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 turn and look at Paul. At his bloody mouth and dancing eyes. “Why not? I mean, it’s a logical worry if you ask me. I’m not a vampire. I’m a Black witch. And Black witches get old, so why wouldn’t I? My blood will get stale. You’ll make more Black witches and they will be young, and sweet, and gullible.”
He places a hand on my cheek, still smiling. “So. You like it, do you?”
“It’s impossible not to.”
“Not impossible,” he counters. “But it’s very hard to fight the Darkness. Especially on your own. It knows, Syrsee. It knows exactly what you want. And it’s powerful enough to give it to you—at least temporarily. And it has no conscience, so it doesn’t care what you’re feeling. It doesn’t care if it chews you up and spits you out. And while all your desires are becoming manifest, you don’t care either. It’s the way of evil. It’s always been the way of evil.”
“This doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“No?” Paul laughs. “It wasn’t supposed to. All of this”—he pans a hand to the bed, and the blood, and Ryet, who is still feeding on me while his fingers dance between my legs—“all of this is meant to make you feel better.”
I blink. Because an understanding manifests. I blink again. “Where am I?”
Paul pets me like I’m a kitten. “You’re right here, darling.”
“No. Where am I?”
He chuckles, looking down at me with adoration. “You’re. Right. Here. With me, Syrsee.”
With him? But he’s… and I’m…“But… the Guild?”
Paul shakes his head. “You’re not there.”
“But the books! I can read them!”
“You could always read them, Syrsee. It was always your choice not to look.”
“But Myer! And… and our apartment!”
“Again, it’s all real. I guess.” He shrugs. “I did the best I could when I dreamed it all up based on what I know. Or, rather, what I could see inside your head. I even told you that you and your body would be separated. Remember? I told you that.”
“You did, but—”
He shushes me with a fingertip to my lips. “Shhhhh. Quiet now, Syrsee. It’s time to face the truth. I need you. You need me. Ryet needs us both.”
I look down at Ryet, who is still blissfully sucking on my neck. It’s like he’s not here. But it’s like I’m not here, either.
“Are you ready for the truth?”
I shake my head no without hesitation.
“Too bad. I’ve been careful with you, Syrsee. I really, really have. I’ve taken it slow. I’ve given you all the time you’ve needed. From the day you were born, to this moment right here, I have been careful with you. But that’s all over now and I need you to commit.”
“Commit to what?”
“To him, of course.” Paul smiles as he looks down at Ryet feeding on me. Paul’s hand slides up to my cheek and then he pushes a bit of hair out of the way as he gazes into my eyes. “You’ve done a good job. You’ve bonded with him, and fed him, and let him put the Dark baby inside you. Such a good girl you are.”
I recoil back, repulsed. Not by his words, but because he’s right. I did all of this. Everything he said. Magnificent promises. I am repulsed by the realization that I am an active participant in my own nightmare.
No, Syrsee. The voice in my head is my grandma. You are the nightmare.
The promise, I now realize, was the pull. The feeling of being fed on.
Which makes me feel cheap and stupid.
“It’s OK,” Paul soothes, as he pets me. “It’s OK, Syrsee. You never had a chance. You’re but a baby with no knowledge of anything and I am…” He chortles. “Well, I’m the fucking king. The fucking king, Syrsee. I am the American Vampire.” He caresses my cheek now. “You never had a chance.”
I wake up suffocating on darkness.
I try to sit up, but there’s a heavy weight on my chest. I’m no longer in a bed with the man I think I love and his… our… master. The euphoric feeling of being fed on is gone.
I am in the dirt.
I know this because it falls into my mouth when I scream.
“You’re such a little rebel, aren’t you? Hmmm?” Paul is smoothing the sweaty hair away from my face again. We’re back in bed now. “Always looking for the blurry edges. It’s a dangerous want, you know that, right? To seek the blur? It’s asking for trouble.”
“This isn’t real.”
“Of course not.” And he laughs at me. “Everything that is good in your life, Syrsee? It’s all fake. All put there by me to make things easier on you. That’s how much I love you. I give you these things to give you time. To allow you to mature. So you can accept it. And you can’t even get mad at me about this.” His voice was soothing and low when he started, but it ends rather demanding and forceful. “You can’t get mad about the fictions I’ve created. You enjoyed them.”