Page 30 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

They never came back.

Lucia is staring at the open door where Paul just disappeared. She does this for several moments. Then, like she’s been given some signal, she walks over to it and pushes it closed.

When she turns, her lips are forming a wicked smile. Her hands are clasped in front of her, and her bright green eyes are dancing with the ideas swirling in her head. “Let me be clear, dear Syrsee.” Her voice is feminine and soft, like her dress, and her hair, and her nails, but I don’t find her feminine at all. “Door number two still involves giving Ryet your blood. There is no way around this tonight. Paul has worked for hundreds and hundreds of years to make this moment in time and he will not be deterred.”

My brow started to furrow just a few words into that short statement. And now I’m frowning. “Then what is the fucking point?”

“The ‘fucking point’”—she kinda sneers these words at me—“is that in the end you will survive and they will not.”

I’m still frowning. My brow is still furrowed. And everything about my expression must reek of distrust because Lucia sighs. “What? What is the problem?”

“I think you’re lying, that’s what.”

“Why would I lie?”

I shrug. “How would I know? I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Exactly.”

“But here’s what I do know. I don’t think Paul likes you.” This is so true, I don’t need to see the confirmation that flashes across her face to believe it. “And I don’t think he can die.”

“Hmmh.” But she’s smiling when she grunts this sound out. “Well, you’re right. He cannot die. Not by any means we have available to us. But he can be imprisoned.”

“How?” I’m a little surprised at my bluntness. I mean, she’s terrifying. Not anything like Ryet, or even Paul. She’s something else. Some other species. Some other kind of monster.

She’s very pretty, so not the hideous kind. But wasn’t that part of Grandma’s warning? They like beautiful things? So why wouldn’t they make themselves beautiful?

But Lucia reminds me of… I dunno. A powerful woman, obviously. And powerful women are frightening in a different kind of way than a powerful man. Everything about Lucia feels… personal. And nothing about what Paul does or says comes off that way.

People with personal vendettas are looking for a certain kind of outcome.

Suffering. That’s what Lucia is after. She wants to make Paul suffer.

And that’s a whole other kind of evil.

Lucia points to the bed. “Go on. Climb in.”

“What?”

“I need to bleed you, Syrsee. Paul likes to have bags of you in his freezers. Like it or not, that’s going to happen. Even though you have chosen door number two.”

I look over at the bed and really see it this time. There are chains attached to the stone wall. I point at them. “What are those for?”

“To keep you in the bed, obviously. Now hurry up. I don’t know how long he’ll be gone and we have a lot to go over if you want to be here in the morning.”

“Paul isn’t going to kill me.”

Lucia raises one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“He told me himself.” Even as these words are coming out of my mouth, I know how stupid they are. The vampire told me he would let me go if I fed his scion my magic blood. And… I believed him?

“Did he now?”

I nod, swallowing down my fear. Because I have to believe him. The alternative is not an option.

“So we’re back to door number one, are we? Because either way, you’re getting on that bed. Would you like me to put you there, darling?”

Before I can answer she is upon me, her body slamming into mine, forcing me back onto the bed. Then she grabs my shoulders with some superhuman strength, turns me—lining me up properly—and in the next moment, before I can even blink, she’s got the iron cuffs around my wrists behind my head and it is done.

I am on the bed and chained to the wall.

Lucia stands up—pressing her hands down her satin dress, smoothing out wrinkles—and lets out a long breath. “There we go. Now we’re back on track, aren’t we? Do you have any more stupid questions?” She says this as she grabs a sterile needle package from the armoire, rips it open, takes the needle out, and comes towards me, smiling.

“What is door number two?” My voice is shaky and weak.

“Well, I’m about to explain it to you, aren’t I? Just hold still for a moment while I push the needle in and then we can get on with things.”

She’s lying. They’re all lying. And I came to this place of my own free will! Why am I so fucking stupid?

Beautiful . That word echoes in my head. And it’s my grandma’s voice. He’s so beautiful …

And he is.

Beauty. It’s the ultimate deceiver.

I wince as the needle enters my vein, then look over as Lucia connects the tubing and I watch my Black blood race through the line and into the bag on the IV stand. Once a quantity is collected it changes color a little, from tar to scarlet. And then something surprising happens.

It turns… purple . A deep, royal purple.

Lucia laughs. “You’ve never seen your blood in a bag like this, have you?”

I look at her, shaking my head. “No. Why is it purple?”

“Because it’s overflowing with magic, Syrsee. More than most. I haven’t seen blood this color since I was a baby back in the Old World across the ocean.”

I look back at the bag, marveling at how beautiful it is.

“He made you, Syrsee. You were bred. You come from the Darkness, as we all do. Even me. But your lineage is very special. You see, when Paul was banished to America he took two people with him. Me and Josep. He took me because I am a witch, like you, but not as well-bred. I do not have the Black blood. They would’ve never let me come if I had. But I am a witch who was turned into a vampire. A challenging start for our Paul, but he’s very resourceful.”

I’m just staring at her, trying to put all these new facts together. “You’re a witch?”

She nods. Proud of this fact, I think. “Vampires come from witches. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, they do. Not from the kind of witch I am. But over many centuries it is possible to turn my blood into that.” She points to the bag on the stand. It’s almost half full now and the purple is much brighter. “And so we have.”

“What? Are you saying—”

“You come from me? Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Though we are so many generations removed, we are not really related.”

“How many generations? I mean, you said he’s been breeding for a couple hundred years. That’s, what, four generations at the most?”

“If one does things naturally. But that’s the second part of your story. Our story. Josep. He’s an old, old, old geneticist. One of the originals.”

“How old is that?”

“Thousands and thousands of years. But even when he came here with Paul and me, he was far, far, far past his prime. Washed up, as they say. Which was why the Obscurati allowed him to join in on this new venture.”

“Obscurati?”

Lucia smiles. “Everyone has a boss, darling. Even us.” She waves a hand in the air. “But they are beside the point. Maybe one day, if we’re very lucky, we will have the luxury to worry about them. But right now, we’re so far away from that day, they don’t matter. What matters now is that Josep is your actual creator.”

“What? I come from a vampire?”

“Not quite. He’s the scientist who made you from a lineage that started with me and…” She pauses, turning her head to side-eye me. “The Darkness, of course.”

I’m so confused.

And she sees this, because she laughs as she takes a seat on the bed next to me. “Would you like to hear the story?”

And now I’m just annoyed. “Ya know, for someone who says we’re in a hurry you sure are taking your fucking time getting to the point.”

She just chuckles, then gets up, closes the tube that’s collecting my blood, removes the full bag of now-lavender liquid, and places it in a chest of ice near the door that is disguised to look like a wooden box.

Then she grabs a fresh bag, hooks me back up, slaps my wrist to get things flowing again, and then sits back down.

My vision is starting to blur and when I turn my head to watch the Black blood collect, I get dizzy.

“Let’s get to the point then, shall we? You, dear Syrsee, are the one Paul has been waiting for. After much trial and error—and the death of every scion he’s ever made—he, and Josep have made Ryet. But we learned a long time ago—almost eighty years, actually—that in order to bring the scion to maturation he would need a genetically engineered… well, you .”

“A feeder,” I say. My voice is low and weak and I realize that she has already taken a lot of blood and it’s still flowing at a pretty good rate.

“ Witch is a better word. Black witch is more precise.”

And even though I already know that the Guild sold me out, this is when it finally solidifies and becomes real. And along with that comes the realization that they made me. For this. To bleed me, and use me, and again—even though I already kind of knew this—it hits me hard that I am just a… a… an outcome . A result. A product of some grand plan.

That I do not matter. Not as a person, anyway. Paul is not infatuated with me. He’s not in love with me. He’s simply using me to get Ryet through some… biological process.

“You are Paul’s saving grace. You are the key to his door back into the Obscurati. They banished him for crimes against the bloodlines. That’s why we’re here. He was thrown out. But as he is an eternal being, nothing is forever, is it? And that’s why they let me come. And let Josep come. Because even though they knew they were giving Paul so little, they also knew he would find a way through it. And when he did that, he would be worthy of coming home. Ryet will be Paul’s very first child. In a sense, of course. In the same way that you are Josep’s child, or my child. Which is to say none of us are related except that we all come from the Darkness.”

The second bag is filling faster than the first and I realize it’s because my heart is beating so quick from an adrenaline rush that I’m actually speeding up the process.

“And when Ryet matures a new clan will be born. Amerigo nosferatu . Or, in English, the American Vampires. From one, two. From two, many. And Paul, when this happens, will be unstoppable. You are the one he’s been waiting for.”

I can’t even think straight. All these words are just running together for me. And I realize it’s because the second bag is full now and Lucia is putting it inside the ice chest, then hooking up another. I can’t even focus as I watch a third stream of blood race through the end of the tube and drip into the bag.

The next time she speaks, I hear something I’ve heard before. “But dear Syrsee—dear, dear Syrsee—you are also the nightmare I’ve been waiting for.”

Just as that last word leaves her lips my world goes black.

And then… purple . Lavender. Present time. Here and now. And I find that I am standing in the middle of the room watching my lifeless body being bled out into a bag.

Lucia turns to face the dreamwalk me, smiling. “Now that my duty has been done, let’s have a real chat, shall we?” She walks towards me, hooks her arm into mine, and then, the next thing I know, we’re outside in the blowing snow.

It’s dark. And it’s the present. And I’m not quite sure how much time has passed since I was brought up into that room, but it has obviously been hours.

“What are we doing?” My voice is strong again, but that’s just because I’m a spirit now. Not human at all. Not even real.

“We’re going to have a little walk and I’m going to tell you a story.”

“Well, I guess there’s no rush, is there? I thought you were getting to the point?”

Lucia simply chuckles and starts to walk, taking me with her since we are still locked by the arms. “Have you ever heard of the ‘aquis equī?’”

“What? No. Should I have?”

“Perhaps. I don’t have any idea what the Guild has been telling you all these years. If you knew the story I would cut to the chase. But since you don’t, we must start at the beginning.”

I’m just about to object when the scene around me shifts and suddenly I am underwater. I struggle and pull, trying to swim to the surface, but Lucia is next to me, holding me tight by the arm.

She points, her finger waving through the water. And then I see the purple. It’s like a cloud of ink underwater, floating and drifting. And in this same moment, I relax, because it’s not real and I’m not going to drown. Lucia’s long, red hair waves around her face like flames. Her long sexy gown flares out around her legs in dramatic flutters. She puts a finger to her lips, shushing me, even though we are not speaking. Then she pulls me behind a rock and we crouch, peeking around it, like we’re waiting for something.

The minutes stretch on and just as I’m starting to fidget with impatience, Lucia yanks my arm to get my attention and then points into the murky teal water on the other side of the rock.

I squint, seeing movement, but unable to differentiate the inky purple from the marine green until it pokes a head out.

A horse.

I internally roll my eyes. The aquis equī—obviously, since that’s what Lucia said before she shifted me into the dream— swim .

My life, I swear. It’s stupid.

But the horse… now that is interesting. The head is huge, but refined at the same time. Like an Arabian with a dish-shaped nose bridge, pronounced chin, and flaring nostrils. Its forelock floats across its forehead, long and colored teal, just like its body.

It snorts, blowing out a stream of bubbles that doesn’t come off as fun or magical, but rather… threatening and evil. Then its eyes glow a golden orange-yellow. And even though we’re under water, I see flames in there.

Evil in there.

Then it looks right at us and before I can even think, it charges. And I am frozen in fear with eyes wide when I see that it doesn’t have any legs. Or… it does. Dozens of them, but they are not the legs of a horse, but the tentacles of an octopus. It is part octopus.

Teeth are snapping at me as the long tendrils of sucker-covered appendages reach out to grab me—and then it floats right through me.

In the next moment, I’m somewhere else. A long, great sheet of ice. Blowing wind and snow hit my face like tiny pebbles, stinging and making me cower.

Lucia yanks my arm again, forcing me to look up. I shield my eyes from biting snow, focus on what she’s pointing at, and see a… tribe? Of people, obviously, since they are walking upright and wearing thick white furs.

They are formed up in a circle holding torches and the air smells like fire and burning oil. Lucia takes us closer. But we’re not walking, we’re floating. We pass right through them, just like the water horse passed through us. And then I see that the center of attention is a black hole in the ice.

The aquis equī comes up from the water and the sound it makes—it’s horrifying. Like the scream of a dying rabbit. A lamb being slaughtered. An elk in rut. I want to cover my ears but I can’t take my eyes off this demonic thing. Then a movement to my right forces me to look away. And there I see a girl, no more than twelve or thirteen. Her arms and legs are bare even though this is subzero weather and she’s only wearing enough white fur to cover her chest and hips. Her hair is long and black, her skin fair, but weathered tan from the sun. She is walking to the beast still protruding from the hole in the ice and I scream. Loud. Because it’s going to eat her.

Lucia covers my mouth, even though no sound came out, and points. Turning my head with her other hand, making me watch.

The demon thing from the sea opens its mouth and I’m sure this is it—I’m going to watch a little girl be eaten by a monster—but then… then it bows its head low, lining its massive nose up onto the ice like a ramp. And the half-naked girl walks right up its face and sits behind its great ears as it leaps from the water and disappears into the white sky—just a teal streak on the horizon.

I come out of the purple chilled to the bone and sopping wet. Of course, this is just my spirit body. My real body is still unconscious on the bed, being bled out to feed my boyfriend.

My life. I swear.

“What the fuck!” I turn to Lucia, who is smirking at me. “What the fuck!”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “I know it was a fright. But it would take too many words to explain it. And why bother, when we can simply dreamwalk our way into the exact moment when it all started?”

“Exact moment when what all started?”

“The Ice Maiden, Syrsee. The exact moment when Coyrah, the Ice Maiden, tamed the aquis equī and turned into…” She shrugs. “The night mare.”

I just blink at her, so confused.

“These people we saw, they disappeared about fifteen hundred years ago. Just… poof. Vanished. One day, they were ruling the entire Arctic. They had magnificent cities, Syrsee. I will show them to you. One day when we have time after all this is over. Gorgeous cities. And then, as I said, poof. Gone.

“Except they weren’t gone at all. Coyrah gave herself to the aquis equī and that was how they got the power of the purple.” Lucia pauses to smile here, like this is the end of the story and whatever knowledge or understanding I was supposed to glean from showing it to me is obvious.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Lucia laughs. “They didn’t disappear, darling. They crossed the veil. And they never came back.”