Page 61 of Devour the Dark

“So. I won’t have it.”

Wendy rushes forward and wraps her hand around my wrist. “You don’t get to tell us when and how we show up for you.”

This is exactly what the witch wants, is what I think. But I can’t say that. I can’t look weak. I can’t look like I care so much it hurts.

“If you insist.”

“Give us ten minutes.” Wendy turns back for the bedroom where her new dress is hanging in the closet. “And then we’ll go. James, can you summon a carriage?”

“Of course.” To me, he says, “Sit down. Smoke a cigarette. Have a drink.”

I close my eyes again. “Yes, Captain.”

He sighs. It comes out through his nose. It makes my insides light up.

Before them, I had one vulnerability: Vane. But he’s nearly invincible. Wendy and the Captain…they are not as impervious. Strong, but not without weakness.

And the thing that poses them the most danger?

It might be me.

With the Captain out hailing a cab, and Wendy now in the bathroom readying herself, I slip into my bedroom. There’s a lamp on the bedside table. I unscrew the bolt at the top and popoff the cloth shade. The outer workings come off with another pop and what remains is the hilt of a blade.

A hidden button on the back of the lamp’s base releases the blade, and the weapon slides free.

It’s about half the length of my forearm, made of a specific kind of metal that does not exist here. The handle is thornewood, weathered now by age and use.

I can recall my uncle’s words when he gave me the blade all those years ago.

Swift and keen, and always ready for service.

Upon first glance, it would be easy to mistake the blade for nothing more than a kitchen knife.

Maybe it was always meant to be overlooked.

Because this blade, in particular, is the only type of blade that can kill Vane and me. The only one capable of killing monsters.Our monsters.

I slide the knife into a sheath strapped to my left forearm and hide it beneath my shirt sleeve.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ASHA

There issuch a thing as too much information, and right now, I’m nearing overload.

There is symbolism in everything in Darkland. From the Statue of the Dark in the city center meant to symbolize the liberation that comes with embracing the dark. To the serpents often carved or painted or molded into building edifices, declaring their natural inclination to protect and defend what is theirs. To the skulls stamped into their coinage, symbolizing death and rebirth.

Maddred Manor is no different. It lacks any of the ornate architecture common amongst the nobility. Showing strength in restraint, which is ironic considering the manor was seized from the family due to the patriarch’s greed.

I trail behind Vane and Winnie as they make their way up the stairs—three separate tiers with steps that curve outward like a crescent moon.

When we reach the grand front entrance, lighted by an oversized caged lantern, I come to a sudden stop.

There is a coat of arms carved into the stone above the double doors.

My theory, realized.

I know that crest.

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