Chapter 14

14

Farryn

I lie on a bed of soft feathers, the scent of rosewater clinging to my skin from the bath I took earlier. The cold is unbearable, and I toss and turn, desperate for sleep. A strong, calloused hand smooths across my hip, drawing me backward. Possessively. The deliciously masculine musk is thick on the air, and his lips hunt the back of my neck. The warmth of him settles over me like a cozy fire. He is familiar to me, though I don’t know why.

Deft fingers caress my body, as if he’s done it a million times before. Not a word spoken between us. A tickle of my arms draws my attention to where soft black wings envelope me like a cocoon, closing out the light.

My dark angel.

I opened my eyes to the shadowed room, every nerve in my body primed for one touch. The dream was familiar to me, one I’ve had since about the age of fourteen. Mild, compared to some I’d had as a teenager. Explicit, sexual dreams of a grown man, whose face remained obscure, touching me in ways no boy my age could possibly know how to touch me. Likely the reason I’d never dated much. It’d always felt like I was grasping for something that was never there. A desire that would never be sated.

His image was that of the man I remembered from my childhood, the one who’d watched me and followed me everywhere I went.

The imaginary man, I’d thought, but after the conversation with Xhiphias, I’d begun to wonder if perhaps he was something else entirely.

The face from my father’s sketch came to life inside my head, and my thoughts took me back to the last few seconds of my dream, with the angel’s lips against my throat. It’d been years since I’d felt such need inside of me, having always been so consumed with my studies and work, but nothing quite as intense as what tugged right then. Burying my moans into the pillow out of habit, I slid my panties down mid-thigh and pushed two fingers up inside of me, imagining myself still trapped within his wings. It took only a few, short pumps before the heat flushed my face and a cold burst of tingles exploded through me. The soft cotton captured my cries, until the orgasm subsided and my muscles turned weak with exhaustion. The lack of air had me turning my head to the side, licking my lips that had gone dry, as I wiped my arousal on my T-shirt and yanked my panties back up. Having lived with Aunt Nelle, I’d had to learn quiet climaxes, yet somehow my brain couldn’t quite grasp that I now lived alone.

From the nightstand, I grabbed the glass of water I’d poured earlier and sucked it down. The clock on the wall showed sometime after midnight. Not unusual for me to wake up in the middle of the night, but I didn’t typically wake up hot and bothered. In fact, I hadn’t had the urge to touch myself in months, and when I did, it was usually far less satisfying than tonight.?Perhaps it was the restlessness plaguing me.

In the quiet that followed, I thought about my earlier meeting, with Xhiphias. When he’d told me to go home. To what?

A mostly empty house filled with books I’d never truly come to understand?

My illustrious career?

I needed something else. Something to draw me out of the madness of constantly being alone in my thoughts.

An unimaginable void sat heavy inside my chest, hungry for something. Anything.

Nothing in my world would make sense. Not until I saw what my father had seen before his death. The big black question mark would forever hang over my head, likely driving me to madness someday, just like him. I wanted to know why he’d pined after my mother. What had convinced him so thoroughly that he’d one day see her again?

Running my hand through my hair, I pulled my knees up and turned toward the window, where something caught my attention. Frowning, I crawled across the bed, never taking my eyes off the odd shape, when I crossed the room toward it. In the frost gathered on the pane, a symbol had been drawn.

The aberrant cross. The Pentacrux symbol.

Tendrils of fear crawled over the back of my neck. Swiping a finger over it smudged its form, and I jumped back on a gasp, finding it’d been drawn from inside. Heart caught in my throat, I spun around to the empty room. In a mad dash, I pulled the pocketknife from where it lay tucked in my nightstand, and held my breath as I threw back the covers and searched under the bed. With no sign of an intruder there, I combed through the closet, the bathroom, and the other rooms on the upper level. Not finding any other sign of a break-in, I scanned the lower level, noting the door remained locked and everything seemed to be in place.

Still, the disturbing realization that someone had been in my house at some point sent a snaking vulnerability creeping beneath my skin. I no longer felt safe. I couldn’t call Hines. Talk about creepy.

Seek out Van Croix in Nightshade, a voice inside my head urged.

It was crazy. Reckless. Probably the dumbest thing I’d ever considered.

But so was staying in the house where a potential serial killer had been.

* * *

Once again, I found myself standing at the mouth of the alley. I’d left Camael with the elderly neighbor lady, who’d always treated her like the child she’d apparently never had. As if the cat needed more attention than she already demanded, but at least I knew she was in caring hands. Resigned in my decision, I made my way through the fog toward the cast iron door. Also just like last time, over a dozen cats prowled the alleyway, brushing past my ankles.

My light knock on the metal surface pushed the door open a crack. I peeked inside, praying nothing would jump out at me. The expansive space stood empty and dark, lit only by the few candles set about the floor.

“Xhiphias?” I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and tiptoed toward the center of the room. The lack of movement, or sound, save for the quiet crackle of burning wicks, had every muscle on edge, primed to jump.

“Xhiphias?”

An ajar door at the far end of the room caught my attention, and after one more glance around, I crossed the space toward it. A stairwell wound upward, disappearing into shadows, and I began my ascent. Up, up, up what must have been five floors, until I finally reached a door, which I pushed through to the rooftop of the building. Thick fog danced around me as I padded over the gravely stones.

I found Xhiphias standing at the edge, his foot hiked up on the parapet.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be back this soon,” he said, before puffing on a cigar he held between his lips.

“I need to see for myself. I need you to show me.”

“Once you go, you will never come back the same. You can’t unsee.”

“Something is after me. I don’t feel safe anymore.”

“And I can assure you, you are no safer there.” He stared off toward the view of Chicago’s skyline, where Willis Tower stood off in the distance. “Tell me, girl. Why is it so important to you?”

“Some things you have to see to fully believe, I suppose.”

With a huff, he set his cigar down on the parapet and turned toward a pedestal table that held a teapot I hadn’t noticed before, the one from the previous day, alongside its matching teacup. He poured the liquid into the cup and handed it off to me.

A strong, bitter scent drifted on the steam. Black swirls danced on the surface of the dark liquid, beckoning me to sip. “What is it?”

“To see, you must open your mind.”

“Is this a drug?”

“It’s a gateway.”

“And if I don’t drink it?”

“I’ve neither the time, nor the patience, for you to question. If you’re not interested, simply walk away. Nothing and no one is stopping you.”

“You certainly don’t make a girl feel secure.”

“I’m the least of your worries. Once you’re in Nightshade, there’s nothing to protect you.”

Damn the rapid thumping of my heart, reminding me how foolish I was. “How does it work? The tea?”

“You’ll feel sleepy but awake. Dead but alive. The traversing of planes can be quite traumatic, if not dulled. The tea is derived from an ancient flower.”

“Nightshade?”

“Yes. It is for which Nightshade is named. This particular species grows nowhere else but there.”

“Some species of nightshade are known to be deadly here.”

“And these are no different.”

“I’ll die by drinking it?”

“Yes and no. What dies here, lives there. Think of it as a transfer, of sorts. You still have your soul and your mind. They will remain intact. Perfect, really.”

“And what happens when I want to come back?”

“Coming back is trickier, but possible. You must essentially release your soul in Nightshade, which will invariably return back to its home. So long as you wish to return.”

“And … my body?”

“Goes with you. Only the living get to traverse in a vessel.”

A vessel. It sounded so cold. “This place … what you described sounds like Hell.”

“It is a matter of perspective. What you see as Heaven, another might see as Hell. The reverse is also true.”

“So, how do I release my soul once in Nightshade?”

“Pluck and consume one nightshade flower. The gateway for you is where rock meets sea.”

Where rock meets sea. “You’re talking about a cliff.”

“Yes. The highest cliff and the blackest sea.”

The thought of such a thing sent a shudder down my spine, as I imagined the blackest part of the sea at its deepest.

“How will I know where to find it?”

“It’s inevitable that you’ll find it. The question is, will you return when you see it.”

“Of course I intend to return. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nightshade has a way of making you forget. You can’t be two different people, so your memories of this life begin to fade. My advice is: remember who you are. Cling to it.”

I couldn’t imagine such a thing. Forgetting who I was. “Tell me honestly--this isn’t some twisted way of drugging and robbing me, is it? Because I’d much prefer to hand over my valuables now, than go through the trouble of passing out, or dying.”

“Perhaps you should return when your doubts no longer dictate your thoughts. I am not in the business of stealing, Miss Ravenshaw. If I were, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time entertaining your questions.”

“My apologies. I just … I want answers. The truth. But the risks …”

“Are only worth your level of curiosity. No one is forcing you to decide.”

For so many years, I’d been obsessed with finding the truth. How many more could pass without action? At what point would I stop chasing after something I’d never found in this world?

“Does it hurt? Traversing?”

“The tea helps. You may feel out of sorts, at first. Hallucinating isn’t uncommon.”

“And I have to consume the flower to come back. What if I can’t find it?”

“You’ll remain there.”

“What do you mean remain there? Like, the rest of my life?”

“Yes. Eternally. After some time, the memory of your old life will fade, until it’s nothing but a dream, or fairytale.”

“What’s so special about this flower?” I asked, staring down at the dark liquid again.

“Find one. Consume it. That’s your ticket back.”

“So, I drink the drink and that’s it.”

“Well, besides falling.”

“Falling …”

“There’s only one way to get to Nightshade. Down.”

Dread sank to the pit of my stomach as I dared to peek over the edge. “You mean jumping off this building …”

“Precisely.”

Down.

The word echoed inside my head. My father had leapt to his death. Or so everyone thought. I’d spent a lifetime wondering what had happened to him.

My gut told me to walk away, and I never typically ignored that feeling. What if he’d been crazy toward the end? He’d tried to take my life, after all. Who in their right mind would believe such a thing as falling into another world was possible?

Except, if it wasn’t, then surely the man I’d seen leap from the building the day before should’ve been splattered all over the cement. Surely, I wasn’t crazy, unless I was, and in that case, there’d be no questioning, right? Crazy people didn’t question themselves, did they?

My alternative was having my spine ripped out by some Pentacrux-obsessed whackjob.

Nausea gurgled in my stomach, as I stared down the length of the building. Aside from drowning, my one true fear was heights. “Is there no other way? Walking through a wall, or taking an elevator, or something?”

“Only one way. Once there, you’re free to walk around, but I’d be wary if I were you. The shadows there are not to be trusted.” He squared his shoulders, pointing at me with an earnest look in his eyes. “There is only one rule, and you must follow it carefully. Do not attempt to bring anyone back with you.”

“Why?”

“There are a few reasons people end up in Nightshade. Some are curious, like you. Some long to escape this world for another. And some end up there involuntarily.”

“They’re dead.”

“Yes. There is no physical body to come back to, in their case. So, they remain trapped in the decaying body, with no means of escape, for eternity.”

“They’re conscious and aware? Stuck in a corpse?”

“Yes. But they cannot communicate. Cannot escape. It is the most horrible existence imaginable.”

The thought of that was awful.

“I promise. I will not bring anyone back with me.”

He held out his hand and flicked his fingers. “Your weapons please.”

At my frown, he smiled. “No weapon from this world can help you in that one. They will only injure you in the fall.”

“How do I protect myself?”

“You can’t. It’s the risk you take for knowledge. I’d be careful with the jewelry, as well. Particularly if they hold meaning to you.”

After reluctantly handing off my pocketknife, I mindlessly brushed my finger over the locket tucked beneath my shirt. “I can’t …. I never take it off.”

“Suit yourself.”

I blew out a shaky breath as I stared down at the tea that still swirled, still beckoning me to sip. Closing my eyes, I put the cup to my lips, breathing in the warm, inviting, cinnamon scent that reminded me of the tea my father would make for me when I couldn’t sleep at night. Cinnamon. It’d always remind me of him.

The first taste of the liquid hit my tongue on a burst of delicious flavor. Like Christmases when my mother was still alive, and we’d bake cookies and drink tea, and the world seemed right. So delicious, that I didn’t realize I’d guzzled it down, until my lips slurped the last of it.

“Mmm.”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel fi … fine.” The world seemed to spin in my periphery, the sounds in my ear, as if it were plugged, setting me off balance. “I actually … is it supposed to … my hearing is … strange.”

“Yes. You should be feeling sleepy?”

“I do. I feel … heavy.” An incredible pain blossomed across my jaw and extended up to my ear. Eyes squinting, I touched a finger to the throbbing ache there. “Ah.”

“The pain will subside. I want you to stand up on this ledge here.” Xhiphias pointed to what looked to be the first step to a staircase. I didn’t recall a staircase there, at all.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you sure you still want to fall?”

“Yeah?”

“Then, I’m sure you must step up here.”

“Okay.” I did as instructed, stepping up onto the platform.

“What do you see when you look down?”

The fog below me whorled around and gave way to waves crashing against a rock. On a shocked breath, my muscles locked up. Double-blinking failed to erase the image below. A deep, cramping nausea stirred in my gut as I watched the water ebb and flow. “I see water below.”

“Are you frightened of it?”

“Very.”

“Why?”

A brief flash of water rushing over the top of my head had me squinting my eyes and shaking my head. “No. No, please.”

“Open your eyes.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.”

As instructed, I opened them to find a figure lying crumpled on the rocks below. Arms and legs bent in unnatural angles. “Papa?” The moment I whispered to him, I caught the slight turn of his head, the pained and worried look in his eyes, as he lay bleeding out of unseen wounds.?“He’s alive!”

“Then, go to him.”

“How?”

“Jump.”

An unsettling distrust sat on the edge of my conscience, telling me not to do as he asked. The weight pressed down on me, though, my legs like lead, arms as burdensome as two dumbbells hanging off my shoulders. I swayed on my feet. Or maybe the world around me swayed, I couldn’t tell. At the same time, an anxious beat of terror thrummed inside of me. I could save him.

I could save him!

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Miss Ravenshaw,” a voice whispered.

Concentrating on my father’s pleading stare, I shook my head. “M’ready.”

“Are you certain?”

I nodded.

A thump at my back sent me forward. Wind rushed past me as the tickle in my stomach climbed up toward my throat. I opened my mouth to scream, but all I could muster was an unintelligible screech. The rocks faded, replaced by ground that rushed toward me with a terrifying determination.

I screamed and held out my hands to break the fall, squeezing my eyes shut for the impact that would surely crush my bones. A wintry blanket enveloped me, the wind rushing faster. Cold snapped against my skin like rubber bands, burning in hot-cold streaks over my flesh. I dared to open my eyes to find I was still falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Through the darkness of a night sky, the scattered clouds dispersed as I slipped through them. The sky gave way to treetops. A forest rising up from the ground toward me.

“Oh, God!” I couldn’t maneuver myself to avoid the thick tree limbs, as they reached out with sharp-tipped fingers that scraped across my legs and arms. Branches snapped as I crashed through the canopies. A thick limb slammed into my thigh, and I cried out.

Down further.

I hit the ground with a punishing blow to my left flank that banished the air from my lungs. Leaves and brush flew up into the air in a confetti explosion that fell around me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, and gasping, I forced myself to suck in a sip of air, but my lungs had locked up with the impact.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the break in the treetops through which the moon shined down on me. My chest relented its grip, and I wheezed a breath. Arctic, nighttime air burned my already parched throat, while I lay desperate to fill my lungs, expelling puffs of steam from my lips. In. Out. Breathe.

Breathe.

Shivers wracked my body, my muscles so stiff and weak from the unforgiving temperature. So cold. My field of view narrowed to complete blackness.