Page 50 of Nightshade

“We’re one of the older villages in the area,” she added.

“Villages? You have villages here?” I’d always perceived Purgatory, or whatever this place was, as a barren land of wandering souls.

Not quite as freezing, too.

My father had always owned baroque paintings of naked humans immersed in fire, reaching up for the angels. One particularly frightening scene had shown bodies marching in a straight line, along an endless mountain with no summit.

“Small, but yes,” she answered.

Much as I tried to wrap my head around the structure of this world, and how crossing planes worked, I couldn’t. It didn’t make sense that something would exist where something else already did.

“What is it that brought you to Stygian Falls?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Untucking the locket from my shirt, I opened it up to the picture inside. “My father. Any chance you’ve seen him?”

Anya tuned up a crank beside her, which created light beaming overhead, and twisting in my seat allowed me to see the lantern attached to the carriage.

A quick study of the locket, and she shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve not seen him.” She glanced over at me, gaze quickly flicking away, as if she didn’t want to stare too long.

In looking away myself, I caught sight of my arm and the enormous bruise and small cuts that had me looking like I’d lost a fight with someone. I couldn’t even imagine what my face looked like after that fall, with as achy as I felt.

I touched a hand to my forehead, my fingertips skating over a sizable knot along my hairline. Given what I palpated, I wondered if the horse was more frightened of the way I looked than my having jumped into his path. “Thank you. For picking me up.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. You said an animal chased you through the woods. Did you happen to see it, by chance?”

“No. It was very dark.” A look around showed black contours of trees whose branches reminded me of crooked claws, the way they seemed to reach for the sky. The path we followed ran adjacent to a small cluster of Bavarian-style structures that sat along a narrow river, with wooden crossing bridges and cobblestone streets lit by gas lamps, which flickered as we passed. Dark and eerie.

“Ah. Shame. We’ve been getting a number of reports lately. You’re lucky to have escaped, if it happened to be one of those creatures I’ve been reading about. Vicious beasts, them.”

“Something on the loose in the woods?”

“In the woods. In town. They’ve even broken into homes, stealing folks from their beds as they sleep! Terrible what they do, too. Animals, at least, are very honest and straightforward about their kills.” Shifting on the bench of the carriage, she cleared her throat. “We certainly have our share of sadistic creatures here in Stygian Falls, but nothing so … barbaric!”

Just looking at Anya, I couldn’t say whether she was human, or something else. She looked human. Sounded human. Except Xhiphias had told me his kind roamed Chicago, easily disguised in the crowd.

“There was something else. With wings. Black wings.”

“This hollow is brimming with peculiar beasts and birds, miss. It’s best if you don’t go off anywhere by yourself.” Sat forward, she directed her attention upward, as if searching the sky for one, then eased back onto the bench. “Speaking of beasts, when we arrive at the Van Croix Estate, please stay close to me.”

An even colder chill than the air zipped up my back at the mention of his name. “Wait. Did you just say Van Croix Estate?” No way it was the same Van Croix. What were the odds that the first person I’d run into would be someone headed toward the very place I intended to begin my search?

It seemed impossibly coincidental.

“Yes, Master Van Croix is my employer. Aside from the fact that he happens to keep three very intense canines on the property to guard it, he’s also quite particular about guests. He’ll not appreciate me bringing in any strays. He’s a quiet man, but his mannerisms can be quite abrasive. Not to frighten you, but he has been known to scare off a number of trespassers.”

Given what I’d already learned about him, it had to be the same guy. “He sounds intense. Is it true he has a bit of a reputation?”

“Oh, well, I was under the impression you weren’t from these parts! Seems you know the rumors quite well.”

“Gossip travels.” Across planes, even.

“While it’s true that he is somewhat strange and aloof, he certainly doesn’t deserve the moniker of Death. Good grief.”

“Strange how?”

Brows knitting together, she sighed. “He … sometimes talks to birds. Ravens. And up until recently, he wasn’t prone to sleeping much. He often locks himself in the bell tower for hours at a time.”

“But other than that, he’s normal?”