“Awesome.” I can’t wait to see more of Aj. She's my reality check in all the crazy. Somehow she and Dad have completely opposite personalities. If only they could switch. Now that would be awesome.
“Where's Peter?” Mom says.
“Probably running in the woods. He really likes to run.”
“Not flying?”
“He would, but he doesn't like to be that far from me,” I admit as I stare at the basil. She's getting dangerously close to revealing the fact that he sleeps with me every night.
She moves to stir something bubbling on the stove. “He can stay if he wants. I don't mind.”
I shrug. “He's okay. I like to give him his space. He can't be with me all the time.” Oh, he most certainly could, but that would be a little excessive. Perfect, but excessive.
“Okay then. They should be here in a half an hour,” she says, looking at the clock.
I want to make myself scarce for that part of the day. I actually have crap tons of homework I've been neglecting as of late.
“Do you mind if I stay in my room?” I say as I carefully slice the basil into ribbons.
“Of course, ma fleur, do whatever you feel comfortable with.”
I give her a hug and she kisses my forehead. I finish up the basil and toss it in with the rest of the pasta salad.
“I've got a ton of homework to do, so I think I'm going to work on that. You sure you don't need any more help?”
“No, I'm fine. Enjoy your homework.”
I pretend to shoot myself in the head. “Yeah, right.”
Peter is waiting for me, my homework already spread out and waiting for me. Aw, how sweet. It's not roses, but I'll take it.
“You going to do it for me, too?” I say, shutting the door.
“No, but I thought I could help you a little.”
“I guess,” I say, moving some of the papers so I can sit.
“How are you feeling?”
I tip my hand from side to side. I think the shock of the night before hasn't settled over me yet. I'm sure I'll freak out about it later.
“You should do something to take your mind off it.”
Like make out with him? Yes, please. I lean toward him, but he leans back and holds a notebook in front of his face.
“Haha. You're hilarious. What, am I not allowed to kiss you now?”
“I think it is wiser to let things cool off for a little while, don't you think?”
I think it's a terrible idea. Peter's kisses are one of the things I look forward to all day.
“I guess,” I say, pulling back. I don't want him to know I'm upset about it. He can probably sense it anyway. Stupid mind reading. At least it's selective. I couldn't stand it if he could read my mind all the time.
I get down to my homework as Peter reads some of my books. Somehow I got him into Jane Austen, and he is making his way through an omnibus edition of her books I found at the library, but every now and then he helps me with a problem or a passage in a book. He's the best tutor I've ever had.
“How am I going to learn this so I can take my stupid exam?” I say as I wrestle with a geometry worksheet.
“I have faith in you,” he says, turning a page. I wish I had so much faith in me. I have faith in him, but it isn't the same thing.
I hear laughter from downstairs. That's encouraging. I've been eavesdropping without trying to eavesdrop. I've heard snatches of their chat and as far as I know, Mom hasn't gotten to the bad part yet. I really don't want to hear that part, but I know I probably will.
The laughter downstairs fades naturally, and I hear my mother's voice. Oh, shit. Peter looks up from his book, knowing exactly what's going on. I want to block my ears, but I can't.
“I have something to tell you. I'm still sick. I know I told you it was in remission, but it's not. The cancer is back and it's not getting better. I'm terminal.”
It's awful. The silence that follows her declaration is stunning. The biggest, loudest silence that I've ever heard in my life. Almost as big as the silence when she told me.
I hear crying, but I can't tell who it's coming from since there are five women down there and they all pretty much sound the same when they cry. Peter grips my hand tight, making the bones crunch together. I'd rather he break it than let go. With my sensitive hearing, it's like having them right beside me.
The crying gets worse, and I can hear Mom trying to soothe them. I should be down there, but I can't make myself move. I can't walk into that tornado of grief. I've got enough as it is. A few more moments of this and it's going to tear me apart.
“It will be over soon,” Peter says, kissing my hand. I just want him to take me away, right then and there. Fly me to somewhere else, anywhere else.
I hear Mom walking around, and I bet she's giving out hugs and bits of advice, because that's what she does. She gives and gives and gives. The world should have more people like her, not less.
I can't force my attention back to my homework. Peter shoves it aside and pulls me into his arms.
“Shhh,” he says, rocking me. I don't want to cry, but it's hard not to. I don't know when I became such a crier, but I've shed more tears in the past two years of my life than in the fifteen prior. Almost sixteen. I'll be eighteen on September 2. I don't know if she'll be around for that birthday. It will be my first as an adult, and it might be the first without her, a little more than three months away.
I hear another car in the driveway. Must be Dad. God, he has no idea what he's getting himself into. The door opens and he hesitantly asks what's going on, and Mom says in her calm voice that she told them about her diagnosis. Whatever plan he had about surprising her is squashed as he goes to hug her. She doesn't cry. She never cries in front of anyone anymore.
“Will you take me out for a few minutes?” I ask Peter.
“Of course.” Peter slides out of his shirt and I think for a moment about losing myself in him. In the feel of his skin under my hands, his smell and those eyes. I try to catch them, to let him pull me in, but he looks away and holds his arms out to me. I throw myself into them gratefully, and we're out the window.
~^*^~
We're only out for a few minutes when I start feeling the tug of guilt. What kind of daughter am I? A terrible one, that's what.
“Take me back,” I say, tapping Peter's shoulder. I can't be happy in my heaven when my mother is down there in hell. “I can't leave her to face this alone.”
Peter doesn't say a word and banks left, spiraling toward the house and landing gently on the roof before popping me back through the window.
“I will be waiting for you.”
“I love you,” I say. Most of the time those three little words terrify me, but in this moment, I'm not afraid of them.
“I cherish you, Ava-Claire.” Who needs love when you can have that?
The voices are tearful as I walk down the stairs. Mom's friends all have red eyes and are clutching each other. Mae and Liz look like they're at her funeral already. Mom instantly sees me and pulls me into her arms, popping a smile on her face. Effortlessly.
“We're going to be okay, right Ava-Claire? Everything is going to work out. Hm?”
I nod and put my head on her shoulder. One by one her friends come to hug me: Helen, Mae, June, and Liz. Dad stands back, and I can tell he's doing whatever he can not to cry and doing a terrible job of it. One tear rolls down his face.
The smell of their blood is flooding the room, and it's all I can do not to bite all of them. I'm a human vampire. Pretty effed up, if I say so myself.
Somehow we all end up in one giant hug, and then someone starts laughing — I don't know who — and then we're all laughing and wiping our eyes. I hold my breath.
“So much for the cake,” Mom says.
“It's fine. We'll take it home,” Mae says. The rest nod and start cutting the cake in pieces, digging out our Tupperware and promising to bring the containers back.
“I don't need them. Have them,” Mom says,
her arm still around my shoulders. I want to scream that we certainly do need the Tupperware. She will need it; she isn't dead yet. I can’t, because soon she won’t, and I am not sure if I will.
“No, no, we'll bring it back,” they all say.
As soon as they can, they all make their exit, giving Mom more hugs and promising to call and stop by and so on and so forth. They start talking about a movie night or shopping trip. I don't think those things are going to happen. People say things to your face, but when it comes down to it, most of them don't follow through. I hope they will. She needs them. Everyone needs friends, especially in a time like this.
“Phew,” she says when they finally drive down the road. “That was more intense than I thought it would be. Now just wait, the phone's going to start ringing.”
Her prophecy comes true a half hour later. Now that everyone has cell phones, Facebook and whatever else, news travels faster than fire.
We all sort of stare at each other, and Dad goes to answer it.
He says hello and rolls his eyes. “Yes, hi Marion. Yes, I know. Uh huh.” He mimes shooting himself in the head, and Mom and I gave him sympathetic looks. This is going to get old fast.
Mom turns to me as Dad tries to get Marion off the phone as quickly as possible. “Well, the cat's out of the bag now. I'm going out to the garden. If he wants, put the phone off the hook.”
With that, she's out the door, grabbing her sun hat on the way. Dad is still knee-deep in sharing sympathies with Marion, who is the secretary at the elementary school Mom worked at. I wave to Dad and go back upstairs. Hell, I need a nap.
Peter has his arms spread out when I open the door, and I climb into them and shut my eyes. I don't care that I still have my clothes on, and it's the middle of the day and I’m too old for naps. I'll worry about everything that needs to be worried about tomorrow. I'm done for today.
Peter
Humans have too many emotions, I decide while Ava is sleeping. Too many complications. I had not realized how quiet the noctalis life is until I started sharing hers.
I hesitate to leave her while she is sleeping, but I do use her phone to call Viktor. He made contact with Rasha and Kamir.
“Will they come?”
“It might be a few days. They are not fond of air travel, and it will take time to ready their boat.”
Rasha's noctalis form is that of a crow. Her wings are small, but they rival mine for quickness. Kamir's form is that of jaguar. They are a matched pair in their other forms, even though she is a creature of the sky and he was a creature of the land. They never part, even though she misses the sky terribly. Or so Viktor has told me.
Part of me considers what Ava will be like if I change her. What her form will be. An image of her with white gossamer wings flits through my mind, but it is gone before I can grab onto it. I promised I would do it if she wanted. She is not ready. I am not sure if she is aware, but her hesitancy overwhelms her assertion that she is. I'm not sure if you are ever ready for immortality, if there is any way to prepare. I was not prepared, and I would take it back if I could. I still hold out a tiny thread of hope that she will end me, but I would still rather be chained to her. Being Ava's prisoner is better than being free.
“How is Texas?” I ask Viktor.
“She is doing well. How is Ava?”
“Well.”
“Who are you talking to?” Texas' sleepy voice says in the background.
“Peter,” Viktor says, leaning to talk to her.
“Hey, Peter,” she says. I can tell she is tired.
“You can go to sleep. I am not leaving,” Viktor says, his voice full of tenderness.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She mutters something, and he gets back on the line with me. “I will see you tomorrow. I too must stay near the school now.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I hang up and set the phone back on Ava's nightstand. Her eyes flutter and I stop moving so I won’t wake her.
“Don't go,” she says, one of her hands reaching out.
I twine it with mine and she relaxes. I sense her dream distress, but I can't read her mind to see what is wrong. The mind reading seems to come when I least expect it. I turn our hands over, studying hers entwined with mine. I want to keep it there. Always.
Six
Brooke
The pain consumed me for hours, escalating until it was all I could see, hear and taste.
It was bright and hot like metal.
When I finally opened my eyes, I could see everything, as if the world was connected by tiny threads that I never knew existed. I could hear the earth shifting. The air was not transparent at all. It was filled with all kinds of things.
“Hello again, Brooke,” Ivan's voice said.
I turned and saw him standing against the wall. He was even more flawless than when I'd seen him last, if that was possible. I could see the lines of his face, his hair, his eyes, everything with a clarity that would have been too much for me before.
“Hi, Ivan.” My voice sounded different, too. He was staring at me. Well, not at me. Behind me.
“What beautiful wings you have, love,” Ivan said.
I reach my hand back and touch them. Although they were thin, they were made of a strong membrane that would not tear, even in a hurricane. I followed them to where they attached to my back. They blended into my skin without stopping. They were a part of me. My shirt had shredded from where they'd ripped through it, so it was no more than tatters. My bra was still intact, so he hadn't seen the rest of me.
“Where did they come from?”
“Wherever we come from. I don't know.”
“Do you have them?”
“No. I am different.”
“Show me.”
He took off his shirt, and even though it was dark, I could see his skin as it shifted from human skin to greenish scales. He stuck out a now-forked tongue at me.
“You're much prettier, love.”
I walked toward him and put my hand on his face, just to feel. It was like touching a snake, but the scales still retained some of the feel of skin. They were soft somehow. They had a tiny bit of sparkle. He shifted back to his human face.
“Can I go outside now?”
“Of course.”
He gestured to the trapdoor, and I flung it open. If I would have still been human, I would have been blinded. The sun was glorious. It filled me up with light and brightness, and I thought I would burst from one more second of it.
“We need the sun to live, you see. Those vampire stories are all fiction.”
I wanted to take off my clothes so I could take in more of it. I wanted to bathe in it for eternity. I tried my wings out. They were as easy to move as my arms or legs. I flapped them.
“You'll be able to fly soon, I should think. Are you thirsty?”
“Thirsty?” As soon as he said it, a crippling need overcame me. I wanted something, but I didn't know what it was. I just knew that I had to get it. NOW.
“If I tell you to stay here, will you listen? I will be right back with what you need.”
I listened and stood in the sun for what felt like forever. The initial burst of it had worn off, and now I just wanted something hot and liquid. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything else.
A smell hit me and I knew that whatever it was, it was what I needed. I followed it, disobeying Ivan's orders. My feet carried me to where he was with a man. The man was dirty and had not bathed in a while, but above all else, he smelled of sweat, human and something else. The thing I needed.
“He's yours. Don't worry about killing him. He doesn't deserve to live.”
He tossed the man at me. He was unconscious. I caught him, and without thinking, ripped into his skin, letting his sweet, hot blood spurt into the air like a fountain. I latched into the hole I'd made and sucked. This. This was what I needed.
In the next few hours Ivan brought me three more people, until I was so full and drunk on
blood I could barely move. He didn't take any, and I didn't offer.
“It doesn't disgust you?”
“I didn't think about it.” It was true. Distantly, I thought that I should care. I'd killed four people in a few hours and I didn't care.
“It is natural not to care. It will take you some time to get in touch with your humanity again. For now, you need blood and sun.”
Sounded good to me.
~^*^~
“Why did you make me promise to spend a day with you?”
“I don't really know, love. I wasn't sure that you'd stay with me after I turned you.”
Ivan and I were lying under the moonlight on the roof of an office building in the heart of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I'd lost count of how many people I'd fed from. At least ten. I'd only been fully immortal for about a day.
“So I'm really going to live forever?”
“Yes. Did you think I was lying?”
“How should I know? You're a stranger I met in the middle of the night who gave me blood.”
“True.” He rose to his feet. “Let's try it out.”
“Try what out?”
“Killing you.”
I was not nervous, although my heart should have raced and my anxiety level should have been high. I knew those things once were, but they were not anymore. I didn't have a heart that could race.
“Okay,” I said, getting up. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, I would throw you off the building, but that might attract attention.”
“You could stab me.”
“Good idea.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the same knife he used to cut me when he changed me. He flipped it at me and I caught it without thinking. “Be careful with it. I like that knife.”
I unfolded the sharp blade from the handle and held it against my skin without pressing. “Why aren't I scared?”
“You have nothing to be afraid of. Fear is a mostly human emotion.”
“Huh.” I pressed the blade against my skin, but nothing happened. I pressed harder, drawing it quickly across my arm. Nothing. No pain. No blood. It just felt like scraping something across my skin.
The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set Page 56
