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 laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”
“I would like to see it as us saving each other.”
“I’m going to be impregnated with a demon, Ryet.”
“It’s not a demon, Syrsee. It’s a vampire. Like me. It’s like us. It’s ours. It will be ours.”
I’m repulsed. Just thinking about a vampire growing inside me makes me want to vomit.
“Paul is not going to take it to feed on. And let’s face it, if this wasn’t happening to you, then that would be the other outcome. You’re a Black witch. I didn’t make you a Black witch. Someone else did.”
“Paul?”
“I don’t know, Syrsee. I don’t have all the facts. I don’t have all the answers. All I can tell you is that we don’t have a choice. It’s either… you get pregnant. Like… now”—he points at the ground when he says that last word—“or we’re both gonna die. Because if you don’t get pregnant, you die. And if I don’t have your blood, I die. This is the sick, sad reality of our lives.”
“Maybe we should die?” I shrug. “Maybe we’re supposed to die? Did you ever consider that maybe this is just a test and if we refuse to give up the last crumbs of our souls, perhaps there is a better future waiting for us?”
Ryet guffaws. “A better future where? Heaven, Syrsee? Are you really trying to convince me that if we kill ourselves tonight, we’ll save our souls and go to Heaven?” He laughs again. “You’re not that stupid. I know you’re not.”
I want to fight with him. I want to scream at him. But I’m sick. And my head is not spinning now, it’s pounding. And even if I had the strength and fortitude to give up my life for my eternal soul, they’re not gonna let me.
He’s not gonna let me. I know this because he’s holding up the mirror. Right in front of our faces. I recoil at my reflection. I’m pale with black circles under my eyes. I look old, and worn down, and ugly.
That can’t be me. It can’t be.
“Just stare into it.” We lock eyes in the mirror.
And the moment we do this, reality shifts.
The bedroom is gone and in its place is the snowy clearing in the woods. Paul is right where he always is.
Sitting on the fallen tree trunk holding that baby.
19 - Ryet
With permission.
Syrsee and I enter the dreamwalk together. It’s different now. Not purple, but purple and gold. I don’t know what the gold means. Eventually, once I’ve got a better grip on things, I’ll ask Paul about it. But right now, all I want is to get this over with.
There is no way to change what Syrsee is. I told her the truth, I didn’t lie. But I can’t tell her the whole truth right now. Not yet. Not until we get through this first stage and I’ve got her in a better place.
She hates me. And I don’t even blame her. In fact, I kinda feel the same way about her.
I mean, if we’d never met, I’d have died a scion. If she hadn’t fed me, I’d be dead now. And she’d be… the other half, left behind. Better off.
And this is pretty much where we’re at. I’d rather be dead and Syrsee would be better off without me. Just like Jane. But Jane is both dead and better off without me, so… kinda different.
We’re in that winter clearing again. The one Paul’s been showing up in since my whole metamorphosis started happening. He’s holding that baby and he’s wearing those furs. Like he’s some kind of Viking.
It was weird at first, but now… I dunno. It kinda suits him. He looks like a Viking. Well, he’s too pretty to be a Viking, so… whatever. Doesn’t matter.
I’m holding Syrsee’s hand and when I look over at her she’s wearing a long, flowing white gown. Not like a ball gown. More like a nightgown. But very pretty and over-the-top for something you’d just be sleeping in.
In fact, she looks like some kind of princess. And she doesn’t look sick at all. Her complexion is glowing. Nice, tanned skin and rosy cheeks. Like she just fed.
Which she did. But in real life, it didn’t help her much. Not in the looks department. In real life she looks like a witch on her deathbed.
When I look down at myself, I’m still me. Black-blue body that comes across as a bruise. Like someone beat the shit out of me from head to toe. And my wings are here, heavy and drooping because I don’t think my back muscles are strong enough to actually hold them up. Flying anywhere with these things feels very out of the question.
“Hello, Syrsee. Don’t you look lovely tonight.” Paul, who normally comes across as a charming asshole, is somber and his tone is a little bit angry. It’s been that way since he got stuck here, I realize. I just hadn’t noticed because he was talking to me. But now that he’s talking to Syrsee in this same tone, it makes me bristle and I take offense.