Page 98 of Lucy Undying

His own laughter.

82

Salt Lake City, January 14, 2025

Iris

It’s more than a little difficult to walk this trail knowing that the last time I was on it, I was chased by a pack of feral dogs into Dracula’s waiting arms. Not exactly my ideal evening stroll scenario. When the dogs first showed up, I thought it was just my wretched luck. And then he was there, and I was so flooded with adrenaline I could barely process it.

I have to be on my guard tonight. At my best. And even though I’m expecting him, I still jump half a foot in the air when he appears next to me like he’d been there the whole time.

“Oh, hi,” I blurt, trying not to let out a nervous laugh. I need to be someone he’ll want to pursue, like Lucy. Or Mina, I guess, since he also went after her. Though I’d rather be like Lucy. Regular Iris with her donkey bray laugh and defiant attitude is definitely not someone most people would want. My mom taught me that much.

I keep walking, because I don’t know what else to do. He matches my stride, his own steps silent whispers to my clomping trod. It’s all I can do not to stare. There’s something smudged about him, like I’m seeing him through dirty glass. He’s more the impression of a man than an actual person. Maybe that’s part of his vampire predator magic. People project what they want to see, but it doesn’t quite work on me. My brain already knows something’s wrong with him.

He’s tall and gaunt, his hairline retreating steeply from harsh, haughty features. Even though we met on a hiking trail, he’s wearing a suit tailored to emphasize the long, lean lines of his body. A cape wouldn’t be out of place, but he’s adapted enough to the times to leave that behind. In the lift of his eyebrow and a twist of his dark lips is a dare: Make me care about you. Prove you’re worth my time.

I am. I have to be, so I can help Lucy destroy him.

“I love this trail; it’s really nice,” I babble. My nerves aren’t an act. I’m walking side by side with the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met. “I’m sure it’s crowded in the summer, but at night in the winter no one’s out here. I can pretend I’m alone.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t respond.

I keep going, desperate to hear anything familiar and warm and human. Even if it’s my own voice. “I’m a student. Studying literature. Which, don’t tell me, I know won’t ever get me a job. I’ve heard it many times. But I don’t need a job. I’m already CEO of a wellness company, inherited from my mother. It’s popular across the country, but especially here where they’re headquartered. Maybe you’re already walking the Gold Path?” I prod him with Goldaming Life terminology, trying to get a reaction. I want him to acknowledge that he’s in charge, that we’ve met before, but he doesn’t.

Actually, I’m not sure he’s listening. He nods occasionally and has his head tilted toward me, but it’s a pantomime. Just like my tutors when I tried to tell them about my mom, or the doctors when I insisted I wasn’t crazy. He’s fucking humoring me. He isn’t paying attention to a single thing I’m saying.

I’m desperate to do something, anything, to make him really listen. To force him to hear me. What can I say that he’ll like? How can I keep his interest and—

Oh god, I get it. I understand why so many young women fall under his thrall. We’re trained to crave approval and acknowledgment, encouraged to force down our instinctive warning signals. Because what worth do we have if we’re not desirable? Sexually, sure, but also on every other level. Be likable. Be pretty. Be pleasant. Be small enough not to threaten anyone, take up only as much space as you’re given, be who and what they want you to be.

I know exactly what Dracula is, and I’m still trying to figure out how to bend myself into a shape he’ll like enough to stick around. At least I know why I’m doing it.

But do I? What’s the point of this? What’s the point of any of this? Lucy and I could have run away. Between the two of us, we might have had a chance at disappearing. I hate Dracula, and I hate my family, and I want them both destroyed, but…

I’m tired. I’m so tired. It’s been months here, alone, pretending my way through every single moment. And now I finally have Dracula at my side, and I’m terrified if I don’t pretend well enough, he’ll disappear.

Maybe Lucy would disappear then, too. That’s my deepest fear since we parted ways: If we didn’t have this goal keeping us together, would Lucy even still want me? Would I be anything more to her than a silly mortal fling? We had so little real time together. I probably feel more for her than she does for me. Maybe she’s not even coming. She found her old vampire buddies and decided they’re better company than I am. It’s been so long since she wrote. Too long.

I’m flooded with all the relationships I’ve ever had, the people who said they loved me, but never enough to stay. Never enough to choose me. Not any of my friends or girlfriends, every single one of whom bailed when things got too hard or weird or when the money was better than me. Even my own parents never loved me as I am. My dad wanted me to be happy and easy, and my mom wanted me to be her.

“I feel so small,” I say without meaning to. But I can’t stop once I start. “It’s too cold for me to be outside, but here I am anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing it on purpose. Hastening my end. Like maybe I should just give up and stop running from it. What am I trying to prolong, anyway? What is it about my life that makes me terrified to lose a few years of it? I walk through my days faking everything. Like I’m standing above myself, puppeteering my body through a dark stage for an audience I can’t even see. Trying to fool everyone else, sure, but mostly trying to fool myself into believing that I’m real. That I matter. That any of this matters. Because it doesn’t, does it? It’s all fake. It’s all make-believe. No one really knows how the world works, or why. Who we are, or why we’re here. And the miracle of existence becomes absurd once you’ve seen what’s beyond the ‘real’ world everyone else lives in.”

His voice startles me, low and smooth and almost melodious. “You’ve touched the edges of the void and been contaminated by what you felt there.”

“Yes,” I gasp, both in surprise that he was listening, and that…he understands? I have been contaminated by knowing about the secret dark borders of reality. The ones no one else seems to recognize or care about.

“I see you.” He pauses his steps, and I stop almost against my will. He leans close, forcing me to tip my head back to stare up into his face. I was wrong. It isn’t smudged. It’s clear. It’s the clearest thing in the world, a perfect open expanse, brutal honesty in his two black pools of eyes. I can’t quite look at them. I keep my gaze on his mouth instead, wondering what he’ll say next.

“I’ll save you,” he says, long fingers brushing my elbow.

“From what?” I know I’m in danger, I feel it, I’ve always felt it. My whole life I’ve been on the edge of annihilation, but I’ve never known where the threat was coming from. He knows. He knows everything, and if I can just get him to like me, to want me, he’ll share his secrets.

“From the delusion of self-determination. From the wretchedly small life you’ll have here. From yourself. Look into my eyes, and I’ll show you the eternity you seek.”

His eyes. Someone described his eyes once. I know about them, they’re a mirror into—

They’re not a mirror. Lucy didn’t see herself in them. Lucy! God, what am I doing? He fucking thralled me, and even knowing it’s happening I can barely tear myself away! What was I thinking, meeting Dracula out here by myself?

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