Page 17 of Safe in Shadow (Pine Ridge Universe #22)

S ilas Cameron.

A shattered mirror, not simply shattered, but truly powdered to a fine silvery grit, flew back together at the sound of his name, and he was lost, unable to escape the flood of memories that poured over him.

His father, a merchant, came to New York from Edinburgh. He married an American woman, the daughter of another prosperous merchant. They had two sons, then left the world too soon, with both boys just coming into adulthood.

He was the eldest—James’ second father, even though they were only three years apart. Silas was the one who saw James getting swept into bad investments and bad company, too eager to make his mark to exercise due caution in the bustling city.

Silas was the one who said they should buy a good piece of land and build a fine house for their future families. They would become gentleman farmers and allow their uncle, their mother’s younger brother, to take over their father’s trade.

He made the investments. Found the builders. Helped James through a year of seminary at Princeton while the house was being finished.

It was at a party in Binghamton that he met Cynthia.

NYX WAS DIMLY AWARE of Grace speaking in a strangled voice, but he could no longer see her. He could only see the past.

At the moment, the past had dark curls, laughing eyes, and such a sweet, honeyed voice. She lived alone with her mother and was sweet and respectable.

A perfect wife. She’d make a perfect wife, a dear sister, too, for James.

It was she who assured him that her virtue was for him anyway, so they might as well indulge.

She taught him the pleasures of rutting, grunting, and spending, all the while reassuring him that they’d be wed well before anyone would notice if she should come to be with child.

He was so proud to announce their engagement, excitedly writing to James while he was at seminary, boasting of the dear, sweet beauty he had found.

“Nyx! Silas! Silas, can you hear me?” Grace’s voice penetrated the haze, and he felt her little fingernails digging into him even as his form fell apart.

“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That!” The words ripped out of him as he ripped apart, turning into a seething black cloud.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING , silly one?” Cynthia’s voice was there, in his ear, sweet as syrup.

“I’m just writing to Mr. Bleaker, Father’s lawyer, to confirm that the will is all in order.”

“The will?” Cynthia’s voice was sharp with worry. Why could he hear it now, over a century too late and too dead to change the outcome?

“Well, my dear, I am sure that the farm will be a success once I really make a go of it. We will have our little share of Father’s dividends, and of course, we shall have Hilltop.

But the bulk of the money that Father and Mother left will go to James.

It will set him up properly. If he intends to be a minister, better he should have it, for they’re never wealthy men. ”

“But you are the eldest!”

“And as such, it is my duty to provide for James—and for you. Why, don’t frown, my love. We’ll live a comfortable life, and so will James.”

A THOUSAND LITTLE SIGHTS that he could see now, trapped in death, forced to watch the life he’d blocked out.

Her newfound coolness at his touch. Her excuses to come over with her aged mother and stay for days or weeks, always chaperoned, of course. Her insistence on cooking, even though he had servants.

Narrowed eyes.

Sleight of hand.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It has some herbs that are only grown higher up in the mountains.”

How he sickened.

How it grew worse over time, but Cynthia stayed near while insisting the wedding wait until James returned.

When he was gaunt and sallow, and crippled with pain, his vision blurred, but still he saw her dumping out the little paper packets from the window.

Why would she put the seasoning in the grass? Wasn’t one of them the powders she claimed came from the doctor?

Why had it only clicked when he felt his soul tearing away?

GRACE COWERED BEHIND the edge of the desk in the reception area. Nyx had lost any semblance of human form. He was a wild black storm, a tornado bouncing from window to window, rattling and raging, pained screams coming from his soul.

Nothing evil could ever sound that heartbroken.

“Nyx! Come back to me! Come here!” Grace begged.

Blackness cloaked the entire reception area. The storm hit outside as it crested inside, and suddenly—all the blackness poofed away.

And there was nothing but a huddled gray being at her feet, breathing shallowly, eyes closed.

Grace crawled over to where Nyx lay, reaching for him, but then putting her hands back in her lap, afraid to touch him. “Nyx?”

“Cynthia killed me. Slowly. With poison. My brother came home a few days before my death, and she...She clung to him and begged him to take care of her when I was gone. Of course he agreed, always one to make a gallant promise, if a hasty one. They comforted each other after I died. But on my deathbed I saw... I saw her take the powders she’d been giving me, one for my stomach pains, one for my meals—and she threw them both out the window.

I knew then. I knew as my soul was leaving my body that she had only wanted me for my money, and when she saw I meant to live simply and ensure James had the bulk of our ready capital—she wanted me dead.

Cynthia had to find a way to leave me honorably, or James would never have looked at her.

We were more than brothers. We were bosom friends.

He would never have had a woman who threw me over for him.

But if I were gone? If she were my grieving intended?

Ah, yes. That he would consider, especially the way she played it. ”

Grace covered her mouth with one hand, reaching for his shoulder and grasping it tightly. “You were murdered?”

“By the woman I loved—and now hate. I could not leave this world, Grace. It was the clear vision I had after days of delirium and anguish. Clear as you’re standing before me, I saw Cynthia disposing of the contents of those bags.

I saw how she peered into my dying eyes, impatient and stony-faced, and then.

.. Oh, then as I felt myself hovering between planes, she burst into tears and wails, and flung herself on James.

I knew at once why she had thrown me over, and why she had to get rid of me—to get to James.

And if she did not love me, but the money she thought I had.

.. What would she do to James, who would be truly wealthy?

By my last will and testament, he gained all of my holdings and all that our parents left as well. ”

“You think she would have killed him, too?”

Nyx rolled over onto his back, a look of defeat and exhaustion on his face. “I stayed to guard him—and to exact revenge upon her.”

Grace found his hand and laced her fingers through his.

The idea of death was scary, but the idea of murder was so much worse.

It was not just the loss of life; it was that someone took it from you.

The loss of control, the helplessness...

And in Nyx’s case, he had to linger, facing a slow death by inches, a little sicker with each dose until. ..

“Well. James was all right. He lived a long, happy life,” Grace tried to offer a little crumb of relief.

“I saw him for a while. I tried to warn him, to tell him what Cynthia was truly like. But he could never hear me, and after Cynthia died, his visits were always so short. This place was a tomb to him. He lost me here. He lost his wife—there.” Nyx’s lips suddenly parted in a snarl, and some spark came back to his heavy eyes as he pointed to the woods.

“When I see her face or hear her name, I’m riddled with loathing.

You don’t know what it’s like to suddenly become something not of this world, to understand everything differently than mortals do.

When I felt my soul pulling away from my body, I fought as hard as I could, eventually ending up somewhere—in between.

There are places where the Netherworld opens to take a soul—and sometimes that soul will not go through. ”

His face closed over, and Grace knew there was something he was leaving out, but she didn’t care. She was still wondering what more there was to understand.

Nyx continued, his voice growing stronger and faster, but even more miserable.

“She let me lie with her, even though I would have waited, as a man was supposed to do. She made me feel that our love and passion were too great to follow the usual rules—and she could have claimed to be pregnant at any time had I threatened to break things off. She knew how desperately I wanted a family of my own, how sorely I missed my parents and James, and all my friends in the city. I would have been loyal regardless, but she had me tethered to her just so—and for money! Money, which comes and goes in an instant! Not for love.”

“Nyx. Please... You’re torturing yourself.”

“No! She tortured me! A few times a week, I would fall ill, and then it became every day, and then it was constant. The doctors suggested every course of action known, most of which weakened me further. But Cynthia knew enough not to do something simple like put a bit of string across the stairs, or bash me on the head. No, that would have shown up as a murder, and it would have been irreversible. With poison, she kept me on the brink, keeping me alive until James had been home for a week and she’d begun to sow the seeds that would evoke James’ protectiveness and pity!

” Nyx slammed his fist on the floor. “She was evil despite her beauty. Every action was the pull of a string, a puppetmaster waiting to be paid after a grand performance.”

Grace wasn’t great at silence, but she didn’t know if Nyx needed a friendly word or someone to rage on his behalf. She kept her hand on his arm, stroking slowly.