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)
Josep and I wait until every one of them has been concealed and is protected.
Then we dig our graves, sit down in them, take one last look at each other. Then lie back and sink into the Darkness.
26 - Ryet
Two very rare creatures indeed.
It’s only when I slowly begin coming back that I realize I was gone. Lost in some kind of soulless monster stage or something. And I only know this because when I open my eyes the purple-gold mist is still kinda there and I catch it at just the right moment to watch it fade, withdrawing back into Syrsee like she is the source of all that magic.
And she is, I guess.
This is when I remember what happened to us. I don’t understand it, but I remember.
This is also when I realize that we’re sitting in the truck, in the town of Mount Royal, right in front of the general store. It’s the middle of the night so the part of the sign that says ‘General Store’ is lit up, but flickering. More off than on, so that the horse and rider symbols on either side are sometimes the only thing visible in the dark.
It takes several more moments for me to actually care about all this because I am lost in my head. Thinking about road trips, and wing buds, and little witch girls who put a spell on you. Thinking about root cellars, and jars of magic, and bacon. Then Paul and Josep, who I can’t even picture in my head. I know he was there. I know he was drinking me, and me him. But what he looks like, I can’t recall. Maybe I don’t remember. Maybe I never saw him. Maybe he was never really there.
Maybe none of this is happening?
“Ryet?” It’s almost a whisper. And when I look at Syrsee, I see why. The purple and the gold is all gone now. There is no more mist in this truck. But it took something of her with it. Because she is very pale and looks very weak.
I reach over and put my hand on her face. “Are you OK? Do you need to feed?”
Her eyes brighten with the invitation to drink, but only a little.
“You do need to feed.” I bite my palm, then hold it up to her lips. She grimaces. Like the blood is making her sick, even though she hasn’t started drinking yet.
She pushes my hand away, shaking her head. “I don’t want it.”
I’m not sure it matters if she wants it. In fact, I’m positive it doesn’t. “It’s got nothing to do with wanting it, Syrsee. You need it. You don’t look good.”
She scoffs, her eyes finding mine. “Well, I’ve been through a lot, so sorry I look like shit.”
It comes out defensive, and I don’t blame her. I’m not even sure there are words that explain what happened to her.
“Sorry.” She blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’m not feeling quite myself.”
Even though I’m worried about this—how she looks so sick right now—it feels… right. Maybe right is the wrong word. But at the very least, it feels… real. Whatever happened to us in that dream walk didn’t feel real. Didn’t feel like anything, actually.
But we were severed from our souls.
That is such a big deal I’m not sure I’ll ever grasp the full meaning or consequences. But I do know one thing—when you lose you soul, you should feel it.
I didn’t feel it when it happened. I don’t even feel it now. But I see it. I see it in Syrsee’s eyes, in her pale skin, and in the way she’s slumped in the seat. Like she’s exhausted.
Like she’s… sick. Like she’s a person dying. Someone you know is fading fast so you go to them. To say a final goodbye.
She looks like that. Like she’s only half here now. Like she might fade right before my eyes.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I understand.”
My understanding makes her attempt a smile. “Yeah. You do. You’re the only one, Ryet. The only person I have on this whole planet who understands what happened to me. And I hate that you do. I hate that you were there. That you saw it all. And that when you look at me now, you know. And you’ll be thinking—”
“I’ll be thinking… about how much I crave kissing you.”
She’s looking at me in confusion.
“I’ll be thinking about how much I crave complimenting you.”
“Complimenting me?”
“Isn’t that what we decided? In the beginning there was Ryet and Syrsee. She was pretty and he couldn’t stop himself from telling her so. He drank her blood, but what he really craved was her kisses. Isn’t that what we decided?”
She lets out a long breath, like she was holding it in. Then she nods. “We did decide that. But that decision feels like a very long time ago. And our situation was decidedly simpler.”