Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
At first, she thought the spinning was an effect of the HVAC system blowing air, but then she realized it was actually her, even as she didn’t shift her position—
* * *
The next thing Lyric knew, the breeze on her forehead and cheeks disappeared and so did the sensations of the cushions beneath her and her bare feet on the carpeted floor. Abruptly, she felt like she was floating, but it was no float she’d ever felt before, her weightless body suspended on what surely was a molecular level in…
She opened her eyes and gasped.
Stretching out before her, a rolling green lawn rose to various Greco-Roman temples and structures, and in the distance, a shimmering pool glowed like an aquamarine jewel. Clutches of colorful tulips popped up here and there, like bouquets ready for picking, and at the horizon, a solid forest of trees was a friendly boundary, no shadows lurking anywhere.
She glanced over her shoulder with a sense of awe and wonder. A marble colonnade was beside her, and from its airy confines, she heard the chirping of songbirds and the tinkling fall of a fountain. There was also another temple, this time with a set of closed cathedral-like doors—and she had the sense that that building was quite large, even though she couldn’t see how far back it went.
As she tilted her head up, the sky above was like nothing she had ever seen before, a dense, blue cover preventing her from seeing anything beyond it… except she had a feeling there was nothing to see there.
“Dearest… Lassiter,” she whispered.
The Sanctuary was indeed on its own plane of existence, one that she recognized instinctually as being outside the reach of time and entropy, and as she stood on the hallowed ground, she knew without a doubt that the lore of the species was all true. Vampires had come to be when the mahmen of the race had exercised her single act of creation, and her brother, the Omega, had been so consumed by jealousy of the grace she’d been granted that he had resolved to kill her precious young. Thus the Lessening Society had come into being, and the war commenced.
And even though the Scribe Virgin was now gone and the Omega also eradicated, others had taken their places… and so it was all a direct line right up to what had happened last night, when her brother, the heir to the throne, and their best friend had been out behind an apartment building, fighting slayers in the midst of humans.
Proof that time was infinite for history. Mortals were the ones just passing through for brief periods, embers flaring only momentarily before going dark.
As she massaged the sad center of her chest, she glanced around at all the temples. She could see no people, sense no movement.
It was like a stage set for Claymation.
Annnnnnnnnnnd now what, she wondered—
At first, she thought she was hearing things. And then she realized she was. Off in the distance, there was some kind of music playing. Not a band, no. More like… a cheap, tinny speaker?
She waited around for a minute, then figured what the hell.
Taking a step forward, and another, and another—she had to stop. The weightlessness and the lack of any breeze whatsoever, coupled with the perfect seventy-degree temperature, made her feel like she was walking through bathwater. And you would have thought that was perfection.
Instead she felt carsick.
Forcing herself to keep going, she eventually got used to it, and all that Italian food stopped rolling around in her gut. The landscape’s beauty helped. It was so bucolic, so peaceful, assuming you could get used to feeling like you were about to float off the undulating ground.
It was as she ascended a rise that the music became clear enough to decipher, and as she placed the beats and the lyrics, all she could think of was… yeah, wow, that was an oldie. And the only reason she knew what the song was was because—
Up on the plateau, two rainbow-striped plastic folding sun loungers had been set up side by side. Between them was a little table on which were an old-fashioned portable radio with the antenna angled out to the side, a pair of pineapples that, given the pink umbrellas, had tropical drinks in them, and a bowl of guacamole.
Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” floated over on the non-breeze.
Lassiter, the fallen angel who had succeeded the Scribe Virgin as the spiritual head of the species, was stretched out on the chair on the left. His blond-and-black hair was up on the top of his head and tied in a pink scrunchie, and he was wearing a coordinated set of pink, yellow, and bright green Tommy Bahama swimming trunks.
Naturally, his sunglasses were twin pink flamingos whose cocked legs poked into the angel’s cheeks as he smiled.