The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “What are you doing out here?” Mom's voice drifts out of the open doorway. I move down a step so she can take my place next to Dad. “You two are the best family ever. How did I get so lucky?” She kisses Dad and throws her arms around my neck. The grass in the overgrown backyard sways in the breeze and we stay like that for a few minutes.

  “Come on, I want to go see if the tire swing is still good.” Mom steps around me.

  “Claire, are you sure? The tree's probably dead and rotting.” Mom skips head, and if I squint, I can see her as a little girl.

  I dash behind her, racing to the swing. It hangs from a huge oak tree that has stood here for a very long time.

  “See? It's still alive.” The rope on the tire is gray, but I give it a test and it seems okay. I hop on and do a few practice swings.

  “Be careful,” Dad says, standing close to us as if he's going to stop the swing from breaking. Honestly, if this thing is going to break, first, I'm not going that far. Second, Peter will swoop in if my life was really in danger. He'd have some major explaining to do, but at least I'd be safe. Peter will never let anything happen to me. Well, he'll never let me be injured by a rogue tire swing.

  “I used to come out here and Daddy would push me.” Mom never talks about her father. He died when she was ten, so she doesn't remember much about him. Her mother never remarried, so it was just the two of them for the rest of her life.

  “I can't believe it's still here,” she says, pushing the swing and staring at the house.

  “I wanted to hand you the keys, but it's not really in the budget right now.”

  “Sam, don't be silly. What would I do with a house? We have a house.”

  He shrugs and leans against the tree. “I know. I still thought about it.”

  “It's enough just seeing it one last time. This is all I need.” The tire spins drunkenly and she pushes me harder. I wish Peter was here so he could twist the rope around and then let it go so I could spin into oblivion. I could use a little oblivion.

  “I wish you could have known her better, Ava-Claire. You're so much like her.”

  “Did she have caustic wit as well?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  I don't remember much about my grandmother. Most of the memories are of her in a nursing home. She never remembered my name.

  We stay in the backyard for as long as we can without Gretchen getting suspicious. We take one last walk through the house, and I get out my phone to take some pictures when Gretchen's back is turned.

  For someone who's supposed to be observant, she's really not. Nearly anyone else would be able to see that we aren’t going to buy the house, but she starts talking to Dad about paperwork, loan rates and other bank-related things. Little does she know, she's talking to a loan officer. He pretends to be interested, but when push comes to shove, he says we have to think about it.

  “Mom,” I say, as we're walking down the steps to leave, “sit down.” She does, exactly in the same spot as where she was in the picture we have in our house. I sit next to her and Dad takes pictures of the two of us.

  “You look just like your mother,” Gretchen says. What an ass kisser, I think.

  “She does, doesn't she?” Mom says, winking at me. “My girl.”

  Twenty

  Brooke

  I spent every moment I could with Jamie. We hung out in his room, talked, kissed, and watched movies on his computer. We skipped rocks and I flew around him with my wings. I wanted him and I wanted his blood. Sometimes it was hard to decide what I wanted more. It wasn't like when I was with Ivan. That had been fast, hard and relentless. Jamie was soft, warm and sweet. He melted slowly on my tongue and left an aftertaste that I never wanted to forget.

  Sunday afternoon we were lying on the giant stump in the middle of our little clearing. I'd come to think of it as our place. I was on my stomach and he was tracing shapes on my back.

  “I still can't get over the fact that you don't have fangs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you're not really a vampire without them.”

  “I've told you already, that's a myth.”

  “Well, for someone who is obsessed with blood, you haven't tied me to a tree and taken mine.”

  “I'd want to tie you to a tree for different reasons.” I turned my face to see his reaction.

  He grinned. “Well, you could. I just don't know why you don't. Why I'm so special?”

  “You get me, Jamie. I don't know how, but we're the same. Even though you're human and I'm not.” He turned over and scooted off the stump.

  “I should get home. Cassie's working on the baby's room today and I said I'd help.”

  That was the one thing about Jamie that separated him from me, in addition to the human, nonhuman thing. His heart was made of pure gold. Mine wasn’t.

  He started walking with me beside him. He bumped me with his hip, trying to throw me off balance. I laughed and bumped him back, causing him to take a dive into the ground. Sometimes I forget how strong I was.

  “Ouch,” he said, picking himself up. I gave him a hand, but stopped when I saw that a branch had ripped through his palm and blood was dripping on the ground.

  Precious, precious blood. Jamie's blood.

  The smell hit me, and the next thing I knew, I grabbed his hand and stuck it in my mouth.

  “Ow, Brooke, let go.” I sunk my teeth into his flesh, biting until I almost hit bone. I sucked hard, the blood filling my mouth and streaming down my throat, hot and wet and wonderful. I sucked harder, and something started hitting me in the head. A voice said my name over and over.

  “Brooke! You have to stop. Look at me!” Something punched the side of my head and I went to glare at whatever it was that was interrupting my enjoyment of the best blood I'd ever had.

  It was Jamie. The moment I met his blue eyes I choked, my jaw letting go of his hand.

  “Oh, shit. Oh shitshitshit.” I stepped away from him, wiping the blood that dripped down my chin. I didn't want to waste it, but I couldn't have it. I wiped the rest of it on a wide leaf.

  “Oh my God,” Jamie said, looking at his hand. It was pretty mangled, with a clear imprint of my teeth.

  “I'm so sorry.”

  “No, it was my fault,” he said in a shaky voice. He had lost enough blood that he was probably lightheaded. He stared at his hand as if it didn't belong to him. I saw him start to go over, and I caught him before he fell again.

  He didn't regain consciousness until we were in the truck. I searched his glove box and found a small first aid kit. As fast and as gently as I could, I bandaged his arm, holding it above his head to stop the bleeding.

  “Brooke?” His voice was weak and his eyelids fluttered.

  “It's okay. It'll be okay.”

  Twenty-One

  Peter

  I watch Ava and her family go through the house. She asked me if I think she is a burden. What she sees as a burden, I see as a gift. I am allowed to share in her most intimate moments. I adore watching her throw her head back in laughter when her mother pushes her on the swing. I adore seeing her take the house in, committing it to her memory and taking pictures when she thinks no one is watching. I adore her most when she thinks no one is watching. I run around the property, so as to give her some privacy. I do owe her that.

  The land is newer here; it has been logged and the trees are younger. Not as closely packed. I climb a few, looking out over the land. I can nearly see Canada. I've always wanted to take Ava to Canada. Maybe in a few nights I can take her.

  Ava's laugh pulls me back to the ground, and I drop from the tree.

  We will have to deal with Brooke soon, and Di. Ava is impatient, but I am more cautious. Whatever we do cannot be undone. The key to Di's undoing is Helena. The source of Di's pain, of her anger, of all that she has done lies with Helena and the love that Di thought she lost.

  Helena looks, acts and talks like a human girl, but she is not. Her years are many, and the things that she kn
ows could fill hundreds upon hundreds of volumes. My years are only a drop in a bucket in comparison.

  I am surprised Di has not used Cal to contact me. To talk some sense into me, as she sees it. I need to unravel more of Di's story, and to do that I need to talk to Helena, perhaps while Ava is asleep again. Humans waste so much time in sleep. Although, they do not have to find things to fill that time. Many times I have wished I could close my eyes and lose myself to exhaustion with her. So we could be the same, even in sleep.

  Ava and her family get back in the car. She glances to the woods, looking for me. I move so she can see me.

  “I love you,” she says, making a heart with her hands before getting in the car.

  I feel so strongly about her, it is hard not to give in to it. To lose myself in that overwhelming feeling of her and only her.

  It is an interesting conundrum. The one moment I want is the one that will end me. You can't always get what you want.

  Ava

  Mom falls asleep on the ride home. Dad turns down the road trip mix and puts his hand on Mom's arm.

  “Do you think she liked it?”

  “I don't think she would have been happier than if you bought it for her. How did you plan that out? It was very sneaky.”

  “Well, back in the day I used to plan surprises all the time for her. Your mother is not an easy person to surprise, as you well know.” Yes, I do. She has eyes in the back of her head.

  “You should do it more. She loves surprises.”

  “I know. I've got a few more in the works.”

  “You gonna tell me?”

  “No way.”

  “What, because I can't keep a secret?” Oh, if only he knew.

  “No, because I know she'd read it on your face.” God, can everyone read my face? “I'm not as good at it as she is.”

  “Neither am I.” I pull out a blanket I brought in case it got cold and spread it on top of the cooler. It's not as nice as a Peter chest, but it's more comfortable than leaning against the car window.

  I close my eyes as the trees and cars flash by and wish I had my Peter with me.

  ~^*^~

  I'm nearly late for school on Monday because I don't really sleep on Sunday night. Every time I close my eyes my mind starts running through a million thoughts about Jamie, Tex and Mom, and Brooke and Di, and all the crap I'm in. And Peter. Always Peter.

  His silent chest has been my pillow for the last few weeks. I've stopped asking him if he'll stay in my bed with me, he just assumes, which makes me so happy I don't want to sleep. As he reads, I listen to the scrape of the pages as he turns them. Hypnotic and soothing, but I can't get my mind to shut off.

  “Peter?”

  “Yes, Ava.”

  I peer up at him and he meets my eyes. “Why can't we just run away?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yes and no. I want to run away from all the crap with Di and all that. Sometimes I want to run away from all the stuff happening with Mom. Does that make me a horrible person?”

  “No. It makes you human.”

  “I hate being human sometimes.”

  “I hate being a noctalis most of the time.”

  “Really? You hate it?”

  “I hate most of it. Still, if I were not immortal I would not have met you. I do not regret that.”

  “Well thank goodness.”

  “I only meant that I wish things were different. That maybe you could have lived in my time, or I in yours.” I thought of the same thing more times than I could count.

  “Well, you're an angel vampire. You should get on that time machine, chop chop,” I say, poking his chest.

  “I would make a time machine for you, my Ava.”

  “Where should we go? I'm thinking Victorian times. I really, really want to carry a lacy parasol and see you wearing one of those sexy long coats and a top hat. Yum. Although, I'm not so cool with the corsets.”

  “You wouldn't need one. Your figure is perfect the way it is. His hand strokes back and forth across my stomach, and there is a fluttering deep in my soul.

  “Ah,” he says, probably feeling it. Then I get another flutter, but it's darker, more insistent. It's from him.

  “You should get some sleep.” The last thing on my mind is sleep.

  “Then you shouldn't touch me like that.”

  “Ava,” he says, staring into my eyes, into the depths of my soul. “I don't think I can stay next to you right now.” Without another word he gets up so fast that my head bangs against the pillow as he removes himself from under me.

  I run to the window, but he's on the roof. I look up to see him peering down at me.

  “It's too hard, Ava. To be near you and not feel it.”

  “That's what you wanted, originally.”

  “I know. But now that there is a chance I could have it, even if it's wrong, I want it. I want it more than anything I've ever wanted. I want you more than anything.” His desire comes to me in dark ripples, slowly flowing through my body. It is warm, slow and torturous. There is something else there, something deeper. Something that feels a lot like love.

  “Goodnight, Peter.” I don't tell him that I love him. I don't say anything for fear it will trigger something and I'll lose him. I can't lose him. The thought of losing Peter makes me feel like I'll never breathe again. It's different than the pain I feel when I think of losing my mother. That is more of an ache, dull and long-lasting. Losing Peter would be bright, sharp and cataclysmic. I would not survive losing them both.

  I think back to the nightmares I have, where they both burst into flames. I can't let it come true.

  ~^*^~

  Sleeping without Peter is hard. I toss and turn, and my bed feels cold and huge. I open my mouth to call him down from the roof, but I can't let the threat of losing him out of my mind. I can get through a damn night. I slept for seventeen years without him and I can do it again.

  In the morning I get up and he's still on the roof. I shower and go downstairs alone. Mom and Dad are yawning in the kitchen, exhausted from the day before. The house is spotless, thanks to Aj. Mom didn't say anything when we walked into the cleanest house I'd ever seen last night. Either Aj is the best cleaner ever, or she hired a crew.

  “It looks like the cleaning fairy has been here,” Mom says, wiping her finger across the spotless kitchen counter.

  “Imagine that,” Dad says. “I hope she didn't leave any fairy dust behind.”

  “Oh I don't know about that. A little fairy dust never hurt anyone,” Mom says.

  I make breakfast, trying not to mess up the immaculate kitchen. I wonder how long it will last.

  Peter isn't waiting in my car, but instead twenty feet away by the trees. I'm afraid to even make eye contact with him, so I just pretend he isn't there. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done. It's like trying not to close your eyes when you're staring at the sun. I arrive at school and he still doesn't approach me. Viktor and Tex are canoodling by her car, complete with hair flipping and giggly laughter. Viktor's face is animated, and he is gesturing with his hands. From far away they just look like a normal couple. He says something and she throws her head back, gripping onto his arm.

  Why can't I do that? I glance around for Peter, but he's nowhere to be found. He's close, but hiding.

  “Where's your surly shadow?” Tex says as I walk up to them.

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Tex,” Viktor says.

  “Right, sensitive. Sorry. Viktor's trying to help me be sensitive.”

  “Thank you,” I say to Viktor.

  “Hello? Standing right here.” She waves her hands in front of my face. “So, let's try again. What happened?”

  “I don't want to talk about it.” I wrap my arms around my chest because it's really starting to hurt. Not like the times when he leaves. This is a different kind of hurt. Like a piece of me is missing and has left a hole I need to cover up.

&nbs
p; “I'm sorry, honey.” Tex hugs me, but I wish it was more. I wish someone would wave a magic wand and make all my dreams come true. Stupid fairies. They can clean my kitchen, but they can’t take my bad dreams away.

  “Did you do anything fun this weekend?” she says. I took my dying mother to check off an item on her bucket list, how about you? I don’t want to talk about it. It isn't that I don't want to tell her, but I'm not sure she'll really understand. Although, it would be fun to laugh about Real Estate Gretchen with Tex.

  “Fine. Nothing earth-shattering.”

  “Oookaaayyy,” she says, glancing at Viktor.

  “I'll see you later,” I say, spotting Jamie. I can't deal with Tex anymore. “Jamie, wait up.” I jog up to him. Peter follows in the shadows.

  “Where's your other half?” he says, looking behind me for Peter, one of his hands in his pockets.

  “I don't really want to talk about it. Where's yours?” Brooke and Helena must be around here somewhere.

  “Around.” There's something sad about the way he says it. Mere days before he was so taken with her that he wasn’t able to keep a smile off his face. Something has happened.

  “I'm surprised she's letting you talk to me after that reception she gave us.” With the hissing and everything.

  “That's not fair, Ave.” I want to open my mouth and tell him all the mistakes he's making, but I can't. Hypocrite, remember? “She's a part of my life now.” His mouth sets in a stubborn line.

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Less than two weeks, but that doesn't matter. The second I saw her on the side of the road, I would have done anything for her. She's it for me.” He rolls his shoulders back like he does before a game. I've seen him do it a million-billion times. He's ready to fight for her.

  I try an indirect approach. “So the immortal blood-sucking thing doesn't bother you?”

  He sticks his other hand in his pocket and hunches his shoulders. Oh, something is definitely up.

  “Doesn't seem to bother you,” he says. Good point.

  “It's weird what you can get used to when you love someone.”