“Why do we have wings, Paul? It feels… cliché.”
Paul almost laughs. “Cliché? That’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve found that the human lore tends to leave the wings out in most of their fictions.”
He’s right, I guess. “Who cares about that. Why do we need wings?”
“For flying, of course.”
He says this like I’m an idiot. Which isn’t even fair. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even seen your wings, so don’t act like I should know this.”
“Well, that’s because the flying isn’t forout there, Ryet. It’s for in here.”
I have exhausted my patience for Paul’s explanation of vampire wings. But at least he’s provided me with a logical segue between that subject and the more important one, which is where I’m currently at. “What is this place? Some kind of advanced dreamwalk or something?”
“No, Ryet. It’s not a dreamwalk. It’s reality. The reality that exists to feed the Darkness. The only reality that really matters, when you boil it all down to nothing.”
I close my eyes, shake my head, and force myself to be patient. I open them back up. Breathe. “Can you maybe explain that in a little more detail?”
“How about this?” As he talks the space around me changes from a snowy forest to a luxury hotel suite located someplace very sunny. It’s the hotel room where I woke up from being second-born.
We’re both on the bed now, side by side and leaning back against the headboard. Clothed—thank God—but close enough to each other that I have a compulsion to move over and put some distance between us. Which I do.
Paul chuckles. “You’ve always been so resistant, Ryet.”
“What are you talking about? There were times that I was begging you for blood.”
He turns his head, that fucking smarmy smile back. “You know damn well I’m not talking about the blood.” The smiles fades. “I’m talking about us, Ryet.”
“There is no ‘us,’ Paul.”
“See? This is what I mean. You say that and you know it’s not true. It’s always been us, Ryet. Us against…everything.” He pans a hand through the air, trying to give the meaning of ‘everything’ some actuality. “I understand that you hate me. I do. I don’t even mind that you hate me because you don’t understand anything about what’s happening to you, and Syrsee, and me, and Josep.”
I scoff. “How the hell did Josep get included in that list? I’ve never even met the guy.”
“See, this is what I mean. You don’t understand. But I do. I understand your hatred for me. I can’t blame you—not really. I was, after all, the monster that killed your family.”
“Oh. My God. Did you really just go there?”
“I did. For a good reason. You see, if I hadn’t killed them in that fire, Ryet, you would’ve taken them to Hell with you.”
I blink. “What?”
He puts up a hand. “Not Jane, of course. She was safe. But your children?” Paul shakes his head. “They had the Darknessin them because they were part of you. They were damned from the moment they were conceived. Burning them in that church while they were still young and innocent was the only way I could set their souls free. It was the best possible outcome.”
Something happens here because everything in front of me—on all sides of me—narrows down into a dark tunnel of empty blackness with just a little bit of light in the center allowing me to see. Like I’m looking at life through a telescope.
Maybe like I’m seeing it for the first time.
Is this true? Were my children damned?
I can’t speak, so I don’t ask. But I don’t need to ask. Iknowhe’s telling the truth. I wasmade. Produced. Bred. I was never a man, ever. I have always been the monster.
And maybe I didn’t always know this, but I felt it. That’s probably why I was such a fucking church boy. That’s probably why I was compelled to begood.
I was born evil. I am evil. I am one ofthemnow.
