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)
So whoever she is, she is someone.
This feeling about her place in my world is confirmed when she smiles at me. She can see me.
She’s not looking into a mirror—at least, not an upright one—because she appears to be kneeling down, gazing into something.
A pool of water, I realize. “Who are you?”
Her smile does not break. “I’m Echo. And you’re Syrsee.”
“You were there when Paul took me up to that room so they could all feed on me.”
“Well…” She shrugs and has the decency to feel a little bad about this, because she turns her head for a moment, unable to meet my gaze. “I was present in the general vicinity.” She looks back at me again, expression more stoic now that she has been called out. “But I wasn’t in the room and I had no idea what was happening.”
“Do you know what’s happening now?”
She nods, but it comes with a frown. “He used me, you know.”
“Who? Paul?”
“No. Well, maybe him too. But I’m talking about Josep.”
“Josep.” I sigh. “I don’t even know him. But he fed on me. He was there when the Darkness raped me.”
“Well, that makes sense because he is the Darkness, Syrsee. He’s pure evil and he’s infected us all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s inside you right now. The baby inside you is the Darkness. You’re going to give birth to a thousand years of evil.”
I scoff. “Well, thanks for the encouragement.”
“But you don’t have to, ya know. It’s a choice.”
“I don’t think that would work. If only it were as easy as a trip to a clinic.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. The baby is… whatever.” She waves a hand in the air. “It’s here. You can’t get rid of it.”
“No, I didn’t figure I could.”
“But you don’t have to birth it.”
There’s an irrational flare of hope inside me because that was one of the things I had decided. This baby cannot be born. But I am cautious enough to reign that hope in and not put it on display. So I squint my eyes at her to show her I’m suspicious. “What? What are you talking about?”
She hesitates for a moment. Kind of turns her head like she’s listening for something.
I get nervous and start looking through the gold mist all around me. “Do you hear something? Is someone coming?”
She turns back to me, shaking her head. “No. I was just thinking about stasis. That’s what it’s called when you don’t birth the baby. You suspend it. Like when people freeze their heads, or whatever, after they die? You keep it inside you forever and never let it out.”
This idea is so repulsive to me, I have to force down a gag. “What?”
“Stasis, Syrsee. We need to get you into stasis. That way, we can fight Josep and there will be no reign of evil.”
I take a step back, letting the mist come between this girl and me. “Who the hell are you?” Because something is wrong with her, I can feel it. “Where are you? How are you even talking to me? Why are you here?”
Again, she looks to the side, listening. And this is when I figure out what she’s doing. Someone is talking to her, telling her what to say.
I back off even further.
“Syrsee! Wait! You need to listen to me!”
But I shake my head and retreat another step. The mist is thick now, and a few moments later, she disappears.
What the fuck was that?
Stasis? Keep this baby inside me forever? I fight the gag reflex again, forcing myself to calm down.
The dreamwalk to the Guild—if that’s what it was—was enough for me to forget about the demon cooking up inside me. I was distracted. I didn’t look pregnant, didn’t feel pregnant, and all those Guild tests came back fine.
Which, I realize now, was just part of the illusion. But the illusion worked. That’s the important part here.
It has now officially worn off.
I am pregnant with some kind of demon.
But there’s more to it than that. Ryet is a demon. A full-fledged—literally fledged—demon. With wings, and blue-black skin, and claws, and fangs, and blood lust and all of it.
But this is something else.
“Paul!” I scream this into the mist. I need to find him. Not only so I can feed him, but I want answers and he’s the only one who has them. “Paul!”
I start running through the mist, passing mirror after mirror after mirror. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. There is no limit to the number of mirrors in this place and every time I look into one, I see the pink-haired girl.
She sees me too, because she’s yelling things. “Stop! I have a plan! I can help you! We can help each other!” It goes on and on like that as I run.
Clearly, there is no escape from this place. Not while I’m here.