13 - Syrsee
He wins
I am on a long , great sheet of ice and the wind is blowing so hard, tiny pinpricks of snow hit my face like pebbles, stinging it and making me cower.
There is a tribe of people in front of me, all formed up in a circle. They are wearing furs, and have dark hair, and they look ancient. They are all holding torches, looking down into a black hole in the ice.
Then, without any preliminaries, the monster emerges from the water screaming like something from Hell.
In the dreamwalk Lucia took me on, this was some kind of octopus horse thing. But in this one, it’s a snake. A giant viper with its mouth open and fangs dripping with poison.
“It doesn’t matter what shape it takes.”
I turn and find Lucia standing next to me. “What?”
Lucia shrugs. She’s not really here. She’s dead, I know this, but even if I didn’t know this, I would understand that she is not here because she’s… transparent. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a snake or an aquis equī, Syrsee. It’s all the same thing. Look. Look closely .”
I turn back to the snake and watch as the little girl all dressed up in fur approaches and starts to mount its head. But as I stare at it, it changes. Turns to black sand, and then, once the girl is sitting on top of it, it… crumbles.
That’s the best word I have for what I’m seeing. It turns to black sand and falls apart, taking the girl with it. She simply disappears, like she was never here.
There is a great roar from the people dressed in fur as they lift their torches up into the air. Then they are dancing, and lighting fires, and there is cooking going on. Tents are pitched, right there on the ice. Right in front of the black hole.
They begin fishing, and I watch as the low-hanging sun goes down below the horizon, and the moon chases it, and that whole day-and-night dance happens in time-lapse. The ice shifts, melts, and freezes again as this small camp inches its way back to land. Then cabins appear where there were tents. Hordes of people live here now. The buildings get bigger. They are made of ice and summer never comes. These people make massive boats and bring in great nets full of fish and seals.
And then this little village is a city.
Then a bigger city.
Bigger.
Until, finally, it is a castle made of ice.
This is when the purple mist appears.
“Why now? Why did the purple wait so long?”
Lucia looks at me. “Why do you think?”
“They… didn’t know how to summon it.”
“Everyone starts somewhere.”
“What did they do? How did they get the Darkness to cooperate?”
“They gave it a girl, of course. A Coyrah, which in the ancient language is just a word, not a name. A word that means ‘trade.’ You see, there are many girls like you and it’s been going on for thousands of years. If you want something magnificent from the Darkness, you must trade it something back in return. She is Coyrah. Just as the last girl was Coyrah. Just as you are Coyrah.”
I let out a long, tired sigh.
“You all get your own personal monster, Syrsee. And yours is called Ryet.”
I turn and look her in straight in the eyes. “I thought you said this was something magnificent?”
“Well, it is. It’s amazing. This is your bloodline, Syrsee. This is where your Black blood comes from. But it’s more than that, it’s your destiny as well. It’s where you go when you die.” She pans her hand at the ice castle. “These people weren’t stupid. They made a good deal.”
I almost snort in disagreement.
Lucia shrugs. “They got the magic, didn’t they?”
“They turned themselves into… I dunno. Some kind of cult. And the magic is dark. The magic is… gross.”
“Power is power.”
“I don’t agree.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would. You are, after all, the sacrifice. But when you die, you’ll feel different when you don’t find yourself rotting in Hell. Because you’ll be here.” Again, she pans her hand to the ice castle. “Ready to be recycled.”
It takes a moment for that last bit to internalize. “What?”
“I told you. She is Coyrah. You are Coyrah. You are all Coyrah. Or maybe a better way to explain it is… Coyrah is you . Every Black witch that has ever lived is… you .”
“That’s not possible.” These words come out loud and strong. “That’s just not possible. It’s not even logical. It doesn’t add up. My grandma was a Black witch. I mean, I know they are few and far between, but?—”
“They are you.”
“But it can’t be! I am me . And no one else.”
Lucia gives me a sad smile. “Didn’t Paul explain the severing of souls?”
“What? No!”
“That’s a lie. Don’t lie to me, Syrsee. It’s counterproductive. I’m only here to help. Are you, or are you not, carrying the Seed of Darkness inside you right at this very moment?”
I just stare at her with my mouth open and my eyes wide.
“Well? Are you?”
“I… might be.”
“You are. And Paul, in order to preserve you to keep Ryet compliant and happy, split you in half and put you in two places. Do you think two is the limit?”
I shake my head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it? Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree here. Because it makes perfect sense to me. You are the trade . Your soul is trapped in the Darkness. It claimed you, right out there on that ice, thousands of years ago. The reason there are so few Black witches is because the Obscurati can only split you so many times before the Darkness is too dilute to matter. Paul stole a little bit of you when he, and Josep, and I left the Old World. A tiny drop of blood. Josep took that blood and grew it the way a scientist might grow a mold in a Petri dish. He stole you. Clever, clever Paul. I wish we were friends, because I would really like that story. How he got that little drop of you out of the Old World is something akin to divine intervention.”
“You’re telling me that I am my own grandmother?”
“Your own mother, as well.” She pauses here to smile. It’s a sad one. “You’re the nightmare. Do you see it now? The horse and the rider. Eating its own tail.”
A perfect image of the logo for the Guild Lounge pops into my mind.
“The ouroboros,” Lucia says. “And the creature in the symbol is a snake eating its own tail. But in your case, it’s a mother eating her child.”
I start shaking my head. “No. No .”
“You’re not really eating your own child, Syrsee. Keep up. It’s you, devouring yourself. Recycling at its best.”
This is when I realize that no one ever told me that it was called the Horse and Rider. I made that up because that’s what it looked like when I first saw it.
But it’s not a horse or a rider. It’s me and the evil I carry inside me.
Not the baby, but the Darkness .
“Come on now. Let’s put all the pieces together, shall we?” Lucia’s voice is soft now, and she tucks a piece of stray hair behind my ear, trying to soothe me. “Did you think that the Black mother killing the Black daughter at birth was a joke? It’s power, Syrsee. Your power. You’re killing a daughter, you’re snuffing out a future piece of yourself to build up your current incarnation.”
Suddenly, I’m in that cabin again. It’s New Year’s Eve and my grandmother smells like death because she is dying.
Magnificent promises .
“He is going to promise you something you want very badly, Syrsee.”
“What, though? I don’t need anything, Grandma.”
“No. You don’t. But someone you love will. So be very sure about the man you give your heart to, my love. Because he will be your downfall. He will steal your soul.”
“You were told this. This should not be news to you,” Lucia says. “At the very least, you should recognize the truth in it. Did you ever know your mother?”
I’m still halfway in the past with my dying grandma when Lucia asks me this, so it takes a moment for me to completely come back to her. “What?”
“You never met your mother.”
“So?” I’m irritated now. Why am I always the last to know everything?
“Have you ever seen a coven of Black witches?”
“No. Have you?”
“Of course not.” Lucia laughs, making her eyes sparkle. “They don’t exist, darling. Only you exist. Coyrah. The trade.”
Finally, I’ve had enough. “Look, either you tell me what the fuck is going on and what I’m supposed to do, or go away ! I don’t have room in my head for this shit right now! And I want it spelled out for me, OK? Short, simple sentences. Give me the fucking bullet points!”
Lucia looks a little stunned at my outburst, but she composes herself quickly. “Fine. You want the bullet points? Here they are. One. You’re an eternal sacrifice. Your soul is trapped in a constant recycling of a single human girl. Two. Your purpose is to carry the Black blood into the future. Three. The future is now.”
I stare at her for a moment, waiting for point number four, but she remains silent. “Don’t stop, Lucia. I’m fucking serious here. Four. Keep going.”
Lucia sighs, side-eyeing me. “Four.” Her voice is low now. “You have two choices. End it all or don’t.”
“End… all… of what?”
“You. Ryet. Paul. Josep. This whole bloodline.” She gives me a weak smile. “And me.”
“You’re already dead, Lucia.”
“My soul is trapped, just like yours. But in a different way.”
For a moment I think she’s sad that she’s a part of this. Of the bloodline, as she calls it. But then I remember back to when Paul cut off her head in the Montana lodge and all the things she told me that night.
Well, fragments of it, anyway.
She wanted to die, that I remember for sure. But she mentioned second-level powers that would come with it. “What do you get out of this?” I ask.
“I get to move on, Syrsee.”
“To that ice castle place?”
“That’s right.”
“But that’s not a place for you.” This is a guess on my part, but if what she just told me is true, then I’m right. I’m the only Black witch there is. She doesn’t belong there, I do . “That’s a place for me .”
But that’s a lie too. And I realize this when Lucia frowns.
It’s not a place for me any more than it is for her. I’m stuck in an eternal process of recycling.
“If you could go there, Syrsee,” Lucia says, “would you?”
I want to say no, but that’s just a reaction. So instead, I take a moment to really think about it. If I am stuck, and living out this Black witch Coyrah thing is all I have to look forward to for all eternity, then… I sigh. “I suppose.”
Her reaction is a single raised eyebrow.
“Fine,” I huff. “I would, I guess. To get out of this cycle. Yeah. I’d rather spend eternity in some fantasy ice castle with people who traded me for the power to leave this world for good than keep going as the horse and rider.”
“The ouroboros, you mean.”
I wave a hand in the air. “Whatever.”
“Let’s return to our bullet points.” She smiles. “Five. In order to break your cycle you must kill them all, Syrsee. Ryet, Josep, and Paul. Then, and only then, will you be free.”
But it’s a lie. I can feel this lie. Because she left something out. Something I can’t really articulate, and I know almost nothing about, but she hasn’t even mentioned the Obscurati. Who must have a part of me as well. So it’s a lie.
Lucia is shaking her head. “That’s not what’s happening here, Syrsee. Paul made you. You are a brand- new Coyrah brought to life by the Darkness itself and living inside that baby you’re carrying right now.”
“So who is the Black witch across the ocean?”
“Not a who, but a what. It is a bloodline that is too dilute to continue. Something that was merely dying, but will soon be dead.”
“Six,” I say, continuing the bullet points. “How do I kill them?”
Lucia smiles, and my God, it is evil. “You feed them the dead Black blood. There’s a vial in Josep’s cave. He brought it with him from the Old World. Paul used that blood to coerce him into joining up on this quest. Find it. Drink it. And let them feed. One and done.”
“Ah, there you are . I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Syrsee.”
Lucia is gone now and in her place is Paul. I’m no longer standing on the ice, but lying in a bed next to him.
It’s a nice room, at least.
We’re both staring at the ceiling, quiet for a few moments.
I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but everything Lucia just told me is swirling through my head like a cyclone.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “I take it you know now?”
I’m surprised at these words. “You and Lucia planned this?”
“Of course not.” He snickers these words out. “Lucia is a tool, not a confidante. But she is part of the plan. Her betrayal of me, at least.”
“So you know she wants me to kill you?”
“She’s wanted me dead for hundreds of years.”
“She wants me to drink Black blood and feed you all. This is your plan?”
“No.” And he chuckles. “My plan is to save Ryet.”
“What about me?”
“Well, if he’s alive, dear Syrsee, then you are too. He cannot exist without you.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, I don’t matter much.” He turns his head to look at me now. “Don’t worry about me, Syrsee. I can take care of myself.”
“How many?” I ask. “How many of me are there right now in the world?”
Paul sucks in a breath, like he’s silently counting. “Well, I have three.”
“ Three ? Assuming this baby inside me counts as one, where’s the third me?”
“She’s a baby still. Only two. She’s living up in White River with my clan.”
I look back up at the ceiling, trying to internalize this news.
“But there are many more than three, Syrsee. There are a few clans of Black witches up near Seattle who are still breeding the line I gave them about a hundred years ago. But that line is very dilute and I don’t expect any of those girls to make it to my bed. Then, back in the Old World, the Obscurati has its own line.” He pauses to think, sighing as he does this. “I don’t know for sure. But I would guess at least fifty or sixty. They feed the entire population back there, and there are a lot more vampires across the ocean than there are here.”
“How could I be this many people? I mean, I only have one soul!”
“Oh, that soul is very tattered, my girl. It’s fraying, and not just along the edges. And fragile and fraying things are very easy to split. But it’s nearing the end of your cycle. Especially across the ocean. They can’t make magic with it anymore. They need every bit of your Black blood to keep themselves alive. But they will die soon, all on their own. I don’t have to do anything to make them die, they did it to themselves. And once they’re gone, if my plan works, Ryet will be the only one left.” He side-eyes me. “And you, of course. You’re the key to everything.”
I’m afraid to ask, but there’s no going back now. “What does all that mean , Paul?”
“Well.” This word comes out… sad . A little. And this throws me. Because he’s Paul. Paul the Vampire. Paul the cocky one. The charming asshole. He doesn’t do sad . “Well,” he tries again. “It means we have to… say goodbye. For a little while, at least. That’s why I’m in such a rush to complete Ryet. I need him strong when you go.”
“Go where ?” There’s a little bit of panic in my voice now.
“The Long Death. All your pieces must die so you can collect them again. In the Old World they call it the Mors Longa and it is not due to happen for another seventy or eighty years.” Now he smiles, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking up at the ceiling. “I would say that we’re off schedule, but”—he does look at me now—“we’re not.” Another smile. This time very wide.
“You planned this.”
“Of course I did. I’m trying to end them , Syrsee. We all have a job to do. We don’t like the job we’re doing, but we do it, nonetheless.”
I think about all his words for a moment, trying to force them to make sense with what I know, but I can’t. “I don’t understand. I thought you were trying to make an army? The American Vampires?”
“Every journey begins with the first step.”
“What does that mean, Paul?”
“What does that mean ?” He’s still looking at me, and this time his smile is small. But as small as it is, it’s also genuine. The smarminess he’s known for is nowhere to be seen. “Ryet is my hedge.” He sighs. “I don’t want to give him up. I know it’s wrong, I know I’ll pay for this, but I don’t care.” And now he frowns. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Paul frown. “I can’t explain it. I just… love him.”
“So he’s not part of your job?”
Paul scoffs. “No. I am decidedly off task when it comes to Ryet. But you see, Syrsee”—he turns in bed now, facing me like we’re best friends ready to gossip—“you see… it’s one thing to know one’s job. It’s quite another to live it for two thousand years, and get used to who you are, and gather minions that you love and care for, and immerse yourself into the lifestyle and… well. It wouldn’t be the first time that a spy has gone rogue, now would it?”
I’m… shocked . “What. The fuck. Are you talking about?”
“I am human, after all. I mean, I was. Once. And there’s… you know, desires in there.” He points to his chest. “We’re not perfect.”
I just shake my head at him. “Who the hell do you work for?”
He simply laughs. “It doesn’t matter. Because I’m… I’m going to see this through. I’m going to make sure that Ryet lives. And don’t worry. I’ll save you too. Even if he didn’t need to feed on you, I would still save you, Syrsee. I have to now. Because he wants you. And I will do anything to make Ryet happy. Even give up my eternal soul. I mean, who needs it at this point, right? Mine was taken by the Darkness long ago and… well, I’ve seen Hell, Syrsee. I’ve looked that Devil straight in the eyes. It doesn’t like me because it’s never trusted me. For good reason. But I answer to someone far more dangerous than some silly Devil. Still, I think I’ll be OK.”
I blink. Because… is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Paul, you need?—”
But he’s gone. And while I am still in a bed, it’s not the same one. It’s a real bed and Ryet is looking down at me with a worried face.
“Syrsee?” His voice is low, nearly a whisper. “Syrsee? Can you hear me?”
I nod my head, but I can’t answer him with words because everything I thought I knew about myself, and Paul, and Ryet, and the Darkness, and the Black witches—well, none of it is true.
“How do you feel?”
How do I feel? I suck in a long breath and slowly let it out. “Tired. I’m tired of this.”
Ryet presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah. Me too.” He lies down next to me, pulling me into his arms. “Do you hurt?”
I mean… I almost laugh at this absurd question. “No, Ryet. I don’t hurt.” Which is a lie, but what’s one more in the grand scheme of things? Still, I don’t like lying to Ryet, so I add in a little truth. “At least not on the outside.”
“I’m so sorry for attacking you like I did. I wasn’t myself.”
I scoff, then actually let that laugh out. “Yeah. I’m not really myself either.”
Ryet hugs me a little tighter. “It’s gonna be OK.”
And I just nod and agree.
Because whatever happens, I’m not in control.
Paul is.
And if there’s one thing I know about Paul, it’s this: He wins.
So I decide to believe Ryet and just let him hold me as I drift back asleep.