Page 56 of Nightshade

On a startled breath, Lustina jumped backward, her spine hitting the tree. “Your eyes … they …. What happened to them?” Her mother had once told her, in times of delirium and severe illness, the eyes could turn black that way.

He turned his gaze away from her, taking a step back. “Come with me.” He spoke low, and when he looked back at her again, the familiar blue had returned. So normal, Lustina wondered if she had only imagined the blackness of moments before. “I want to show you something.”

She might’ve hesitated to follow him deeper into the woods, where he led her, but his surprises had proven to be welcomed, as was the case with the bird. As she trailed after him, caught in his grasp, Lustina’s mind raced with thoughts of what he might wish to show her. What could possibly be so important that she’d come to the woods alone, without Drystan.

As they made their way along an untrodden path, the baron stole occasional glances over his shoulder at her. Not a smile, or frown, to let her know whether what lay ahead was good, or bad. How someone could remain so completely unreadable was as mysterious as the shadows that lurked behind his eyes.

Ahead of them, a cart stood off in the distance, where a campfire had been built. In spite of the burning embers, the camp appeared to be abandoned, and the baron’s grip tightened on hers. Just beyond the camp, a figure stood off from the two. Long, straggly locks of gray hair lay scattered across the narrow, hunched back of what appeared to be an elderly woman, confirmed when she turned around to face them. Her face lit up, and she hobbled closer. A gypsy, evidenced by the tattered state of her woven shawl and the multitude of bangle bracelets at her wrist.

“Hello there,” she said, in a hoarse and scratchy voice.

The baron’s muscles seemed to tighten, his grip practically crushing Lustina’s hand with the woman’s approach. “Close enough,” he warned, snarling back at the woman.

Surely, he didn’t believe in the rumors about the gypsies, like so many in the village who viewed them as a pestilence of society. Frowning at his lack of manners, Lustina wrenched her hand loose, and stepped past him, offering a kind smile to the old woman. “Hello.”

“I’m looking for the river, and I fear I have lost my sense of direction.”

“Oh, well, you are in luck. The river is just beyond that clearing there, do you see?” Lustina pointed toward an opening in the forest, where the trees didn’t grow.

“Beyond it, you say?”

“Yes. Keep on, with the sun at your face, and you will find it. I promise.”

The woman reached for her hand, and in Lustina’s periphery, she saw the baron lurch toward her. “You kind, sweet child. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help.” Wrinkled hands held hers, and Lustina flinched at the way they felt too cold against her skin. Unnaturally so. When the older woman stuffed the other hand into the pocket of her dress, the baron’s grip on Lustina’s shoulder tightened, his fingers digging into her bones. “Here, I have a delicious treat as a token of my thanks.” She pulled an apple from her pocket and offered it to Lustina. “You must have a bite. It’s heavenly.”

The young girl held out a hand to accept the fruit, and the whoosh of steel exiting a scabbard was the only sound before the baron propped his blade beneath the old woman’s chin.

“You first,” he gritted, and tugged Lustina behind him.

Frustration burned inside the girl, as she eyed the poor, old woman, who wore a shocked and frightened expression. Few people had ever treated Lustina with such kindness, and she found his behaviors to be an offense. “What is the meaning of this, My Lord?” she asked.

Not bothering to answer, he lifted the blade higher, pressing its sharpened edge into the woman’s neck.

“My Lord!”

An awful screech echoed through the forest, and Lustina swung her attention toward its source, where the older woman stared back at her with coal black eyes that sent a cold chill down the girl’s spine. She spoke in a language that Lustina didn’t understand, and when she hissed, Lustina caught sight of fangs and a split tongue that flicked out at her.

On a gasp, the girl jumped back, her muscles tightening and trembling.

The woman screeched again, and when she lurched forward, Lustina held her breath.

One hard thrust of the baron’s blade breached the woman’s throat on a sickening wet sound. The pitch of the screech heightened, only a moment before the woman burst into flames.

Shaking hands covering her mouth, Lustina watched the gypsy’s body crumble to ash in a crude perversion of how she’d come to know a body typically succumbed to flames.

Far too abruptly.

Choking on shallow breaths, Lustina backed away, her eyes fixed on the pile of powdery soot where the woman had once stood.

“Lustina,” the baron said, stepping toward her.

“Do not touch me. D-d-d-o not touch me!” Every muscle quaked as the terror consumed her. She twisted in the opposite direction to run, but an arm clinched around her waist, lifting her up into the air. “Let me go. Let me go!”

“There are things you do not understand.”

“I want to go! Release me!” She kicked and flailed, but he only tightened his grip around her, pulling her close against him.

“Listen to me, Lustina. I did not kill the woman you think you saw.”