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 need her blood.
Because that’s my blood and all my power is in the blood.
“Oh, God,” Lucia says. And when I look over at her, she’s got her hand covering her mouth in horror. Because she knows too.
As I am thinking this, my teeth begin to ache. And when I bring a fingertip up to check them, I realize I have grown fangs.
Lucia’s eyes are big now. Obviously, she didn’t see this coming.
I’m the nightmare.
I knew this. But I really never expected it to get this bad.
Sensing I might back out, Lucia grabs my arm. “That’s not a child, Syrsee. That’s you. And as long as she exists, you will be weak. This is not a pep talk, this is the truth. Now do what needs to be done.”
This is what it comes down to. I have to feed on the girl. And when I’m done, I will have to go back, enter another mirror, and do it again. Maybe hundreds of times.
“It’s either this or let Ryet suffer, Syrsee. Think about that. Think about Ryet in that cave. That’s happening right now and whatever happens going forward, it’s not going to get any better. And I know what you’re thinking—you’re thinking that Paul will save him. But did you see Paul? Where is he? If you hope for that outcome and it doesn’t work out, then what? What happens to Ryet if you back out?”
“I’m not backing out. I’m just trying to get to used to the idea that I’ll be feeding on people who are not Ryet. It feels very different.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be feeding on anyone, Syrsee. You’re not a vampire. You’re not like me, either. You’re food.” I shoot her a look, but she waves it off. “The fact that you’ve been feeding on anyone is a huge clue that you’ve been prepared for this.”
My eyes narrow down. “What?”
“Obviously, this is part of the plan.” She points at the little girl in the crib. “You were meant to take your pieces back. Why else would you have a blood tolerance?”
“What do you mean, blood tolerance?”
“People can’t drink blood, Syrsee. It makes them violently ill. And I’ve never heard of a Black witch drinking blood. Not unless it was during the Long Drink. And that was just a way to kill a Black witch, not make her more powerful.”
She’s right. The blood drinking is wrong. Not just ethically, but physically. I shouldn’t be able to do it. I shouldn’t have the craving.
But Ryet and I, we aren’t exactly normal representatives of our species, for lack of a better word. He was craving food back at his cabin while I was craving blood.
Paul did that. Something in his blood when we did that initial feeding with Josep probably got it started, but we also ate and drank those puddings and potions.
It changed us. It made Ryet more human, I think. But it made me more like them.
It turned me into a blood drinker.
Paul set me up. He set us both up.
Understanding suddenly fills me up as this new revelation changes my perspective for what seems like the hundredth time since I said goodbye to my grandma in that cabin. This little girl, she isn’t just a part of me, she’s a reservoir of power. She’s a backup plan. A hedged bet. Or maybe just the winning move of a very long game I didn’t even know I was playing.
It’s not my game, that’s another thing I realize. It’s Paul’s game and I am but a chess piece.
I walk over to the crib and pick the girl up. But to my surprise, I don’t hold a little girl in my arms. I’m holding a copy of her. Perhaps just the essence of her.
Without thinking further, I lean down, sink my new teeth into her soft neck, and take my blood back, immediately recognizing the power contained within. It’s a warm feeling, but also a sense of strength.
When I’m done, the little girl in the crib is dead and the one in my arms is nothing but a shrunken husk of skin. I drop the husk and as it floats to the floor, it disintegrates mid-air.
There’s no coming back from this, that’s perfectly clear. But I can’t think about the consequences now. I have a lot of drinking ahead of me.
Lucia and I walk back through the mirror, but instead of coming back out into the gold and purple mist, we enter another space, or time, or place. I’m not sure. But there’s a woman there who looks like me. Same eyes, same body, same hair.
She doesn’t notice us because Lucia and I aren’t actually here. She’s a ghost and I’m back in the mist. I walk over to this copy of me, place a hand on her shoulder, and the same thing happens. A copy of her slips away from her body. And after I drink this copy, the witch in the room is dead and her husk has disintegrated while falling to the floor.