Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Well. You are feeding Ryet, Paul is feeding you, and I’m dead.”
“I thought you had a fucking plan, Lucia!”
“Darling.” She brings her hand up to my cheek, pressing it lightly as she smiles. “This is the plan.”
“What plan? I’m feeding my boyfriend my blood and his… his… his blood lover is feeding me his! Your head is over there, Lucia! This is not a plan!”
“Calm down! We don’t have much time. You will start feeling the true effect of his blood any minute now. You can’t take much the first time. You think you can.” Her face morphs into a distant expression, like maybe she’s thinking about the first time she fed. “But you can’t. It will take years for your body to adapt. The initial bliss you feel is just a chemical reaction. Oxytocin, if I remember correctly. It’s to get you past the revulsion of blood in your stomach.”
The other me, the one on the bed, gags and spits out some blood. Paul is petting her like a dog and whispering into her ear.
“What is he saying?”
“Lies, Syrsee. He is nothing but lies. He doesn’t love Ryet and he certainly doesn’t love you. He’s trying to find the Darkness again. To get his power back. That’s all he cares about. And Ryet is his path to that power and you are his path to Ryet. Do you see?”
“He’s just using us.”
“That’s right. That’s all Paul ever does. He takes, Syrsee. And he’s evil. Far, far more evil than you can ever imagine. And that is why we’re going to lock him up, remember?” She smooths a piece of hair away from my face and I realize this is something they both do when they’re feigning concern. “Hmm? Remember? We do have a plan, Syrsee. And we are right on track.”
She steps away from me then, walks a few paces and picks something up near the curved wall. She holds it up, showing me the syringe. “This was a decoy. I needed him to kill me in order to get my second-level powers.”
“Second… what?”
Lucia smiles. Her green eyes twinkle. “Your grandma isn’t dead, you know. None of them are, Syrsee. Black witches—even lowly, halfbreed ones like me—all come into a second life once we leave the human realm. It’s in the purple, darling. We come from the purple and to there we shall return.”
“Why am I always the last to know this shit?”
“Because of him, Syrsee.” She points to Paul. “And him.” She points to Ryet. “And the Guild, of course.”
A stab of pain runs through my heart when she says that word. Zusi. It was all a lie.
“Now.” Lucia pretends to straighten her misty lavender dress. Her image shimmers a little when she walks over to the armoire, but then solidifies again. As much as she can, since she’s literally made of mist. She picks up another syringe, holding it up so I can focus on it. “This is the one we need.”
“You’re going to kill me now?”
“No. I’m afraid not. I can’t affect you on that plane there.” She points to the me on the bed.
I have trouble looking at that other me. My whole mouth is stained with blood. And that creepy smile on Paul’s face as he watches me drink… it’s all so revolting.
“You must do this part yourself, Syrsee.”
“I have to kill myself?”
“Just jab the needle into your thigh and then get Ryet to feed on you. It will take about twenty minutes to fully invade your bloodstream.”
“I,” I say again, “have to kill myself.”
“Of course.” Lucia is looking at me like I’m stupid. Like this is obvious. Like she has spelled this out to me seventy-two times and I’m such a simple child, I have failed to grasp the concept. “I know I said I would bring you back, but I can’t, darling. I’m dead.”
“You lied.” Now I’m just angry.
“Well, if I had survived Paul’s attack I would’ve been happy to bring you back. But… it wasn’t in the cards.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing? What is your purpose here?”
“I’m the one with the information.”
“Ya know what it sounds like to me?”
“I can’t wait to hear.” Her tone is deadpan, her words sarcastic.
“It sounds to me like you’re just trying to off all three of us at once.”
“Clever, clever girl.” But it’s sarcasm again. “Of course that’s what I’m doing. I told you that. We can’t kill Paul, but we can trap him. Ryet needs to go. And in order to do that, he must feed on your dead, black blood. I don’t know why you’re pretending that this is some new revelation, but—”
I stop listening. Because she did say all that. I did know this was how it ends. And what other choice is there, really?
I don’t know Ryet. We’ve spent a few days together. That’s it. He’s nothing to me. And the only thing I am to him is… food.