Page 95 of Nightshade

Still puzzled, I grimaced at the grotesque possibility that the creature had eaten him. Entirely. A lump rose to the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down. Shaking the thought from my head, I turned my attention back to Remy. “We need to clean that cut. It’ll get infected.”

“We?”

“Well, I’m guessing you can’t bandage it yourself, unless you know acrobatics.”

“I’m pretty flexible.” The wink he shot back at me felt wildly out of place among the fear still rattling me from the inside out.

As we headed back toward the entrance, Remy leading the way through the maze, I stole glances over my shoulder, my neck stiff and prickling every time I stared down the long path behind us. Along the way, we were greeted by Cerberus, who trotted toward me, the sight of him an absolute relief. Nero and Fenrir trailed after him.

The hedges opened at the entrance, and at the mouth of it stood a dark and intimidating figure.

Van Croix.

With his one good eye, he looked past us into the hedge, as we approached.

I craned my neck to make sure that thing hadn’t followed us. “Mister Van Croix, something attacked us. It attacked the caretaker, Jesper.”

“The one you said my dogs had mauled?”

“No. Yes. But he said something else hurt him. It’s somewhere in the maze. I’ve seen this creature before.”

“She isn’t lying.” Twisting, Remy lifted his shirt from over the glistening wound beneath, the sight of which sent a flutter of nausea to my stomach.

Unmoved, Van Croix seemed to study the wound for a moment. “I’d like a word in my office, Miss Ravenshaw.”

“I … offered to help Remy clean his wounds.”

Brow quirked, Van Croix shifted his jaw, his gaze darkening as it flitted toward Remy, as if in warning. “Very well. I’ll have a look in the maze, while you … tend his wounds. And I trust you’ll be in my office afterward.”

“Of course.”

31

Farryn

Kneeling before Remy, who held up his shirt where he sat at the dining room table, I daubed a small bit of antiseptic from a corked apothecary jar onto the treks of opened flesh across his flank. “I really think this is going to need stitches,” I said, swallowing past the queasiness rising up into my throat again.

“Nah. I’ve had worse.” It was then I noticed the multiple scars across his chest and stomach, some of which appeared to be grisly in nature.

“You get into a lot of fights here?”

“I’ve had a few.”

“I’ve never seen blood so dark before. And thick.” Given where I was, I didn’t question it, though. Perhaps that was what happened when souls crossed over.

“Ah, well. When you’re as healthy as an ox, like me, you need thick blood,” he said, dismissively. A muscle in his pectoral twitched, and when I looked up, he was smiling down at me.

Cheeks burning, I lowered my gaze again.

“You don’t like attention, do you?”

“Not particularly.”

“’Fraid that’s how it goes, when you smell as … delectable as you do. Makes a man want to—”

“Okay, I don’t particularly want to know.” Especially not while I was kneeling at the guy’s feet.

He chuckled, still holding his shirt. “When you’re curious, we’ll talk.”