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 get up, button my jeans, and begin pacing the room. What if…
“No.” I say this out loud too. But saying it and believing it are not, in any way, related to reality in this case.
This is how Lucia became a vampire. It has to be. It’s never been a secret that Paul never considered her a true vampire. It’s also never been a secret that she started her life as a witch.
Though not a Black witch.
But what does it mean? What does this mean for Syrsee?
“Don’t you wish I was still here so you could ask?”
I turn, stunned, and find Paul sitting at the dining table eating a plate of food. But not pasta, like Syrsee and I had for dinner. It looks like… body parts. Bloody body parts. “You’re not here.”
“Does it matter, really? In the grand scheme of things?”
“I’m imagining this. You’re not here.”
“Where am I then, Ryet? Hmm? Do you have any ideas? Because I feel like I’m here.” He looks down at his arm, watching it… flicker? Shimmer? Wink? I’m not sure what it’s doing, except proving my point, actually.
He’s not here.
He’s in some kind of dreamwalk.
“I could answer all your questions, you know.”
“How?” I ask.
“Come find me.” He shrugs. Like it’s just that simple.
“Go home, you mean?”
This makes him smile. “So. You do think of it as home.” Then he starts laughing and with each passing second, he slowly disappears.
Slowly, gradually, the realization that I am asleep hits me. I’m aware that Paul was nothing but a dream, but I don’t open my eyes and fully wake up until I realize I’m not in bed. I’m not on the couch. I’m not in the house, actually.
I’m in the earth.
The sweetness of it is almost intoxicating. And once again, like when I stepped into the root cellar, I can smell everything as individual scents.
This is when I sit up.
Because I am in the root cellar.
Not just lying on the ground, either. I’m in a hole. Freshly-dug earth mounded around me. Covering me. Comforting me like a blanket.
I blink, seeing everything in the darkness. I’m not actually in the cellar, but the tunnel. Which kind of pisses me off because I’ve fucked up the passageway with this hole I dug. And it was me who dug it. I can smell the dirt under my fingernails.
I look down at them and realize they’re a little more claw-like than I remember them being last night. This is when I feel the wings. I can’t see them, and they’re not touching anything but air, but I know they’ve grown.
Sure enough, when I reach around and probe with my fingertips, the two small bumps of bone are much larger now. None of it is covered by skin. Or, at least, not the skin from my back. Maybe something else is covering the bone. A membrane, or something.
I should be thinking about how I’m turning into a literal monster, but the only thing running through my head is the question: How am I going to go out in public with wings?
I lie back in the earth, pondering this.
Maybe I don’t go out in public? Maybe I stay right here in the dirt?
“Syrsee.” I say her name out loud as last night comes back to me. Then I really do get up. I step up out of the hole, realize I’m fully naked—which I wasn’t last night. Even while having sex—and then follow the tunnel back to the house.
When I get inside, I check the bedroom and find Syrsee fast asleep.
She drank me. Quite a bit, too.
But the mystery remains. My little trip to the tunnel, and subsequent imaginary conversation with Paul, has not solved any of my problems.
Which is: What is happening to us?
I want to think about this harder. Kinda… gather up clues and shit. Put them in some kind of order and then systematically come up with possibilities. But I can’t think straight. I probably need to drink, but that craving that is usually there isn’t.
Instead I have a craving for bacon. And dirt.
Which kinda feels OK. It’s a weird combination. But also normal in a “pickles and ice cream” way. Except that’s some cliché pregnancy thing.
I let out a breath, pausing here. Because I’ve gotten all my memories back. After Jane condemned me to an eternal Hell in my pre-third-birth delusion, I remembered everything. And now that I’m thinking about pregnancy cravings, I remember that Jane was always making me go get her Junior Mints.
The moment those two words form in my head I need Junior Mints. Do they even make them still?
I’m not sure, but my new mission in life is to hunt them down and find out.
I grab the truck key off the kitchen counter and walk towards the door, nearly pulling it open before I realize I’m naked, covered in dirt, wings are growing out of my back, and Syrsee should not be left alone.