Devour the Dark (Devourer #2)

27. Vane

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

VANE

This is a fucking shit show.

All of it.

The only bright side is that Win isn’t here and the shadow is doing a fine fucking job of blocking her out.

It and I are on the same page about protecting her. At least we have that in common.

The question running through my head right now, plaguing me like a fucking gnat, is how the fuck did the Myth Makers find out what we are? Because only two things can stop me and Roc: mercury and a blade. A very particular blade. And no one on this side of the glass is supposed to know our secrets.

It’s mercury currently humming through my veins. An amateur mistake, taking a drink from someone without second guessing its provenance.

Malachi, that fucker. Dead by sunrise. A promise.

Or maybe I’ll drag him back to Neverland once I’m finished here and we’ll use him for target practice.

I forgot what it was to be weak. Mercury makes me feel mortal. Sluggish and shaky and hot.

Right now, I can barely stay upright, let alone fight. The shadow prods at me like a dog, urging me to get up.

I can’t.

In the old days, ingesting mercury would have put me out for hours. Now, I’m not so sure. The shadow will likely burn through it, but not fast enough.

There’s the Myth Maker standing in front of me surrounded by more of her lackeys. There’s Roc across the room, a mirror image of me: he’s on his knees, swaying.

They used the mercury on me, the blade on him.

He broke the promise, as I suspected he would.

You’re not supposed to be here, I think, narrowing my eyes at him.

But he’s too far gone to the pain to read me.

Blood is running down his front, pooling on the stone floor and filling in its cracks.

“You Maddred brothers, so predictable,” the Myth says, circling behind me. “Your egos, the size of the moon.” She clucks her tongue.

I snort. “And Myths are any better? I’m not the one trying to overthrow the Seven Isles. Trying to steal what is not mine.”

“Oh?” She raises a brow. “Was it not the Maddred family who tore through Wonderland? Destroyed the Heart Court?” She ducks down in front of me. “Yes, I know what you are. Jabberwocky .”

I haven’t heard that word in eons.

The longer I was on this side of the glass, the more I believed I was born to the Seven Isles.

But I wasn’t.

Roc and I were born in Wonderland, our family driven out by the war between the Suits.

It was so long ago, that it became a myth in my own head. No longer my story.

I barely think about it now. Jabberwocky. We are mentioned in some of the stories, some of Wonderland’s world leaking over into the Seven Isles. But no one this side of the glass would know how to identify one. So we’ve stayed hidden in plain sight. Hidden behind titles, wealth, and secret societies.

Apparently, we no longer have that anonymity.

“Let’s see,” the Myth goes on. “Ruined Wonderland. Then settled in Darkland. Was it also not you who stole the Darkland Shadow and then destroyed the Darkland court?”

Across the room, Roc tilts to the left. How much time does he have before he’s unconscious? I might need him if we’re to get out of this.

“Where is it?” the Myth asks.

“Where is what?”

“The Darkland Shadow?”

Roc and I lock eyes.

I gave it to him when he was last on Neverland. I don’t know what he did with it. He clearly didn’t claim it, or he wouldn’t be in the predicament he’s currently in. I could never shift when I had the shadow, whether I wanted to or not.

“Trust me,” I say, trying to distract, “you don’t want to fuck with the shadow. It nearly killed me. It’ll tear you in two.”

“I don’t want it for myself.”

My vision is slowly returning and the witch is coming into focus. She’s tall, curvy, with curly black hair and lips painted a bright shade of pink.

My hesitation has her rolling her eyes. “It’s not that complicated. Roc gives in to my sister. Then he—they—claim the shadow and their rightful place on the Darkland throne.”

We all suspected as much, but now that the plan is out in the open, I can do something about it. Hopefully. Maybe. So long as Win stays away and Roc doesn’t die on me.

“You can’t have it,” Roc says, slurring his words.

The Myth laughs. “I figured you’d say that.” She waves her hand at the man guarding the door. He jumps to, pulling the door open. Several more lackeys come in, dragging Wendy and Hook.

“Now, Crocodile.” The Myth gestures for her guards to bring her new prisoners into the center of the room. Wendy fights them. Hook seems put out but compliant. They’re forced to their knees. Knives are put to their throats.

And we’re predictable?

She goes to my brother and yanks the blade from his gut.

He groans, tilts forward, blood gushing from the wound.

She’s by my side in an instant, the tip of the blade— our blade —pressed just beneath my jawline.

“Three weaknesses. All of them in this room. How many need to die before you become amenable?”

Roc isn’t looking at me now. He’s trained on Wendy and Hook. All of the blood has drained from his face. All of it pooled on the floor beneath him.

“You didn’t leave,” he says.

“What?” James asks.

“I thought…I thought you both…” He takes in a shuddering breath.

“They did try to leave you,” the Myth says above me. “Vane, too. They don’t love you.”

Myth Makers have a power that isn’t as easy to spot. You can’t taste it. You can’t see it. You can’t feel it on the back of your neck.

But it weasels into your ears, into your head, and burrows in like a virus, blooming into something more.

Her words aren’t directed at me, but even so, I start to believe them. Just for a second.

“Don’t listen to her,” I say.

The blade bites into my skin, drawing blood.

“We would never leave,” Wendy says.

“She’s lying,” the Myth counters. “She’s just trying to distract you so she can run away with James Hook, just like she did before. They will always choose each other.”

Roc’s brow sinks and for the first time in a long time, I see despair on his face.

“Roc,” I call. The blade sinks deeper. If she keeps going, I won’t have a windpipe.

With the mercury still burning through my veins, I’m at a massive disadvantage.

And then I see it—a shadow, low to the ground, darting into the room.

Is that…is that a fucking cat?

And just beyond it, through the crack in the open doorway, I see two small frames.

Win and Asha.