Page 41 of Devil's Thirst

Every chance I get, I slip out to the parking lot and try to fill the gaping chasm in my chest with the bottle of vodka I snagged from the bar. A sip here and there since I don’t want anyone tocatch on. Drinking is so out of character for me that it would draw unwanted attention. I sip just enough to shave down the thorns of my self-loathing.

On my way back inside from my latest excursion, I see a guy leaning against a car, looking about as sullen as I feel. Maybe it’s the alcohol—I’m normally not outgoing—but I decide on a whim to join him. The wedding is being held in a private garden. Anyone out here has come for the wedding, so I don’t feel too worried that I don’t know him. Again, it’s probably the vodka.

“Are you part of the Byrne family?” I ask once I’m standing across from him. He looks about my age—skinny but pretty in a haunted way. His hair is dark and held stiffly in place by a healthy supply of gel. He’s made an effort to look presentable, but not enough to cut the shaggy length from the sides and back. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s here because he has to be and not by choice.

“Not me, but my sister is. Noemi,” he says curtly. He’s not interested in talking to me, that’s clear. Unfortunately for him, the fact that I’ve found someone who might be as miserable as me is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.

“Then you must be Sante. I’ve met your sister; she’s really sweet.”

His face flinches with a scowl. “Yeah, she’s pretty great,” he mutters.

What an odd reaction, except I can totally relate. I consider telling him about my sister Lina but don’t get the chance. He steps away from the car and reaches inside his inner jacket pocket.

“Look, unless you’ve got something to refill this”—he holds up a black pocket flask—“then I’m not really in the mood to chat.”

He turns to walk away. My hand snags his wrist before I have a chance to think about what I’m doing. He cocks a brow at me that draws out the first genuine grin I’ve smiled all day.

“I think I can help with that.” I release his wrist and motion for him to follow me.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” he says when I show him my secret bottle stashed by a tree.

I unscrew the lid and take a sip. He takes the bottle when I hand it to him and downs two healthy gulps.

“Fuck, I needed that.” He shakes his head, then looks at me, eyes assessing me for the first time. “Who did you say you are?”

“Amelie. I’m the bride’s sister.”

“No shit?”

I flash a full-on grin. I love that I’ve shocked him. I don’t even know why, but the spark of life I’ve brought to his eyes makes me want to run through a field of wildflowers.

“Yup, which means I probably need to get back inside.”

“You shouldn’t have been out here alone to begin with—no telling what monsters you might run into.” He begins to fill his flask, his gaze briefly drifting to mine.

I want to giggle, and it occurs to me that I might be feeling the alcohol a bit more than I realized. “Trust me, I know all about the monsters. That’s why I wear this.” I hold up my finger, showing him my evil eye ring. “Keeps the monsters away.”

He huffs. “Wish it were that easy.”

“Can’t hurt.” I shrug.

He puts the lid on his flask, then caps the vodka bottle before handing it back to me. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I swallow hard, fighting back a swell of emotions. This is the best time I’ve had in months. I refuse to let my stupid thoughts bring me down.

“Come on, let’s get back inside.”

It’s easy enough to slip back in unnoticed. I go to the dance floor and find a groove with some of the ladies, though I don’t stay long because I can sense Sante watching me and am drawn back to him like a moth to the flame. I wind my way to the refreshment table and snag a cup of punch, then zigzag casually to where he’s standing. I do my best to look like I’m meandering with no real purpose. Not that I need to hide what I’m doing, but it feels sort of … fun. I like feeling fun.

Once I’m close enough, I set my drink down on the table by him and dance in place. After a moment, I see him catch on and discreetly deposit a small amount of the vodka from his flask into my cup. As though oblivious, I flit back to the dance floor with my spiked drink and give myself over to the music.

CHAPTER 21

SANTE

Past

I can’t takemy eyes off her. While she dances, I wonder what she’s trying to escape in that bottle and how she’s doing it with such joy on her face. Like whatever is bothering her is inconsequential compared to the strength of her spirit.

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