Alex knew getting drunk was a bad idea in the long run, but it seemed to be dulling the insistent presence of the book in his pocket and the Darak against his chest. Welby lay dead in his own house. Peacock lay dead in his shop, murdered by Alex’s hand. Silhouette drank the blood from a dead man’s eye socket. These things in his possession had turned his life upside down. What next? He knew Peacock’s death was his own desire, yet there was more to it than that. Would he really have acted so defiantly, so violently, without feeling as though the book and the stone were urging him on? He wondered how much control he had. How much he knew his own mind. He had skills others couldn’t imagine. He had learned more about that in the last couple of days than he would ever have dreamed possible. And those powers were exponentially increased with this shard around his neck. But at what cost? And how connected were these items? He truly intended to destroy them both, but deep down felt certain he wouldn’t be able to.
