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According to him, she continued to walk among us. Or in another realm. A place called Nightshade.
He claimed he’d fallen and hit his head while trying to start a bath, and as I’d rushed to help him, he attacked me for reasons I’d never understood. He’d thrown me into the bath and held me underwater, ranting and raving that I’d been spawned from Hell and sent to murder his wife. I couldn’t recall what had happened after that, as I’d blacked out. When I awoke, I’d found myself in a hospital bed, with a woman I’d never met telling me I’d be coming to live with her.
Chronicles of Nightshade. Nightshade. The shadowed world he’d become obsessed with—a land far beyond our own world, which he’d often likened to Purgatory. A fairytale, as far as I was concerned.
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. Human souls also occupy this plane, though the nature of how they arrive, or why, is obscure. As I understand, they are not free to come and go. Given the information and what is known, I would venture to say these souls belong to those bound for the infernal realm, or those which are easily corruptible with unfinished business. Lost souls.
‘Everything has meaning,’ he’d always said to me. ‘You just have to look for the signs.’
For most of my childhood, I’d been plagued with visions of a stranger, always in my periphery. On the fringes of my view. He had always watched me play, and for the longest time, I thought he’d lived nearby. Perhaps in one of the few houses in the neighborhood, or as a transient from the old motel up the street from us. Every day that I’d ventured to the church, I saw him standing off a short distance from me. Not once did he approach me.
An absolutely stunning creature with the most scintillating blue eyes I’d ever seen.
“Listen to me, Farryn. It’s very dangerous there. Do you know what this is?” “A bird feather.” “No, child. It belongs to the dark angels. Remember what I told you about them?”
He also explained that the presence of particular symbols in sequence represented each of the seven deadly sins. Iracundia for Wrath, Invidia for Envy, Avaritia for greed, and so on.
Death, they called me. The Reaper of Nightshade.
Nightshade wasn’t a place for the devout. Only the non-believers ended up there, ones who questioned the heavens, whose souls were easily corrupted by the dark and shady characters who plucked them off the streets like grapes from a winter vine. A lawless place where the Fallen overlords ruled and humans were nothing more than cheap labor.
What if my father was alive somewhere, and what if Xhiphias had been the last to see, or speak to him?
My father used to tell me an entire celestial galaxy lived inside my eyes, which was about as disturbing as a gum tree in the stomach.
“She is the bastard child of a witch,”
about the same age as her escort, by her estimates, standing off just a short stretch away. Inky black hair, like hers, framed icy blue eyes that stirred a chill deep inside her chest. Terrifying, yet handsome, he stared back at the two of them, like a dark cloud off in the distance.
“I cannot forget, when it is my nature to be concerned for things which are broken.” There was meaning beyond the bird, beyond things. She had grown curious of the baron, had thought about him since her last visit a week prior. Had dwelled a number of nights on words he’d spoken in their last encounter, about Bishop Venable and her mother. In that time, she had come to realize the young baron hadn’t been out to torment her, as she had initially thought. It hadn’t been his intent to wound her heart, so much as prod the truth past stubborn lips that’d long sealed.
If anything, he treated her more as an equal. His equal.
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’m the least of your worries. Once you’re in Nightshade, there’s nothing to protect you.”
“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
“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.”
“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.”
“There is only one rule, and you must follow it carefully. Do not attempt to bring anyone back with you.”
“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.”
“When do you think about it?” “Before I dream.” “And did you like it?” “Very much, My Lord.” With a careful hand, he
“One should not desire the very thing which stirs his madness.”
“Mark my words. I will take you with such rapacity that there will be nothing left for you to give. At which point, I will take you again.”
“The next time you think of this kiss, let it be while you bathe yourself. I want you to touch whatever part of you aches and imagine it is my fingers and lips upon your skin.”
The guards chuckled again. One pressed his ear to the door, and it was then she realized the screams belonged to the baron.
why Drystan was there in the undercroft that day.”
“He attends mass with his mother.”
“What did they do to you in that room? I heard your screams.” “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.” “And what do I say to you in these dreams?” “A number of things.”
“I want to know what else you fear, Lustina. I want to know your vulnerabilities. The things that make you clutch to what you perceive as safe.”
She pondered his words for a moment, and turned to look at him. Only her mother had ever said such things to her, had ever made her feel stronger than she believed herself to be.
“I’m asking you to step into your fears.” “You are asking me to end my life?” “No. I am asking you to begin.” “I cannot do this. I do not …. I am content.”
“Tell me what you refuse to tell anyone else about that day, Lustina.”
believe that … I am not meant to die yet.” “Why?” “Because I serve a purpose.” “We all serve a purpose.
“He is the spawn of the devil himself.”
“He is capable of things no man can physically do. Tell me you haven’t witnessed them and you are lying. He is a dangerous aberration that must be destroyed.”
“I will have you strung up and crucified for such blasphemy, boy!” Except that it wasn’t blasphemy, at all. The baron had seen with his own eyes the many times his father had since met with his sister mistress.
Most in Nightshade would’ve looked the other way and stolen the opportunity to feed on two souls. After all, when a human perished in Nightshade, their soul remained imprisoned in the place.
From this day forward, you will hunt men just like them. Remove their tongues so they won’t utter a word of repentance. Cleave away the very source of their power and watch them bleed out.”
The power of suggestion fed my hunger, and preying on molesters meant fewer young boys ending up in Nightshade. The place of those who failed to believe in anything.
Such a shame the young and innocent feared the light so much that they hid in the darkness of Purgatory.
Virgil was one of two fallen angels who’d managed to escape me when I’d sought revenge on the men who’d tortured me years ago. “What do you know of that?”
“Surely, you will recognize the man who nearly killed you, even in costume. I ask that you bring a female, as slaves are expected to accompany each guest.”
Something about him struck me as vaguely familiar. I’d seen the man before, though I couldn’t quite place from where.
“There is an odd scent on the air. Almost … sickening
