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)
Syrsee doesn’t say anything. She hates him, I’m certain of that. But she’s not blaming him for this. She’s blaming me. I’m the new bad guy in her mind. So she can afford to disregard Paul and his moods right now.
Paul directs his gaze to me. He smiles, kinda holding the baby up. “You were such a beautiful boy.”
I make a face. “That baby is me?”
“Who else, Ryet? You’re…” He shakes his head a little like he’s searching for words. “You’re my everything.”
Syrsee scoffs.
I roll my eyes.
Paul stands up. “Should we get things started?” Neither of us answer him. He directs his gaze to Syrsee. “Has everything been explained to your satisfaction?”
I expect a pretty big protest from her. I mean, it took almost two hours of nursing her, feeding her, explaining things to her before she finally gave in and listened. But she doesn’t protest. She asks a question.
“I don’t understand why we’re in the dreamwalk. I’m supposed to set you free?” She waves a hand through the purple-gold mist. “This isn’t real.”
Paul snaps his fingers. “How about this? Better?” We’re not in the forest any more, the baby is gone, and we’re all naked and standing in a luxury hotel room. “Real enough for you?”
Syrsee isn’t satisfied. “It’s just another illusion.” Then she looks at me. Looks me up and down, actually.
Which makes me look down at myself. I’m a man again. No bruised body, no wings. Just a male human in his prime looking very much the same way I did when Paul killed my family to try to save their souls.
“It’s not an illusion.” Paul is speaking again, so I look up at him. “It’s reality, Syrsee. You know this. The dreamwalk was never an illusion.” He comes towards us and I grip her hand tighter.
But she doesn’t recoil or shrink back from him as he approaches. In fact, she straightens when he’s so close to us that she has to tilt her head and look up to keep meeting his gaze.
He places a hand on her face, his palm flat against her cheek. She doesn’t even flinch. “It was real when we were together. This is the same. Josep will be here, so it’s a little different. But he’s very pretty, Syrsee. You’ll like him, you’ll see. It’s going to be OK.” Then Paul looks at me. “Ryet loves you. Don’t you, Ryet?”
I have an urge to disagree with him just because that’s what I do. But it’s a pointless urge because I don’t disagree with him. “I do.” I look at Syrsee, though she’s not looking at me. She’s still fixated on Paul. “You probably don’t believe me, but I’m doing this for you.”
Syrsee swallows and nods her head. “To save me.” Now she meets my gaze. “You left something out.”
“What?”
“When you explained this to me.” She nods her head at Paul. “He’s going to drink. Josep is going to drink. I’m going to drink. At some point you’ll drink. You’ll be…” I wait for her to say ‘fucking me,’ ready to recoil at the vulgarity. But she catches herself. “You’ll be inside me. And when it’s over, I’ll be pregnant.”
“Right.” I nod.
“But what you didn’t say, Ryet, is what comes after that.”
“You’ll be—”
She puts up a hand to shut Paul up. Doesn’t even look at him. She’s staring straight at me. “I don’t want to hear it from you, Paul. I want to hear it from Ryet. After I’m pregnant, what comes next?”
I take in a breath and let it out in a long exhale. “You’ll have the baby.”
“And then?”
“Then…” I look at Paul. He’s sympathetic, I can tell. But he can’t help me. “Then we do it again. The cycle starts again.”
“Mm-hm.” Syrsee nods. “I’m a broodmare.” Her eyes are locked with mine. She is glaring at me. “I’m a breeder. I’m the blood mother. Is this what you’re telling me?”
I nod now too. “Yes. That’s what you are.” I want to elaborate. To tell her that’s not all she’ll be. She will have a life and… yeah. Not even I believe that shit.
She’s going to make demons and once they are made, she’s going to make more.
Now she looks at Paul. That same stoic expression on her face. “How many? How many times will I be in this cycle?”
“Well—”
“Guess.” She snaps this word out. “If you don’t know, then guess. I want a fucking number.”
Paul shrugs. “Ten or twelve.”
Syrsee exhales loudly. Like it’s a much higher number than she expected. It takes a moment for her to gather herself again, but once she does, she walks over to the massive bed, kneels on the mattress, crawls over to the middle, and then lies back. “Let’s do this then. Let’s get on with it.”
“Where’s Josep?” I’m looking at Paul. Because I agree, let’s just get this over with.