Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Stop.” I put up a hand. “I don’t have time for this. What the actual fuck are you talking about?”
This guy’s eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “My lord?”
“What are you going on about? We’re in the middle of a battle of Biblical proportions. Why are you talking to me about a coat?”
This one and Jeff exchange a look. Jeff clears his throat. “Well, my lord, you asked us to make you a Jon Snow coat out of wolf pelts.”
Without thinking I guffaw. Then do it again. And it feels good to let my strung-out emotions free like this, so when I’m done laughing, I suck in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Jon Snow is a pussy. Do I look like a Jon Snow? I’m not cosplaying Jon Snow. And this isn’t a fantasy!” I kinda roar this. “This is reality! And you’re my Army of Darkness!” Here I pause. “Wait. No, wrong movie. Never mind that. We’re not the Army of Darkness! They are!”
Every scion head nods in agreement. But it’s one of those cautious, ‘he’s insane’ kind of agreements. And now I do kind of remember something about Jon Snow, and I might’ve asked them to make me a coat.
So I feel dumb.
Also… crazy. Have I lost my mind? Has the whole ordeal finally caught up with me? Is this how Paul the Vampire goes out? A deranged lunatic who can’t discern dream from reality?
Only if I let it be.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sighing, but also rallying. “I’m not myself right now. We’re in the middle of things. It’s confusing for everyone.” They emphatically agree with me now. “And I never really explained your role in the endgame, so it’s all my fault. But”—I smile at them—“you are…” I need the right word here. Something that conveys all the meanings and bolsters their faith in me. “You are… the Chosen.” Oh, yeah, that’s perfect. “That’s right. The Chosen. I chose you—”
But before I can finish, the front doors of the lodge slam open and a ray of sunshine bursts through them. And behind that ray of sunshine is—well, whoever it is, they are backlit. So it takes me a few more seconds to recognize Tristin after he steps forward.
“My lord!” He’s bellowing at me. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
This is when I realize I don’t know. I felt so sure of myself when I took Kael up to White River. I had a plan, the plan was for Ryet and Syrsee, and it was executed. This internal wordplay nearly causes me to snort at my double entendre.
But now I’m confused.
Which isn’t something I typically allow myself to be.
I close my eyes, breathe, and try to calm myself. Because I’m acting strange. Even if there weren’t twenty-one scions and Tristin looking at me like I’m insane, I can feel my approaching madness.
Something has gone wrong. Again.
Tristin walks towards me with a concerned look on his face. “Paul?”
“What?”
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
“All right.” But he doesn’t believe me. And when I check the faces of the scions, neither do they. “So why are you all still here? And where did the scions go?”
“They’re right here, Tristin.” I pan my hand to my Army of Not-Darkness.
“Not them,” Tristin snaps. “The ones we poisoned!”
A flash of sanity hits me and suddenly the plan is back in my head. “What? They’re gone?”
“Yeah, they’re gone.”
“They can’t be gone, Tristin. We put them in the ground.”
“We did,” he says, trying to be patient with me. “But there’s nothing but displaced dirt where they used to be. They dug themselves up. They’re not there. Trust me, I looked.”
“Then where the hell are they?”
Tristin growls at me. “That’s what I’m asking you. You know, since you’re the king of the American Vampires and in charge of this entire fucking scheme!”
“OK, perhaps it’s time for a meeting—”
“Meeting?” Tristin cuts me off, scoffing. “There’s no time for a fuckin’ meeting! We’re on a schedule here!” Then he turns to look at the scions. “And why haven’t they changed? What the fuck is happening?”
I’m doing my best to sort out his words before I speak so I don’t sound crazy, but there’s no hope. My mind is… not well. Because I say, “Is there a costume change that I missed?” And even though these words just came out of my mouth, I hear the absurdity.
“Costume change?” Tristin is aghast. “Holy shit. You’ve lost your mind. We’re not actors in a fucking movie, Paul! We’re about to annihilate the Darkness, remember?”
I laugh. Because that’s right. I do remember that. “Yes. The Darkness. But—”
“You haven’t fed them yet!” Tristin pans his hand in the direction of my leftovers. “How the hell are we supposed to fight the Army of Darkness if you haven’t given them the proper weapons?”