I look back up at the ceiling, trying to internalize this news.
“But there are many more than three, Syrsee. There are a few clans of Black witches up near Seattle who are still breeding the line I gave them about a hundred years ago. But that line is very dilute and I don’t expect any of those girls to make it to my bed. Then, back in the Old World, the Obscurati has its own line.” He pauses to think, sighing as he does this. “I don’t know for sure. But I would guess at least fifty or sixty. They feed the entire population back there, and there are a lot more vampires across the ocean than there are here.”
“How could I be this many people? I mean, I only have one soul!”
“Oh, that soul is very tattered, my girl. It’s fraying, and not just along the edges. And fragile and fraying things are very easy to split. But it’s nearing the end of your cycle. Especially across the ocean. They can’t make magic with it anymore. They need every bit of your Black blood to keep themselves alive. But they will die soon, all on their own. I don’t have to do anything to make them die, they did it to themselves. And once they’re gone, if my plan works, Ryet will be the only one left.” He side-eyes me. “And you, of course. You’re the key to everything.”
I’m afraid to ask, but there’s no going back now. “What does all thatmean, Paul?”
“Well.” This word comes out…sad. A little. And this throws me. Because he’s Paul. Paul the Vampire. Paul the cocky one. The charming asshole. He doesn’t dosad. “Well,” he tries again. “It means we have to… say goodbye. For a little while, at least. That’s why I’m in such a rush to complete Ryet. I need him strong when you go.”
“Gowhere?” There’s a little bit of panic in my voice now.
“The Long Death. All your pieces must die so you can collect them again. In the Old World they call it the Mors Longa and it is not due to happen for another seventy or eighty years.” Now he smiles, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking up at the ceiling. “I would say that we’re off schedule, but”—he does look at me now—“we’re not.” Another smile. This time very wide.
“You planned this.”
“Of course I did. I’m trying toend them, Syrsee. We all have a job to do. We don’t like the job we’re doing, but we do it, nonetheless.”
I think about all his words for a moment, trying to force them to make sense with what I know, but I can’t. “I don’t understand. I thought you were trying tomakean army? The American Vampires?”
“Every journey begins with the first step.”
“What does that mean, Paul?”
“What does thatmean?” He’s still looking at me, and this time his smile is small. But as small as it is, it’s also genuine. The smarminess he’s known for is nowhere to be seen. “Ryet is my hedge.” He sighs. “I don’t want to give him up. I know it’s wrong, I know I’ll pay for this, but I don’t care.” And now he frowns. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Paul frown. “I can’t explain it. I just… love him.”
“So he’s not part of your job?”
Paul scoffs. “No. I am decidedly off task when it comes to Ryet. But you see, Syrsee”—he turns in bed now, facing me like we’re best friends ready to gossip—“you see… it’s one thing to know one’s job. It’s quite another to live it for two thousand years, and get used to who you are, and gather minions that you love and care for, and immerse yourself into the lifestyle and… well. It wouldn’t be the first time that a spy has gone rogue, now would it?”
I’m…shocked. “What. The fuck. Are you talking about?”
“I am human, after all. I mean, I was. Once. And there’s… you know, desires in there.” He points to his chest. “We’re not perfect.”
I just shake my head at him. “Who the hell do you work for?”
He simply laughs. “It doesn’t matter. Because I’m… I’m going to see this through. I’m going to make sure that Ryet lives. And don’t worry. I’ll save you too. Even if he didn’t need to feed on you, I would still save you, Syrsee. I have to now. Because he wants you. And I will do anything to make Ryet happy. Even give up my eternal soul. I mean, who needs it at this point, right? Mine was taken by the Darkness long ago and… well, I’ve seen Hell, Syrsee. I’ve looked that Devil straight in the eyes. It doesn’t like me because it’s never trusted me. For good reason. But I answer to someone far more dangerous than some silly Devil. Still, I think I’ll be OK.”
I blink. Because… is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Paul, you need?—”
But he’s gone. And while I am still in a bed, it’s not the same one. It’s a real bed and Ryet is looking down at me with a worried face.
“Syrsee?” His voice is low, nearly a whisper. “Syrsee? Can you hear me?”
I nod my head, but I can’t answer him with words because everything I thought I knew about myself, and Paul, and Ryet, and the Darkness, and the Black witches—well, none of it is true.
“How do you feel?”
How do I feel? I suck in a long breath and slowly let it out. “Tired. I’m tired of this.”
Ryet presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah. Me too.” He lies down next to me, pulling me into his arms. “Do you hurt?”
I mean… I almost laugh at this absurd question. “No, Ryet. I don’t hurt.” Which is a lie, but what’s one more in the grand scheme of things? Still, I don’t like lying to Ryet, so I add in a little truth. “At least not on the outside.”
“I’m so sorry for attacking you like I did. I wasn’t myself.”
I scoff, then actually let that laugh out. “Yeah. I’m not really myself either.”
Ryet hugs me a little tighter. “It’s gonna be OK.”
And I just nod and agree.
Because whatever happens, I’m not in control.
Paul is.
And if there’s one thing I know about Paul, it’s this: He wins.
So I decide to believe Ryet and just let him hold me as I drift back asleep.
