Page 83 of Devour the Dark

I shrug. I’ve never heard either of them reference glass.

When Roc breaks away from Vane, he comes over to me and Wendy. He’s still covered in blood, his clothing in tatters. But he pulls us in. “I love you too,” he says. “I guess I need four words.”

We laugh.

“I need to hear that story,” Wendy says.

“I’ll do one better,” Roc tells her. “I’ll show you.”

Bloody hell. Thank god it’s dark in the conservatory because I’m fucking blushing.

“Now come on. I was serious about that drink.” He makes his way for the door. “And I suppose we need to discuss whether or not I’m making a claim on my title.”

“You can’t seriously be considering becoming king—” Vane is cut off by a sharp look from Winnie. A silent conversation passes between them.

“You’re right,” Vane finally says. “I need a fucking drink.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ROC

I feellike I’ve dropped a century. All of the aches and pains are gone. All of the wisdom of age, none of the hubris of youth. I feel like I could conquer the world.

But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

I go to the smoking room just past the ballroom. When I was a child, my father and his friends would retire here after dinner parties to smoke and drink and do fuck all.

There’s a full bar and countless bottles of every liquor you can imagine.

The man behind the counter gives me an odd look when I join him. But then he recognizes me, gives me a shaky, awkward bow, then stutters over his words. “Is t-t-there any— anything I can get you, sir?”

“Yeah,” I say, “you can get the fuck out of my way.”

He’s gone in an instant leaving me to the bar.

I pour myself a bourbon twice the normal size and swig it back.

The others gather around the bar watching me intently, like they aren’t sure if I’m myself again or if I’ll snap and start eating fingers and toes.

“Stop looking at me,” I warn them, then line up several glasses on the bartop and fill each with a shot of bourbon. “We won.”

Vane slides onto a stool and takes his drink in hand. “We won the battle, but did we win the war?”

I shrug and refill my glass. “The Myth Makers are down one Myth, and down a witch. And now they have lost Darkland.”

Wendy and the Captain take a seat. “And the plan now?” the Captain asks.

I sling back the second drink. The alcohol soothes some of the buzzing energy filling my veins. The hat has that effect. It’s like the world’s best juice cleanse.

“For most of my life,” I say, “I’ve been running from who I am. Maybe it’s time I stop.”

Wendy takes her drink and tips it back, wincing at the burn. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

I turn to the Captain. “And you?”

His nostrils flare. “Where you go, I follow.”

“Just three words?” I repeat.

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