Page 53 of Nightshade

His eyes shot to me and back to her.

One swift kick to his groin set him curling in on himself, howling in pain, and as Anya loomed over him in a terrifying display of dominance, a tendril of uneasiness burrowed beneath my skin. “You lay one finger on any of the females on this estate, and I will see to it that your finger is the only thing left of you.”

Whatever the woman was, whether human, or not, she seemed to scare the crap out of him.

And me.

“Now, run along toward the kennels. Garic is back there and can get you squared away. The dogs have already scented you, so I don’t advise running. It’ll invite the kind of chase that won’t end in your favor. Trust me. I know.” Producing a knife from one of the pockets of her dress, she leaned down toward the man, and he flinched, kicking himself back. She took hold of his wrists and sliced through the binds with ease, then carefully slid the blade between his cheek and the gag tied to his face, slicing that away, as well. “Run along now. And good night to you.”

As if she were the greater threat, he raced off around the corner of the cathedral toward where the dogs had run, without so much as a backward glance.

“The village planned to burn him?” I stared after him, trying to imagine such a thing. The imagined scent of burning flesh had me wrinkling my nose.

“Oh, yes. He’s a despicable creature. Not that it matters much, but his name is Jesper. It’s best you stay away from him while you’re here. There are murderers, and then there are men like him.”

“Then, why spare him?”

“The master has his reasons, which, I’ll admit, elude me at times.” Once the man was out of sight, she spun to face me, a smile already stretching her lips. “Now to get you settled.”

Through a majestically carved, arched, wooden door, Anya led me inside the cathedral. An unexpected curtain of familiarity washed over me as I stepped within the elegant foyer, with its marble flooring and the flickering lanterns hung about walls. A warm, comforting feeling that belied the cathedral’s cold and unwelcomed entrance.

A life-size candelabra sculpture of a woman dressed like a goddess gave the room a soft glow that made the place look more like a dwelling than a church. The scent of old wood and age hung on the air, and I felt as if I’d gone back in time, to another era. Nostalgia tickled the back of my neck, and I tugged the borrowed blanket up higher, as I marveled the interior.

An elaborate chandelier hung down from the high, arched ceiling, also laden with flickering candelabras and hundreds of small crystals that reflected their light. Heavenly scenes made up the tapestries and paintings hung about the frowning, dark-wood walls. Angels and demons battling each other in bloody gore. Interspersed between them were portraits that looked to be from another era. Men in armor, and women in busty dresses, whose coiffed hair fell in spongy curls around their faces. There were stairwells that went right and left, and balconies that overlooked the melancholy foyer of a home that no longer welcomed guests.

“Who were they? The Van Croixs?” I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering the details of the place as I asked the question.

I’d have believed them to be royalty, given the luxuries that surrounded me, and yet, beneath the beauty of it all, there pulsed the grim and dying embers of a dynasty. The loneliness of a fallen lineage.

“Some say they came from noble blood, centuries ago. Not much was known about them. It’s only Master Jericho now, who seems to be exceptionally fond of being alone.”

“There’s no Mrs. Van Croix, then?”

“If there ever was, I’m not aware. I’ve always known him to keep to himself.”

I waited for Anya to offload her bag in the foyer and remove her scarf. “So, the dog--you called him Cerberus. As in the watchdog of the underworld?”

“You’re familiar with him?”

“Read about him. Yes.”

“Well, Cerberus is certainly no three-headed dog, but he likes to bark as if there were three mouths on him.”

“So, he’s a case of his bark being worse than his bite, then?”

“Oh, goodness no. His bite will snap your bones. Twice the strength of a lion’s.”

“Oh.” How did anyone ever leave the place without that whistle, then? The wary side of my brain kicked in, the one that’d always questioned human motives, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the dogs served that very purpose.

To contain.

Grabbing one of the candlesticks, she led me up the staircase, and with my closer proximity, I studied the portraits on the wall as we passed them.

“Are one of these the master of the house?”

“His bloodline. Master Van Croix has never been enamored with portraits. Many of them were lost in the fire. Only those stored in the vaults were spared.” She pointed to one hanging along the staircase--a beautiful woman with golden hair and glowing skin, standing next to a handsome man decked out in military armor. It looked like something I might’ve seen in history books, as a child.

“Relatives of Master Van Croix. These portraits were housed in the undercroft during the fire, thankfully. Otherwise, I’m afraid there’d be no evidence at all of the Van Croixs.”