Page 59 of Devour the Dark

She senses my shift in thought and winks at me, knowing full well where my attention has gone.

Finally, we’re beneath the portico. One of the servants pulls the carriage door open, setting a stool beneath. I get out first so I can offer my hand to Winnie, then Asha.

The girls right themselves, smoothing over their dresses.

I walk forward to the bottom of the steps and look up.

Wind rattles the leaves of the oak trees.

Blood is pumping through my veins, but I feel hollow.

I’m not an anxious person, but sometimes a feeling like anxiety will creep up and whenever it does, I revert to something I’ve read, repeating it in my head like a mantra.

More often than not, it’s Poe. I read him often. For some reason, his poetry helps me make sense of the darkness, the monstrous things, the abyss at the center of me, threatening to swallow me whole.

Being here at the manor again, I can’t help but think of all of the loss. All of the fucking ghosts.

The spirits of the dead, who stood,

In life before thee, are again,

In death around thee, and their will,

Shall overshadow thee; be still.

I didn’t want to return here.

Winnie comes up beside me. “I’m here,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Now let’s go kill some witches, and then afterward, I’ll shove you down in my bed and have my way with you.”

When I look over at her, she’s beaming at me and I huff out a laugh.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ROC

He is transfixedby the sight of Captain James Hook lighting a cigarillo, lips wrapping around the end of it, lungs drawing in the hit.

“What is it?” the Captain asks, frowning across the room at him.

Wendy pours them all a drink. She’s chattering on about its recipe, a staple of the Everland Court. Something with rose syrup and gin and lemon juice. She’s busying herself with the task, measuring out each ingredient with the precision of a scientist.

She is nervous to be alone with them again. The first time since they fucked in the Everland Palace.

He is ravenous for them both.

The witch spins beneath the surface like a whirlpool threatening to pull him down.

The Captain tests the gin straight from the bottom and grimaces. “Awful,” he says.

“The rose syrup tempers the gin,” Wendy is saying. “Wait to try the drink before you dismiss it.”

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