Page 99 of Lucy Undying

I turn and hurry along the trail, rubbing my arms to imply I want to keep moving to stay warm. “I should—” I start, trying to think of some excuse, but he’s right beside me again. I didn’t even hear him move. He puts out a hand to stop me. His skin shimmers, like he can barely contain himself in the human guise he’s wearing.

He’s going to kill me. I was an idiot to believe I could ever take down my family or their founding monster. “Please,” I whisper, and the worst part is I don’t know what I’m asking for as his terribly dark lips part in a smile.

83

Salt Lake City, January 14, 2025

Lucy

We arrive at the foot of the mountains under cover of night. Again it took too long to get here. The Queen refuses to ride in a car, and this country’s rail system is a disaster. I nearly left my companions behind several times on this journey. But I’ve left them before, and I’d rather not do it again, not when they want to be with me. And not when I might need them.

Salt Lake City stretches beneath us, a patchwork quilt of fireflies winking in the night. Iris is out there, so close, too far. I want to race along the moonlight to her.

I need to find her letters first. It will be a challenge, though. I thought I’d be able to smell her lingering scent, but because Iris drank some of my blood before we separated, I can actually feel her. A tug on my consciousness, like a string connecting us. No wonder Dracula found me so easily in London.

It’s hard to ignore the pull of Iris herself and focus only on lingering traces of her scent. It’s not the only surprising thing about being connected this way. I haven’t dreamed in so long, I’d forgotten what it was like. Spending time in Iris’s dreams is surreal and occasionally hard to control, but it means we have a way to see each other even when we can’t see each other.

It also means after all this time I’ve found new pleasures. Not only having sex with someone I love who loves me, but having dream sex with her. The usual rules and processes don’t apply. Last night all it took was whispering her name against her ear.

Iris, Iris, I want to be with you right now.

“Why are you smiling like that,” the Queen demands. “It’s upsetting.”

The Lover sits on top of a rock, kicking her feet against it. “Lucy’s thinking about sex.”

“Easy guess,” I respond. “Come on. We need to find Iris’s letters.”

We prowl through the night, three predators in search of ink on paper. I wish there were a better way. The Lover has her magic box, but she doesn’t have Iris’s phone number and none of us are tech-savvy enough to figure it out. Besides, Iris isn’t in that little glowing screen. Iris is out there, in the night, waiting. She’s been waiting too long.

What might have changed in our time apart? I try not to let fear claim me; Iris certainly hasn’t grown tired of me in our dreams. Nor does she find me too needy. Our needs match up quite nicely.

But I want to do more than meet her in that hazy dreamscape. I want to talk to her. To hold her hand. To hear her abrupt burst of laughter that always seems to embarrass her. I want to just…exist with her. I wonder if we’ll have another chance, or if what we’ve gotten is all we’ll ever get. It’s enough, but at the same time it will never be enough.

“Now Lucy’s sad,” the Lover says.

“I’m not sad, I—” I stop. I haven’t been following a lingering trace of Iris’s scent at all. The scent is moving. I’m following Iris herself. Before I can think better, I race closer. The closer I get, the more I can feel her, like déjà vu. Remembering something that hasn’t happened yet. But she’s nervous. No, more than that. She’s scared. And she’s not alone in the darkness.

“What is it?” the Queen asks.

“He’s here.” I scatter. I’m moonlight, I’m movement, I’m nothing but need. I need to get to Iris, I need to protect her, I need to stop him before he touches her. He can’t touch her, he can’t.

I corral the whirlwind of my desperation and coalesce into form once more. Everything is confusing, everything is raw, the night so bright, the trees so loud. I fling all my senses outward, not caring that it’s too much, that I’m hurting myself.

And there—he was—

He isn’t. He was there, and he’s not anymore. But Iris is. I sprint down the path, blurring from darkest shadow to darkest shadow, until she’s in my arms. Real. Alive. Here.

She goes rigid with fear and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry to have frightened her, but then she melts into me. The softness of her wraps me up, holding me as much as I’m holding her.

“Lucy!” she gasps. She’s trembling, taking deep breaths as she calms down. “You’re here. You’re here.”

“I smelled Dracula,” I say.

“I know! I wrote you! I found him. Or I guess he found me, but he doesn’t know I’m luring him on purpose. He thinks he’s stalking me. He thinks I have no idea who or what he is.” She pulls back to look at me, her beautiful forest-loam eyes, her nose turned up at the end as if to give full access to her bee-stung lips. I want to sting her lips, I want to turn back into moonlight and cover every inch of her, I want to—

“Wait,” I say. “You’ve been luring Dracula? Alone?”

“I knew you were on your way.”

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