Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“No one knows,” the scion says.
“What is your name?”
“Jeff.”
“Jeff?” I snicker. “Jeff the vampire? I don’t see it.”
Jeff sighs like he’s tired and then his eyes flicker a weird shade of gold. “Me either.” And these might be the truest words I’ve ever heard from anyone.
“All right, Jeff. I need things. If you help me, I’ll help you.”
“What do you need, my lord?”
“And don’t call me that. I’m not your fucking lord. I’m no one to you and you’re no one to me. Don’t get attached to me or my blood, because I’m not Paul. I’m nothing like Paul. Do you understand me?”
Jeff nods. “Yes. Now how can I help?”
I stand up and get out of the pool, cradling Syrsee in my arms as I walk towards the group of scions. “Where is Josep?”
“No one knows,” Jeff admits. “He was in the ground, but there’s a lot of disturbed dirt over there. Even before you came back to life. I know Paul left, we all saw that. But there’s a lot of turned-over dirt now. Like…” He pauses to take a breath. “Like some of the scions came up too.”
I blow out a breath, silently cursing Paul for causing this mess. “How many? In all, I mean? How many of you are there?”
“Fifty-four in total, but there’s only twenty-two of us left who didn’t get to drink and go into the earth.”
“Twenty-one,” another man says. “Kael left with Paul, remember?”
Jeff nods. “Twenty-one then.”
Fifty-two fucking scions. Fifty-two bets hedged against me.
Well, I guess I know where Paul really stands. “OK,” I say. And while my voice is totally back to normal now, my body is doing weird things that I would like to cover up with clothing sooner rather than later. “I’ll feed you.” There’s a great murmuring conveying relief. “But”—I hold up a hand, gesturing for them to shut up—“I need to take care of Syrsee first.”
“That’s your Black witch, right?” Jeff says this innocuously enough, but he licks his lips. Like he’d like to taste her.
“Jeff? You’re never going to drink her. And if, by some chance, you find yourself presented with an opportunity to drink her, you’re still not going to drink her. Because if you take her blood without my permission, what you’re really doing is taking mine without permission.” My wings suddenly unfurl with a great whoosh of air. And even though all these scions must surely have seen Paul doing this very same thing at some point, they all gasp and take a step back. “Do you understand me?” These words come out in an entirely new voice that is deep, and resonant, and echoing with a very serious don’t-fuck-with-me sentiment backing it up.
They all drop to their knees and bow their heads. Some of them say, “Yes, my lord,” out of habit for Paul, probably. But Jeff says, “Yes, Ryet,” like a good little minion.
“All right then. Stand up and… go do something productive.”
“Should I keep working on the coat?” some random scion in back asks.
“What coat?”
Jeff answers me. “Paul wanted us to hunt wolves to make him a coat.”
These words make so little sense to me, I don’t even bother trying to understand them. “I don’t know. I’m taking Syrsee up to my apartment. When she’s better, we’ll talk again.”
Then I fold up my wings and simply walk past them, entering the lodge. They’re not entirely satisfied with this outcome, so they grumble behind me, but I don’t care.
What can they do?
They are just scions. Helpless, in-between creatures that smell like rot.
And it is quickly becoming very, very clear that I am something else entirely.
I don’t think about Syrsee’s limp body in my arms as I make my way over to the north side of the lodge where I have an apartment. I get stuck at the door because I don’t actually remember the code and have to kick it in. And then I pause for another handful of seconds to take in how easily this solid wood door broke under my will. Well, my foot. But it might as well have been my will, that’s how little effort it took to crack it.
The problem with breaking the door is that it won’t close behind me. But this is a secluded section of the lodge, that’s why I put my personal space here. So I don’t care. I just carry Syrsee over to the bed and lay her down. Then I push some sweaty and dirty hair out of her eyes, open my wrist with a clawed fingernail, and let my blood drip into her mouth.
I wait.
It takes nearly ten minutes before she actually swallows. Relieved at this good sign, I get into bed with her. We’re filthy, absolutely covered in smeared blood and dirt, not to mention the scent of the rotting scions that were obviously feeding on us. But I don’t even know if she’s gonna live, so who cares what we look like.