Page 17

It was the worst feeling ever.

I read the names of the files off in my head. ‘Syrsee’s Ancestors.’ ‘Syrsee’s Dreams.’ ‘Syrsee’s Nightmares.’ ‘Syrsee’s Diet.’ ‘Syrsee’s Education.’ ‘Syrsee’s Habits.’

But it’s the last folder that makes me stop and hold my breath.

‘Syrsee and Paul.’

All the rest of it is interesting. Especially the ancestors. I really need the complete Ice Maiden-sea dragon story.

But it’s the folder with Paul’s name that I click first.

I expect there to be documents. Maybe some photos. But it’s… a presentation. A PowerPoint presentation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I just stare at the little icon sitting all by itself in the folder for a few moments before I even have the ability to close my shocked-open mouth and click back out. I move the cursor over to the folder that says ‘Syrsee’s Dreams,’ click, and find the same thing. One PowerPoint file.

I check them all, but the results are all the same.

She gave presentations on me.

The anger, the hate, the… the… the loathing I feel for my former best friend right now is nauseating. My whole body goes hot. I break out in a sweat. Suddenly, I can smell everything. The wood in this cabin, the lingering scent of food from the kitchen, even the garbage can. All of it makes me want to vomit.

I put the phone down, sure this is going to happen, and then rush to the front door, go outside onto the porch, and bend over, holding on to the railing.

It’s nighttime. I didn’t even realize that. But it’s a good thing because the air is still cold from a lingering winter and after a few moments I feel better and lower myself to the top step, head in my hands.

That website, it’s a gut punch.

“It’s reality, Syrsee.” I say this out loud, but in my head it comes out in Paul’s voice. And it’s his voice, in my head, that continues, not mine. “Zusi cannot change who she is any more than you can. You don’t have to take it all so personally.”

“So personally?” I turn my head and look at lavender Paul. Is he here? Is he there? I don’t know. But I feel like I’m at the end of some kind of line here. I’ve reached a limit and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t cope. “She betrayed me, Paul.”

“Everyone betrays everyone eventually.” He sighs, leaning back against the porch railing. He looks normal right now. I mean, he’s hazy and covered in a purple mist. But he’s wearing regular clothes. Things Ryet might wear. Jeans, and a t-shirt, and a leather jacket that looks like it was born five or six decades ago. His hair is a little messy too. And he’s got stubble on his face.

He looks kinda hot, actually.

Not hot, like how he usually looks. He usually looks put-together hot. In-control hot. Alpha-male hot. This is… everyday-man hot. Just some guy trying to make his way in this world.

In other words, hot like Ryet.

“That can’t be true.”

Paul slowly turns his head to look at me. His eyes are purple. Like violet purple. And they are glowing. “Given enough time all alliances turn.”

“It wasn’t an alliance, Paul. It was a friendship.” But then I shake my head and put up a hand. “No. It wasn’t a friendship. I thought it was a friendship, but this whole time—the entire time I was there at the Guild—she was a spy.”

Paul looks at me thoughtfully. “She didn’t know you when she accepted the job.”

“Why are you sticking up for her?”

“I’m not. I’m just playing devil’s advocate. Thinking clearly is a skill you need to learn. You can’t just go off emotions, Syrsee. It won’t help in the end.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Your future is filled with…” He pauses here so he can choose his words carefully.

And this makes me sigh. “Filled with what ?”

He looks me in the eyes. His are still glowing. “Filled with opportunities. For power, for vengeance, for money, for happiness.” He smiles when he says happiness. “But you need to learn how to navigate the negotiations without letting the feelings get in the way.”

“What negotiations? With the Guild? I’m not negotiating shit with those people.”

He looks away and shrugs one shoulder, like he’s no longer interested in my problems.

Which annoys me. “Why are you here?”

“Because your emotions got in the way and I’m stuck in the purple.” He slowly turns his head to look back at me. “We’re wasting time here. You need to let me out.”

“I don’t even know how to do that. And if we’re all betrayed eventually, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it? Nothing’s permanent in this world. Even winning is nothing more than a temporary reprieve from being the loser.”

He smiles at me. “Now you’re catching on.”

I wait for him to say more, but he goes quiet. And then he starts to fade.

“Wait!” I reach over, trying to grab his shoulder, but he’s gone. Like he was never here.

And he wasn’t. I’m going insane. I’m fucking psycho.

And I’m not going to let him out. He wants to turn me into a breeder. I won’t. I was falling for it in the last encounter. But he was… seducing me.

Really, Syrsee? That’s your lame excuse? He was seducing you?

Fine. I will admit this, to myself, at least, that I was… turned on.

But I’ve been betrayed a lot of times over the past few months. I’m learning. I might not be the quickest woman when it comes to untwisting the twisted plans of the Guild and Paul, but I’m learning.

I’m not going to set him free. It’s still possible that I can just… walk away from all of it.

Even… Ryet. Potentially. I mean, he’s pretty sick. He could still die. And if he did?—

“Oh, Syrsee.” I shake my head. “That’s not the answer and you know it.”

Maybe I could get away. Leave Paul in the purple, let Ryet waste away, pretend that I never knew Zusi. Maybe… do some magic to cloak myself the way my grandma did. Somehow figure it out. Find a… a bookstore witch who knows more than most to help me. If I put my mind to it, I think I could make it work.

But I would be alone again. And while I wasn’t alone all growing up—I was literally in the middle of a magical school filled with other magical kids—I felt alone. And it was the worst feeling ever. Zusi made it better, but that was a lie. And I don’t even think I could take a lie right now, let alone a truly singular existence.

A bookstore witch who knows more than most isn’t going to fill the emptiness inside me.

Ryet could, though.

And, I have to reluctantly admit, Paul could too.

He’s not lying. Not about this. He’s telling me the truth. He’s trying to, at least. I’m sure there’s more. A lot more. And I don’t think I’m ready for more right now. I’m still trying to deal with what’s in front of me.

So I understand that Paul is tricking me. I know it. I feel it. And even if Ryet isn’t, Paul is tricking him too. Tricking him into tricking me.

I get up and go back inside. The smells are still there and my stomach is still upset, but I can’t run from this. I need to figure it out right now.

This is when I remember the vials on the kitchen counter. I walk over to them, picking them up one at a time so I can study their labels. ‘Despair.’ ‘Loneliness.’ ‘Regret.’ ‘Contempt.’ ‘Estrangement.’ ‘Fear.’ ‘Shame.’ ‘Guilt.’

All things I feel in this very moment.

Then I glance at the jars. They are empty, but they still have their labels on them. ‘Thirst.’ ‘Hunger.’ ‘Gasping.’ ‘Purging.’ ‘Chills.’ ‘Sweats.’ ‘Fatigue.’

They are all physical symptoms. And Ryet ate them all.

I look towards the bedroom and see his sweaty bruise-colored body lying face down on the bed. Those wings of his draped over his shoulders. The one on the side facing me is drooping over the side of the bed, spread out along the hardwood floor.

I don’t know what these jars are about, but before he ate them, he looked like a man. Mostly. And after he ate them, he looked like this.

A demon. A vampire. Because that’s what he is.

No, Syrsee. That’s what he’s always been .

It’s Paul’s voice in my head now. Real or imaginary, doesn’t matter. Because it’s true. Ryet was never a man. He was always a potential vampire.

And now, after a long sequence of events that culminated with the eating of whatever was in these jars, he’s reached some kind of… stasis. A state of… completion?

Doubtful. But he’s much further along than the last time I was awake.

I look down at the vials again. Maybe if I drink these potions it will change me into whatever I’ve always been too? Isn’t it better to just embrace the inevitable? So I can get past it and move on?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I uncork the tops and line them up on the counter. Then, one by one, I drink them like I’m doing shots of tequila.

They are very small amounts. Maybe a teaspoon each. So it’s all over in a matter of seconds.

I wipe my mouth, trying to decipher the lingering aftertaste.

It’s not bitter. It’s actually kind of sweet.

This is when I hear the crunching of gravel outside. I go to the window, pull the curtain back, and see a matte-gray Jeep, almost glowing in the moonlight. It looks more like one of those tricked-out off-road things than anything one might drive on the daily.

The driver’s door opens and Tristin steps out.

“Holy shit.” These words come out on a breath as I’m rushing to the door. He cannot come in here. I know he understands that Ryet is here, and he probably knows a lot more than me about what Ryet actually is—but he is not coming in here.

I pull the door open, step outside, and close it behind me.

Tristin is already walking up the stairs. So we’re looking each other in the eyes as this all happens.

“What are you doing here, Tristin? I told you guys I need some space.”

“I came to bring you this.” This is when I notice he’s holding a wooden box. Maybe six inches long by six inches wide, but thin and shallow too. One or two inches in depth.

“What is it?”

He thrusts it towards me. “A present. From the Guild.”

I don’t know what to say. I chew on my lip for a moment, trying to add this puzzle piece to the big picture trying to take shape before me.

“Take it, Syrsee. It’s yours. It’s always been yours.”

I don’t take it. I don’t think I want it. But I don’t think I have a choice, either, because Tristin sets it down on the top step and then turns and walks back towards that Jeep.

“Hey,” I call out.

He lets out a long sigh. Slowly turning his head towards me. Looking very… weary.

Maybe he’s faking it, but I can’t tell, so it comes off real.

“What?”

“Why, Tristin? Why is all this happening?”

He gives a very small shrug. “I know more than you about some things.” Then he nods his head towards the box. “But I have no idea what that is. I’m just a fuckin’ messenger, Syrsee. I’m just a fuckin’ errand boy.”

Then he gets back in his Jeep, backs up, making the gravel fly out from under his tires, and drives back down the way he came.

I stare at the empty driveway for a moment, then resign myself to this new twist of fate, pick up the box, and take it inside.