chapter Three
Peter
I fly in loops around the house, waiting for her. I dip low, so I can hear their voices. It does not concern me that her father might not like me. It should matter because it is important to Ava, even if she would not admit it. I am not used to trying to get along with humans. To impress them.
For now, I concentrate on trying to make Ava feel better. She has a human need to blame herself for things out of her control. Perhaps it is part of possessing a soul, something I don't have. I had not thought about it much since my second incarnation. Now I think of it all the time.
In most mythologies, a human is comprised of two things, a body and a soul. When the body dies, the soul remains. Something that can survive without a body that goes on to another place.
But I have a body that can exist forever. It has taken the place of my soul. So would it not be the other way around? One cannot have both an eternal body and an eternal soul. It would tip the balance too much, and the world is all about balance, belief in God or not. Out of seeming chaos, there are patterns, order. So it would stand to reason that I would be the opposite of a human. Eternal body, a soul that can die. I don't believe I deserve a soul.
I perch on the roof, leaving my wings out so the breeze streams through the feathers, making a sound only I can hear. Inside the house, Ava and her father try to keep their voices down. Afraid of disturbing her mother, who they believe is sleeping. Judging by her breathing and hear heart rate, she is not.
I have a spur-of-the-moment impulse, and leap from the roof. I find my shirt and slide my wings out of sight before I put it on. There are two windows leading into Claire's bedroom. Softly, I tap on the window. She looks up, startled, squinting in the dark before flicking the light on. She sees me and swallows once. Her heart rate picks up.
I slide the window up a little so I can talk without her feeling threatened.
“Please, don't get up. I just wanted to speak with you.” I use the voice I'd once used to lure victims. Comforting and smooth.
“If you hurt me, I'll scream.” Her eyes flick to the door, calculating how fast it will take her husband to reach us, should something occur.
“I am not here to hurt you. I would never hurt someone Ava cares about.” She relaxes a bit, and raises one eyebrow, a feat I have yet to conquer.
“You know I'm going to die anyway. You'd just be speeding up the inevitable.” She shares Ava's wry sense of humor.
“I know. I do not wish to hurt you. I wanted to speak about Ava, and I did not think she would like me doing so.” She sighs.
“Yes, I know.” She sits up, propping a pillow under her back.
I push the window open a few more inches. “May I come in?”
“I suppose.” I move as slowly as I can so as not to startle her.
“I don't remember the last time I had a boy sneaking in my window,” she says with a smile. The mood lifts a little.
“It cannot have been that long ago.” She can't be much more than forty-three.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, young man.” She stops, realizing what she'd said. “I guess you aren't really a young man. I'm really not comfortable with that age difference. It's illegal in all 50 states and Puerto Rico, I believe.”
“There were no such laws when I was human.” Men married women young enough to be their granddaughters. Especially when there was money involved.
“That isn't helping your case.”
“I would like to talk to you about what happened tonight. Ava believes she caused your illness by telling you about our relationship.” I try taking a breath in. The air whistles in my lungs, but she can't hear it.
“I know.” She sighs again. “She's always been that way. Taking on more than she should. My strong girl. Seems like she's taken on a lot from you, as well.” She waves her hand to indicate my person.
“I would not have chosen it for her. It was out of necessity.” I need to make this clear to her. That it wasn't a choice either of us had taken lightly.
“For you, or her? Because I have a hard time believing you have a benevolent spirit.” I have no spirit at all, but I do not say that.
“For her. I would have been content to end my existence, but she stopped me.”
“Why did you do it? Why not just leave her alone?”
“I ask myself the same question every day.” It is the only answer I can give her. It is not enough.
“Of course she did.” Her hand goes to her head, as if it aches. It is time to go.
“I will leave you now. Unless you have questions for me. Ava always seems to.”
A tiny smile lifts her pale lips. “Did she make a list?”
“Yes.”
“What am I going to do with that girl?” She laughs and shakes her head. “If I think of one, I'll ask her. You're not going to turn into a bat, are you?”
“No. Ava asked me that, too. I believe Bram Stoker is responsible for that particular piece of lore.” Ava had given me a copy of Dracula to read. I'd avoided the book for many years, but was pleasantly surprised by the story.
“Hm,” she says, as if she's thinking about something else.
“Goodnight.” I move too fast for her eyes to follow, and she's startled when I am no longer in the room.
She pauses, as if to say something else, but doesn't. I close the window behind me and the light goes out.
Ava
Dad and I end up whisper yelling for almost an hour. I'm absolutely exhausted by the end and don't even have to fake that I'm tired. Somehow, my voice is also hoarse from the confrontation. I spent a lot of time defending myself, Peter, even Mom. Not to mention he reamed me out for not handling the episode the correct way. Otherwise known as his way.
He didn't approve of me having Peter over at all, even though, as far as he knew, Peter had just “dropped by.” I guess I'd also screwed up by driving to the hospital and not calling for an ambulance. The scent of his blood teased me, making my head muddled and my temper even shorter than it was normally.
I didn't bother telling Dad that it would cost $400 if we'd called the ambulance, even with our insurance. The fact that I'm 17 and know how much an ambulance costs was not something I wanted to think about. I didn't want to do much more thinking. I just wanted to hang out with Peter in my room and have him read to me, or have him sit there and listen to me go on and on without interrupting. He was so good at that. He was good at a lot of things.
But he'd said we were going flying tonight. The thought of that made me shiver with anticipation as I stormed up the stairs. I wanted to say goodnight to Mom, but I wasn't going to wake her up. She'd been through enough and didn't need me reminding her of the awfulness from earlier. Dad would take such good care of her, she'd have care coming out her ears.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket, but the screen's black. After the hospital ordeal, I'd turned it off. Which means that I've probably got a million missed messages from Texas and Jamie. Yup, ten from Tex, but one from Jamie. It had been forever since we'd talked.
Instead of texting him back, I hit speed dial and park myself at the top of the stairs outside my room.
“Hey you,” I say when he picks up. “Long time no talk.”
“Hey Ave.” Hearing his voice is like drinking a warm cup of tea with tons of honey. There's a reason Jamie and I have been friends for so long. Back before this whole Thing with my mother and Thing with Peter, I used to tell Jamie everything.
“I've missed you lately.”
“I know, you've been a busy girl.” I can feel the hurt in his voice. I swallow a lump of guilt.
I want to spill about Peter and the hospital ordeal, but I can't. Not yet. “How are things? How's Cassie?”
“She's really good. The baby started moving, so that's a good sign.”
“Do you know if it's a boy or girl?”
“Not yet. She wants a boy so she can name it Jamie.” My heart squeezes. How sweet.
“We need to hang out soon. As in this week.”
“Definitely. It's been ages since I had my best cheerleader at one of my meets.”
“Just don't make me wear the skirt and I'm there.”
“I know.” There's a pause in the conversation where I want to tell him. Something, anything. I want it so much, but instead I say, “I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say hi to Cassie and the baby for me.”
“I will.”
Click. I sit for a second on the steps, thinking about Jamie. I want to do something for him. Once, Brett Kormier was teasing me about my black hair and Jamie drew me a picture of Brett with snakes coming out of his head. It sounds silly now, but back then it was one of the nicest things anyone had done for me. I'll have to come up with something. Dinner at Miller's isn't going to cut it.
Peter's reading when I open the door. He'd blown through most of my books by now, and I have to keep going to the library to get more. I'd go to bed and he'd be reading one book, and in the morning there would be a stack on my floor. He'd mentioned to me once that he used to break into the library and steal books. I told him to stop, and I'd do it the legal way. The crazy thing is that he'll read everything from vampire romances to literary fiction to histories of the civil war. Which was kinda smexy.
“Watcha reading?” He's leaning against the ancient trunk that holds all his worldly goods. Flakes of rust and dirt fleck the floor, but I don't mind. I pull at the key around my neck. I was never going to take it off. It opened the most precious thing I had been entrusted with. Peter's human memories. He'd showed them to me once, but I hadn't touched them since. They were too private. Too intimate. His.
He holds up the cover of the book. It's a historical fiction featuring a woman from World War Two traveling back in time to Scotland. I wouldn't exactly say it's a bodice ripper, but there are quite a few steamy scenes in it. Good thing Peter doesn't blush, or get offended by that sort of thing. I doubt if a woman stripped completely naked in front of him, that he would even have a reaction. Not that I was going to test the theory. I didn't want to take the chance of getting that close to him. Although, one glance at me naked might squash any ideas about love.
“Have you gotten to the sexy parts yet?”
“No.” His eyes race over the page, and he turns one every few seconds. I have no idea how he can read that fast, but there are a lot of things Peter can do that I don't understand.
He puts in a bookmark and looks up at me.
“How was Jamie?” Of course he'd heard the whole conversation. But he was polite enough to pretend that he hadn't.
“He's good. I need to stop neglecting him. Any ideas?” He thinks for a moment before looking up at me. “You could make him earth-shattering cheesecake.” His suggestion makes me smile.
“There's an idea.” Actually, it's not too bad. I file it away for potential use.
He closes the book with a snap. “Ready to fly?” I toss on a coat and an extra pair of pants, gloves and a hat.
“Yes.” I almost throw myself into his arms. I absolutely love touching his skin and I'm bummed I have to wear so many layers. Peter's skin is sorta waxy. I like the feel of it warming under my hands. He scoops me up like he did my mother. No, I'm putting today to the back of my mind. I'm flying with Peter now. Nothing more, nothing less.
I keep my eyes open as he runs off the roof and takes to the air. It's just as much of a rush as the first time, and I wonder if I'll ever get used to it. I hope not. I really hope not.
We don't talk as he takes us higher, the air poking under my clothes, even through my layers. I learned the hard way the first time that I can never have too many layers.
“It wasn't your fault,” he says in my ear when we're at cruising altitude. I was now free to speak to the noctalis.
I rub my face into his shirt, trying to use his scent to burn everything else away. “Feels that way.”
“You cannot cure cancer, as much as you want to.” An idea strikes me, and I voice it before I can second guess it.
“You could.” It's the first time I'm saying it out loud. Pretty sure it's lingered in my subconscious since I met him and only now decided to sneak into the main part of my brain.
“No.” He knows what I'm thinking. He does most of the time. But not all of the time.
“You could, though.”
“I would not. This is not a life. It is an endless, soulless existence.” That's not the point.
“I know, but you could. I'm not asking you to. Just saying that it could happen.” I am not, I repeat, not saying that this should happen. I can't imagine a world where my mother was a noctalis. But the thing is, two months ago I never could have imagined noctali existing at all. So there.
“But it would not.”
“You're impossible.” He doesn't respond and I tighten my hold on him. He feels so solid and so right that I never want to let go. Even when he's arguing with me.
I haven't told him about the decision I'd made when his mother tried to kill me. When she'd said she would release him from his promise to not love anyone but her, and he'd chosen me instead.
I loved him, and I would never love anyone else. In every way you could love a person. Or non-person. I just hadn't told him. I didn't want to burden him any more than I already had with my stupid human weaknesses.
Peter was so hard to read, but I knew he was capable of feelings. Of love. I just didn't know if he'd give it to me. I wasn't sure if I wanted it, even if he could. What would Peter loving me be like? I didn't know. There were so many things I didn't know.
The house was dark and desolate when we returned. I was chilled to the bone, so I cranked the heat in my room. My teeth chattered as I tucked myself into bed. Peter kept his wings out and his shirt off. I liked staring at his wings. They were both pretty and majestic. I still couldn't get over the fact that they were real. That he was real.
“Peter?” I say, stroking one of the iridescent black feathers.
“Yes?”
“You're not falling in, you know...” I don't want to say the L word. Because I might jinx it. I don't want to think it because then he will think it and if he does, he's going to die. I have no idea how this works, or how it will happen, but I don't even want to take the chance.
“Do not worry, Ava-Claire. I keep my promises.” This is both relieving and heartbreaking at once.
I pull the covers up to my chin, pulling myself away from him. “Is there any way out of it, without having Di release you?”
“If she ended.” He leans back to see my face, looking like a god fallen to Earth. My vampire angel.
“So why don't you just kill her?”
There is a pause that feels like a sigh. “It is not as easy as that. She would have to break a promise she made.”
“Do you know if she's made any?” I think I already know the answer.
“No, I do not.”
“Is there any way to find out?”
“Not that I know of.” Geez, make a little less effort, Peter.
“So that's it, then?” She just gets to live forever and have him as her love slave? No flipping way.
“Yes.” Way to slam a door on my attempt to fix this, Peter.
“Well, that just sucks.” I'm starting to warm up and feel really sleepy, but my brain is wide awake. The stress of the day finally catches up with me and it's like being run over by a train. Only a train made of ugly, metal-clad thoughts.
“It does indeed,” he says, picking up a book and effectively ending the conversation.
I don't like sleeping with the light on, but I like it when I wake up and can see him sitting on my floor reading.
I am tired, but as I try to sleep, my thoughts keep whirling like a hurricane that howls and demands my attention. I try to ignore it, but eventually it takes over. I lay there listening to Peter turn the pages of one of my books and that's what finally does it. Better than counting sheep.