Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I still have that jar of dead blood around here somewhere.
When Paul was banished, he said, “Come with me.” He wasn’t as congenial back then. He was rather dark, actually. His voice always had a tinge of anger in it.
And of course, I went with him. Because the Darkness wanted to go as well.
It came with me, you see. Like an ink-stained burden on my back. Heavy with anticipation and weighted with expectations.
And now, here we are. After all these failures, success in the form of a scion called Ryet.
“Did you have your visit with the Darkness?” Paul’s voice is different. Angry again. He’s been playing the part of a congenial asshole for centuries and I suppose he’s tired of it. Just like I was tired back in the Old World.
These days I almost never think about killing myself. I think about what’s coming instead. It’s enough. Especially now that we’re so close. But even just the dream of it was enough. If there was a chance we could succeed, I could push on.
I turn to Paul and nod, answering his question. “Weeks ago.” I point to my neck, even though the puncture marks healed almost the moment they were made. “But it’s still in there, of course. All you have to do is bite.”
He stares at my neck, perhaps searching for those puncture marks. Then he goes still for several moments.
I watch him as his mind wanders. Perhaps imagining the news and the faces of the brothers when they hear of our success. Perhaps he is imagining the weight of the crown he will soon be wearing.
Beautiful Paul. He was favored always, as well. In his own way. Not by the Darkness, though. By everyone else but the Darkness.
They had high expectations of him. And did he ever deliver. Certainly not in the way they figured, but he did deliver. Hideous, awful things. All from a single drop of blood in the dark.
Just one drop. That’s all the Darkness gave him.
But what he did with it, my God. Spectacular. It truly was. Even I was impressed and I have made many a hideous thing in my day.
“Yes. Right.” Paul’s stillness breaks and he walks towards me.
There is a moment of awkwardness as he considers how he would like to take my blood, which is not for himself, but a gift to pass on to Ryet and the little Black witch.
It’s been a very long time since he’s bitten me. There’s no point unless I have something to give him. The last time that happened was when we made Ryet. It was Paul’s idea to genetically engineer a witch for him.
But while it was his idea, I was the one who made it happen.
Teamwork makes the dream work.
Paul is suddenly right up against me, pressing himself into my body, his hard chest against mine. I press back, as one does when they are about to be fed on. There’s no way to stop the arousal. I gave up trying thousands of years ago.
Then I look Paul in the eyes and bite my lip. He smiles when the blood trickles out and this smile pleases me. My eyes brighten the room with light in response.
Paul inhales, like he’s gathering up my scent, and then my hands slide over his hips and his grab my head, preparing for the kiss.
And then he’s kissing me. Taking my blood into his mouth. He sucks on my lip until it heals and then, tipping my head back to expose my throat, he bites.
I don’t know what it’s like to bite me. I only know what it’s like to be bitten.
It’s a walk in the woods for me. Snow under my feet, lavender mist filling the air around me. It’s a place Paul and I made together over the centuries. This is how we manifest the passing of the blood. It’s just our minds walking in this forest. Nothing more. My body, I know from past experience, is unconscious back in the cave.
Losing time isn’t anything to be worried about though. And soon enough, I’m opening my eyes in the cave and I am drinking Paul. I take the blood back, relishing the newness of it. Closing my eyes and letting images flash past. They do not make sense to me, but I don’t care about the images. All I want is that blood.
When I’ve had enough, I bite my lip and he drinks me again.
We do this over.
And over.
And over.
Until we are the Darkness and the Darkness is us.
1 - Ryet
Right Now.
Welcome home, Syrsee.
I’m hungry and the cravings have started again. But I just fed two hours ago and even though I know it’s getting worse—it’s all getting worse—giving in to the craving right now just feels like acceptance. Which is the best way forward for me. Acceptance. Because there’s no way out of this. There’s no way back.