Page 142 of Blood Lovers

“You’re going to kill me now?”

“No. I’m afraid not. I can’t affect you on that plane there.” She points to the me on the bed.

I have trouble looking at that other me. My whole mouth is stained with blood. And that creepy smile on Paul’s face as he watches me drink… it’s all so revolting.

“You must do this part yourself, Syrsee.”

“I have to kill myself?”

“Just jab the needle into your thigh and then get Ryet to feed on you. It will take about twenty minutes to fully invade your bloodstream.”

“I,” I say again, “have to kill myself.”

“Of course.” Lucia is looking at me like I’m stupid. Like this is obvious. Like she has spelled this out to me seventy-two times and I’m such a simple child, I have failed to grasp the concept. “I know I said I would bring you back, but I can’t, darling. I’m dead.”

“You lied.” Now I’m just angry.

“Well, if I had survived Paul’s attack I would’ve been happy to bring you back. But… it wasn’t in the cards.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing? What is your purpose here?”

“I’m the one with the information.”

“Ya know what it sounds like to me?”

“I can’t wait to hear.” Her tone is deadpan, her words sarcastic.

“It sounds to me like you’re just trying to off all three of us at once.”

“Clever, clever girl.” But it’s sarcasm again. “Of course that’s what I’m doing. I told you that. We can’t kill Paul, but we can trap him. Ryet needs to go. And in order to do that, he must feed on your dead, black blood. I don’t know why you’re pretending that this is some new revelation, but—”

I stop listening. Because she did say all that. I did know this was how it ends. And what other choice is there, really?

I don’t know Ryet. We’ve spent a few days together. That’s it. He’s nothing to me. And the only thing I am to him is… food.

But I’m mad that my life is over because of these assholes. It pisses me off.

“Syrsee.” I can hear the worry in Lucia’s voice. All that sarcasm that was there a few moments ago is gone. “What do you have to live for?”

“Excuse me?”

“What? Tell me. Do you have family? Do you have friends?”

“Fuck you.”

“You have nothing. You weren’t born, dear. You were bred. You are food. That’s it. That’s your purpose. And you have a chance to change the world. To rid this realm of monsters. America, at least. There are other witches working on the vampires of the Old World though. And soon—in a matter of months, maybe—the whole world will be free of these abominations. You are literally saving the world from evil. That is the role of the night mare.”

I turn away from her, confused now. Because this sounds like a promise. One where I get nothing in return but some vague satisfaction as I depart this world, knowing that I killed the one thing Paul needed to gain more power.

The sound of me—other me—gagging on blood fills the room. Then more whispers from Paul, trying to soothe me, trying to encourage me to take more and more of his blood.

“You have less than a minute before you get too sick to drink. And then I will disappear, Syrsee. I will go on my way, back into the purple, and I probably won’t be able to guide you again. So it’s up to you now. Will you save the world? Or will you be greedy and shallow and save just yourself?”

Just as this last word comes out of her mouth, the purple disappears and I am on the bed throwing up blood.

“Swallow it, Syrsee.” Paul is pinching my lips closed as he whispers into my ear. “Swallow it. Don’t waste it.”

Blood burbles up my throat and spills out of my mouth, past his pinch. Then I’m shaking my head, trying to get away from him.