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They were known throughout all of Praecepsia as the Pentacrux, a staunch religious group that’d swept through villages in search of sinners.
They believed in the holy Pentasanctori, the divine five, which consisted of The Father, The Virgin Mother, The Messiah, and the two warriors at either side.
The one named Bishop Venable, who seemed to be the most prominent of the robed men,
“On the eve of the fifth blood moon, darkness will cover the land, and all of you will burn in the flames!”
“God has entrusted us with stewardship of the soul, and as such, it is not our place to carelessly dispose of such gifts.”
“Dominus vigilans. What does that mean?” I’d studied enough Latin to know it’s literal translation, but not its significance in the conversation. “It means, watch yourself, for you are watched.”
According to him, she continued to walk among us. Or in another realm. A place called Nightshade.
He’d thrown me into the bath
Attact of the tubs
From what I’ve gathered, Nightshade is a place, not unlike our own world, but much more ancient. A parallel plane described in ancient texts as purgatory. It was believed that the Fallen walked freely there, and could traverse between our world and theirs.
Death, they called me. The Reaper of Nightshade.
The village was one of many in Nightshade, brimming with the lost souls of those who’d recently crossed over from the mortal, or earthly realm.
Cassiel, one of only two fallen angels that I had even a modicum of trust in, to call an acquaintance. He, along with his brother, Remiel, or Remy for short, had turned their back on their overlord years before, when I’d been taken prisoner by the Fallen.
“I followed you home.” “Well … that’s creepy as hell.”
Ummm detective ???… weirdo
“The chain at her hands seems to be some kind of cilice belt.” “What is that?” “A chain belt with prongs designed to irritate the skin. It’s a means to atone for sin.”
“Ca’ligo an a tua,”
And as for the ladies who find themselves beneath me, I can assure you, they tend to think of me as quite charming.”
“I am not asking you to assume anything. Only to consider a deeper understanding of the unseen. As I said, things are not always as they seem.”
“You know that the universe creates balance by allowing darkness to exist alongside light.” His other hand came up until his palms flattened together. “Two equals, yes?” “Yes, of course.” “Nightshade is the darkness to the light of this world. Its shadow, so to speak. Where the dark ones dwell.”
“Do you know what comes from an angel and a human?” Oddly enough, I did. “Nephilim.”
“Very good. And what about a human and demon?” “Cambion, right?”
Sentinel is what happens when a demon falls in love with an angel.”
“Forget? Everything?” “Everything. You. Your mother. His purpose. That is how Nightshade works.”
“Strong women will always bear the dangerous burden of a weaker man’s pride.”
“You’ve no sense of humor, girl.” “And you have no sense, at all.”
“Tell me what you refuse to say aloud. What you think every night before you go to sleep. Tell me the words you say in dreams, when no one can hear you.”
knew her body like a painting on which I’d have doted every day. Every curve. Every inch of her skin. Even then, I could see, smell, and touch her so vividly, as if she lay across my desk in that moment. Yet, her identity remained a blur.
“Nightshade has a way of making you forget. You can’t be two different people, so your memories of this life begin to fade.
“Know that I can take what I want, and there would be nothing you can do, or say. If I wish to kiss you, I have only to press my lips to yours and feel you submit to it.”
“And how can you be sure those screams belonged to me?” “Because I know your voice as distinctly as I do my own. I hear it even when you are not present.” “Tell me.” The heat of his gaze burned hot over her skin. “Do you hear it in dreams?” “Sometimes.”
“What if I were to catch you--would you leap?”
In Nightshade, the birds served as spies, always feeding observations to their masters, and Cicatrix was most loyal, seeing as they were vinculum--a type of bond that allowed me to mentally communicate with the bird.
The crazy old man had left me with the timepiece and a plea: To seek out his only daughter and watch over her.
“I would sooner watch the world and every creature in it burn to the ground than to raise my hand against you, Lustina. You are the only thing that matters to me.”
“I endeavor to drive you mad, in fact. Madness is far more colorful than the blandness of normalcy.”
“We were fated to be together. It is your light to which I am drawn, Lustina. It feeds the dark thoughts in my head.”
“I say I am yours.” “Eternally.”
“You no longer belong to the church or these people. You are not bound by the laws of their world. From this night forward, I am your church. When you are lost, I am your shelter. When you are in pain, I am your elixir.” Gripping her crown, he tipped her head back and stared deeply into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze tickled her stomach. “When you ache for pleasure, I am your mercy.” A look of conviction claimed his expression, as he said, “I will burn down this pathetic world for you. Only you. You are mine, little fledgling. Always.” “Always.”
“So, you’re more of a funeral director for the afterlife?” “I suppose in its most rudimentary form.” “And these souls … you sell them to ...”
Smiling to herself, she ran a hand over the cover in a reverent manner, before handing it off to me. The Baron and Witch’s Daughter.
“Killed him for ditching me?” “No. For asking you in the first place.”
“You are a mystifying enigma, Mister Van Croix.” His gaze swung back to me, devouring me in one sweep. “And you are a frustrating distraction, Miss Ravenshaw.”
The one I know tells of a dark-winged creature who demanded a young virgin on the eve of the blood moon.
The problem is, the Dark-Winged One fell in love with the girl and her kind, giving heart. And he was so smitten with her that he could not take her soul. So, he called on Death himself, and ordered the angel to grant her immortality. Well, not even Death had the power, so instead, he cursed her to be reborn. And on the year of the pentad blood moon, she is to be sacrificed to the Dark-Winged One, or there will be much suffering.”
“Time is meaningless in my world.” “What world?” “Noc’tu umbraj. The shadowed one.”
“Unfortunately for you, you are precisely my type.” “Why is that unfortunate?” “Because I will fuck you in all the worst ways.”
“Property.” Anger flared inside of her, the inherited temper of her mother rising to the surface. “Is that what I am? No more than chattel to buy and sell off at will?” “To the bishop? Yes. As for me? I would ask you to be my wife.”
Opening her eyes showed the baron holding a long, magnificent, black feather, like that plucked from a raven, but larger.
“Please. I want to know why they fear you. Show me what you do not want the others to see. And I promise that I will not be afraid.”
“I do not know for certain. My mother, on her deathbed, called me a Sentinel. She told me that I was half evil, half good. Half demon, half angel.” “Your father …” “A certain kind of demon. She called him a Dalgoth. Apparently very dangerous and rare. He stole my mother away. Locked the angel in a cage and raped her until I was born.”
She felt safe. She felt loved. She felt everything.
