EPILOGUE – RYET
The Tribulation beginswithout any help from me. That’s not my role and I take no part in it at all. I’ve been reading up on this whole Antichrist thing and it appears that I have to charm the world into giving me power if I want the prophecy to actually play out.
And I’m not gonna do it.
I’m just not gonna do it.
Syrsee and I decided to stay at the Montana lodge. It’s mine, anyway. Plus there’s a lot of weird secret shit up here on this property, not to mention cool tunnels, an underground garage, and a doomsday bunker that was the former home of one Dark Josep. So it’s really the best place to sit out the plagues and shit that are coming our way.
And it’s quiet.
A few of the scions Paul gave blood to at the end made it through. Jeff being one of them. They won’t live long, but I’ll take their friendship as long as they’re around.
Tristin is still here too. He’s more Syrsee’s friend than mine, but it’s nice to have another vampire around, even if this one was pinioned and is magicless.
He’s got contacts with the Guild and the Obscurati. So even though news is slow—the power grids went out worldwide back when the first seal was broken—we still do get it. Some kind of Obscurati Pony Express, I guess. Letter-writing is back in style and Tristin leaves to gather news every couple of days. Syrsee says there are Guild Lounges in all the airports and bus stations, so I guess he goes there to get filled in.
They are still alive, all those vampires across the ocean. They don’t need the Black blood like I do, so they’re not really missing their Syrsee copies yet.
But they will. One day. Maybe they’ll be here for the duration and I’ll have to deal with them at some point, or maybe they won’t.
I don’t actually care either way.
I’m me again.
Like…meagain. Ryet. Human Ryet. Handsome, and strong, and rich, and powerful. It’s weird, but much better than the alternative for sure.
My only part in this whole Antichrist thing is a book I’m writing.
My story. My point of view. Me.
Because no one knows what’s real anymore. The whole world has gone crazy. And if I’m gonna get blamed for all this shit, well, I’m gonna get my say before it’s over.
I feel a little kinship with Paul over this, but not enough to forgive him for fucking me over.
All that talk of love. Such bullshit. He used me to get a meeting with God.
What an asshole.
But honestly, I really can’t complain. My life is better than ever. I’m in my home. A place I actually built. And it’s beautiful. The mountains, the sunsets, the pool.
I go hunting, and fishing, and every night I get in bed with the woman I love.
The Whore of Babylon, Paul said.
I didn’t tell her that and it’s not going into the book.
No. The Apocalypse can go fuck itself.
We’re just gonna sit up here and live the dream…
