When Two Souls Meet (Dragons of Paragon Book 2)

by Jan Dockter

  Ashe’s tears tumbled down her cheeks as Peter watched her, unsure of what to do. Ashe continued to talk. “You know, I think he left us for something better. Why else would he have left without any clues? My mom’s nothing special and I sure as hell wasn’t enough to keep him around. My mom always reminds me how they’d wanted a son and then I came along like a slap in the face. My dad was a businessman and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. But all I wanted to do was read books and play music. Maybe if I’d been a better daughter he wouldn’t have left.”

  “This isn’t on you,” Peter said. “I’m sure your dad loved you and still does wherever he is. Sometimes people leave, but it’s not your fault.” His heart felt heavy with the weight of her words. He had no idea how much pain there really was inside of her. He wanted to give her a reassuring hug, but the café table was in the way.

  Ashe wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of a napkin. “Thank you,” was all she said, in a voice close to a whisper.

  Peter thought she looked stunning, even with her eyeliner smudged from the crying. The bright rock music playing over the café speakers seemed at odds with the entire scene. He wanted to be someplace else, alone with Ashe.

  Ashe took a few uneasy gulps from her mug, draining it. When she set it back down it clattered against the table. Peter could see her hands were shaking.

  “You want to see a picture of him?” Ashe asked suddenly. “It’s stupid, but I still keep one with me. I keep thinking that if I ever see him again I’ll shove the picture in his face and demand that he give answers to why he left his thirteen-year-old daughter all those years ago.”

  She rummaged in her bag for a while before pulling out a photograph, which was folded in half. The deep wear on the crease made it obvious that she had opened the photo to look at on more than a few occasions.

  Peter took the photo from her and his jaw dropped. To the right of the smiling young girl with auburn hair and light eyes was a man Peter recognized all too well. He was David, the vampire who supplied blood to Peter’s clan. There was no mistaking the curly hair turning grey at the temples, nor the square jaw and good-humored smile.

  Peter tried to mask his surprise with a neutral expression so that Ashe wouldn’t notice it. He couldn’t have Ashe finding out that her father was a vampire, or that he had just moved into the same town she went to college in. But if he had run out on them almost a decade ago, why was he back now? Had he assumed his family wouldn’t recognize him, or that they had moved elsewhere in the time he had been gone? Peter felt a pang of worry in his gut. David was playing a dangerous game.

  “Hey, let’s go somewhere more quiet,” Peter said suddenly, handing the photograph back to Ashe.

  She took it back and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. “The roof’s locked,” Ashe replied, her voice still lacking the bite it usually had.

  Peter tried to smile to lighten the mood, though his facial muscles felt like they were straining against an impossible weight. He would need time to process everything that had just come to light. “The roof’s not the only quiet place on campus. Let me show you where I like to go and think.”

  Ashe nodded and the two of them left the warm café for the quickly darkening street. The wind howled through the gaps between buildings, but Peter was not bothered by the cold and Ashe did not seem phased by it either, though she clutched his arm in hers as they walked. Peter imagined he could feel her body’s heat even through the layers of fabric between them. A low rumble growled in his stomach. In spite of everything, he was starting to feel hungry.

  The college had a small plot behind the cathedral dedicated to the founders of the school and his family. This is where Peter wanted to take Ashe, not as some strange nod to his vampiric secret, but rather because he knew Ashe liked old things and might be able to appreciate the cemetery as he did. While Peter was unable to enter the cathedral itself, he had no problem haunting the graveyard. After all, he was one of the dead, and he felt a strange sense of calm among the stark gravestones and memorials to people from a long-ago era. Many of the gravestones showed birth dates after Peter’s. It made him feel both old and important, as he was one of the few who had personally witnessed over a hundred-year’s history and still existed to recall it.

  “Isn’t it a bit, well, morbid?” Ashe said as they entered the cemetery grounds.

  Peter shrugged his shoulders. “It’s quiet, and no one ever bothers me here. You might think you’re the only one who gets tired of all the people around you, but sometimes I like to be alone too.”

  Ashe looked at him as if she were trying to figure him out. Peter hoped she wouldn’t try too hard, as there was a lot he could never tell her. He almost wished he could reveal his true nature to her, but no good ever came of vampires getting too invested in the human world.

  She suddenly pulled Peter close, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her head to his chest. He hoped she wouldn't notice his lack of heartbeat, or the way his dry lungs fluttered awkwardly in his chest.

  “Thank you,” she said, for the second time. Peter hugged her close, an instinctive reaction he had no time to fight. He could smell the clean shampoo scent of her hair, but below that was the unmistakable trace of blood.

  “You’re the only one who has ever really paid attention to me, who listens when I talk rather than just waiting to tell me I’m wrong.”

  Peter was starting to feel a little light-headed. He had to force his breaths out. He gently nudged Ashe away from him, instead holding her at arm’s length. He didn’t want to outright reject her, but he didn’t think he could hold on to his control either. A war raged inside him between compassion and hunger. Images flashed in his mind of his teeth against her throat and her soft moans as he drank the life from her. He pushed the thoughts from his head.

  “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here,” he said. He barely knew what he was saying. All he could think of was the redness of Ashe’s lips and how soft they might feel against his.

  As if reading his thoughts, Ashe grabbed the collar of Peter’s coat and pulled him down for a kiss. Peter just barely managed to summon up the willpower to stop her, his hands taking hers from his coat and holding her a safe distance away.

  “I can’t,” he said, though more than anything he wanted to. Ashe had a look on her face like she had expected the rejection. He wanted to tell her his feelings, but it was too dangerous to lead her on. She would only tempt him further if she thought she had a chance. Especially after everything she had told him about her father, Peter did not want to be responsible for breaking her heart when his secret finally came to light. He knew he could not hide his dark urges forever. It was better for the two of them to remain just friends if he wanted to keep Ashe safe.

  “I’m your tutor,” Peter said. “It would be a distraction for you if we made this relationship more complicated than it is now.”

  Ashe took her hands from his, but did not turn away as Peter had feared. “I get it, it’s fine. I know I should focus on my schoolwork.”

  “It’s not about you, okay?” Peter said. “It’s just how things are.”

  Ashe simply nodded, letting her shoulders slump as she took in his words. “God, I’m so bad at this kind of thing,” she said.

  Peter couldn’t help but smile. “It wasn’t so bad. It’s my fault for trying to kiss you on the roof the other day. But I’m sure you can forgive an old man for his mistake.”

  His final comment elicited a tiny smile from Ashe. She punched him on the shoulder as she tried to hide it. “You’re stupid. You know that, right?”

  As Peter felt another pang of hunger wash over him, he wondered what Ashe would think if she knew the true extent of his stupidity. Here he was, a vampire, alone with a beautiful woman in a dark cemetery. It was a classic scenario with predictable results. Peter tried to ignore the little voice in his head warning of danger as he offered to walk Ashe home. His self-control was slipping fast, but he estimated he could
get her home before the urge to feed became too strong.

  CHAPTER 4

  Peter woke with a pang of hunger and Ashe’s words still ringing in his ears. He had barely slept and still felt groggy as thin sunlight cast the pattern of his curtains across his bedroom wall. He pulled the sheets up over his head and tried to go back to sleep, but worry kept him from drifting back into unconsciousness. He couldn’t possibly have known until last night that Ashe was David’s daughter. He knew David was fairly new to being a vampire, but had possessed no knowledge of the man’s former life; the life he had left behind. To discover that David had left so much pain in his wake made Peter sick. He felt like an accomplice to David’s betrayal of Ashe, though in truth he was as innocent as Ashe herself. They were two victims of a weird twist of fate.

  A cloud shifted in the sky, allowing the sun to momentarily pierce through the narrow gap in the curtains. Peter could feel the shaft of pure sunlight burning his skin even through the sheet was pulled over his face. He tumbled out of bed with the sheet still tangled around himself and yanked the curtain closed. The hot line of sunburnt skin had already started to heal. In minutes his pale complexion was as flawless as before.

  Peter pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a shirt, and stumbled out into the hallway. He felt lightheaded and had to brace himself against the wall for a moment until his vision cleared. It seemed that every smell in the hallway was twice as strong as before. He could smell the sour, almost fecal scent of the old cardboard boxes and the odor of the mold growing behind the flowered wallpaper. There was also an iron tang of blood in the air, which Peter could sense was coming from the kitchen. It drew him forward. As he licked his dry lips he could feel the sharp tips of his canines pressing against his tongue. They were growing longer, as if preparing for a hunt. His body was responding to the need for blood.

  The refrigerator, which had been full of blood bags just days ago, was now teetering dangerously close to empty. Peter’s stomach growled as he looked at the barren shelves. The smell of blood was coming from a bag that had torn open and was leaking a steady drip of red onto the shelf below. The smell drove Peter wild and he nearly stooped down to lick the blood from the inside of the refrigerator. Only the shame at his own hunger stopped him.

  Peter had come home from his meeting with Ashe the previous night to find that his family had drained most of the blood bags. Still on edge from nearly kissing Ashe, Peter had had to make do with a sack of weeks-old blood that had likely been brought with them during the move to the city. It had only shaved the edge off his hunger and Peter was still feeling a strong urge to feed.

  Peter grabbed a bag from the back of the refrigerator and tore the cap off the tube with his teeth. He was too hungry to bother with finding a glass. The blood, like last night’s, was nearly too old to drink safely, and Peter felt a rumble in his stomach as it settled. As much as Peter hated it, he had to go see David today about getting more blood.

  A thud from the living room disturbed the quiet house. Peter threw the empty bag into the sink and went to see who or what was the cause of the noise. He arrived just in time to see a groggy Landon sitting up from the sofa. His clothes were rumpled and it looked like he had spent the night there.

  “Morning, Peter,” he said with a fake warmth as he stretched and yawned like he was in his own home.

  “What are you doing here?” Peter replied with ice in his tone. No wonder his family was running low on blood. It seemed they were running a charity for the city’s other clans.

  “Vanessa invited me over.” Landon slicked his hair back with both hands. “But don’t worry. She only brought me here because she knew I’d bring some blood with me. I never let a party run dry. And besides, after seeing the sad state of your refrigerator I thought I’d lend a helping hand. It pains me to see your beautiful sisters going hungry like that.”

  Peter felt the bile rise in his throat.

  Landon continued. “Thanks for the tip, by the way. The new supplier — what’s his name, David? — is really worth his weight in gold.”

  “What did you say?” Peter asked sharply. It was dangerous for suppliers to work for more than one clan. The more David had to steal from the local hospitals, the more chance there was of being caught. Landon should have known this. He had no business taking blood from Peter’s supplier.

  Landon shrugged and lay back down, locking his fingers together behind his head and closing his eyes. It was clear he shared none of Peter’s concern.

  “You’re a leech. You know that right? We only came out here to survive, but if you’re looking for a fight that’s what you’re going to get. David doesn’t work for you. He works for us.” Even as Peter said this, he wished it wasn’t true. If it was up to him, he would never see David again but his family needed the blood.

  Landon opened one eye. “Hey, I’m just trying to get along with everyone. I said I helped your sisters out, didn’t I?”

  Peter clenched his fist at his side. He hated Landon’s smug look and wanted to wipe it off his face for him.

  “I think you’re the one who’s being selfish. I doubt you’re planning to share any of your girlfriend’s blood with the family.” Landon chuckled as if the thought of Peter going after Ashe in that way amused him. Peter only felt disgust and a sharp pang of fear. Maybe Landon understood more about Peter’s motivations for getting closer to Ashe than Peter himself did.

  “Shut up,” Peter growled, trying to banish the voice of doubt in his head. “I would never harm a human.”

  Landon looked like he didn’t believe him. “Okay, whatever you say. I forgot you’re a saint, unlike the rest of us demons.”

  “Get out of my house,” Peter said. He needed to be away from Landon before things got violent. When Landon made no move to leave, Peter picked up his own coat and left the house, slamming the door on his way out. He would have words with Vanessa later. For now, he had to get blood.

  Luckily the sun had disappeared behind a thick wall of clouds and Peter felt no need to put on his jacket once outside. He carried it loosely in one arm as he made his way down the street. With his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and made a quick call to David to set up a meeting. He needed an update on the promised delivery this week. It was only a matter of time before his sisters lost control and started taking live victims. Peter, however, knew he would fight the urge even if it killed him. He was done taking innocent lives.

  David picked up after a couple of rings. Peter pictured the man on the other end of the line; the father who had been smiling with his daughter in the picture Ashe kept with her always.

  It was hard for Peter to keep an even tone as he talked. “I need to see you about the supply,” he said. “A few things happened and the clan’s run low a little earlier than expected. I’m on my way to your place.”

  “I’m not there. I’m out,” David replied. He sounded out of breath, though Peter knew it couldn’t have been from exertion. The man must have been nervous about something.

  “Fine, I’ll go to where you are. Just tell me the place. We need the delivery today.” Peter hung back at the corner, not sure if he should cross the street or turn back the way he had come. A bicyclist stopped at the intersection and turned left.

  “I don’t have the blood now, but I’m on my way to get it.”

  Peter cursed under his breath. If David didn’t have the blood, then why had Peter’s family even followed him out here in the first place? David only had one use to the clan; Peter was in no mood to start giving second chances.

  “I don’t care,” Peter said. “Tell me where you are.”

  David sighed. “I’m in the park across from the hospital. It’s the one on the corner facing the student center of the college.”

  “I know where it is,” Peter snapped. “Just wait for me there.”

  He hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

  Ashe sat by a window on the second floor of the student center looking out onto
the churchyard below. Books lay strewn about on the table in front of her, but she paid them no mind as she gazed down at the tombstones and overgrown grass. All morning she had been hoping for Peter to show up, not so much that she could talk to him but rather so that she could observe him from afar and maybe make some sense of the feelings buzzing around in her chest like a hive of bees.

  She had nearly kissed him last night. In the quiet of the graveyard under the moonlight, she was sure he would kiss her back. The urge had come over her so suddenly that she had not been able to hold back. She had never been so drawn to another person before. It was almost as if he had cast a spell on her, which made his rejection all the harder to bear because Ashe felt that it was entirely Peter’s fault that she felt the way she did.

  But he was her tutor. He had a responsibility to see to it that her grades improved by the end of the semester. Romance was a distraction Ashe knew she couldn't afford, even though every bone in her body yearned for it. Ashe didn’t want to think that there were other reasons beside Peter’s academic obligations that he had stopped her from kissing him.

  Ashe rested her arms on the table and in doing so knocked a book to the floor. It opened to the page of Vlad the Impaler that Peter had shown her that first day he had been assigned as her tutor. Ashe remembered her lack of motivation back then, of the way she had been so dismissive of Peter’s idea that myth and truth weren’t nearly as separate as Ashe had thought. But now Ashe was finally starting to get the hang of what both he and Professor Sharpe wanted her to get out of her mythology class. She was starting to see the value of having faith in the unknown.

  Beyond the churchyard there was a fairly busy intersection and past that, just visible over the tops of the trees, was the hospital. It was a large square building of tan stone with little distinction besides the red “H” painted on its side. Ashe remembered having gone there a couple of times to participate in Red Cross donations. She had been surprised at the bright hue of the blood going from her arm through the tube into the pint bag and had needed to look away. It had seemed as if her very life was being sucked out of her, but she had endured it knowing that it would help others.