The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set Read online

  “I did not make it there.” His fingers wind in my hair.

  “How far did you get?”

  “Georgia.”

  “You couldn't send him a message or make Viktor go see him or something?” I'm starting to think we are wasting our time with this.

  “There is an easy solution to all this.” I'd been considering it since I knew I loved him, but had never said it out loud.

  “What is that?” I can tell he's smelling my hair.

  “Make me a noctalis.”

  Peter

  I ask her to repeat the words, even though I know I heard her correctly. My hearing is perfect. I just needed to hear the words from her again. Then I have one thing to say to her.

  “No.”

  “It's not your choice to make.” I let go of her, stepping back to see her face. “It was just an idea.”

  “I will not. Ever.”

  Her chin rises. “You Claimed me.”

  “That was different.” So, so, so different. With the Claiming, I took her blood. If I made her a noctalis, I would take her soul. Humans can make more blood. She could not make another soul.

  “I don't see how. I just went through hell when you left me. I never want to go through that again. The only way to break the Claiming is for you to kill me or make me a noctalis. If it comes to that, I'll take the second.”

  “I will not.”

  She storms upstairs. I follow her. She lets me into her room and slams the door behind me. She puts her forehead against the wood and then turns on me.

  “My mother is going to die. Maybe not today, but very soon. And then I'll have my dad. I have Tex and Jamie, and my Aunt Jenny but that's it. I have a small group of people I can count on and who love me. I know you can't love me now, but you could. You could love me and we could be together. Forever. I'm not saying that you should do it right now, but someday. You won't even consider someday?”

  “You would be losing your soul.”

  Her hands twist the cord that holds the key to my trunk. “You'll take good care of it for me.”

  “I will not take it. Your soul belongs here.” I point to her chest. “And wherever it will go after this body is done doing its purpose. You would never see your mother again.”

  “I can't base my decisions on things that may or may not happen. I don't know how I feel about heaven and all that, but I know how I feel about you and I know that I want to do this for you. You don't have to make the binding promise to me. You can make any promise. Just a little one. Like always turning the light off when you leave a room. Something stupid. Just something to undo the other one. See? It could work.” She tries to take my hands.

  “You do not know if it would work.”

  “You didn't know the Claiming would work. Big rewards require big risks.” Her hands ball into fists. I can hear the desperation in her voice and in her thoughts. She wants this very much. She shoots it at me, trying to make me give in, but I will not. Tears spill over her cheeks.

  I back away from her. “There has to be another way. We will find another way.”

  “Why do we need another way when we have this one?”

  “There is a better way.”

  “Is there? Do you know that for absolutely sure?”

  “I do not.” I will not lie to her.

  “Then will you at least promise to take me with you next time? I will not go through what I did today. It's not happening. I don't care if you have to fly me at night. I'm not leaving you.” She strides toward me and grabs the shirt I am wearing. Her shirt.

  “I won't leave you.” Her words are full of tears.

  “I won't leave you, either.” I can't help myself. I pull her face upward and lick her tears away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking your tears.”

  “Oh.” She looks at me puzzled, but lets me. Then she starts to giggle. It's a bubbly light sound that makes me feel much better. As if the past hours have never happened.

  Ten

  Ava

  He is being completely unreasonable. I mean, all I'm asking him to do is make me immortal and make me a promise. Piece of cake.

  “I need to go down and check on Mom.” I mean, I'd just gotten him back, and I didn't want to take the chance that he'd go even a few feet away. I am not needy enough to ask him to come with me. “Just stay here.” I put my hands up like he's a dog I'm asking to stay.

  “I will wait.” He's always saying that. I always believe it.

  I dash down the stairs. The freaking door is still open. I go and shut it. Good thing he didn’t break it. It would have been fun to try and explain that to Dad.

  I can hear the radio on in her room. She doesn't have a television in there. We might have to get her one, though, when she gets sicker. One thing at a time.

  “Mom?”

  “Hey, baby.” She's lying on her side, staring out the window. The curtains are open and the woods are beyond. There's a birdfeeder just outside with two goldfinches perched on it.

  “Look. You almost never see two at once.” We watch the birds for a moment. Well, she watches the birds and I watch her. She looks more relaxed.

  “How are you doing?” It's a different question than how are you feeling.

  “I'm okay, I guess. It was just a lot. Visually.” She makes a gesture with her hands that I think is meant to indicate Peter's wings.

  “Yeah, I know. The first time he didn't warn me either. He just busted them out.” That's not exactly the truth, but I want to make her feel better.

  “It was quite breathtaking. He looked like an angel.” My vampire angel.

  “Yes, he does.” I blush. Except for the black feathers. They make him look like a fallen angel.

  She finally turns toward me. “What are you going to do now?”

  “It's kind of complicated. We're just going to bask in the non-painfulness for a little while.” Forever.

  “Why did he go?”

  “He was meeting with someone.” I still need the details for myself.

  “Was it some sort of noctalis meeting?”

  “Sort of. He had to ask him something.” It sounds really dumb out loud.

  “I think I need some time to think about it. I'll probably have more questions.” Her hands inch toward the notepad that sits on her nightstand. I have an identical pad in my room. I haven’t used it in a while. Maybe it would help Peter and I figure things out. Or help the case for me becoming a noctalis.

  “Sure. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I'm fine. Looks like our day got kind of hijacked.” She fingers the edge of the notepad.

  I give her a swift one-arm hug. “We'll do it again soon. I promise.”

  “Okay, baby.” She looks back out the window and I can tell she wants to be alone. I close the door softly and go back upstairs to Peter. He's also staring out my window. He looks so good.

  “How is she?” he says without looking away from the window. They're so much alike sometimes.

  “I think she's coming to terms with it. I did. Tex did. I don't see why she should be any different.” He's trying to distract me.

  “I'm not giving up.” I prop my chin on his chest, tipping my head back so I can stare at him.

  “I know. I am hoping I can find something that will change your mind.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “If you want to go for a little bit you can. I'm fine now.” Oh this is such a lie.

  “I cannot leave you.” Well that's good because I don't want him to anyway. At least we're on the same page with that.

  “You can. I'll be fine. I need to start making dinner anyway. Oh God, the laundry.” I slap my forehead. With everything else, I'm pretty sure we left a wet load in the washer.

  He thinks for a moment. “I could help you.”

  “You know how to do laundry?” This is the first I've heard of it.

  He blinks. “You could teach me.”

  “Okaayyy.” It sounds like one of the last things
he'd want to do, but he attempts a smile and kisses my forehead. The smile's not great, but not bad either.

  We go downstairs and find that, yes, there is a load of wet laundry in the washer. I move it over to the dryer as Peter watches like I'm splitting atoms or creating a Van Gogh replica.

  “What do you do when your clothes get dirty?” I've always wondered, but felt rude asking.

  Blink.

  “Get new clothes.”

  “Where?” Somehow I can't picture Peter walking into the Gap and coming out with a polo shirt and khakis.

  “I steal them.”

  “Oh. You should let me buy some for you. I don't feel right about you stealing.”

  “I leave them something in return.”

  Okay, now my curiosity is piqued. “Like what?”

  “Old coins.”

  “I guess that's one way of doing it. If you want, I could sell some of the coins for you or I could just buy clothes for you. I have plenty of money.” Another white lie. But if Peter needed money for clothes, I'd definitely spot him a couple hundred bucks.

  “I cannot take blood and money from you.” What's mine is his.

  “I'll give you both those things and you know it.” I start piling more clothes into the washer. Dear God, please let there be no underwear. I don't care so much about Peter seeing my clean underwear, but dirty is another matter. It's way too intimate. I decide to drop the money issue, for now.

  “So you put in enough to fill up the machine. You have to put the heavy things like jeans spaced out, so they don't all get to one spot and stop it from spinning.” He listens as if I'm describing the most fascinating thing ever. I let him pour the detergent in and crank the dial. The machine guns on. It's really old. Although, not as old as Peter.

  “That's it,” I say, flourishing my hands.

  “That was not very hard.” He sounds disappointed.

  “Yeah, but when you have to do it all the time, it's a pain in the ass.” I have a crazy thought. Well, not so crazy. If Peter wants to help me out with stuff, I'm not going to stop him. Especially if he wants to do dishes. Or clean the lint trap in the dryer. Or a million other little chores that don't get done anymore. I ask him if he's game.

  “Of course.” As if he was waiting for me to ask. How could I not love him?

  It seems crazy to be doing little mundane tasks after what happened this morning. But what else are we going to do? This stuff needs to be done, and I could use a hand to do it. I ask him once again if he's okay with it and all I get is a blink. Good enough for me.

  I show him all sorts of things like changing lightbulbs and the wonders of Clorox wipes. He takes it all in, and I can tell he's paying attention.

  “I'm not totally boring you, am I? I know this isn't riveting stuff.” I'd just shown him the amaziosity of the microwave.

  “Anything human is interesting to me.” I find that impossible to believe. Vomiting is not interesting. Neither is doing taxes.

  “If you say so.”

  Jamie calls me during his study hall.

  “Hey you.”

  “Hey, Ave. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” My stomach clenches with guilt. A rumble outside makes me look up. It sounds just like...

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here?” He hangs up and I rush to the door. And remember that Peter is here. Crap. But he's already ahead of me.

  “I will be on the roof.”

  “You don't have to leave.” Thinking about him being on the roof makes me feel like I'm going to die all over again.

  “You need to be with your friend. I am right here. I will not leave. If you need me, I will know.” He takes my hands and presses a kiss to my hair. Then he tugs away and is up the stairs. Jamie knocks on the door. I glance from the stairs to the door, but I have let Jamie down so many times. Suck it up, Ava.

  I answer the door, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. His face beams, and I notice he's got a shopping bag on one arm and my homework tucked under the other.

  “Jamie.”

  “How are you feeling?” I step aside so he can come in. His smell slices through the air.

  “Why don't we go outside? I could use a little sunshine.” And fresh air. Fresh non-blood-scented air.

  “Are you sure? I don't want you to get sicker.”

  “I'm fine,” I say, yanking his arm out the door. He's too much of a gentleman not to follow my orders. He drops the bag and homework before I tug him toward my mother's flowerbeds. The tulips are just starting to peek their little heads out of the ground. I reach down and brush a leaf off one poor little bud. I'd have to come out this weekend and do some work with Mom.

  I plunk myself down on one of the Adirondack chairs. Jamie takes the other. He's studying me as if I hold the answer to life. His face is so serious.

  “Ave?” he finally says. I shade my face with my hand. Uh oh.

  “Yeah?”

  “You're not sick, are you?” I open my mouth to lie, but I can't do it anymore.

  “I'm not sick, but Mom is.”

  Peter

  I wait on the roof, trying to give Ava privacy, but I hear every word. I hear her blood rush as she confesses her mother's illness to Jamie. Her pain at hiding the truth from him had finally become too much.

  “I've wanted to tell you for so long. I just... couldn't.” Tears roll down her skin. Jamie breathes steadily next to her, listening and deciding what to say. She picks at the paint on the chair, composing herself. Despite her pain at saying the words, an immense sense of peace engulfs her, and in turn, engulfs me in a glorious relief. The desire for his blood evaporates from her.

  “Oh, Ave.” The chair protests as he gets up. Their clothes rustle as he folds her into an embrace. That simple gesture breaks her. Their hearts beat in opposition, synching for one moment. Sounds erupt from her. Tearing, painful sounds that rip at my ears. I want more than anything in that moment to go to her, but I stay where I am. Listening.

  And then a sound I do not expect. Laughter.

  “I can't believe I finally told you. I haven't told anyone. Not even Tex.” The sound comes out of her like a rushing river. I delight in the sound.

  Jamie is as shocked as I am, but I hear him smile as he wipes the tears from her cheeks.

  “I'm glad you told me.”

  “I'm sorry that I waited so long. It's just that with Cassie and everything, I didn't want to put more on you.” He pulls her into a hard hug, almost stealing her breath.

  “This is what I'm here for. This. Right here. Being here for you. Because we're there for each other. We're family.”

  “I love you, James.”

  “I love you too, Ave.” They hug again, and then Ava makes a joke about getting snot on his shirt and the moment is broken. Laughter sparkles in the air and they dissolve into talking about human things. School. Teachers. Homework. Things I could never understand. Things I could never share with her.

  So I sit and wait for her to come back to me. She is human. She must have moments to be the girl she would have been if she had not met me.

  Eleven

  Ava

  Jamie brings me soup and ginger ale and everything from his medicine cabinet. And cheese and butter and bread. And Stand by Me, our favorite movie to watch together. He knows me so well.

  “What about practice?”

  “You're more important.” And I know that I am.

  But part of my mind is still on the roof with Peter. Part of my heart as well. It isn’t something that I can control. He Claimed part of me, and I gave him the rest.

  I also keep one ear turned toward my mother's room. From the sound of her deep breathing, she's asleep.

  Jamie stays for two hours, makes me grilled cheese and tomato soup, and sits next to me on the couch. I have to keep moving over because his blood is making me want. I try to focus on the movie, but the blood want keeps poking at me.

  “I'll be right back,” I say, hoping he'll think I'm going to the bathroom.
>
  “I'll be waiting.” He sounds like Peter. I dash up the stairs, tear open my door and shove my face out the window. Gulping fresh air, I almost scream when a face appears in front of me. He's upside down, hanging over the edge of the roof like Spiderman. I have flashes of that kiss in the rain scene in the movie. Now is not the time for kissing, Ava.

  “I was coming to get you.” I've never seen Peter upside down. It's a good look for him. At least his hair is out of his face so I can see those amazing eyes. They fix on mine, unblinking.

  “Thanks. I'm fine. I just needed a minute.” I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I'm good now. I got this.” I toss him a smile before pulling my head back inside. My body protests leaving him again, pulling me back toward the window. It's a bit like trying to run through the ocean. Something's always pulling you back. I fight against it.

  Jamie's licking the butter off his fingers when I flop back on the couch. I stick my tongue out at him. He grabs my nose, but there's something wrong. The sun has gone behind the clouds again.

  “What's up, James?”

  “Nothing.” He smiles, but it's weak. I know his face almost better than my own.

  “Nope, you don't get to do that. I got to dump my stuff on you; you get to do the same. We're family, remember?” He looks down at his hands.

  “Jamie?”

  “I'm just worried. About Cassie. And what's going to happen when the baby gets here. I don't know what Dad's going to do.” Jamie's dad may be an alcoholic, but there is no way he could hurt a baby. No way.

  “He hasn't hit her again, has he?”

  “No.” He lets out a breath of relief. “He's actually been sober for two days. He went to an AA meeting.”

  “Really?” I never thought I'd see the day. “Maybe he's going to change.”

  “Maybe. But I can't stop thinking that it's only temporary. That he'll do it for a little while and then something will go wrong. I'm just scared, Ave.”

  “I know, but if you expect him to fail, then he will. He needs your support. Maybe this baby is what he needs to finally turn his life around.” I am not ready to say everything happens for a reason, but maybe this is a case when it does.