Swear (My Blood Approves #5)

by Amanda Hocking

  He disappeared around the corner, and I listened for “oops, wrong house” or possibly Abner, telling me about some new issue I’d have to deal with. Instead, I just heard a very subdued response from Milo, inviting the guest in.

  He came back look rather nervous before announcing, “Peter is here.”

  Bobby gasped. “Peter?”

  And then there he was, coming in behind Milo. Peter dressed more casually than I usually saw him, in slim-fitting jeans and a basic sweater, and his dark hair was abnormally unkempt. A vexed smile played on his lips, and his emerald eyes were as somber as ever.

  “What’s going? Did something happen?” I asked, already panicking at his unannounced presence in my home.

  “Not exactly,” he said, his voice tinged with an undercurrent of irritation. “I was nearby in Berlin, when I got a phone call from an old friend and had a very interesting conversation.” His eyes landed heavily on me. “I think you know her. She goes by Cate now.”

  PETER STOOD GLOWERING AT US in the middle of our living room, as we all gaped at him. Matilda – who was usually excited to see everybody, including Peter – had gone to hide in her bed by the windows, because the tension was that palpable.

  “Did you know about their excursion to Prague to stalk my wife’s best friend?” Peter asked, settling his stony gaze on Jack.

  “I did know, but I wouldn’t really classify it as stalking,” Jack replied, absently rubbing his bicep and doing his best to avoid the full scrutiny of his brother’s glare.

  That must’ve satisfied Peter, because he turned to me, looking more exasperated than angry, and asked, “When were you going to tell me you met with Cate? Were you going to tell me?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “She didn’t really tell me anything that I thought you’d need to know.”

  “But you needed it to know it?” Peter countered.

  I shook my head adamantly. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t seek her out. Olivia ran into her, and she was acting strange. I was just making sure she didn’t want to hurt you or anybody else.”

  “Why should she want to hurt me?” Peter demanded, sounding skeptical. “I haven’t spoken to her in 150 years.”

  “How was I supposed to know that?” I shot back. “We’ve hardly seen you for the better part of the past five years. For all I know, you could’ve been palling around with her until you pissed her off, and now she’s planning to kill us all.”

  He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” I asked. “Because you brought lycans to Minnesota before, and those terrible vampire bounty hunters went after us during that whole mess with Daisy.”

  “Daisy was not my fault!” Peter objected. “That was all Mae. I was only trying to help her.”

  I waved it off. “Either way. I’ve learned that I need to be proactive with this family.”

  Peter glared at me a moment longer before sighing and relaxing his stance. “I gather that Cate convinced you she wasn’t going to terrorize me or the rest of us.”

  “She didn’t seem to be a threat, no,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

  “Good,” he replied evenly. “Because she’s invited me to visit her in Ireland.”

  Now it was my turn to be skeptical, and I asked, “Why?”

  “She still owns the house that I shared with Elise. She thought it would be nice to see the old place again and talk,” Peter explained, like it all sounded perfectly reasonable to him.

  “Are you going?” Milo asked.

  He’d moved to the side of the room, putting some space between himself and Peter, with his arms folded over his chest, and Bobby hovered near his side, watching the conversation with anxious fascination. Jack still lingered back, and I realized that I’d stepped forward when arguing with Peter, leaving me the one standing closest to him.

  I corrected this as soon as I noticed, taking a step closer to Jack and crossing my arms.

  “I haven’t decided. I’m not sure what Cate and I would have to say to each other,” Peter answered.

  “I don’t think you should go,” I said honestly.

  Peter scowled at me. “And why not?”

  “Cate doesn’t like you,” I told him. “I don’t know why she would invite you out there. I don’t even understand why she called you.”

  “Why would you say she doesn’t like me?” Peter asked, undeterred.

  “Because she told me that. She said, ‘I never cared for Peter,’” I said bluntly, causing Bobby to snicker before Peter shot him a look, then Bobby instantly fell silent.

  “There are some things that tie people together other than fondness and warm feelings,” Peter said coolly. “We have a shared history, Alice.”

  “I don’t trust her,” I maintained.

  “I thought you said she wasn’t a threat,” Milo pointed out. “What does it matter if Peter goes?”

  “I said she didn’t seem like a threat, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t one,” I clarified. “And I don’t know her so that’s especially hard for me to gauge.”

  “She did give me a bad vibe,” Bobby agreed. “And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had something to do with those Basarab jerks knowing that we were hunters.”

  “You think Cate tipped them off?” Jack asked, looking concerned.

  I didn’t disagree, but I only shrugged and asked, “But how did Cate know that I was a hunter in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out when I go visit her,” Peter said sharply.

  “Oh, now you decided you’re going?” I asked him.

  “Of course he did, Alice,” Jack said in a combination of exasperation and reluctant acceptance. “He just found out it was dangerous, so he has to go. If you could guarantee him that it’s a suicide mission, he’d be out the door faster than we could say ‘no, stop, don’t go.’”

  “No, it’s not like that,” Peter argued. “I just think Alice made a good point, and I want to go see Cate myself and make sure that she’s not up to anything.

  “Well, it’s a good thing that Bobby hasn’t unpacked yet,” Jack said with a sigh and gently kicked at the suitcase nearest to his foot.

  “What are you talking about?” Peter asked.

  “Because obviously, Bobby and Alice need to tag along with you,” Jack said.

  “Oh, shit,” Milo said as me and Bobby exchanged a look. “That is what you were thinking, isn’t it?”

  “It is dangerous to go alone,” Bobby replied meekly.

  “Who says I’m inviting either of you to go with me?” Peter asked.

  “Bobby and I do this kind of thing for a living, Peter. And as I said earlier, this isn’t about just you. It’s about keeping any trouble chasing you from following you back home,” I told him honestly as I motioned to Jack and Milo.

  “Fine,” Peter said, since he couldn’t really fight against keeping both of our brothers safe. “If you insist on joining me, I’m flying out later tonight.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t decided yet,” Jack said.

  Peter shrugged. “I lied.”

  “We just got back.” Milo took Bobby’s hand and started pleading with him. “Can’t just Alice go with Peter?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “I personally think it would be better if Bobby went, too. Safer.” His voice was even, but he didn’t look at either Peter or me.

  “So I should book the flights then?” Bobby asked, holding his cell phone up.

  Peter nodded. “I’m on the 10:30 out of Amsterdam.”

  “Shit. I have to go pack then,” I realized.

  “I swear you two spend more time gone than at home,” Milo muttered as Bobby hurried to book the flights on his app.

  “Hey, I didn’t choose the vampire hunting life. The vampire hunting life chose me,” Bobby was saying as I headed back to my bedroom.

  In my closet, I hurriedly grabbed at clothes, since I wasn’t sure where we were going in Ireland or how long
we’d be gone or even what we’d be doing. And I suddenly felt frazzled, both at the suddenness of the trip and the prospect of spending several days with Peter. I trusted myself around him completely, but it had been years since we spent any length of time together.

  While I tried to calm my nerves and shoved an extra pair of boots into my luggage inside the walk-in closet, I overheard Jack as he walked towards our bedroom.

  “I’ll get it,” Jack was saying followed by the sound of our bedroom door opening.

  “What is it?” Peter asked. Based on the sound of his voice, he was only a few steps behind Jack.

  I peeked through the crack between the closet door and watched Jack pick up the box of Peter’s letters off my bedside table before returning to the hall. The light was off in the bedroom, so as they stood outside the open doorway, talking, the hall light cast shadows of them across our bed.

  “I meant to throw these away,” Peter said.

  “Why?” Jack asked.

  Peter was silent at first, but then he said, “I still have my memories of her – nothing can change that. But I wanted to let go. I don’t want to live in the past anymore.”

  “That’s a surprisingly healthy outlook for you,” Jack replied, sounding genuinely impressed.

  “Thanks,” Peter replied with a small laugh. “And thank you for letting Alice come along with me. I do think it’s better for me if I don’t go it alone this time.”

  “Wow. Look at that. You asking for help, and me trusting you with my fiancée. We’re both really maturing.”

  “It does seem that way,” Peter agreed.

  “But you know I don’t ‘let’ Alice do anything. I couldn’t stop her if I tried.”

  “I know.”

  “But I wouldn’t have stopped her anyway, even if I could,” Jack said. “She is good at what she does, and she’ll make sure you come back from Ireland in one piece.”

  BOBBY SAT IN THE NARROW seat in front of us, a tablet on his lap playing episodes of the animated adventures of Rick & Morty, with headphones in his ears. Peter sat by the window, watching at the darkness below as the small plane soared over the North Sea.

  So far, through the short flight, Peter had spent the entire time fidgeting. Twisting a ring on his thumb. Running a hand through his hair. Rubbing his neck. Readjusting in his seat. Turning the fan in every direction possible.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked, since he was distracting me from my ability to read the latest Holly Black novel. “Because you seem nervous.”

  “No, I’m not.” He settled back in the seat, and his leg brushed up against mine. “It’s sort of like nervous, but it’s something different.”

  “What is it?”

  Quietly, and sounding almost ashamed, he finally said, “This is the first time I’ll have gone back to visit Elise since… since she died.”

  “What do you mean visit?” I asked.

  I hadn’t yet told him that I suspected Elise was haunting me, and I wasn’t sure how to or if I even should. I had no idea how Peter would react to it. Since he seemed to be doing so well lately, I didn’t want to send him into a tailspin, like he was prone to go into.

  “She’s buried behind the house.” His eyes darted to the side, making sure no one was overhearing, not that anyone on the flight cared about us at all. “The house we’re going to.”

  “You never went back?”

  “I couldn’t.” He licked his lips. “I knew that if I did, I would only want to crawl in the ground and stay with her there forever.”

  I closed my book and set it on my lap. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Me too.” He smiled crookedly. “Most of the time.”

  “Can I ask you something that’s kind of uncomfortable?”

  He laughed softly. “I think most of our conversations are uncomfortable and usually intense.”

  “Fair enough.” I waited a beat, gathering the nerve, before finally asking, “Do you remember back when we still all lived in Minneapolis, you told me… you said you loved me more than you’d ever loved anyone, including Elise?”

  “I do,” he replied, speaking very slowly and evenly. “I remember that. And I meant it at the time. But I was hurting a lot then, and I…” He stopped and started over. “Back then, I still wished that you had chosen me, and not him.”

  “But you don’t wish that now?” I asked, watching him struggle to choose his words.

  “If you’re asking me if I’m still in love with you, I’m not. I was,” he admitted. “For longer than I should’ve been, honestly. And I care for you now, the way I’m sure I always will, but it’s not the same.”

  “Good,” I said, too quickly and too forcefully, so I hurried to amend it with, “I mean, I feel the same way. But that’s not what I was asking.”

  Peter looked over at me, his eyes blazing green. “What were you asking then?”

  “Do you think Elise was your soulmate?”

  “Yes,” he answered, sounding very certain. “And I’ll admit that the way I felt about you did make me question it. For a while, I couldn’t be sure if it was you or it was her.”

  “How did you decide it was her?” I asked.

  “Eventually, with enough distance and time, the ache for you stopped,” he explained. “Do you know the ache I’m talking about? I’m assuming you feel it with Jack, the longing so intrinsic to your very being that your bones hurt when you’re apart for too long.”

  Especially after I had first turned into a vampire, being apart from Jack was physically painful. Now, I still felt it, but it usually wasn’t so bad if I was only gone for a day or two. Last year, I went on a mission where I was away from him over a week, and by the end, the ache had bordered on unbearable.

  “Yes, I do know that feeling,” I said.

  “I never stopped feeling that for Elise. Not completely. It’s manageable now, just a dull ache. Not the consuming agony it was at first when she died, or even what it was like with you. But I don’t long for you anymore.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  My hand was on the armrest between our seats, and Peter accidentally brushed against mine. When he noticed it, he looked down, and gently, almost tenderly, he touched my hand with his, rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand.

  “Sometimes, I do still wonder what it would’ve been like to be with you,” he said, his voice low. “To really be with you.”

  “And?” I asked, because I felt there was something more he wanted to say. Something he was holding back.

  “And I think it would’ve been very… intense.”

  He bit his lip as he stared down intently at his hand touching mine. His normally cool skin felt more temperate as he stroked my ever-warming skin.

  “I’m sure it would’ve been. But I don’t know that this is the kind of conversation two friends should be having on a plane,” I said, but I didn’t pull my hand away from him.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed with a soft laugh. “But it is keeping me from thinking about where we’re going.”

  He stopped caressing my hand and simply placed his hand over mine, holding it gently. He took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat before looking over at me.

  “Was part of the problem with … us… that you felt guilty about caring about someone other than Elise?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely,” he said. “That was a huge issue for me. If I loved her as much as I did – and I honestly did love her with every part of my being – how could I feel anything at all for you?

  “But after a lot of soul-searching, and far too late for it to be meaningful to you, I realized that love is not a finite resource,” he went on. “I can love her, and I can love… another, and it doesn’t take away from either.”

  I smiled dourly. “Yeah, I think I had a very painful road coming to that realization, too.”

  “You must understand that better than anyone. You were in love with both of us.”

  It was so strange hearing him say it aloud.
Everything about this felt so surreal. Sitting on a plane with Peter, him holding my hand, and us having a real open conversation about the way we felt about each other and everything that transpired between us.

  There were no games. No fears. No ulterior motives. Just the two of us, being truly honest with each other, maybe for the very first time since we’d met.

  “I was,” I admitted. “And it was brutal.”

  “Everything worked out the way it was meant to,” he said finally. “And even with all the pain and the mess that went along with it, I’m still glad that I met you. That you’re in my life. In a strange way, you showed me that it was okay to live again. These past five years have been so much better because of you.”

  He rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes, and I couldn’t help but notice that his temperature never went down as he held my hand. The whole time he touched me, his blood pumped harder, his heart beat faster, but he never let go.

  PETER DROVE THROUGH THE DARK Irish landscape as we travelled from Dublin all the way to the west side of the island. We’d rented a tiny blue VW Polo, and Bobby sat crammed in the backseat with his bag, watching out the window at what little he could see in the darkness.

  “This trip would go faster if you let me play my music,” Bobby suggested, not for the first time. Since we’d gotten in the car, Peter had been in control of the music, playing operatic songs by a composer called Giacomo Meyerbeer, according to him.

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Peter said dryly.

  “He does make pretty good mixes,” I said, coming to Bobby’s aid.

  In defiance, Peter turned to the stereo up louder. “My music is fine.”

  He sat rigidly in the seat, appearing even more austere than normal, with his hands firmly clamped on the wheel and his eyes locked on the road before us.

  “Do you want me to drive?” I asked.

  “You don’t know where we’re going,” he said.

  “Are you sure still remember how to get there after all this time?”

  Without looking over at me, he replied, “It’s something that I’ll never forget.”

  It was a little after three in the morning when Peter turned off the main road and began to slow. His whole demeanor changed – his anxiety seemed to be replaced by quiet resignation. He didn’t need to panic about arriving anymore, since we were practically there.