“I’m in town.”
“At the lounge?”
“You know about the lounge?”
“Syrsee told me some guy named Tristin was waiting for her when she went into town to shop.”
“Did she say anything about me?” Zusi sounds a little desperate for information.
I don’t feel sorry for her. She hurt Syrsee. She betrayed her. And to me, how that betrayal happened, or whether or not she knew about the plan hatched between Paul and the Guild, doesn’t matter. She hurt Syrsee and now I want to hurt her back. “No, Zusi. She didn’t mention you at all.”
All I get in response is a long breath of air.
“Is that it?”
“Wait—you’re not going to let me talk to her? You’re not even gonna tell her I’m on the phone?”
I hesitate here, which is a mistake. Because obviously Syrsee is unconscious and can’t come to the phone, so there is no reason for me to tell her anything.
And apparently Zusi is wise to the way of hesitations because she picks up on it immediately. “What? What’s wrong? Is she OK?”
“She’s fine. She just doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Syrsee!” Zusi is yelling into the phone so I have to hold it away from my ear. “Syrsee, just talk to me. Please! Let me tell my side of the story! It’s not what you think! I would never betray you!”
I hang up the phone, then pick it back up, check for a dial tone, and leave it off the hook. The vintage way to block someone from calling you back.
Then it hits me that it wasn’t Echo calling and I kinda want to talk to her. So I depress the switch, get a dial tone, and call the kitchen landline at the lodge.
It rings. And rings. And rings. After fifteen of them, I hang up, wishing I had my cell phone so I could call her directly, but I don’t even remember the last time I saw that phone.
Also, what the fuck? Even if Echo is busy, there are dozens of halfbreeds at the compound. Someone should’ve been within earshot of the kitchen and picked it up.
This has me wondering just how bad things are getting out west.
Paul appears sitting at my little table. He’s leaning back in the chair wearing a vintage suit that reminds me of our time in San Francisco, back when I was newly second-born. “I have all the answers you’re looking for, Ryet. All you have to do is come find me.”
I know he’s not there. I’m hungry, that’s all. For blood, not bacon. And feeding from an unconscious Syrsee feels a little bit too coercive for my comfort level. I don’t need a lot of blood right now—I’m seriously surviving on the bacon. But every couple of days I do needsome. I’m going on day three since my last drink and I’m trying my best to put the next feeding off as long as possible, hoping she will wake up before I absolutely have to do it, so Paul’s ghost isn’t exactly a surprise.
Still, I’m tired of being alone. Illusion Paul is better than nothing, I guess. I take a seat at the table across from him, letting out a long breath. “I can’t come find you, Paul.”
“Why not?”
“Because Syrsee is sick and I can’t leave her alone.”
Paul chuckles in that disingenuous way he has. Like he’s laughing at me. “You don’t have toleave, Ryet.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a vampire with the gift of dreamwalking. Why do you think you’re so attracted to that dirt under the house?”
I just stare at him. Almost unable to think, my head is so foggy. “What?”
“The dirt, Ryet. Why do you think I go into the earth? Do you think I sleep there?”
“Well…” I kinda did think that. And then I’m so tired of these fucking mysteries, and unanswered questions, and loss of control over my own life that I just give up. “Why don’t you just tell me what the dirt is for, Paul? And why don’t you just tell me what you want me to do with it? Let’s make it all very simple for once.”
“You would like me to tell you what to do so you can follow directions?” He laughs here. “Since when?”
