Page 225 of Nightshade

“Yep! That’s how we roll at The Shoal.” On a chuckle, she kept on, back toward the bar.

Once again, I sat alone in the booth, questioning whether, or not, I’d made a mistake. Who the hell drove that many hours, just to meet with a complete stranger who didn’t even know they were coming?

A gust of wind blew in from outside, ruffling up my hair, and a strange sensation prickled my skin. I turned to see a tall, sturdy man, wearing a black fisherman’s cap and black wool peacoat. In spite of the scruff and wear on his face, he was ruggedly handsome and in far better shape than the other men in the bar, evidenced in the thickness of his build. He strode across the bar to one of the booths down from me.

Midge returned with my water and leaned in. “That’s Gabriel,” she whispered, pointing toward him. “We call him Old Salt, not so much for his age. Ain’t all that friendly. Watch yaself.”

“Thank you.”

Palms to the table, I sucked in a deep breath.

For Jericho.

Feeling slight movement in my belly, I touched my hand there. Every book I’d read on pregnancy told me I wouldn’t have felt the baby kick for another few months, but perhaps it was different with a Sentinel. Because it always happened when I thought of him. About the only thing that could make me genuinely smile those days, was knowing his legacy grew inside of me. That he lived on within me.

Pushing up from the table, I nervously made my way down the line of booths, to the one where the man sat with his back to me. He somehow seemed bigger, stuffed inside the comparably small booth. Despite the anxiety brimming to the surface, I slid onto the bench across from him, and he leaned back, eyeing me as if I’d misplaced my mind.

Maybe I had.

“You lost?” His voice was as gruff as I’d expected for a fisherman.

Only problem was, he wasn’t a fisherman. He was a centuries-old archangel disguised as a human being. More powerful than the storm that loomed over the distant sea.

And he was Lustina’s father.

“I believe … we might have a mutual … friend.”

Frowning, the man scratched at his ear. “You here to collect money? ‘Cause I ain’t got it. You can go back and tell Mike--”

“I don’t know a Mike,” I said with an air of impatience. “And I don’t want money.”

“Then, what do you want?”

Another deep breath, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“Well? What is it? I ain’t got all night.”

“I know you’re not a fisherman,” I said in a low voice, and I glanced around the restaurant, thankful that no one seemed to be paying attention. “I know you weren’t born in this time. And I know that if I were to rip the shirt off your back right now, you’d sprout wings twice the span of this booth.”

He eyed me warily for a moment, quiet. The seconds that ticked between felt like a threat, and my pulse hastened as I waited with uncertainty for how he’d respond.

A burst of laughter thundered through the small bar. I flinched and, glancing around again, found the locals staring back at us.

“You on somethin’, sweetheart?” Gabriel asked.

“No. I’m not on something. Does the name Catriona ring a bell?”

Shrewd eyes narrowed on mine, and his tongue swept across the edge of his teeth. “Who are you?”

“My name is Farryn Ravenshaw. I am reborn from Lustina. Catriona’s daughter.”

“Lustina,” he said, as if trying the word out on his tongue. “Don’t know her.”

“You knew her mother. See, I contacted a historian. An expert on the small village where Catriona was born in Ireland. She had a number of interesting records. Including a log of names. Criminals to be hanged, by order of the king. It so happened, your name was on that list.”

His lips twitched as if he might smile. “That’s impressive. How far back are we talking here? Centuries? You sure you’re not on some heavy drugs?”

Midge walked up to the table and set down a beer and what I guessed to be a lobster roll in front of him, though I’d never personally had one. Her eyes flitted to mine, brows winged up as if silently asking if all was okay.