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)
I ignore Tristin. My eyes are closed. I’m tired from feeding the scions and there are still three to go. If I open my eyes, I’ll see them looking back at me with the blood lust and I’m just not in the mood.
“Paul?”
“What?”
“What was that noise?”
“What noise?”
“Don’t you hear it? Listen.”
“All I hear is the disgusting slurping of the scion latched on to my wrist.”
The scion’s eyes open. Well, try to. He’s gone. So while he might hear the irritation in my voice, he’s in no condition to care about it.
“Listen closer,” Tristin snaps.
So I do. I tune out the scion’s irritating mouth noises and let out a breath. After a few moments I do hear something. “What is that?”
Tristin is so done with me. “That’s what I just asked you.”
“Sounds like…” I listen again. “Battle?”
“Fuck. They’re up. It’s starting. We have to go right now.”
I push this feeder off me, stand up, and look over at my scions—not the hungry ones, but the fed ones. Every single one of them is sleeping.
Even the one I just fed is about to go unconscious.
I point to the mass of bodies on the floor. “Do they look like they’re ready for a battle of the ages? I have three conscious scions, Tristin, and they’re starving.” When I look over at them now, they are using every ounce of self-control they have not to attack me for my blood.
Not that they would get far. These three are no match for me.
But they’re no match for Josep’s army, either.
“How far away are they? How soon will they find him?” There’s real panic in Tristin’s voice now. But it’s understandable. He’s not a vampire, he’s a worthless rogue. Though he does excel at logistics, which came in handy.
I listen again, trying to determine where they are. Then there is a great screech that vibrates the whole valley.
Tristin and I look at each other. “Ryet,” we say at the same time.
“I thought you said you drugged him?” Tristin’s panic has turned into full-blown horror.
“I did.”
“Then why is he awake?”
It didn’t work.
I look at my tiny, slumbering scion army. All oblivious to the chaos that is coming. None in any condition to help me.
Once again, the inhuman screaming from across the compound beckons me. “I have to go.”
Tristin is shaking his head. “No, Paul. You don’t. This is why you made him. He’s doing his job, now you need to do yours.”
In past times I might’ve ripped Tristin’s head off for talking to me this way. For disagreeing with me. Rather, for assuming he has any idea at all about what motivates me. But that’s just it. He doesn’t. Because he has no idea what I’m actually doing.
“Tristin,” I say, stepping forward to place a hand on his head. “You’ve been loyal. And I appreciate that.” Even as I speak, I’m fading, slipping backwards into the purple.
Tristin’s eyes go wide when he realizes I’m leaving. “Wait! No! We can win this, Paul! They are enough!” He points to my scions.
But he’s wrong. We could win this, he’s right about that. But winning was never my goal. Not even in the first days. Losing was the best I could ever hope for.
Losing everything to save him.
So I’m shaking my head as I sink into the dirt feet first and let the Darkness take me across the compound. The cool, damp earth is like a mist as I travel through it.
Even before I return to the world above, I can hear him screaming.
Ryet.
The scions we buried with us have returned and Ryet is in the middle of them. They are attacking from all sides—dozens of them, all trying to feed.
For a moment I’m disoriented. Some leftover insanity from the change, maybe. Or I might just be so distracted by the beauty of him, I can’t think straight. My world stops and goes silent so I can just… stare at him.
Ryet.
His transformation is nearly complete and he is magnificent. His blue skin is so dark, it’s nearly black. His fangs are glistening with saliva as he snaps at the air, an unholy scream charging the air around him with crackling bits of electricity. His eyes are blood red and lit up with fire as his wings expand and contract as he desperately tries to open them to their full span of what must surely be twenty feet or more.
I am struck dumb from his beauty, unable to move until I realize that time didn’t slow down and my first true creation is fighting for his very survival.
Again, I am confused. Because the horde of scions is attacking him and it’s not supposed to be this way. I poisoned Ryet’s blood back in his cabin when I fed him all those jars. That’s why Syrsee got so sick. That’s why it’s taken so long for him to change.