7 - Syrsee
Carrots and sticks
The first page of the book is a mirror . And even though this is weird, it feels inevitable. A mirror. A mirror.
A mirror .
Looking into the mirror I see myself, but a moment later I see Ryet and Paul in a bed. Our bed. I mean, mine and Ryet’s. And since this is a book, I know what to do with the mirror. I enter it, of course. That’s what I’ve been doing with all the books since I came back to the Guild, so it’s practically a habit now.
And then I’m her, the woman in bed with Paul and Ryet, and we’re feeding and naked. All twisted together and writhing on the scarlet-stained sheets.
My eyes are closed and I enjoy the feeling of the pull coming out of both sides of my neck. It feels so good. It has to though, doesn’t it? Because I’m not the kind of woman who has two men at once. It’s not my thing.
It wasn’t, at least.
But I find that I like being with Paul now. I desire him. Not in all the ways, but in this singular, specific way. I like being his food. I like being his… well, I’m not sure what I am to him or he to me. His part comes off as kind of custodial. A guardian. Which is ridiculous, because the word ‘guardian’ implies a level of protection and so far nothing about what has happened to me feels anything like protection.
Though I suppose it could always get worse.
“You think too much, Syrsee.” It’s not Paul who says this, it’s Ryet. Which is a clue. A clue that this isn’t real. But of course, I knew that. I literally stepped into a book. A story. A fiction.
This whole thing, it’s nothing but a fantasy. A good one, for sure. But fake . I know this.
“You don’t know anything. You’re a baby, dear Syrsee,” Paul says. His face is right up against mine, smiling. And his teeth are dripping with my blood. “Nothing but a baby.” Then he laughs and dives back down into his meal, which is me.
My grandma’s words come back to me in this moment— magnificent promises.
It bothers me. Because while Paul did casually reference a few promises while we were making our way to this point in time, they have nothing to do with why I let him feed on me in these dreams. Nothing at all, actually.
I let him feed on me for the same reason I allow Ryet to do it too.
Because I like it.
It’s as simple as that. I let him do it because it feels good.
A hand slips between my legs and when I turn my head, Ryet is smiling at me. His mouth is covered in my blood too. And not for the first time I wonder… how long will it last?
How long will they desire me? How long before I lose whatever it is that attracts them? How long before I am an old, empty bag of skin that tastes like a bitter pill?
It’s going to end. Everything ends eventually.
“You don’t have to worry about that, dear Syrsee.”
I turn and look at Paul. At his bloody mouth and dancing eyes. “Why not? I mean, it’s a logical worry if you ask me. I’m not a vampire. I’m a Black witch. And Black witches get old, so why wouldn’t I? My blood will get stale. You’ll make more Black witches and they will be young, and sweet, and gullible.”
He places a hand on my cheek, still smiling. “So. You like it, do you?”
“It’s impossible not to.”
“Not impossible,” he counters. “But it’s very hard to fight the Darkness. Especially on your own. It knows, Syrsee. It knows exactly what you want. And it’s powerful enough to give it to you—at least temporarily. And it has no conscience, so it doesn’t care what you’re feeling. It doesn’t care if it chews you up and spits you out. And while all your desires are becoming manifest, you don’t care either. It’s the way of evil. It’s always been the way of evil.”
“This doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“No?” Paul laughs. “It wasn’t supposed to. All of this”—he pans a hand to the bed, and the blood, and Ryet, who is still feeding on me while his fingers dance between my legs—“all of this is meant to make you feel better.”
I blink. Because an understanding manifests. I blink again. “Where am I?”
Paul pets me like I’m a kitten. “You’re right here, darling.”
“No. Where am I ?”
He chuckles, looking down at me with adoration. “You’re. Right. Here . With me, Syrsee.”
With him? But he’s… and I’m…“But… the Guild?”
Paul shakes his head. “You’re not there.”
“But the books! I can read them!”
“You could always read them, Syrsee. It was always your choice not to look.”
“But Myer! And… and our apartment!”
“Again, it’s all real. I guess.” He shrugs. “I did the best I could when I dreamed it all up based on what I know. Or, rather, what I could see inside your head. I even told you that you and your body would be separated. Remember? I told you that.”
“You did, but?—”
He shushes me with a fingertip to my lips. “Shhhhh. Quiet now, Syrsee. It’s time to face the truth. I need you. You need me. Ryet needs us both.”
I look down at Ryet, who is still blissfully sucking on my neck. It’s like he’s not here. But it’s like I’m not here, either.
“Are you ready for the truth?”
I shake my head no without hesitation.
“Too bad. I’ve been careful with you, Syrsee. I really, really have. I’ve taken it slow. I’ve given you all the time you’ve needed. From the day you were born, to this moment right here, I have been careful with you. But that’s all over now and I need you to commit.”
“Commit to what?”
“To him, of course.” Paul smiles as he looks down at Ryet feeding on me. Paul’s hand slides up to my cheek and then he pushes a bit of hair out of the way as he gazes into my eyes. “You’ve done a good job. You’ve bonded with him, and fed him, and let him put the Dark baby inside you. Such a good girl you are.”
I recoil back, repulsed. Not by his words, but because he’s right. I did all of this. Everything he said. Magnificent promises . I am repulsed by the realization that I am an active participant in my own nightmare.
No, Syrsee . The voice in my head is my grandma. You are the nightmare .
The promise, I now realize, was the pull. The feeling of being fed on.
Which makes me feel cheap and stupid.
“It’s OK,” Paul soothes, as he pets me. “It’s OK, Syrsee. You never had a chance. You’re but a baby with no knowledge of anything and I am…” He chortles. “Well, I’m the fucking king. The fucking king, Syrsee. I am the American Vampire.” He caresses my cheek now. “You never had a chance.”
I wake up suffocating on darkness .
I try to sit up, but there’s a heavy weight on my chest. I’m no longer in a bed with the man I think I love and his… our … master. The euphoric feeling of being fed on is gone.
I am in the dirt.
I know this because it falls into my mouth when I scream.
“You’re such a little rebel , aren’t you? Hmmm?” Paul is smoothing the sweaty hair away from my face again. We’re back in bed now. “Always looking for the blurry edges. It’s a dangerous want, you know that, right? To seek the blur? It’s asking for trouble.”
“This isn’t real.”
“Of course not.” And he laughs at me. “Everything that is good in your life, Syrsee? It’s all fake. All put there by me to make things easier on you. That’s how much I love you. I give you these things to give you time. To allow you to mature. So you can accept it. And you can’t even get mad at me about this.” His voice was soothing and low when he started, but it ends rather demanding and forceful. “You can’t get mad about the fictions I’ve created. You enjoyed them.”
“But…” I look up at him, searching those evil blue eyes. They are ringed red right now. Like the blue is just like everything else in my life—nothing but an illusion. “Was I ever at the Guild?”
“Of course. You had to grow up somewhere. I’m certainly not responsible enough to raise a baby. Even if I do love them.” He smiles. “I’m a terrible father. That’s why I gave you Ryet. He loves all that father shit. It’s gonna be fun, you’ll see. The two of you and…” His hand slips down to my belly. “ Him .”
I close my eyes and wonder how hard it would be to kill myself and why I didn’t go through with it back in Paul’s Montana lodge. I was so close to freedom. True freedom.
And I backed out.
I chose this. I chose evil.
“Oh, come on, Syrsee. You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” My eyes fly open and I stare at him. Ryet is still feeding on me, but the sensation of the pull is gone. Like he’s nothing but an illusion, which I’m sure he is. He’s not at the Guild any more than I am. He’s in the ground, choking on dirt. “I’m a bag of blood. I’m a womb. A factory. That’s it. I don’t want to do this.”
“Well, of course not. Who would? But that’s because I haven’t explained your reward yet.”
“ Reward ?” I scoff.
“Carrots and sticks, dear Syrsee. You respond much better to carrots. And once you have this baby, my bouncing baby Darkness, I will stuff you full of carrots. So many carrots that you won’t mind that I stole a life from you.” He smiles here. A big warm lie, this smile. “If it all goes well, I will steal many lives from you. One after the other after the other. And you will not care. It’s a very good trade, dear Syrsee.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A fiction, you see. I’ve planned it all out. A special little place for you and Ryet and”—he gestures to my stomach again—“a never-ending supply of babies. You see, I have a plan, Syrsee. And it’s quite complicated. Some of it happens here—” He pans a hand to indicate the illusion we’re currently part of. “Some of it there .” He flicks his fingers into the air, like wherever ‘there’ is, it’s ethereal. “Here and there,” he continues. “That’s the best of both worlds. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The babies are necessary for things that will happen ‘here’. And that is where you come in.”
This is when everything that happened at the cabin comes back to me. There is a cycle, Syrsee . I am not a feeder. I’m a breeder . I look at Paul. “My reward is living inside an illusion?”
“Just think of it as a book.” His smile is delightful, like he is the most cunning and clever thing in the world. And he is, so I guess he’s earned that smile. “You made such a big deal about reading the books. And now you get to live in one. How fun is that?”
“I don’t want to live in a fiction.”
His words come out angry and frustrated. “Everything is a fiction, Syrsee. There’s no reality. It’s fake. It’s an illusion. The Darkness rules this world.” He lets out a breath, takes one in, and composes himself. “And it needs to stop. That’s why I’m doing all this. We’ve got to put an end to it! And the babies guarantee that. Ryet as well, of course. But I would never leave him to die. I would never do that. Not after all the trouble I’ve gone to. Not after all my careful work. He’ll be safe in the end.” But right after he says these words, his eyes shift. And I know it’s a lie.
I scoff again. “You’re trying to save the world ? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
He waves a hand in the air. “Who cares what you believe. You’re a vessel. Filled with blood and babies.” He smirks down at me, one eyebrow cocked. “This is as good as it gets.”
I wake up again , choking on dirt, trying to claw my way up. But then Paul’s voice is in my head. “ Do not leave him in the ground, Syrsee. Do not .”
“I’m not gonna leave him! I’m trying to leave you !”
“You can’t just claw your way back up to the real world, Syrsee. You have to feed him.”
I make myself pause here. To try and come to terms with what the actual fuck is happening to me. But I don’t know. I can’t think my way through this. “What has happened? Tell me what is going on, or I swear to God, I will leave him and all your careful work will be for nothing.”
It's a lie. I won’t leave Ryet. He’s all I have left and I’m gonna fight for this man until my last dying breath. And while Paul should know this, he hedges. Then, he answers. “He’s buried next to you, just a few feet away.”
“Why didn’t you just bury us together? Could’ve saved me some time clawing through the dirt.”
“Because we weren’t sure who would wake up first. You or Ryet.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Well…” Paul’s chuckle reverberates in my head. “Because he’s a monster , Syrsee. And while you’re no angel, you’re no match for him.”
“What are you saying? That if he had woken up first, he’d have torn me apart?”
“See? You’re not so stupid.”
I close my eyes, willing this all to be a nightmare.
“This is as real as it gets because this is as good as it gets.” Paul repeats this phrase with his trademark smarmy charm that I’m sure, if I could see him, would come with a matching smarmy smile. “This, finally, is your reality, Syrsee. You make blood and babies. And for now, you feed me and Ryet. I rather like how this has turned out. You’re pretty, and your blood is sweet, and those babies of ours will be gorgeous. They will ensure an everlasting rule here in this realm we call reality. Which is still a dream so you might as well just give in and enjoy it with me. Ryet sure will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do, Syrsee. At first, he will be all instinct, just like he was when you first made him, feeding on you when he’s hungry and throwing you away when he’s full. But he’ll come around again. I promise, he will. The promise of babies is his lure, not yours. He liked being a father. It worked for him.”
“What?”
“You haven’t thought much about motherhood, so yeah. It’s an adjustment for you. But trust me now, Syrsee. You’ll see. It’s all going to turn out perfect. It will be you and Ryet and the babies in your belly forever, and ever, and ever…”
“Forever? No. It’s not forever, Paul. Because I’m not a vampire. You told me twelve. Twelve babies. So I get twelve years of a fake life as a demon’s broodmare and then… then what? I die and go to Hell?”
“You were always going to Hell, Syrsee. You’re made of Darkness. So that’s got nothing to do with me. I’m trying to make it all better. And I’ve said this several times now. I’m tired of repeating myself. Just do your job .”
These last few angry words of his echo in my head, but once that subsides, the silence left behind is deafening.
I am alone, in the dirt, with an evil, dark thing inside me.
And this is where I will stay until I get myself out of it.
I doze for a while , my head filled with nightmares. And slowly, I begin to hurt. I can’t really move in the dirt. I mean, I understand that it’s possible—with clawing and struggle—to get out of the ground, but it takes an effort and a will that I don’t really have at the moment.
But I do manage to displace enough dirt to move my arms around, and my new evil superpower seems to be night vision, so I can see what is causing my pain. Because it’s everywhere, all over my body, all at once.
It’s bite marks. That’s what I find. Bite marks all over me. Glowing a sick, fluorescent purple. There are so many, it’s like every vampire in the world used me as food.
Which doesn’t really make sense because aren’t Paul and Josep the only ones? Well, and Ryet. But isn’t a vampire a rare thing? How could two vampires have made such a mess of my body?
I don’t know. Nothing makes any sense and I feel like I’m already in Hell, so… I doze, trying my best to find the purple dreamwalk so I can make reality go away.
But it’s not easy. Not like it was. It’s like the purple knows I’m different now and wants nothing to do with me.
That’s when I remember the gold. I have two mists at my disposal. And while the purple was part of Paul, the gold is part of me, the Black witch.
The nightmare .
My nightmare.
I think about this for a while, letting the gold mist surround me in this new place in my head. Letting it heal me. I think. I hope. And I settle into the idea that Paul doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know about the nightmare. About that little girl and her… beast. What was her name again? Coyrah. And the monster was called the aquis equī—which was like a cross between a seahorse and an octopus.
If Lucia was telling the truth—and there’s really no reason to believe she was because pretty much everyone in my life is lying right now—but if she was, then that little girl who tamed the monster is my ancestor.
The start of the Black bloodline.
I feel like Paul has very little respect for this blood of mine. Not the actual blood, which he feeds on, but the genetics. And his dismissal of it— of me —feels wrong. Deceptive. Because if I was weak, he wouldn’t need me. He wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to curate me, and raise me, and keep me close.
Which means I’m strong. I just don’t know it yet.
And this strength comes from Coyrah. That’s what Lucia was telling me.
I am a Black witch and a Black witch is nothing to fuck with.
Eventually I have to concede that I can’t stay here in the dirt. My body still hurts from all the bites and it’s not getting any better. I don’t think it will get better until I drink from Ryet. And whatever is happening to him, that won’t get any better until he drinks from me.
For better or worse, I love him. He’s my partner. And even if he is a monster now, with little or no resemblance to the man I met in White River, he’s all I’ve got.
I’m not gonna give him up. I can’t. If there’s a way to keep him, I will find it.
It feels like a hollow promise. Something lackluster. I mean, it’s not romantic at all. It’s practical. And I really hate that.
But I cut myself some slack and let out a breath. Because none of this is my fault. Yes, I have made some seriously bad decisions over the past couple of months, but it was mostly reaction to circumstance. It’s not like I planned on becoming something evil. It’s not like I had a choice, either. This is what was handed to me. I’m just doing the best I can to save myself. Which, again, feels a little gross. But self-preservation isn’t a sin. It’s an instinct.
This word makes me cringe because animals have instincts and I’m already feeling less and less human as the moments tick off. But my way out was a choice I gave up back in that bedroom in Paul’s lodge. When I saved Ryet, I agreed to walk this path and now that I’m here, I had better start thinking of me .
No one else is.
Whatever Ryet is to me, whatever he will become, remains to be seen. We are in a relationship. It’s symbiotic through the blood lust, so it’s not a romantic relationship. But it is a relationship. A new one at that. In fact, even though Ryet and I have been through some serious shit over a short period of time, we don’t actually know each other yet.
We’re still in the honeymoon stage. Granted, he’s a monster and I’m a witch and our attraction is mostly about the blood lust, but it doesn’t have to be that way.
He could love me. If he’s capable of it. If he’s not, well… then what I do next is even more important. If I don’t want to end up like my grandma, then I need to make calculated decisions from this point on.
I need to make sure Ryet and I have a chance to get to know each other again. I need that dream life Paul cooked up for us at the Guild. We were getting along. We were a team.
And if I choose my steps carefully, we can be a team again. I can save that dynamic between us even if I can’t save myself.
Misery loves company.
I don’t like the way that sounds but I refuse to walk into my future without an ally when he’s literally in the dirt next to me and is most likely more than willing to come along. Even if it is only so he can feed on my blood.
So that’s what I have to do. I have to feed him. Hopefully, once I’m done, and if he’s sane, he will feed me back.
That’s the only choice I have at the moment. That’s the only way to keep him.
Making my way through the dirt is a slow process because I’m deep in the earth and the dirt has to go somewhere and the only place is the cavity I leave behind me. One handful at a time, I make enough room to turn. Then, one handful at a time, I start inching sideways.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing this when I smell his blood—maybe an hour? Maybe a day? Maybe a lifetime?
But the scent of him wipes away all the exhaustion I am feeling and I claw faster until, finally, my hand finds his shoulder.
I stop here, inhaling deeply, and close my eyes. Because his blood is so close. But this pause is barely a moment because my drive to feed on him is so strong, I couldn’t stop what I’m about to do next if I wanted to. And I don’t.
Both hands are now furiously scooping dirt away from his body and pushing it behind me. “Ryet?” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”
He stirs, but doesn’t wake.
I can see his neck now. I’ve uncovered most of his face and the top of his chest. And I just stare at his jugular—which is throbbing and pulsating with such a fervor, I almost lean down and bite it.
If I had fangs, I would. There would be no stopping me.
But I don’t have fangs. It would be a very gross chew to open that vein.
I’m looking right at him when I think this and his eyes fly open.
I laugh in surprise. “Ryet? Can you hear me? Are you awake?”
He doesn’t look at me. I’m not even sure he hears me, but he starts clawing at the dirt on top of him, scooping handfuls and pushing it underneath him in a way that feels very practiced. Like he’s been digging his way out of the dirt his entire life.
The word ‘instinct’ come to mind again.
Like he’s a mole.
While I’m thinking this, he begins to move upward. Then everything starts happening so fast—his hands, the dirt, the empty space above him—and before I know it, he’s leaving me behind!
I grab on to his shoulders at the very last moment, hooking my arms tightly around his neck. And it’s a good thing I have instincts too because if I had waited another second, he would’ve left me buried behind him.
Moments later we’re breaking through the surface of the earth, the dark, inky night sky a refreshing and rejuvenating sight.
I did it!
We did it!
We’re out.
As Ryet steps out of the ground, I unwrap my arms from around his shoulders and land on my feet. Then I start laughing. It was so much easier than I thought it would be.
Ryet turns and…
My smile drops and my laugh dies.
He and I lock eyes. I don’t know what mine look like, but his are red and there is no trace of the man I love in there.
The next thing I know, I’m falling backwards to the ground and his teeth are ripping through my throat.