Page 123 of Lucy Undying

“My friends,” I say. Each of them were vital parts of my journey. I’m glad they’re here as we near the final steps. “It’s been an honor knowing you. I love you all, and if there is anything waiting for us beyond this, I’ll—”

Kyle interrupts. “I can give you detailed instructions on how to drive to the Goldaming Life Center! All the best routes and exactly how much time each will take you, as well as—”

“Shut the fuck up, Kyle,” I say. “No one needs travel itineraries.”

“I’m so excited to kill him,” the Lover sings to herself.

With one final shared look of understanding between us, I leave my friends and head toward the last, best, most important thing I’ll ever do. I defeated Dracula; now I’m going to save Iris, and there’s no force in the world that can stop me.

103

Salt Lake City, January 27, 2025

Iris

“I always knew she was evil, but I never understood how evil until now,” I mutter as I sign yet another piece of paper in an infinite stack of pieces of paper. My mother is a vampire. She’s an actual undead creature of the night, I’ve sold my soul to her, and she’s making me do paperwork. Again.

People keep knocking on the door, summoning her out for terse conversations I’m not part of, but she never leaves me unattended.

“And sign here.” Dickie taps with one unsettlingly long finger. I swear he has more knuckle joints than he should. “And here. And here.”

I’m still exhausted and aching. They gave me what my mom referred to as a “mini transfusion.” Enough to keep me upright without diluting my own remaining blood. She wants me weak. Not that it matters. I’m literally signing away the rights to my own life.

“That should do it. Congratulations, Iris.” Dickie smiles at me, an expression as dry and joyless as a three-hour corporate training session on sexual harassment. “I look forward to working together.”

“Me too.” I smile at him, a smile as fake and lifeless as his much younger wife. But now I’m thinking about her and him and wondering if their foreplay involves reading company bylaws. I hope she murders him for the life insurance.

It’s baffling to me that the most vampiric person at the company is human. I wonder what’s holding him back. “Why haven’t you taken the old fang plunge yet?” I ask. “Why’s your cold dead heart still technically beating?”

He lifts an eyebrow at me, then closes the leather folio containing the rights to everything I am or will be. “That’s an inappropriately personal question, Miss Goldaming.”

“Please don’t call HR on me. I missed the form detailing the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy regarding vampirism.”

“Iris,” my mother says as a warning from the doorway. She doesn’t even have to raise her voice. She’s got all the leverage she’ll ever need. I saw the video footage of Lucy in their lab, chained to a chair. As long as I behave, she’ll be transported back to England and then released. I wish I could talk to her, tell her why I’m doing this, but it would break me. I’ll write her a letter that she can open when she gets there.

Part of me wants to doubt my mother’s word. But if Lucy dies, so does Goldaming Life’s leverage over me. That alone will keep Lucy safe forever. And my betrayal will keep Lucy away from me. She’ll probably be glad to be free.

I close my eyes. It’s early afternoon. Surely I can be done for the day and go back to bed. Preferably in a different bedroom.

Instead, a flurry of Goldaming Life drones come in. They’re too flushed and excited to be vampires, but they’ve got that look. Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect nails. A veneer of unreality about them, walking advertisements for wholesome, aspirational lives.

Under my mother’s guidance, they spackle concealer and foundation and highlights onto my face, airbrushing over the damage done by Dracula. My lips are painted just-bitten red, my newly false-lashed eyelids lined with liquid gold. When they get near my eyebrows with tweezers, I give them a death glare so intense they immediately alter course and brush them into place with gel.

Face done, they buff and trim and paint my nails pearly pink even though I request black. My mother watches over everything, directing them when necessary.

“At least you finally got rid of that horrendous dye job,” she says, eyeing my loose, wild curls as the women paste and pin them into submission.

“Yeah, I was trying to seduce Dracula.” I give her my most placid, Goldaming Life–approved expression. “Worked, too. I can give you some pointers if you want to bone him. Or I guess bite him? I don’t know what you’re into anymore.”

Her own expression flattens with menace. She snaps her fingers and the drones scurry from the room. “You represent the whole company now. Don’t forget. We can do worse things to Lucy than kill her, believe me.”

I believe her. Even the careful makeup work can’t cover the ghastly pallor of my face as I fight my sick dread. “Sorry.”

“Don’t ever mention Dracula again. He’s not your concern. And never, ever speak of the particulars of my condition, or the condition of anyone within Goldaming Life who has gone through the Celestial Gate.”

“I’ll do better.”

“I know you will.” Her hand comes down on my shoulder and squeezes tightly enough to be painful without leaving marks. “I know you hate me. I’m fine with that. My own mother failed me by hating what we are and trying to get out of it. I won’t make the same mistake. I’ve made myself invaluable, and you’ll do the same whether you like it or not. Now go get changed.”

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