Page 226 of Nightshade

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.”