Page 29 of Nightshade

With his pinky pointed outward, he sipped the tea with more decorum than a royal, then set his cup on the tray and held out a hand in front of him. “You know that the universe creates balance by allowing darkness to exist alongside light.” His other hand came up until his palms flattened together. “Two equals, yes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Nightshade is the darkness to the light of this world. Its shadow, so to speak. Where the dark ones dwell.”

“The dark ones. You’re talking about fallen angels, right?”

He removed the feather from behind his ear and smiled, dragging its plumes across his face. “And what does an innocent thing like yourself know of them?”

“My father believed that one watched me as a child.” Having perused his journals, and seen the drawing of the man I vaguely recalled from my childhood, I’d convinced myself that whoever had stalked me was not imaginary.

“The Fallen don’t watch little girls.” He fluttered the feather at me. “They steal them away and do very bad things. Unspeakable things.”

“My father watched me closely and was very protective of me. Perhaps there wasn’t an opportunity to steal me away.”

Stretching a hand out, he examined his nails, which I noticed were long, longer than mine, and painted a shiny black. “Your father couldn’t watch you long enough, child. When the Fallen take a fancy to you, there isn’t a human in the world that can save you.”

“Then, this … being my father believed he saw, do you think he was something else?”

With a shrug, Xhiphias straightened his back, sitting perfectly upright. “You’re alive, so yes.”

“There were others my father mentioned, as well. Sentinels, he called them. Messengers.”

He stopped picking at his nails and casually leaned back onto a pillow with a smile. “Ah, yes. The watchmen.”

“What are they?”

“Are you familiar with angels and demons?”

“Fairly. My father studied them quite a bit.”

“Do you know what comes from an angel and a human?”

Oddly enough, I did. “Nephilim.”

“Very good. And what about a human and demon?”

“Cambion, right?”

Brows arched in surprise, he nodded. “I’m impressed, Miss Ravenshaw. Now then, a Sentinel is what happens when a demon falls in love with an angel.”

Perhaps it was only the heat of the bonfire that cast a chill down my spine at his words. “Is such a thing possible?”

“It is rare, but yes. It is possible.”

I was taken aback by how fluidly he spoke, how assuredly he described the beings as if they were as real as the flame that flickered between us. “And what about the Sentinel they produce? Is he good? Bad?”

“He has the propensity for both. His life is a trial, essentially. A series of tests to see which he chooses to side with. Good? Or evil.”

“So, this … watchman my father believed he saw. Do you think he might’ve been protecting me?”

“I wouldn’t know. And, might I add, your father would only have seen him because he wanted to be seen.” He shook the feather at me again, stirring the ruffles of his shirt at his wrist. “I suspect he was there for a reason.”

“For what reasons do they watch?”

Tipping his head, he smirked. “There is only one reason a Sentinel watches, at all.”

“The Fallen?”