Page 100 of Lucy Undying

“Iris!” All my lust evaporates, replaced by fear and anger. “He could have killed you! He could have taken you somewhere I can’t find you! He could have—”

“I know! Trust me, I know. But he didn’t. Twice now he could have. I think I’m off-limits. Even to him. I can tell he’s holding back. He must be feeling me out on behalf of Goldaming Life. Trying to seduce me so I’m all in. That’s it, that’s got to be it.”

Iris hums with excitement, flush with adrenaline. Because of him. For an instant I’m wretchedly jealous. I can’t even say what I’m jealous of exactly, and I don’t want to explore it.

“Lucy.” Iris takes my hands in hers, holding me here. Grounding me in myself. “Lucy, this is it. This is what we were hoping for. And you’re here now, you came for me just like you said you would, so I’m safe.” She says it with such confidence it breaks my heart.

“We’re never safe. Not with Dracula.”

“But we are! You know all his tricks. He’s a self-satisfied, arrogant old ass. He thinks I’m some easy mark.” She pauses, her gaze going far away and blank for a moment before coming back to me. “But this time, he’s the mark. I’m not just some useless iris anymore. I’m a Venus flytrap. I lure him. You and your friends destroy him. Yeah?” She shines with hope and determination.

It could work. For the first time since I died, I know exactly where Dracula will be. Exactly who he’ll be stalking. Why did it have to be Iris, though?

“We’ve got this,” she says. And when she kisses me, hungry and triumphant, I believe her.

She pulls back, staring at me like she’s painting a picture in her mind. “This is awful, seeing you again and not getting to keep you. I have so much to tell you. The letters aren’t enough. I’ve been going to school and have so many new poems memorized to whisper to you in the dark, and good god, Luce, the sex dreams are amazing but it’s not the same. I miss you so much. I wish we could hang out in the dreams, too. Talk.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve never done any of this before. I can only do feelings right now, and when I’m with you—”

“Arousal comes easily.” She smiles wickedly at me. She makes me weak, and I’m so happy about it.

“Well, I was going to say I’m an absolute bucket of lust, but yes.”

Iris laughs, that bright brassy bray. Something inside me breaks and heals at the same time, hearing it again. But then she shakes her head. “We don’t have time for this. It’s not safe for you to be with me. Here, memorize my phone number.” She tells me a series of numbers, then lets go of my hands. “Hurry, go before anyone sees you. I don’t know how often they’re watching me, but I assume it’s always. I’ll keep walking this trail every night. He’ll come again, and you’ll kill him. I have some dirt on Goldaming Life now—enough to discredit them, and with their vampire CEO gone, it’ll be over. It’ll all be over, and we can be together.”

I put my hand against Iris’s cheek, lingering on every beloved detail of her face. I could drink in that face for a hundred more years, a thousand, and never get tired of it. How is it that after all these endless days, I’m running out now?

“It’ll be over,” I echo. I kiss her, and then I slip back into moonlight, because if I don’t leave now, I never will.

84

Salt Lake City, January 15, 2025

My Little Cabbage,

Sorry to write this on the back of your letter. I had no other options. We’re staying up in the mountains—the Queen has a hard time moving among regular people, on account of the gold blades fused to her fingertips—and stationery supplies are not really a priority. Which is very sad. I do love a crisp sheet of creamy paper and a pen full of ink.

But more than a piece of paper, I’d like to write my love on your body. Slip the words and the feelings beneath your skin where they’ll never fade.

I left you a present under a rock next to the post. I don’t know if you’ll think to check this spot, now that the Lover has your phone number. But I want you to have proof. Proof you can hold in your hands, proof you can read over and over again, proof that can whisper to you in the dark when I can’t:

Forever is composed of nows, and I’ve been unbound by time long enough to know our now was perfect. Imagine me living in it forever, and I’ll imagine you the same way.

Thank you for at last answering the questions I feared I would die with—the reason, the purpose, the point of me? It was love.

It was you.

Lucy

85

Salt Lake City, January 20, 2025

Dracula

You search the trees, walk slower and slower along the path. Lingering. Hoping. Already, your nighttime walks aren’t yours. The space beside you and, soon, that space inside you, are his.

It’s hard not to drag you into the dark crevices between the hills and give you what you need. But he wants to consume you entirely, to swallow the whole of you. He wants to luxuriate and linger.

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