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 always wake up before him. He just needs more sleep than I do. And this time I don’t wake him, or wait for him to wake, either. I can’t. If I do, we’ll never get out of here because I’ll just want to drink again.
It’s an endless cycle and if we allow it, the blood lust would take over our lives.
Which sounds fun. But… at what cost?
I don’t want to be a feeder, lying in bed in my old age covered in filth. Though I don’t really think that will be my destiny—I don’t really know if I can age, let alone die. But still, that image of my grandma dying in that disgusting room that smelled like death—it’s very strong. It’s burned into my memory.
I will not turn into her. I won’t.
That’s why I get up in the mornings and report to the library. That’s why I leave Ryet in bed. And even though, in the back of my mind, I’m always thinking about the next time we’ll be together and the next time we feed on each other, I can control it if I don’t see him during the day.
When we first got here about eight weeks ago, we did meet up for lunch. I think we were both still… actualizing? That’s as good a word as any to describe the transformation going on inside our bodies. So our blood lust, while very strong at night, wasn’t an issue midday.
Until it was.
After a few weeks of settling in, Ryet and I found ourselves sneaking away after eating. The bushes, a bathroom, anywhere we could find a little privacy. All so we could feed. And then we would get tired, and pass out, and wake up, and do it again and… well, let’s just say it was not a productive way to spend one’s day.
We got sloppy and the Guild took notice. We were ‘encouraged’ to go our separate ways during the day. Not ordered. Not exactly. And what could they have done if we refused? Kicked us out? They need us more than we need them. But, since we’re guests here, we took their advice seriously.
No more blood at lunch.
I do love my blood, but I don’t miss it much during the day because when I get to the library, I go right into the level one reading room and from the moment I enter until the moment I leave, I live in the stories.
Stories that aren’t as interesting and addictive as my real life, but even the simple ones I’ve been learning to read the past few weeks are definitely good enough to keep the blood lust at bay.
The trashy romance I was reading between feedings last night is just a little bonus. Definitely not on the Black Witch Reading 101 syllabus.
Myer, who is my archivist guide, has an approved reading list for me. But my powers to actualize a story don’t stop when I leave the library building. I found the book about the sheikh in the little thrift store just down the mountain near the place Ryet and I sometimes have brunch on the weekends.
I’m sure Myer knows I’m reading on my own now, but so far, he hasn’t said anything.
I dress, blow Ryet a kiss so I don’t wake him, and then leave our little apartment.
Most of the Guild citizens start work much earlier than I do, so all the walking paths in our little mountain village are bustling with people doing whatever it is they do. Some wave to me, and I wave back. Some don’t even look me in the eye as they pass. Not because I’m a Black witch, but because they are immersed in their tasks for the day. So far it’s been a very friendly experience. Pleasant is probably the right word.
I don’t feel like one of them—I definitely still feel like an outsider—but it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I like it. I am something other than them and it’s OK. At least with me. What the collective citizens of the Guild think of me, I don’t really know. But I don’t really care, either.
I think that is the biggest change I’ve noticed in myself so far. I’m… confident. And… I dunno. Maybe… proud? Of what I am? I mean, there are so few of my kind. And I’m even more rare than most Black witches because I have the blood of vampires inside me. Not just any vampires, either. Paul and Josep, and Ryet. The American Vampires.
Not to mention the Darkness.
My hand absently goes to my belly when that word appears in my head. There is a Darkness inside me, growing, and maturing, and becoming something new. Ryet put it there, so there must be a Darkness inside him too.
When I first got here, one of the first things the Guild doctors did was give me a physical. They said I wasn’t pregnant and there were no signs that I could feel, so I let myself believe them.