When Two Souls Meet (Dragons of Paragon Book 2)

by Jan Dockter

  There was a bang and a shout and Ashe reeled back from Peter’s touch. Peter whipped around to see the angry face of one of the music professors glaring at them from the entrance to the rooftop.

  “Who gave you permission to be up here?” the professor shouted.

  Ashe started gathering up her things as Peter stood.

  The professor hoisted his thick middle over the lip of the doorway and stood panting with his hands on his hips. His maroon sweater had snagged somewhere along the way to the rooftop and a jagged tear had opened up exposing the white shirt underneath. His face was beet-red with fury.

  “No students allowed on the roof!” he shouted.

  The professor looked ready to wring Peter’s neck, but Peter wasn’t worried about getting in trouble. He figured someone this angry with a couple of students on the roof was also the one in charge of the building’s keys. If the two of them got in trouble for trespassing, the professor in the maroon sweater would also have to take responsibility. The biggest inconvenience was having his kiss interrupted, though that may have been for the best. Peter didn’t know if he could have resisted biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

  Peter shrugged apologetically. “The door was unlocked. Whose fault was that?”

  “Just go back downstairs,” the professor spat, pointing a thick finger down the ladder. He looked about ready to have a heart attack. He watched the two through beady eyes as they left the roof. He closed the door after them and locked it with a thick padlock.

  “No more going where you don’t belong,” the professor warned with a waggle of his finger before turning to leave.

  Peter smiled at Ashe. “Do you think we should tell him his sweater’s got a hole in it?” he asked loudly enough for the professor to hear.

  To Peter’s surprise, Ashe smiled back. It was a full smile this time, the expression lighting up her face like a spotlight on stage. Peter felt weak in the knees. It was getting harder and harder to keep his urges under control. Even worse, he felt a strong thirst for warm blood.

  CHAPTER 3

  The day was blustery and bleak, the late November sky threatening to let loose a torrent of rain. Ashe tucked the ends of her striped scarf into her coat to keep them from flying wildly in the wind. She was on her way home from a stressful day of classes and wanted nothing more than a hot cup of tea and a bath, if her mom allowed it. The insufferable woman didn’t seem to realize that her drawn-out showers used much more hot water than it took to fill the bathtub.

  A young man nodded at Ashe as she turned onto the street that marked the edge of campus. He wore a sweater and slim jeans and his sleek black hair was combed straight back. Ashe didn’t know him, though she thought she had seen him around campus a few times. She assumed he was just giving her a friendly greeting as a fellow student of the college. She didn’t bother to nod back, instead turning the volume on her headphones even louder. The sudden crashing cymbals of the Tchaikovsky symphony she was listening to made her ears ring, but at least it was enough to distract her from her surroundings. Maybe Peter wasn’t so bad, but Ashe was not about to start making friends all over campus, as much as Professor Sharp may have wanted her to.

  Speaking of Peter, Ashe had not seen him around the past few days. She should have expected it on Saturday and Sunday since Peter; like Ashe, lived off campus and had no reason to be there on the weekend. Ashe herself had spent the days off working double shifts at a bookstore near campus. But today was Monday and Ashe should have seen Peter. Since becoming her tutor, not a day had passed since he had at least stopped by to say hello and check up on her homework. She had tried messaging him between classes but so far, she had no replies. Maybe he was sick. His hand on her cheek on Friday had been as cold as if he had just stepped out of an ice bath. Or maybe he was avoiding her.

  The memory of their almost-kiss sent a fresh wave of excitement through Ashe. If only the pot-bellied professor hadn’t come in at just the wrong time. Maybe Peter felt awkward about it and was giving her some space. To add insult to injury, the professor had padlocked the only way up to the roof, leaving Ashe without her favorite place to get away from it all. Because of this, she had started spending more time at home, which meant the tension with her mother was reaching fever pitch. It also didn’t help that her mom had gotten wind of Ashe having a tutor. It didn’t matter to her that Ashe’s grades had been going up since Peter started helping her. In fact, Professor Sharp had praised her for her last essay. It was a small satisfaction that made Ashe feel like she could actually succeed at something for once.

  Ashe stopped at the crooked mailbox at the end of the driveway to her house. She pulled it open, not really expecting any mail. The only things they ever received were flyers for new shops opening up in the city and bills that needed paying. Inside was a white envelope with the school’s seal printed in green on the front. It was addressed to Ashe. She tore open the envelope as she went up the driveway, pausing at the front door to read what was inside.

  It was a notice of incomplete payment for the semester’s tuition bill. Apparently it wasn’t the first one they had sent. Her mom must have been throwing them away, or hiding them, afraid that Ashe would find them and be upset.

  Ashe was beyond upset. She was furious. She wrenched open the front door and slammed it behind her. It was one thing for her mom to be concerned about Ashe moving out, but it was another to try to sabotage her chances of graduating on time. If the bill remained unpaid at the end of the semester, Ashe would not only lose her credits for her classes but also a place at the school. She wouldn’t get her degree, or be able to move out, or spend any more time with Peter. She knew he would find someone better than her, someone with a future ahead of her and not bogged down by her domineering parent.

  “Mom!” Ashe yelled into the quiet house.

  A faint voice replied from the kitchen, “In here.”

  Ashe threw her backpack to the floor and stomped into the kitchen. Her mom was sitting at the small round table in the center of the room reading a magazine. She barely looked up when Ashe entered.

  “What the hell is this?” Ashe held the late-payment notice from her college in her shaking fist.

  Her mom looked up. The thin wire reading glasses she wore were perched at the end of her nose. They made her look ten years older than her age. “I don’t know, hon. What is it?”

  “The school says we didn’t pay all of the tuition for this semester. This is the final notice.” Ashe wanted to throw the papers in her mom’s face. She satisfied herself with throwing them on the table instead.

  Her mom’s face reddened as she refused to look at the papers. “Now Ashe, you have to understand—”

  “It’s the final notice. If we don’t pay they’ll kick me out. I’ve been trying really hard to get my grades up this semester and I don’t want it all to be for nothing!” Ashe was near tears, her mom’s seeming unconcern with the situation frustrating her beyond measure.

  “Maybe you could pick up another couple of shifts at your work,” her mom said, acting like this was all somehow Ashe’s fault.

  “I’m a student. I don’t have time. I already work full-time on weekends. Any more and I won’t be able to keep up with my classes.”

  “Well I can’t make money out of thin air. You know that. If you have to leave school for a while, it may be for the best. You can work for a while, save some money, and when you’re ready you can go back to finish your degree.”

  Ashe put her hands on her hips. “So we don’t have the money, or do you just not want to pay it?”

  Ashe’s mom stood and tried to give Ashe’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. The gold bangles on her thin wrist clanked together as Ashe shrugged off her mom’s gesture of apology. Ashe then crossed her arms in front of her chest as a shield against any further attempts at a truce.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” her mother replied. “But I don’t know if it’s the best thing for you right now. Graduating, I mean. I don’t know
if you’ll be able to take care of yourself out there in the real world.”

  Ashe was disgusted. Her mom had basically admitted to withholding tuition money just to keep Ashe around longer. She hated being manipulated like that, especially by someone she thought she could trust. Worst of all, her mom didn’t think she was responsible enough to take care of herself after college. Her mom was telling her that she was still a child.

  “I’m leaving you and there’s nothing you can do about it!” Ashe shouted. “You never were my parent, not after Dad left anyway, and I’ve always had to look after myself. You’re the one who’s going to be struggling once I leave, not me.”

  Ashe’s mom put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Ashe wondered if maybe she had gone too far this time, but her rage told her that she had said what needed saying.

  “You know I’m trying as hard as I can,” her mom said. “I can’t do any more.”

  Ashe grabbed the papers from the table and stormed upstairs to her room without another word. She would figure this out on her own. She had to. As always, the only one Ashe could trust was herself.

  Her mom didn’t try to follow her upstairs, though Ashe had been expecting her to. Arguments in the Linfield house often ended through the slamming of doors.

  Ashe crumpled to the floor by her bed and let her tears fall freely. Disappointment wasn’t anything new to her, but that didn’t mean the pain got any easier to bear each time. Usually in times like these Ashe would retreat further into herself, trying to escape from those wanting to do her harm, but today she wanted companionship. She wanted to know she wasn’t alone and that there was someone willing to share a part of the burden, however small. But the only person she was even remotely close to was Peter.

  Ashe debated calling him as she wiped the hot tears from her cheeks. She wasn’t looking to spill her heart out to him, but rather to simply ease the feeling of being so alone. However, admitting that she even needed his companionship was a high hurdle for Ashe to leap over.

  Finally, she bit the bullet and called him. His phone rang for a long time, and Ashe was about to hang up when his voice finally came on the line.

  “Ashe?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” she replied. Her voice was croaky from crying. “I didn’t see you at school today and I wanted to see if you’re maybe free for that coffee you keep promising to buy me.”

  Peter chuckled, though even over the phone Ashe could tell it was half-hearted. Maybe he was sick.

  “It’s almost dark,” he replied.

  Ashe didn’t know what that had to do with anything. College students drank coffee at all hours of the day and night.

  “Dinner, then?” she offered instead. She hoped it didn’t sound like she was asking him out for a date. “I just really need to get out of the house for a while, and I don’t want to be on my own,” she added to clarify.

  There was a long silence, but finally Peter said, “Yeah, I’ve got dinner plans later but I can meet you for a little while. Let’s meet at the café by the library. I can be there in half an hour.”

  Ashe allowed herself the briefest of smiles as she put down her phone, relieved that Peter wasn’t trying to avoid her after all. He had just been busy. Though the hard part of her heart told her to stay on guard, that she didn’t know Peter well enough to start guessing at his intentions, the almost childish crush she had on him was nudging her to ignore her inhibitions and give him a chance.

  She fixed her hair and put on fresh eyeliner before leaving the house. She wished her eyes were not so red from the crying, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her mom was nowhere to be seen as Ashe hurried down the stairs to the front door, so Ashe took the keys from the bowl by the door and tossed them into her bag. She also pocketed a red tube of lipstick that she found rattling in the bottom of the bowl, not yet sure if she wanted to use it or not.

  The wind had picked up even harder in the short time Ashe had been inside the house. Dark clouds swirled overhead. She kept expecting rain for days now but the clouds had not broken yet. To most people, such clouds would have seemed like a bad omen, but they did not bother her. They reminded Ashe of Peter’s eyes. If anything, they seemed to be encouraging her, and if she was lucky, that kiss from Peter would soon be hers.

  Peter tucked his phone into his coat pocket before throwing it over his shoulders. “I’m going out,” he yelled down into the basement.

  “Bring back some blood, will you? I’m starving.” One of his elder sisters, Vanessa, had just left her bedroom and was coming up the stairs toward Peter. She was in a midnight blue bathrobe and slippers, looking as if she had just stepped out of the spa of some five-star hotel, when in fact she had just stepped out of a dark musty wardrobe that was functioning as her bed until the new mattresses arrived. Agatha, a mere couple of decades older than Vanessa, soon joined her from the adjoining room. Both of them had the same long, inky hair and slender figure. Their eyes were bluer than their brother; having been fathered by a different vampire centuries ago.

  The older vampires got, the more photosensitive they became. At a couple hundred years, Peter’s sisters were just getting to that age where they preferred to sleep through the day and come out at night. Peter still had a half-century yet before he would need to become nocturnal like them.

  Peter tried to ignore Vanessa, not wanting to keep Ashe waiting by going on pointless errands for the family. “There are plenty of bags in the refrigerator. You can drink those until I get more from David. He’s supposed to have the new blood sometime this week.”

  His sisters followed him stubbornly as he crossed the hall to the entrance of the house.

  “Can’t you meet him earlier?” Agatha whined. “Penelope had some new friends over last night and they drained half the supply.”

  Peter sighed. Penelope was the oldest of his three sisters and she had by far the largest appetite for blood. In days long past she used to bathe in it, claiming it preserved a lifelike glow. Peter had always been too polite to point out that Penelope looked just as dead as the rest of them, blood baths or no. He was glad his eldest sister was still sleeping.

  “I can’t. I’m going out. If you want more blood you can get it yourself.” Peter escaped out the door before any more words could be said. He could hear his sisters yelling angrily after him through the door.

  The sun was just setting, but its last rays were almost entirely obscured by thick clouds. It appeared to Peter as little more than a hazy strip of light over the dark skyline of the city. He thought of Ashe, the feel of her cheek against his palm, and the kiss they nearly shared. He breathed in a deep lungful of the crisp evening air, training them back into movement before he re-entered the world of the living. If his heart could still beat, it would be thudding violently against his ribcage. He didn’t know what he was doing, agreeing to meet Ashe after nearly losing his control once, but she had sounded like she really needed someone right now.

  The buildings grew taller as Peter got closer to campus. The quad was probably the only patch of green in the entire city, like an oasis in the middle of a concrete desert. Construction had stilled on the new wing of the library; the dean having decided it was too dangerous in wake of the crane accident and postponing it for the summer months when fewer students would be on campus. The whole area was still roped off with yellow caution tape.

  Peter skirted the remains of the accident and continued down the street towards the café. Warm light came from the windows and Peter could see Ashe sitting at a small table looking out towards the street. She already had a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. Peter waved as he approached and she smiled back.

  Inside the scent of roasting coffee beans overpowered Peter’s sense of smell. He had learned to tolerate the various smells of food and drinks, but sometimes they could still make him sick. Luckily, as a perpetual college student, Peter was used to being around coffee all the time and felt no ill effects. He settled into the chair opposite Ashe.
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br />   “Are you going to order something?” Ashe asked him.

  Peter shook his head. “If I have coffee now, I won’t be able to sleep.”

  Ashe replied, “They’ve got decaf, you know. The cookies are good too.”

  Peter shrugged. “Not really in the mood.”

  Ashe’s eyes narrowed, almost as if she was suspicious of his answer. Peter had to remind himself that there was no way she could know he was a vampire. He tried to relax. He noticed that Ashe’s eyelids were puffy and the whites of her eyes were tinged with red.

  “You’ve been crying,” Peter said leaning over the table and holding his chin in his hand. He would have said anything to get away from the subject of why he wasn’t ordering anything.

  Ashe put her hand to her eye as if to wipe away the ghosts of the tears that she had shed. Peter wondered if maybe he had said the wrong thing.

  “It’s nothing, just family crap,” she said. “I don’t want to bore you with the history of my dysfunctional relationship with my mom.”

  Peter reassured her, “I don’t mind listening if you feel like talking. I’m no stranger to family problems.”

  Ashe’s eyes glistened with fresh tears and Peter reached his hand out to grasp hers on the table.

  “For example,” Peter started. “My father. He sleeps all day and leaves most of the day-to-day responsibilities to me. It’s only when it comes to the big decisions that he’s suddenly back in charge.” Ashe didn’t need to know that his father slept during the day due to necessity of his vampiric condition.

  “At least you have a father,” Ashe said. “At least he stays even if he’s not all that involved. Mine left me when I was thirteen. No explanation, no forwarding address, just an empty closet and my mother sobbing on the bedroom floor.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Peter said. He squeezed her fingers tight in his.

  A tear bubbled on Ashe’s lower eyelashes. Peter wanted to wipe it away for her but restrained himself.

  “He was a good father, too.” Ashe said quietly, her voice cracking. “I maybe could have understood if he and my mom had fought a lot, or if he had some vice like drinking or gambling that had clouded his judgment and caused him to abandon his family. But he was always there for us, up until the day he wasn’t.”