, she turned away, but swung back around. “Oh! Name’s Midge. In case you change ya mind about eatin’ somethin’.”

“Midge.” I offered another slight smile, one that seemed to take more effort than the last. “I just … call for you?”