Page 74 of Nightshade

“Today was the first time I realized they were more than killing machines whose loyalty extended only to you.”

“Which begs the question … why her?” Again, I found myself staring down at her, the confusion and fascination from earlier, when I’d first lain eyes on her, still pulsing through me. Beyond the familiarity in her gaze, she gave off a strange sort of warmth that settled deep in my bones. And that scent. That indescribable, cloying scent, ripe with delicious femininity, sentiment, and the unrelenting vitality of an unwilted mortal soul. A savory aroma only found in the earthly realm. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“We were walking toward the gate when the dogs attacked. They tore her dress, and for a brief moment, I thought I was about to bear witness to all three of them tearing her down to her bones.” Pressing a hand to her chest, Anya shivered. “But out of nowhere, Cerberus stopped. He sniffed her then sat back. As if he recognized her scent.”

“Impossible.”

“Quite.”

“When you said he sniffed her …. Where?”

“Her arm, I believe. It happened to be shielding her face from his teeth at the time.” Anya let out a weary sigh. “I certainly don’t want to overstep my boundaries, Master, but I must say, it’s gotten rather exhausting trying to recruit caretakers that end up disappearing without a trace.”

It wasn’t charity that left me pondering whether, or not, to keep her, but curiosity. An overwhelming curiosity that tugged at me.

Those eyes.

Those peculiar-colored eyes that bore a striking resemblance to the woman I’d fucked during my dreams for months. Her long, black locks of hair that I’d held tight in my palm.

My hand flexed and curled into a fist at my side, just imagining it.

Her exquisite beauty had compelled my interest the moment she’d looked up at me. Even as she’d blabbered on about the caretaker, I could hear those distant screams of her calling my name. Could smell the intoxicating heady scent that I wanted to drink from the air. She had only to touch me in that moment, and I’d have thrown her against the wall, my imaginations so vivid and tortuous. The tension in my muscles had paralyzed me, watching her walk out of that room.

“She’s not to frolic with them. Her job is to feed and care for them and show them discipline, when necessary.”

“Of course. I’ll see to it that playtime is kept to a minimum.”

“She’ll be held to the same expectations as every other worker here.”

“Yessir.”

“You’ll keep a close watch on her and see to it that she doesn’t venture where she doesn’t belong.” The knowing look I sent over my shoulder had Anya lowering her gaze with a nod.

“Absolutely. I’ll keep her out of the undercroft.”

“Then, she stays. What is her name?”

“Farryn.”

At that, I swung around to face Anya and frowned. “Did you just say Farryn?”

“Yes. Is something wrong? You seem troubled.”

I knew the name. Had heard it before, many years ago. “No. Nothing is wrong.”

* * *

Staring at the timepiece in my palm, I studied the slow tick of the second hand that didn’t quite match up to the clocks throughout the cathedral. It’d been given to me years ago by a stranger whose name had eventually escaped me. A man who’d stood at the gates of my property, insistent on speaking with me. One who’d claimed to know me, but I couldn’t recall having ever seen him in my life. The crazy old man had left me with the timepiece and a plea: To seek out his only daughter and watch over her.

Of course, I never did. He’d seemed unhinged, at best, speaking fast and incoherently about ancient creatures roaming the woods. Ones that would shift the balance and blanket the world in eternal darkness. In the same breath, he’d accused me of trying to kill him. Didn’t make sense. You tried to kill me, but I’d like you to protect my daughter.

A deranged fool.

Not entirely sure why I kept the pocket watch all those years. Perhaps just the earthly sentiment.

It was when he’d begun to speak of the Pentacrux that I’d finally sent him away. It’d been a number of years since I’d heard anyone speak of them, and in spite of wondering how the man could have known of their existence, I didn’t care enough to continue the conversation.

I’d washed my hands of Pentacrux long ago.