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)
Little Baby moans in my arms, but she is calm now. My gaze has overpowered her instincts to be afraid.
It is time.
I stand up, holding Little Baby in my arms, and walk forward into the blackness. I can see a good way down the tunnel with my night vision, but even I have limits. And this is why it’s called the Darkness, isn’t it?
Because at the limit of my vision is a hole. Blank and empty, but full at the same time. This hole leads everywhere and nowhere all at once. I have gone in there on more than one occasion. It is a container for all that was and all that will be.
It is the Darkness.
I take my time as I approach, waiting for signs of recognition. It won’t kill me. Can’t kill me—at least I don’t think. It’s not that kind of entity. The Darkness sucks things up. It takes. That’s all it wants, just to take. But it’s not looking for souls, or thoughts, or bodies. That’s not what it eats. It feeds on blood, just like us.
But we are part of it. It doesn’t want our blood. Paul and I. It will take our blood, then give it back. That’s how we make new vampires, after all. And new Black witches, in a roundabout way.
No, what the Darkness really wants is a nice sample of what it lacks. A mixture of the outside world.
And this is where Little Baby comes in. A little baby sample of what the Darkness lacks. Something… other. That was bitten, and torn to shreds, and fouled up with the saliva of the other halfbreeds as they fed.
Little Baby’s blood is a gift to the Darkness. She is a toy. Something to keep it occupied. A puzzle to put back together. Busy hands are happy hands, isn’t that what they say?
In giving the Darkness a little baby taste of the outside world, I give it something unique. Something it has not seen before. Something intriguing.
And in return, it gives me power.
I came up with this idea hundreds of years ago. Of course, I told Paul about it. We could’ve used a sullied, shredded halfbreed at any time in the past two hundred years to distract the Darkness, but only just the once.
Every time you ask the Darkness for a favor, you must give it something unique. It never works twice. So we saved this opportunity for just the right time.
Right now, as it is.
The Darkness hovers before me, an opaque circular disc that undulates like ink flowing through water, one moment oily and wet, the next like powder or smoke. It is everything, but it is nothing like anything anyone has ever seen before. It is an ending, not a beginning.
The end of everything, actually.
It hovers and waits. It needs an invitation, you see. It is what needs permission to enter, not the vampire. And while Little Baby cannot give this permission—she is not the one in control here—as her representative, I can.
So I do.
15 - Ryet
This is how it’s done.
This is how it’s always been done.
The gold mist is thick. Very thick. But it’s narrow too. And on either side of it there is a very dark purple. A purple so dark, it almost looks black.
Which means… what? That’s the past, or the future, or something unreal? But the gold is… I’m not sure. The gold is new. It’s not the present. At least, that’s not my first choice as far definitions go. Because in my extensive experience with dreamwalking, the light purple is the present.
But looking at the mist all around me, what it really looks like is… the Yellow Brick Road. From The Wizard of Oz. Except not a road, of course. Just a thick, misty path. But it’s definitely giving off the impression that it leads somewhere.
I look around. But I don’t feel like I’m anywhere. The two different-colored mists are giving off a tunnel vibe.
So. I dunno. There is really only one choice. I guess I’ll just follow the Yellow Brick Road. It’s probably gonna take me to a witch. But what the hell, witches aren’t so bad. I think I might be in bed with one right now, since this is a dreamwalk and, last I recall, I was nursing Syrsee back to health.
Time feels relative here, so I’m not sure how much passes when I notice that the purple on either side of the tunnel disappears, leaving nothing but gold. The worst thing about this is that now there is no road. There’s no path. So I stop and throw up my hands. “Now what?” I say this out loud to the mist.
Which doesn’t answer back. Not exactly, anyway. But there is a voice in my head—my own voice, actually—telling me that the gold is just like the purple. If you can imagine it, you can make it.