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)
“Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Syrsee.”
Lucia is gone now and in her place is Paul. I’m no longer standing on the ice, but lying in a bed next to him.
It’s a nice room, at least.
We’re both staring at the ceiling, quiet for a few moments.
I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but everything Lucia just told me is swirling through my head like a cyclone.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “I take it you know now?”
I’m surprised at these words. “You and Lucia planned this?”
“Of course not.” He snickers these words out. “Lucia is a tool, not a confidante. But she is part of the plan. Her betrayal of me, at least.”
“So you know she wants me to kill you?”
“She’s wanted me dead for hundreds of years.”
“She wants me to drink Black blood and feed you all. This is your plan?”
“No.” And he chuckles. “My plan is to save Ryet.”
“What about me?”
“Well, if he’s alive, dear Syrsee, then you are too. He cannot exist without you.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, I don’t matter much.” He turns his head to look at me now. “Don’t worry about me, Syrsee. I can take care of myself.”
“How many?” I ask. “How many of me are there right now in the world?”
Paul sucks in a breath, like he’s silently counting. “Well, I have three.”
“Three? Assuming this baby inside me counts as one, where’s the third me?”
“She’s a baby still. Only two. She’s living up in White River with my clan.”
I look back up at the ceiling, trying to internalize this news.
“But there are many more than three, Syrsee. There are a few clans of Black witches up near Seattle who are still breeding the line I gave them about a hundred years ago. But that line is very dilute and I don’t expect any of those girls to make it to my bed. Then, back in the Old World, the Obscurati has its own line.” He pauses to think, sighing as he does this. “I don’t know for sure. But I would guess at least fifty or sixty. They feed the entire population back there, and there are a lot more vampires across the ocean than there are here.”
“How could I be this many people? I mean, I only have one soul!”
“Oh, that soul is very tattered, my girl. It’s fraying, and not just along the edges. And fragile and fraying things are very easy to split. But it’s nearing the end of your cycle. Especially across the ocean. They can’t make magic with it anymore. They need every bit of your Black blood to keep themselves alive. But they will die soon, all on their own. I don’t have to do anything to make them die, they did it to themselves. And once they’re gone, if my plan works, Ryet will be the only one left.” He side-eyes me. “And you, of course. You’re the key to everything.”
I’m afraid to ask, but there’s no going back now. “What does all that mean, Paul?”
“Well.” This word comes out… sad. A little. And this throws me. Because he’s Paul. Paul the Vampire. Paul the cocky one. The charming asshole. He doesn’t do sad. “Well,” he tries again. “It means we have to… say goodbye. For a little while, at least. That’s why I’m in such a rush to complete Ryet. I need him strong when you go.”
“Go where?” There’s a little bit of panic in my voice now.
“The Long Death. All your pieces must die so you can collect them again. In the Old World they call it the Mors Longa and it is not due to happen for another seventy or eighty years.” Now he smiles, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking up at the ceiling. “I would say that we’re off schedule, but”—he does look at me now—“we’re not.” Another smile. This time very wide.
“You planned this.”
“Of course I did. I’m trying to end them, Syrsee. We all have a job to do. We don’t like the job we’re doing, but we do it, nonetheless.”
I think about all his words for a moment, trying to force them to make sense with what I know, but I can’t. “I don’t understand. I thought you were trying to make an army? The American Vampires?”
“Every journey begins with the first step.”
“What does that mean, Paul?”
“What does that mean?” He’s still looking at me, and this time his smile is small. But as small as it is, it’s also genuine. The smarminess he’s known for is nowhere to be seen. “Ryet is my hedge.” He sighs. “I don’t want to give him up. I know it’s wrong, I know I’ll pay for this, but I don’t care.” And now he frowns. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Paul frown. “I can’t explain it. I just… love him.”