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)
And now, as I pass my blood magic onto these men, it’s all I can think about.
Syrsee. And how she showed up in the bath that night I was made. And how she washed my back, wings poking through, and gave me hope.
Because I have to be honest here, I wasn’t feeling hopeful that night I was born. The only thing I was feeling was forsaken.
Why? Why me?
What had I done to deserve this… curse?
A book was written, back in the day, that answered these questions. But that account was written before third-born Paul killed the Fifth Roman Emperor, so it was never completely accurate. To the victor go the spoils. The ‘good guys’ always get to write the history books.
But I do remember the true story of how and why I was made. And even if my path from that moment to this one here is quite crooked, here I am nonetheless.
The scion who is feeding has finally had enough and he falls to the side of the bed, unconscious. Tristin, this being his one job, jumps into action and grabs the man under his shoulders so he can pull him off the bed and drag him across the floor where the rest of my fully satiated scions are all lined up.
I sigh, looking over to the men still in line. There are five of them, all staring at me with hungry eyes as they bare their teeth and lick their lips.
But they don’t rush me. They wait like good little almost-vampires.
They will never be vampires.
I mean, I suppose it’s possible that one survives the change, but it’s highly unlikely. Josep and I have made hundreds and hundreds of scions over the years and Ryet is the only one who took. These men never had a personal feeder who was bred for the sole purpose of helping them through the transition.
But they will not take as long as Ryet to emerge, either. I glance up at the clock on the wall and see that it is nearly dawn now. They will sleep off the blood intoxication and be awake by this evening.
It might be too late. And when I think these words I inadvertently glance over at Tristin. Because he’s been reminding me on repeat that feeding these scions was my only job and if, by some chance, Josep doesn’t come hunting us before they wake, it will only be by luck.
“Are you trying to ruin this operation?” That was another thing he said.
And, if one looks at it objectively, there could be an argument for this last one.
I don’t feel particularly concerned about things. There is no sense of urgency now that the final feeding has commenced.
This is how it used to be. This… indifference. In the first days, in the beginning days. When that insufferable child of an emperor would torture me and the only escape I had was my mind. And the mission.
I hadn’t forgotten about the mission. Hadn’t given up on it, either. It just stopped being relevant. When you’re in survival mode you do what needs to be done. Good or evil no longer matters. The only thing that matters is to keep going.
But, as I sit here feeding my scions their death drink, I am once again thinking about that night when Syrsee showed up in my bath, back in the times of the Roman Emperor, Nero. It was the night of my third-birth and Syrsee appeared as a blur of golden light. Something not quite there, but also very real. I couldn’t see her correctly. Like some magic had been done on me so I couldn’t make out her face.
But I always knew. And I am considering the idea… entertaining the notion that I… might have… gotten some of this… wrong.
Oh, I have thought about that final conversation I will have with my Maker about all he has put me through. I’ve thought about that a lot. What I would say, the way I would seethe, and spit, and accuse. And I still plan on doing that. But I haven’t put any intellectual effort at all into what comes after that.
I’m a hell of a vampire. I mean—I actually chuckle out loud here—legendary really is the right word for the Vampire Paul. I embraced it. I embraced all of it. The blood, the sex, the magic, the Darkness. It was all mine for the taking.
Even the Darkness was mine. I’m sure it would disagree on this point, because it tried very hard to deny me the magic. But still, the magic came to me. Somehow, some way, it came to me like I was the true owner of that evil. And it did my bidding like I was the true demon it was made of.
This is how I got here. From that Roman bath to this little building in the Rocky Mountains. Every step of the way was paved in debauchery.