The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set Page 63

  “Please, she's not a moron. Why else would she have come?” Tex says, joining my team. We're not very stealthy with our information gathering.

  “You're right, I'm not a moron. Why am I here? Now that's the question,” Helena says.

  “And the answer?” Tex asks.

  Helena blinks again. She may act human, but she is still a noctalis. “My parents asked me to come. I know that sounds silly, but they asked if I wanted to see Maine, and I haven't been out of India in ages, so I came. They didn't tell me why, but I figured it out.”

  “So you're not going to try and destroy us?” I say. No hidden motive? No nefarious plans?

  She throws her hair over her shoulder. “Nope. I'm more of a make love not war kind of girl.”

  I wait for someone else to say something, but it looks like I've been appointed spokesperson. “Are you going to help us?”

  She stills. Aha.

  “How about convincing her to not hate me and want me to burn in hell, and releasing these boys from their binds?” I jerk my thumb at Peter and Viktor. We also filled her in on all the drama so far.

  She beams, showing dimples. She's like Shirley Temple, the vampire. “That, I can help with.”

  “For real?” It can't be this easy.

  “Sure thing!” She chirps, like I've just asked her to get pizza with us.

  We have a little hope after all.

  Peter

  Ava and I agree via hand-squeezing that we need some time alone to discuss what we learned about Helena and Di, and what our plan will be. Her shock radiates through me and stirs up mine. Di never told me she had a sister.

  I pick her up and fly her to a secluded part of the Sussex beach, setting her down on a patch of sand that is seaweed-free. A seagull cries at us, angry we are disturbing him, or hoping we have food.

  Ava turns to me. “Can I just say, wow? Like, for real. Holy shit.”

  “I agree.” Her shock mirrors mine. I do not remember being shocked, but this must be it.

  “How did you not know?” She is not accusing me of not knowing, simply in awe that I would not know. I am in awe that Di was able to hide it.

  “Di never spoke of her father, her family. She always said that the future belonged to those who took it, and the past was behind us.” Her sayings remind me of Claire and her proverbs.

  “What a charmer,” she says, taking her shoes off and digging her feet into the sand. I do the same, shoving some in her direction. She laughs and shoves it back toward me, covering my feet.

  “What did she talk about?”

  I usually try to avoid talking about her, but ignoring her isn’t going to make her go away. We have to learn everything we can about her to destroy her.

  “She talked about her love for us. Di is a wonderful storyteller.”

  “I never really had time to notice,” she says with a little laugh. “She was always trying to kill me.”

  “There were good times with her.”

  “And bad times?” she adds.

  “There are always both,” I say. You cannot have the good without the bad.

  “Tell me about the bad times.”

  I have to think for a moment. “Di brought out the worst in my nature. Or maybe she just enhanced it. I killed many people when I was with her.”

  “That's not your fault. She was controlling you.”

  Always looking for the good in me, my Ava.

  “Sometimes yes. Sometimes no.”

  She smiles. “More or less?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think it would work? That Helena can convince Di to leave us alone?” She wants to believe that it can happen, but doesn't think that it will.

  “I do not know, Ava. The only thing I do know is that if we can do this, if Helena can do this, it would be best for all involved.”

  “Then we could be together,” she says. “Maybe we could make our own bind.”

  “No. I would never do that to you.”

  “What if I asked you to?”

  “No.”

  She opens her mouth to argue, but sighs and looks out at the ocean instead. Her anger dissolves, the argument pushed aside for more important matters.

  “Helena explained a lot. About Di and who she is,” I say.

  “She got stuck in the friend zone. All of this,” she says, swirling her hands around to indicate our present situation, “because she got jilted by someone she loved. All of this because of one little promise.”

  I am not so sure about that. Texas as a noctalis is a frightening image. She would be even more of a force of nature.

  “Do you trust her?” she says, scooping some sand up and letting it run through her fingers.

  “I have no reason not to,” I say.

  “I can't even wrap my head around this right now. I think I need to go home and decompress.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Yeah, why don't you come over and help me with my homework. You can just grab one of the textbooks and pretend. We'll have a human afternoon.” Her mood brightens, and I feel better as well.

  “I would like that.”

  She traces a heart in the sand, writing A + P. I smile as she traces a heart around it. I can't say the words, I can't even begin to think them, but I can draw a heart. If I had one, it would be hers.

  Ava

  “So where are you going to stay?” I ask Helena when Peter and I go back to the cemetery. Kamir and Rasha are also back. I know noctali don't sleep, but she didn't seem like the kind of girl or whatever who would want to be alone.

  “Duh, with me,” Tex says, as if it's a given. I'm shocked. I didn't think she'd want anyone intruding on her precious time with Viktor.

  “I can?” Helena jumps up and down, clapping her hands as if she just got asked to the prom.

  “Absolutely!” Tex and Helena would have been twins in another lifetime. I also notice that when Helena gets excited, her accent comes out, just a touch. I've gotten good at hearing tones in voices ever since I met Peter.

  “You good with that, Viktor?” I don't expect much of an answer, and I just get a blink.

  “There are worse ways to spend an evening, I should think.”

  “Your parents are going to notice there are three of you in that room, and if they don't, Coby will,” I say.

  “Coby's too worried about his hair and his angst to notice,” Tex says. I very much doubt that, but I shut my mouth.

  “So this was an interesting day,” I say to no one in particular. “I feel like we should have another powwow tomorrow. We have a lot of things to talk about.” Mainly how the hell we're going to get rid of Di, or at least get her to retract the binds.

  “Works for me. You want to meet here tomorrow afternoon at one?” Tex says, speaking for her group.

  “I'll be here as well,” Helena says.

  “Sounds good,” I say and watch Tex and Viktor get back in her car. Helena waves to us and dashes off into the woods.

  “I'm still not quite sure what to make of her,” I say to Peter as he shucks his shirt off and hands it to me.

  “I am not sure, either. She is... very different from Di.”

  “Understatement of the century, Peter.”

  ~^*^~

  I tell Mom that Peter is coming over and his car is broken so I have to get in my car and pretend I'm picking him up, because Dad is in the kitchen when I get home. In reality I drive to the end of the driveway, pull onto the shoulder and try to get him to make out with me when he gets in the car.

  “You're supposed to be nice,” I say. At least he let me hop over the console and straddle his lap. It's the sexiest position I've ever been in. I lean my face in, smiling at him. He reaches forward, almost meeting my lips before pulling back.

  “Tease,” I say, smacking his chest. “All that love talk got to my head,” I say, trying to make a joke. “Sorry, I shouldn't have used the L word.” I try not to say it too much. It's like saying the devil's name or something.
>
  “Come here,” he says, taking my face in one hand and pulling it toward his lips.

  I smile against his mouth as we kiss. I tried slipping him tongue before, but he never lets me in. Until now. I'm so surprised, I pull back a little. He follows me, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I make a little sound of surprise as his tongue touches mine for the first time. Then it's like everything takes over and it's like we've done this a million times, except it feels like the first.

  Our mouths work with each other instinctively. I know where to go and he knows how to lead me there. My hands slide under his shirt, feeling his hard stomach. His hands wrap around the back of my neck and dive into my hair. Who knew kissing was hotter when his temperature is lower than mine?

  I have no idea how long we're in the car, but he's the one who pulls away first. I gasp for air.

  “You need to remember to breathe, my Ava-Claire,” he says, pushing my hair away from my face. I giggle, drunk on his kisses.

  “It's hard to remember so many things when you're kissing me. My brain kind of shuts down.”

  “I understand the feeling.” His arms trace my sides. He never tries to undress me, and that bothers me a little.

  “What's wrong?”

  “You don't touch me.”

  “I am touching you right now.” His fingers trail up my arms, making my skin shiver.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, pushing my hands under his shirt to show him. He looks at me, not blinking. I wait for him to answer. It takes a few moments.

  “The reason I don't do that is because I wouldn't be able to control what happened next. I would tear this car apart to get closer to you. This does not seem like the right venue for that sort of thing. Nor your bedroom. Too many breakable things.”

  “So you're worried you're going to break some of my stuff? But not me, right?”

  “It could happen,” he says. I entwine our fingers and hold them in front of our faces, studying the difference between his hand and mine. Somehow we work. The human and the vampire angel.

  “So what you're saying is we need to be in a place where it's okay to break things.”

  “It would be better that way, yes.” He's trying to figure out where my mind is going.

  “Well, there's nothing to break in the sky,” I say, smiling.

  “Ava, that would not work. What if I dropped you?”

  I run my finger down his nose. “You wouldn't. I'm not afraid of falling when I'm with you.”

  “It is a recipe for disaster.”

  “Well, I don't really have a good track record of good decision making. Reckless, remember?”

  “You are. My reckless girl.”

  “I like it when you call me yours.”

  “As I am yours.”

  “I adore you,” I say, using his replacement for I love you.

  “And I adore you.” He gives me the perfect smile. I want to make out with him again, but there isn't time.

  “I think it's time for me to pick you up,” I say, using air quotes. Peter lifts me off his lap and deposits me in the driver's seat with way more grace than I used getting over there in the first place.

  “I should probably be bringing something.”

  “Don't worry about it,” I say. He doesn't need to kiss up to my mom, and my dad is always going to hate him. He could show up with an entire four-course feast and a Rolex for him, and Dad still wouldn't like him. Dads are engineered to hate their daughter's boyfriends, especially when his natural reaction to a noctalis is negative. It is a lose-lose situation.

  “It will work out,” he says, and I turn the ignition.

  “Someday I hope your confidence will rub off on me.” As well as other things.

  I try to pull out of the ditch, but the tires just spin.

  “Aw, crap.” I try, but the wheels just kick up dust.

  “One moment,” Peter says, getting out and shutting the door. Seconds later, the car moves forward. I pull out of the ditch and into the road. I stop, giving him a chance to get in.

  “My hero,” I say, clutching my hands to my chest. “What would I do without you?”

  “Be human.”

  “Pft. How boring,” I say, taking his hand.

  ~^*^~

  Peter stays for dinner, but doesn't eat with us, because of his lactose intolerance. I also add that he was recently diagnosed with Celiac disease, which cancels out most other food. Peter gives me a look that says, nice going. I'm proud of myself.

  Dad is surprisingly nice about it. Whereas before he was offended or something about Peter not eating with us, now he just says that it's a shame. I glance at Peter in shock. He just blinks.

  “When do you get out of school, Peter?” Mom asks.

  “June 15,” he says, naming the exact same day that I get out. It's easier that way.

  “Do you have any summer plans?” She toys with her fork, not really eating anything. We all pretend not to notice.

  “I have a job working in my mother's office. Photocopying and that sort of thing.” Wait, what? First I've heard of it. I smooth my face and pretend that I totally knew. He needs to share these things with me ahead of time.

  “You're lucky to have a job already in place. I bet she's pushing you into a career in law,” Mom says, giving him a little wink Dad doesn't see.

  “She does push me, but I have decided that I have to make my own path.”

  “Well, that's very admirable, Peter,” Dad says. I seriously want to ask who he is and what he did with my dad, but I can't get the words out.

  “We were going to watch a movie. Would you like to join us? I know you said you had to get home for dinner, but I can talk to your mother if you'd like.”

  “That is unnecessary. I will send her a text message,” Peter says, smiling. Perfect. He even remembers to blink and everything. What a good pretend human.

  “Your mother won't mind?” Dad says.

  “I'm sure she won't.”

  We settle in to watch the newest sequel of a spy movie that Dad picked out. It isn't my cup of tea, nor my mother's, but it's gripping. Peter and I are allowed to share the recliner, and I even get to sit in his lap. I tip my head back and get crazy comfortable. Peter twists and untwists our fingers with one hand, and dances his fingers up my arm with the other. I've never been so comfortable in my life.

  I glance over and see Mom and Dad in almost the same position, her head on his chest and his hand rubbing her back.

  Helena is right. It is all about love.

  Thirteen

  Peter

  I call Viktor again that night to discuss the latest developments. Ava is tired after the long day, and her head is full of so many things, it is impossible for me to be able to follow their twisting paths. Every time I think I know her completely, I am proved wrong. I like that.

  “Did you see that coming?” I say.

  “No, I did not. Tex's shock was overwhelming. Her mind is a very loud place.” I could only imagine.

  “How are you coping with her emotions?”

  “It is... stressful. Sometimes I wish I could go back to Russia.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “No. I often wonder if it would have been like this with Adele. If her mind was such a chaotic place. I imagine it was. I wish I could have shared it with her.”

  “It is a lot to get used to. Do you crave her blood?”

  “Yes. It is constant. I do not know how you can feed from Ava so infrequently.”

  “I have little need of it. What little she gives me is satisfying. I hope it will be that way for you.”

  We have nothing to go on. I wish there was some sort of book for this, like the humans have their holy books. It appears that no noctalis ever found the need to write anything down. Most of the stories of us are passed orally, from what Viktor tells me from what he learned from other noctali. I felt the urge to write something down. To see it in print; to make it real.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” I say.

&nbs
p; “Goodnight.”

  Viktor hangs up and I grab the notebook Ava keeps beside her bed, along with a pen. I turn past several lists she has made, including one with questions about being a noctalis. It makes me smile. I wish I had a mirror so I could judge if it looks right.

  I find a blank sheet and tear it out, hoping she won't notice. I turn the pen in my hand, thinking of what to say. I know what I want to say, but I can't. It will end me. I can't even think about it. I switch my thoughts to something else. I write her name. Ava-Claire Sullivan. I write my name next to it, Peter Henry Mackintire.

  Even slower than a human, I trace a heart around our names. Just a simple heart. Two rounded bumps and one end that is sharp like an arrow. Smooth and hard. Rough and soft. Death and life. Me and her. I wait for a second.

  Ava mumbles in her sleep. I hope she is not having a nightmare. She turns on her back and her shirt rides up, exposing some skin at the base of her spine. I press the pen to her skin, making another heart, and then another. She stirs a little and I stop. She won't know they are there unless she somehow sees her back. I make dozens of them, some small, some larger. I am shocked she doesn't wake up. My hand smears some of the ink, and the hearts blend together. I stop and sit back, staring at the black ink on her pale skin. I kiss one of the hearts, tasting the pen and her skin.

  I brush my thumb across the hearts. My Ava-Claire. Covered in hearts.

  Ava

  “You're watching me,” I say the next morning when I wake up. I had some really weird dreams, but I don't really remember them. At least I didn't have the burning one again.

  “You are beautiful,” he says, as if he's commenting that it's Tuesday. I don't exactly feel beautiful first thing in the morning. I pull myself toward the bathroom, knocking into several pieces of furniture on my way.

  First thing, I check my neck. It just looks like I've got a little red mark, like I bumped against something. Phew. I get in the shower and try to wake up. Peter stands at the door, which should be completely creepy, but it isn't. The door stays closed. It's also a relief to know that if I should slip and fall or have a seizure, or whatever, that he's right there to catch me. He's always there to catch me.