Chapter 67

67

Farryn

Rain pelted my face as I stared up at the rickety sign that read The Shoal. I’d driven all the way from Chicago, to a small fishing island off the coast of Massachusetts, called Tempest Cove. Over sixteen hours of driving alone. I only hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a wasted trip.

The door creaked when I pushed it open to the smell of fried fish and stale beer. As I lowered the hood of my drenched raincoat, the few faces at the bar swung my way. Ignoring them, I dropped my gaze and crossed the room to one of the booths in the back, where no one else sat.

I’d grown wary of people in recent months, and particularly nervous in public places and crowds. Squeezing into the booth, I took a moment to exhale and pressed a hand to my stomach, which hadn’t quite begun to show yet. “Just breathe,” I whispered.

“Can I get ya anything, honey?” I opened my eyes to an older woman, who stood alongside the booth with a cigarette tucked behind her ear. The moment I made eye contact with her, a smile lit her face. “Wow, look at you!” Her comment left me shrinking into myself, the sudden attention sending alarms through me. “My, I can’t get over how much you remind me of my niece!” Twisting around, she waved toward one of the guys sitting at the bar. “Don’t she look like Isa, Mac?”

“Looks just like her,” he agreed, before tipping back his beer.

Waving her hand in dismissal, she shook her head. “Ah, he didn’t even look. Well, you do look like her. It’s a compliment.” Leaning in just enough to set my teeth on edge, she lowered her voice, “She’s practically royalty. Livin’ in a castle like a princess. Folks ‘round here don’t care much for her prince, though.” The woman sighed and rolled her shoulders back. “So. What can I get ya?”

I pondered the question for a moment. “Um … can I get a water?”

“Water?” She snorted a laugh and pointed out the window. “What? That rain wasn’t enough?” Her light pat to my shoulder startled my muscles. A reaction she seemed to notice, as she added, “Just kiddin’, hon. Little jumpy, are ya? I’ll get ya a water, sure. You hungry, at all?” Her gaze dipped to my belly and back.

“I … just need a minute. To decide. What to eat.” The truth was, I hadn’t had much of an appetite, at all, in recent months, which probably wasn’t good on the pregnancy. Pleasures like food, shopping, life. They all seemed pointless to me. As if the world around me didn’t notice the breadth of what it’d lost by taking Jericho. How it could keep going the way it did was a mystery I couldn’t crack.

“Got it. You sure you’re okay?”

Ask her, the voice inside of me compelled.

“I’m … looking for someone, actually. Do you know a Gabriel Angelus?”

“Oh, yeah! Gabe comes in here all the time!” She craned her neck back and frowned. “He ain’t here yet, though. Strange.” Another dip of her gaze toward my stomach where my hand still rested against it, and she cocked a brow. “Say, the two of you aren’t involved … no, never mind.” Throwing her hands up, she shook her head. “Not my business. Not. Isa tells me all the time, I need to let go of the gossip.”

I forced a smile for the sake of being polite. “Can you let me know if he comes in?”

“Sure thing. I’ll get that water for ya.” With a smile and wink, she turned away, but swung back around. “Oh! Name’s Midge. In case you change ya mind about eatin’ somethin’.”

“Midge.” I offered another slight smile, one that seemed to take more effort than the last. “I just … call for you?”

“Yep! That’s how we roll at The Shoal.” On a chuckle, she kept on, back toward the bar.

Once again, I sat alone in the booth, questioning whether, or not, I’d made a mistake. Who the hell drove that many hours, just to meet with a complete stranger who didn’t even know they were coming?

A gust of wind blew in from outside, ruffling up my hair, and a strange sensation prickled my skin. I turned to see a tall, sturdy man, wearing a black fisherman’s cap and black wool peacoat. In spite of the scruff and wear on his face, he was ruggedly handsome and in far better shape than the other men in the bar, evidenced in the thickness of his build. He strode across the bar to one of the booths down from me.

Midge returned with my water and leaned in. “That’s Gabriel,” she whispered, pointing toward him. “We call him Old Salt, not so much for his age. Ain’t all that friendly. Watch yaself.”

“Thank you.”

Palms to the table, I sucked in a deep breath.

For Jericho.

Feeling slight movement in my belly, I touched my hand there. Every book I’d read on pregnancy told me I wouldn’t have felt the baby kick for another few months, but perhaps it was different with a Sentinel. Because it always happened when I thought of him. About the only thing that could make me genuinely smile those days, was knowing his legacy grew inside of me. That he lived on within me.

Pushing up from the table, I nervously made my way down the line of booths, to the one where the man sat with his back to me. He somehow seemed bigger, stuffed inside the comparably small booth. Despite the anxiety brimming to the surface, I slid onto the bench across from him, and he leaned back, eyeing me as if I’d misplaced my mind.

Maybe I had.

“You lost?” His voice was as gruff as I’d expected for a fisherman.

Only problem was, he wasn’t a fisherman. He was a centuries-old archangel disguised as a human being. More powerful than the storm that loomed over the distant sea.

And he was Lustina’s father.

“I believe … we might have a mutual … friend.”

Frowning, the man scratched at his ear. “You here to collect money? ‘Cause I ain’t got it. You can go back and tell Mike--”

“I don’t know a Mike,” I said with an air of impatience. “And I don’t want money.”

“Then, what do you want?”

Another deep breath, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“Well? What is it? I ain’t got all night.”

“I know you’re not a fisherman,” I said in a low voice, and I glanced around the restaurant, thankful that no one seemed to be paying attention. “I know you weren’t born in this time. And I know that if I were to rip the shirt off your back right now, you’d sprout wings twice the span of this booth.”

He eyed me warily for a moment, quiet. The seconds that ticked between felt like a threat, and my pulse hastened as I waited with uncertainty for how he’d respond.

A burst of laughter thundered through the small bar. I flinched and, glancing around again, found the locals staring back at us.

“You on somethin’, sweetheart?” Gabriel asked.

“No. I’m not on something. Does the name Catriona ring a bell?”

Shrewd eyes narrowed on mine, and his tongue swept across the edge of his teeth. “Who are you?”

“My name is Farryn Ravenshaw. I am reborn from Lustina. Catriona’s daughter.”

“Lustina,” he said, as if trying the word out on his tongue. “Don’t know her.”

“You knew her mother. See, I contacted a historian. An expert on the small village where Catriona was born in Ireland. She had a number of interesting records. Including a log of names. Criminals to be hanged, by order of the king. It so happened, your name was on that list.”

His lips twitched as if he might smile. “That’s impressive. How far back are we talking here? Centuries? You sure you’re not on some heavy drugs?”

Midge walked up to the table and set down a beer and what I guessed to be a lobster roll in front of him, though I’d never personally had one. Her eyes flitted to mine, brows winged up as if silently asking if all was okay.

Lips pressed together, I nodded, and she walked off, back toward the bar.

“Look, I drove a long way. I need your help.”

He snorted and lifted his sandwich up for an excessive bite. “Sorry, I don’t do charity,” he said around an ungracious mouthful of food.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper on which I’d drawn out the symbol of the Pentacrux, and laid it flat on the table. “I need this sigil translated.”

Cocking a brow, he stared down at the image and frowned. Shaking his head, he spun the paper around to face me again. “Nope.”

“This isn’t going to matter to you, I know. But someone I care about is trapped in Ex Nihilo. My father translated this code many years ago. It took him decades, and I don’t have that kind of time.” I set my hands on my belly, drawing his eyes there. “It would mean a lot to me, if you could just tell me what it says. In the language intended.”

“Look, maybe you didn’t hear me the first time--”

“Please.” I pushed the tears back and cleared my throat. “For months, I’ve not had one stretch of sleep without feeling like my room is crawling with something out to get me. I’ve seen things no human should ever see. Things most of my kind wouldn’t believe. You asked if I’m on something? The answer’s yes. A thin thread. One that I fear will snap any day.”

“You’re not the first woman to have a baby out of wedlock.”

“Says the man who saddled one with his child. Cursed child.”

Shrugging, he tipped back his beer, gulping it down in one go. “C’est la vie, you know?”

“He’s a Sentinel. He doesn’t belong in Ex Nihilo.”

After another bite of his food, he paused his chewing and stared off, as if gnawing on the thought, as well. “Even still, you don’t bring somebody back from that place. No matter what. They’re there for a reason.”

“Yes, his reason was my life.” Slouching back onto the bench, I willed myself to keep it together. A huff of exasperation escaped me, the hopelessness of my pursuit becoming a stark reality. “There’s nothing I can say, or do, to get you to translate this for me?”

“How ‘bout a blow job?” At the disgusted look on my face, he snorted a laugh. “I’m kiddin’. Well, I mean, unless you’re up for it.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you’d probably bite, anyway.”

I glanced around the bar and back to him. “So, you’re just going to keep living this life. Hiding away?”

“Hunting souls ain’t what it used to be, sweetheart. There was a time men would level an entire city. And the payoff for that?” He shook his head and whistled. “Phew! Nowadays? You get these onesie-twosie serial killers. Every once in a while, there’s a mass killing, but everyone fights over those ones. Not worth it.”

“What if I could give you a name. Of someone who might be worth it.”

“Depends on the name.”

“Bishop Venable. The one who burned Catriona alive.”

His stare turned intense, teeth scraping over his lip, and he sniffed. “Where?”

“I’ll tell you where to find him if you agree to translate this for me.”

“You know what this means, right? What’ll happen, if you do this?”

I did. Xhiphias had made a point to tell me a few times, before I’d decided to make the trek here, what price I’d pay for it. That, by bringing Jericho back from Ex Nihilo, I would essentially be committing an act of treason against the heavens. I’d damn my soul and become a cambion.

“It’s still worth it to you?” he asked.

“Is capturing Catriona’s killer worth it to you?”

His brow flickered as if the thought of it excited him. “Let me see that paper again.”

When I turned it around to face him, he slapped his hand down on it and pointed at me. “Anyone asks how you translated it? You better not bring my name up.”

“You have my word.”

“You gotta be one crazy dame to fuck with the heavens. Must really love this one.”

Swallowing back the threat of tears, I nodded. “I’ve loved him an eternity.”