Page 57 of Lucy Undying

He looked.

I was wrong. In his eyes, those pits of burning red, I saw nothing of myself. At last I was afraid. I drove my knife into his stomach.

It met no resistance. It was as though I had stabbed the mist. He pressed his dry lips to my neck. There was a bright burst of pain so sharp I felt myself erased by it, and then cold spread like poison, lancing from my throat toward my heart. My eyes closed and my soul fled.

The next thing I knew, Mina was shaking me. I put my hand to my throat with a cry of terror. Mina shouldn’t have been out there! Everything was wasted if he found her! But my attacker was gone, as was my knife. Mina drew her cloak around me and guided me home. I could barely stand. I was so cold and dizzy that I was floating on the night air, part of it. Gravity had renounced its claim on me once and for all.

When we reached our room, Mina furiously berated me. I wept and hugged her, because it was so lovely to hear that she cared. That she came looking for me. She made me swear to tell no one I had been out, lest my reputation be ruined. I agreed.

I survived, somehow, against all odds. And Mina is safe. I saved her.

She can never know, because then she’d know such a creature exists out there. I wouldn’t put Mina through that. Not for anything. Whether he was right about Jonathan or not, I cannot say and I do not care. I’ll protect Mina, and take care of her, and stay at her side. She doesn’t need to love me back. My love isn’t contingent on that.

We are closer than ever, even if she has no idea what transpired. I know what I did for her, and my throat hurts, and I can’t get warm, and there are shadows flitting on the edges of my vision, but I am happy.

49

London, October 7, 2024

Iris

Judging by Rahul’s incredulous gaze in the rearview mirror and Elle’s total silence, I need to be less honest.

Honesty really isn’t the best policy. Honesty gets you a schizotypal disorder diagnosis that makes it even easier for your mother to control your life. Honesty gets you involuntarily committed. Honesty gets you nowhere when Goldaming Life is involved, because the Goldaming lie is more powerful than any truth.

I take a breath and try again. Tell all the truth but tell it slant. My girl Emily Dickinson knew what she was talking about. “My family—my mother, until she died—runs a vast, predatory, multilevel marketing company. It basically exists to take advantage of people and drain them of everything they have.”

Rahul lets out a relieved breath. “Okay. I see. Your vampires are metaphorical.”

I give him my shrug of a smile. Elle relaxes a little, shifting in the passenger seat and turning toward me. She reaches out and squeezes my hand as I continue. It gives me a shiver of pleasure, which I don’t deserve and can’t indulge.

“Goldaming Life is a cult. It starts as health and wellness nonsense, drawing people in with promises of being beautiful and young and also making money off of being beautiful and young. The company’s been around for a long time, but it was always regional and smaller. My mom took it to soaring new heights. Branding, merchandising, expansion. Always expansion. And thanks to influencers and social media, she’s turned it into a whole lifestyle. People get obsessed. Goldaming Life is booming, getting even more hopeful dupes under its control every day. But I’m the sole inheritor, so now I’m the dupe Goldaming Life needs most.”

Rahul frowns. “Goldaming Life. Aren’t they those shiny-looking people pushing cleansing products that promise to restore youth? What’s their slogan again…The blood is life?”

I startle. How does good, sweet Rahul know it? “Yeah, that’s them.”

“Bloody hell. They gave me a pamphlet in Piccadilly the other week. As if I need a more youthful glow. Have you seen my skin?”

“Your skin is the glowingest,” I say, trying for a playful tone. But my stomach feels sick. My mother’s next goal was expanding into Canada, Mexico, Brazil, and Europe. I didn’t think she’d put any of that into motion yet. How far will I have to run to escape her reach?

“So why are they after you?” Rahul asks. “Can’t you tell them you aren’t interested in running things? Ask for a buyout?”

“If it were a normal company, sure. But you don’t get bought out from a cult. They’re obsessed with blood and bloodlines, which means I’m not only the sole inheritor, I’m, like, theirs. I’m a possession. And I’m legally the head of the company, so they can’t make any business decisions or move significant amounts of money without my okay. They’re desperate to get me back in the U.S. and under their thumb. By whatever means necessary.”

Elle’s voice is soft and sad. “Thus the need to sell everything for as much cash as quickly as possible. You’re running.”

I look down at my hand in hers. They fit so well. I wish we had time to discover the other ways we fit together. “My plan is to disappear forever. They’re—the truth is…”

I lean my head forward against Elle’s seat. I wish I could tell my new friends the truth. I wish I could tell anyone the truth and be believed. Sometimes I don’t even believe myself. That’s the worst thing my mother did to me in a lifetime of very bad things: plant a quiet voice in the back of my head telling me maybe I really am crazy.

I sit straight again. Not the full truth, but slant. “With Goldaming Life, the most awful secret organization–type things you can imagine aren’t awful enough. I can’t tell you the levels of abuse. Even I don’t know the depths of it all, and I never want to.”

“Can’t you be a whistleblower?” Rahul asks, trying to be helpful. “Expose them?”

I want them to think I’m brave. Heroic. But I’m neither of those things. Not anymore. “I’ve tried. It’s just—I mean, there are reasons why I’m not a credible source in the eyes of…” I trail off. “It’s too much money and too much power to fight. I broke myself trying to bring them down when I was younger. All I can do now is get out and hope it hamstrings them.”

“Well then. Getting you out it is.” Elle sounds so calm and matter-of-fact I think she doesn’t believe me. It hurts even more than I expected. But her next sentence makes me feel a little better. “Let’s sell these musty old books for as much cash as possible.”

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