Aven's Dream

by Alessa James

  “Did you want to try on anything—you know, for fun?” she asked me as a dazed-looking sales attendant came up and took the dresses to hang in the dressing room.

  “For fun? Sorry Gen, but I don’t shop for fun. I shop out of necessity.”

  Although, I could see why she would go clothes shopping for fun. She picked out another half dozen dresses, and I followed her into the dressing room. Watching her try on clothes was demoralizing. Gen could have made a burlap sack look like a fashion statement, and when she tried on a shimmering, silver satin gown, it made her bronzed skin glow even brighter. Shaking my head, I laughed, knowing the other girls in the dressing room would abandon their shopping if they saw her.

  “I’m so glad I went shopping before seeing you try on clothes,” I said ruefully as she slipped on a hot-pink V-neck dress with cutouts at the waist.

  After she had decided on four dresses, I followed her to the counter while she paid.

  “Which one are you going to where to the dance?” I asked.

  Gen shrugged.

  “Yeah. Tough choice when everything looks perfect on you,” I smiled.

  When we reached the escalator, Gen froze, her eyes locking onto something in the distance. I frowned, automatically following her gaze. I saw nothing unusual, but when I turned back to her, Gen was holding her cell phone, her fingers racing briefly across the keys before she replaced it in her purse. Her expression seemed perfectly relaxed, and when we reached the first floor, she pulled me along to the smoothie shop.

  After I paid for an orange juice, Gen steered me to a table at the very edge of the food court and positioned herself so that she could watch anyone who passed our general vicinity. I watched warily as her eyes shifted back and forth with an unsettling vigilance. I had barely finished my drink when she began ushering me toward the exit. My palms were sweating and my pulse was racing as we walked toward the parking structure. I knew of only one thing that could possibly make Gen nervous. Fidatov. But he was at least a hundred and fifty miles from us. When we reached the car, she got in the driver’s seat.

  “Gen? Is everything all right?” I asked hesitantly.

  She flashed me a dazzling smile that was most likely intended to scramble my thoughts.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  But my stomach wasn’t lying. Something had happened in the mall—that much I knew. Relieved not to be driving while adrenaline poured through my veins, I sat back and smiled as Gen began asking me questions about where I grew up, my childhood, and what I thought of Oregon. I knew she was trying to distract me, but I didn’t mind. It was a good chance to find out more about her.

  “Do you remember anything from when you were human?”

  She nodded.

  “I grew up in Vieux Carré—”

  “Where?”

  “The French Quarter of New Orleans,” she laughed.

  “Have you been back there since?”

  She smiled.

  “I have, but we try to avoid spending extended stretches of time so far to the south. Will told you about UV radiation?”

  “It burns your energy faster, right?”

  Gen nodded.

  “It quickly degrades any energy we might glean from humans or other creatures, forcing the cravings to an unmanageable level.”

  I thought how sweltering it had been in the summer after my dad and I first moved to Oregon. Record temperatures, according to the weather reports.

  “What do you do during the summertime?”

  “We travel to St. John’s, or we just spend more time indoors. And there’s always nighttime.”

  I nodded and looked out the window toward the trees, wondering if the Big Bad Wolf was out there somewhere, waiting for me. After a while, I closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, Gen was pulling into the garage. As soon as we stepped into the house, Gen touched the keypad, causing the doors to slide closed. Then I watched as a second layer of glass slid down. A shiver went through me as locks slid into place.

  “Perimeter secured,” a pleasant female voice said.

  I looked at Gen.

  “What was that?”

  “It’s Will’s security system. We call her Deirdre.”

  “Cute,” I said dryly. “Are they coming back soon?”

  Gen took out her phone and looked down.

  “I’m tracking them via GPS. They should be back by tonight unless something goes wrong,” Gen said.

  My pulse spiked.

  “Don’t worry,” she smiled. “Nothing will go wrong.”

  I nodded, trying to keep calm when I knew she had seen something in the mall.

  “All right. I’m going finish up my homework.”

  In Will’s room, I sat down on the sofa and started the next reading assignment for Ms. Gilbert’s class. It was a short story—way shorter than For Whom the Bell Tolls. I opened my anthology of short fiction and touched the page, shivering at the title.

  The Dead

  By James Joyce

  The story took less than an hour to finish, the ending leaving me unsettled and anxious. The story hadn’t been what I had expected. I had thought it would be ghoulish, like Edgar Allan Poe. Instead, it had been about a dinner party in Dublin, Ireland—which made sense since an Irish guy had written it.

  Toward the end of the story, the main character’s wife had been fixated on the boy she had loved years ago—Michael Furey, who had died shortly after coming to her window in desperation to see her. Somehow this fictional character from James Joyce’s story reminded me of Will. Frozen in time, eternally young. It made me wonder—again—if I would one day be an old lady thinking back on my time with a beautiful, ageless creature.

  I slogged through Trig before studying for the Health Sciences test. When I took a break, Gen found me in the kitchen just as I finished eating. Propping her elbows on the countertop, she waited impatiently while I cleaned my dishes. As soon as I was done, she pulled me to her room, where she ordered me to sit down on the bench seat in front of her antique vanity. I groaned when I saw the makeup she had purchased during our previous shopping trip. It was spread out in an orderly fashion, like surgical tools. I stuck out my tongue when she told me to close my eyes.

  A moment later, I felt a brush sweep across my cheekbones, then my eyelids. The stroke of the brush was as light as butterfly wings. I swallowed as I thought of Gen crushing loose change with the same hands she was now applying my makeup with. I waited for a few more minutes before opening one eye and giving her an imploring look.

  “One more minute, and then you’re done. I promise,” she said cheerfully.

  I closed my eyes again and waited patiently.

  “And … perfect.”

  Opening my eyes, I turned to the mirror and inhaled sharply at the sight of a stranger’s face staring back at me. Gen had made my skin flawless, like a picture out of a magazine.

  “Wow,” I gasped. “I don’t even look like me.”

  Gen laughed at my awed expression.

  “I only highlighted your natural features. Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it? I needed some practice.”

  “For what?” I asked with a frown.

  “The dance … and Will has something special planned for you.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I shook my head.

  “No, no, no. Please, Gen. I don’t do well with surprises.”

  She laughed again and pulled me up from the bench toward her closet. Ordering me to strip out of my clothes, she continued dressing me up like a life-sized doll. When she was finally satisfied, she spent the rest of the evening trying—unsuccessfully—to teach me how to play chess. She remained incredibly patient, despite my lack of strategy and the fact that I kept forgetting which way to move the pieces. I knew she was trying to keep me entertained until Will’s return, but luckily for her I could barely keep my eyes open by eight o’clock.

  I retreated to his room, where she had left my bags, an
d I gratefully curled up in his bed. With the door open, I listened to Gen’s cello as I closed my eyes and wondered if she felt as nervous as I did about the others being gone.

  Will kissed my neck, and I sighed, whispering his name. Then someone laughed—and my eyes snapped open. If kissing Will had been a dream, then who had laughed? I sat straight up in bed and stared into the darkness. When the lights suddenly turned on, I saw Will sitting at the edge of the bed, smiling.

  “How long have you been here?” I mumbled.

  “Just a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t resist. You were talking in your sleep, and it sounded like a very good dream.”

  “It was,” I blushed.

  Reaching up, I touched my face self-consciously, suddenly aware that I hadn’t washed off Gen’s makeup experiment from earlier.

  “And Gen did my makeup,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I guess that makes me her guinea pig.”

  “You would have looked just as beautiful without it.”

  I stretched my arms.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost two-thirty.”

  Will’s lips brushed my collarbone, his fingers carefully tracing my jaw. Rising up on my knees, I leaned forward to kiss him. Reality was much better than my dream. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his other arm circling my waist. I pulled back and smiled.

  “I missed you,” I whispered.

  Will pulled me back to him, and his mouth covered mine. As his lips parted mine, I could feel the craving—Will’s craving—but it was stronger this time. He growled, low in his throat, and my head started to swim as I reached to grab the front of his shirt, pressing myself closer to him. Warning bells began going off in my head, but I couldn’t get myself to pay attention.

  “Being with a human is more difficult than you ever gave me credit for, is it not?” a voice said, sending ice through my veins and extinguishing the heat of Will’s touch.

  Jerking back, I looked over Will’s shoulder and saw James sitting on the sofa. A second later, Will was gone—and James was flying across the room. I felt the bed shake beneath me as James hit the far wall. I looked back at Will, whose eyes were burning with a kind of madness. I stayed where I was, afraid to breathe or move.

  “Aven?” James said.

  I looked over at him. He was already standing despite smashing into the wall seconds ago.

  “Will and I have some matters to discuss, if you’ll excuse us,” he said calmly.

  I nodded, taking a shaky breath as James walked over to Will. As they walked out, Will turned back once, his expression regretful. I slid down on Will’s bed, exhausted, and looked out through the windows into the darkness. I was alone for a few minutes at the most, but it was long enough for my stomach to tie itself into knots. When Will returned, he was visibly shaken—his lips pressed together into a firm line, his brow furrowed.

  “No matter how hard I try to keep you safe, I will always be the greatest threat to you while you’re still human.”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Even if it’s true?” Will asked.

  “But it’s not—and you know it. I would have been dead before we even met if it weren’t for you. We just have to be more careful.”

  When I tried to step down from the bed, my legs failed. Will caught my arm before I went sprawling.

  “Can I have some of my energy back?” I smiled crookedly.

  Will’s hand tightened on my arm as he bent down and kissed me—very carefully this time. I felt a jolt of energy. He let go, and before he could say anything, I moved toward the couch.

  “Speaking of things that are actually a danger to me, while we were shopping, Gen saw something, didn’t she? Something that freaked her out?”

  Will shook his head, like he didn’t know what I was talking about, but I sensed something was wrong. Something bad. Something very bad.

  Chapter 22: Temptation

  The gray light of early morning was seeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Will’s room when I opened my eyes. Will had stayed with me, at least until I had fallen asleep. But now that he was gone, I had a hollow feeling in my stomach. There was no question that James had saved me last night from Will—and myself. James, the one who hated me.

  When I looked over at the table in front of the sofa, I saw a silver tray with an omelet, a chocolate croissant, a glass of orange juice, and sliced strawberries over yogurt. Smiling, I sat up and slid out of bed. There was a single blood-red rose laid across the tray.

  “Breakfast in bed again? Be careful. I could get used to this,” I said when Will appeared in the doorway.

  “I wasn’t quick enough this time.”

  “That’s easily fixable,” I smiled.

  Turning, I walked back to Will’s bed and hoisted myself up. Will set the tray on the nightstand and handed me the plate with the omelet.

  “Expensive takeout again?” I smiled.

  Will shook his head.

  “I made you breakfast myself.”

  I smiled as tasted the omelet, pleasantly surprised by Will’s culinary talent, especially for someone who never ate.

  “This is delicious,” I said.

  Will smiled.

  “Why don’t you get ready, and we’ll meet the others downstairs.”

  I tried swallowing, but my throat had closed off. Picking up the glass of orange juice, I gulped it.

  “Why?” I croaked.

  “There are matters that need to be discussed, and they involve you.”

  Will touched my cheek before walking out. As delicious as it was, I had to force myself to finish my breakfast. Then I rushed to the bathroom and stayed in the shower longer than necessary, afraid of what would happen when I got downstairs.

  I definitely wasn’t prepared to see James again after last night.

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and looked in the mirror, regretting that none of the magic Gen had performed the night before remained. Then I got dressed and combed out my hair. Taking a deep breath, I walked out of the bathroom and into Will’s room before continuing down the hall to the stairs. Will met me at the bottom of the staircase, and we walked into the “dining” room where the others were sitting at the imposing table. When James looked over at me, I didn’t know what to feel.

  I sat down stiffly beside Gen, and Will joined on my other side. Edmond and James sat across from us. It was such a strange feeling to sit in the company of these immortals. I knew their secret, and they knew mine. And for that reason alone, I felt a connection to them even if I clearly didn’t belong here. As a TV screen rose up from the center of the table, Gen was the first to speak.

  “I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain, but now that I am … James, I’m sorry.”

  James looked around at the others and smirked.

  “I was under the impression that this intervention was Will’s, not my own.”

  When security footage began playing on the screen, I frowned, trying to put together the pieces. Suddenly James froze, and his expression became blank. I hadn’t seen anything unusual on the screen. Just people walking by stores. I shivered when I saw the timestamp on the screen. It was from yesterday when Gen and I had been shopping. She had seen something, but why it would upset James was a total mystery to me.

  I studied his face, looking for clues. A moment later, it almost looked like he was going to cry, which terrified me more than anything else. I held my breath, waiting for someone to say something. Then James was gone. There one second, gone the next. Exhaling, I looked to Will, Gen, and Edmond.

  “Okay, is anyone going to tell me what I just missed?” I asked.

  “Grace is back,” Gen said.

  My mouth dropped open.

  “From the dead?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” she said.

  I shook my head.

  “Uh-uh. No way. What does that really mean?”r />
  “Fidatov didn’t kill her; he turned her,” Gen said.

  My stomach pitched.

  “You mean … she’s with him?”

  Suddenly I understood the look on James’s face—the total and utter devastation resulting from total and utter betrayal.

  “What happens now?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “The same as before—we keep you safe at any cost,” Will said.

  “And James?”

  “He has to make his own decisions,” Edmond said. “Either he’ll come back and help us hunt Fidatov, or he won’t. I’m willing to wager he will now that he knows the truth about Grace.”

  ***

  Sitting in the driver’s seat of my dad’s old Volvo, I drew in a shaky breath as I turned the key in the ignition. This morning was my first “official” attempt at driving without my dad or a DMV official watching my every move—because I didn’t count the events from the weekend when I had driven the Aston and the Tesla. It was time to get back to reality.

  The Volvo’s engine sputtered and turned over reluctantly. Early November in Oregon had me rethinking my definition of cold. I glanced nervously at Will, who was sitting in the passenger’s seat looking like he was watching me for signs of a meltdown or fainting spell—any excuse to drive rather than suffer at the mercy of a mortal driver.

  When we had gotten back to my house the day before, he had tried every strategy possible to talk me into driving the Tesla, but I had refused. Not because I didn’t love a fully electric vehicle that drove like a rocket ship, but because my dad had given me his car. That meant a lot.

  I shivered and rubbed my hands together as I let the car warm up. Unlike the Aston, the Volvo took a few minutes before it could blast hot air and drive simultaneously. As soon as I was satisfied that the temperature was at an acceptable level, I checked my mirrors—a couple of times—before putting the car in reverse and tapping the gas. The engine revved, but the car barely moved. I looked down. I had the car in reverse. Frowning, I hit the pedal with a little more force. The car lurched, but still didn’t budge more than a few inches. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Will shaking with barely contained amusement.