Devour the Dark (Devourer #2)

22. Asha

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ASHA

There is such 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.

As is traditional for Darkland coat of arms, there’s a knight’s helm at the top, one of the medieval kind with a slit for the eyes, and a giant black plume rising from the crown. Behind the helm is a red and black flourish. Beneath is the shield with the crescent moon and two stars, flanked by the standard two supporting figures: a raven and a skeleton.

The family motto is beneath in old darkish: viere magnar, mori melius.

Live great, die better.

The presence of the coat of arms confirms my earlier suspicions.

Winnie catches my hesitation. “You coming?”

Vane follows my line of sight and scowls when he sees what I see.

“Should we be worried?” I ask.

Vane’s scowl deepens. “About what?”

“Yeah.” Winnie glances between us. “About what?”

“That family crest,” I say, more to her than to Vane, because he clearly knows what it means. “It belongs to the Corbeld family. The matriarchal line of Vane and Roc’s family.”

“Your mother?” Winnie echoes and the way Vane tenses up tells us all we need to know.

“And after the Lorne family, the Corbelds were next in line for the throne. Making Roc?—”

Vane is swift, grabbing Winnie first, then me, ushering us into the shadows of the bushes that line the front of the house. “We were stripped of our titles,” he says quickly. “Maybe at one point, Roc was fifth in line for the throne, but he is no longer. Our father’s actions made sure of that.”

Winnie crosses her arms over her chest, listening intently.

“It was the Lorne family that took your standing from you and the Lornes are no longer in charge. Do you think the Myths couldn’t make a case for Roc if that was what they wanted?”

Vane grumbles, but the sound hums between his teeth.

Winnie catches on quickly because she’s smart and not clouded by eons of family baggage. At least not when it comes to the Maddred family.

“You think the Myths are trying to install Roc on the Darkland throne?” she asks.

“Yes,” is my answer.

“They would need to control him…”

“Yes,” I say. “Ask Vane if that’s possible. If when you devour something powerful enough, it can hijack your body.”

“It’s unprecedented,” he says quickly.

“But not impossible?” Winnie asks.

He finally breaks his scowl. “Not impossible.”

“That’s why you’ve pulled away from me.” Winnie steps in front of him, forcing him to look down at her. “I thought it was because you were focusing on the mission. I thought you were pulling the shadow to you and because of it, the connection between us weakened. But no, you’re purposefully keeping me out because you’re afraid.”

“I am not afraid.”

“Then open the connection.”

I wait, unsure of how this connection works and whether or not I’ll know once it’s open. It’s fascinating watching them communicate and interact with the shadow. They seem to have an almost telepathic connection. I’m not interested so much in science, or the study of the supernatural in the Seven Isles, but the archivist in me is curious about any overlap in the well-documented history of the Isles. A connection like this could not only be a weakness but an incredible strength. It explains why Neverland’s standing in the Isles is slowly gaining ground again. Pan has always been a prominent figure, but some of his influence waned when he lost his shadow. Now that they have both Neverland shadows, they’ve defeated Hook and the Fae Queen, the rest of the Isles are going to think twice about crossing Pan.

I’m getting off track.

Focus, Ash.

Winnie huffs out of frustration, so I can only assume Vane has not opened the connection.

“We complete this mission,” she says, “we get the hat from Malachi, and then all of this will be moot. Or at least the part where the Myths try to possess Roc and use him to overthrow the Darkland monarchy. I guess whether or not Roc wants to be King of Darkland is up to him.”

“He never wanted to rule,” Vane admits.

“Roc loves being pampered,” Winnie says.

“Irrelevant. Being fifth in line, you’re never intended to rule. He embraced all of the trappings of royalty and was allowed to ignore the duty. I’m not sure where he’d land now, but he’s never been one for responsibility .”

“Okay, you have a point.” Winnie takes a breath. “The good thing is, Roc has promised to stay home, out of harm’s way.”

Vane glances over at her. “Yes, but do you trust him to keep that promise?”

“Well, I’m sure…I mean… maybe …”

Vane grumbles again and then starts for the door. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner I kill this Myth, the sooner we can be free of this nightmare.”

We’re ushered in through the foyer by staff dressed in matching purple livery. There are several people milling about, still adjusting overflowing skirts and adorning bare shoulders with gauzy shawls. The foyer, grand in nature with a domed three-story ceiling braced with curved beams, runs all the way back to a double-door entrance to a ballroom. Most people are headed in that general direction.

I scan the foyer as we walk.

Oil paintings hang on the walls, framed in gilded frames. Women I don’t recognize in clothing dating back to the 16 th and 17 th centuries. Men with straight faces and severe mouths in clothing representing every era. There are marble pedestals installed between each painting, with some holding up marble busts, while others display ancient pottery.

The history here is tantalizing.

We finally make it to the ballroom where another staff member welcomes us to Maddred Manor. His gaze catches on Vane, mostly on the scarred eye. But really, all of him is imposing.

Does the man know that Vane’s family built this house?

“Thank you for the kind welcome,” Winnie says.

The man stumbles over his response before finally saying, “You’re thanks.”

It’s not nice to laugh at someone clearly flustered by power and presence, but I’ve been where he’s been before and every time I think of my flubs, it makes me snicker.

So I clamp my teeth together, trying to hold back the secondhand amusement.

Inside the ballroom, we find the party well underway.

Darkland loves its dark and cozy parties (though sometimes cozy is just code for “discreet debauchery”) and this one is no different. The overhead lighting has been turned off, while string lights have been strung back and forth over the ballroom’s length. The sconces have been lit, but they don’t flicker and dance like the gas lighting of the Umbrage. This kind is something more modern, more consistent in illumination.

Outside, the heat of the day has faded replaced by a soft ocean breeze, but inside Maddred Manor, the chill of night has seeped in early. It’s frigid. But oddly, all of the numerous fireplaces are dark and cold.

No fire.

No fire anywhere.

Fire is considered the coziest of all.

Alarm bells start ringing in my head.

There’s a puzzle piece I know fits into place here, but it’s blurry, a little out of my reach.

We walk the perimeter of the room until we spot Malachi over by the drinks.

Vane heads straight there. “Where is she?”

“Whoa. Slow down.” Malachi offers Vane a drink.

Vane takes it and slings it back. Is he on edge? Either he’s on edge or impatient because he says, “I don’t have all night,” right after slamming the glass down on the nearest table.

I stand to the side, examining Malachi.

He has his own drink in his right hand. He sips casually from it.

More alarm bells.

He looks the same. Sounds the same. But there is a sensation running up my arms, lifting the hair at the nape of my neck and when I step one step to the left, something about his face shifts, like he isn’t quite there.

But when I look again, the aberration is gone. I have to refrain from reaching out to him just to see if he’s real. If he’s not, it’ll be obvious. If he is, then I’m crazy.

I wrack my brain for more clues.

There is something about the lack of fire that’s bothering me.

“I’ll take you to her,” Malachi finally says. “But only you.”

“Fine,” Vane answers, because that was always the plan, but now that Malachi has demanded it, I’m not so sure we should stick with it.

“Vane,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t leave each other’s side. I’ll only be a moment.”

Malachi leads him across the ballroom and they quickly disappear from sight.