Page 2 of Nightshade

One of the robed men on the platform yanked her mother toward the post, the jerking motion sending those forked prongs up into the underside of her chin. She let out a scream that was met by louder, more hostile screams from the crowd.

Someone lit the kindling, and the sounds of crackling skated down Lustina’s spine in harrowing reality.

“On the eve of the fifth blood moon, darkness will cover the land, and all of you will burn in the flames!” Her mother let out a gut-wrenching scream, and Lustina reached out toward her, as if she had the power to save her. “You so much as harm my daughter, and you will feel ...” Another scream interrupted her words. “You will feel … hellfire!”

“Mother!” Body trembling, the girl watched in horror as the flames caught on her mother’s skirts and climbed the length of her body to the auburn locks that Lustina had always loved to braid.

“Lustina! Lustina!” Unable to lower her head, her mother cried out toward the sky. “I will see you again, my sweet child! In the next life, I will see you.”

“Mother!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, as the only woman who’d ever truly loved and cared for her succumbed to the fire.

Bishop Venable came to a stand beside the girl. “She lies,” he said in a calm voice. “There is no such thing as reincarnation. Your mother is bound for eternal punishment, but you … that He could overlook her sins and offer you the mercy of the church is an act of true righteousness.” He grabbed the back of her neck in his cold palm, running his thumb over her throat. “Remember this day, child. Remember it well.”

The flames engulfed her mother like ravenous wolves on prey, and soon her screams died to only the crackle of burning flesh.

A woman clad in a different sort of religious robe handed Bishop Venable a long metal rod. On its end was the same unusual symbol as that embroidered into Bishop Venable’s robe. A cross with its base split in two. He stepped forward, setting the metal into the thickest part of the flame that still burned around her mother’s charred body.

Minutes later, the metal glowed an ominous orange.

The old man nabbed a rag from one of the robed men standing nearest to him, which he wrapped around the unheated end, and he lifted the scorching metal from the flame, carrying it back toward Lustina.

Every muscle in her body quaked with fear, the grip of the robed man tight around her, ensuring no escape. One hard yank tore away the sleeve of her dress, taking part of the bodice with it. An unyielding hand stretched out her arm, while another held tight to her throat, choking her breath.

“Lustina …” The bishop regarded her like a plague across his tongue. “Although it is true, you may be doomed to the same fate as your mother, may The Holy Father show you mercy.”

White-hot pain sank into her flesh with the bite of a thousand needles. Her arm shook with the shock of unbearable agony, while the metal sizzled and burned against her arm. She let out a scream that echoed all around her, drowning out the cheers of the crowd.

And their God was merciful.

For all fell silent as she slipped into the black abyss.

2

Farryn

Present

“Farryn Ravenshaw?” At the sound of my name, I swung around to find a ginger guy, maybe six foot tall and aged only by the creases around his eyes, standing in the doorway of my office.

Well, former office. I’d come to pack up some of my things for a bit of a hiatus from my job as a research assistant and lecturer. A couple of months ago, my aunt Nelle, with whom I’d been living for the past ten years, had passed away and left me with a crap ton of loose ends to deal with. For the sake of my sanity, I decided to take a break to settle her affairs. Fortunately, she’d left me with a sizable inheritance, as well.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Instead of jumping to the point of his unannounced intrusion, he closed the door behind him, shutting out the secretary and three other assistants in the department. An uneasy vigilance swept through my muscles, tightening them, when he strode across the room toward me. As he lifted the box of my desk stuff I’d set out on the chair across from me, I took a step back, watching him place it on the floor before taking a seat.

My eyebrows ached from frowning in confusion, as I observed him casually glance around the room, not bothering to answer the burning question—who the hell he was.

He leaned forward, peering into the box on my desk. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m sorry … who are—"

“I’m Detective Hines,” he interrupted, and flipped a badge open. Could’ve been a Fisher-Price toy for all I knew. Not like I was an expert at discerning a fake from a real one. “Chicago Homicide. Mind if I take a moment of your time?”

Did I have a choice? The guy had already settled himself into my space. And it didn’t matter that the worst thing I’d ever done in my life was blowing a few red lights--when a homicide detective asked for a moment of your time, it kind of stirred a little panic.

Puzzling over what he could’ve wanted from me, I frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I understand you lecture on iconology with a background in symbology?”