I’d told Mom about Peter, and she’d accepted it, but I didn’t think Dad would. Perhaps in a few years.
“I will. I miss you and I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“I love you, too.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.
I collapse against Peter’s chest.
“I’m crying inside, but my eyes are dry,” I say, wiping them. “What’s up with that?”
You can’t really have a good emotional catharsis without lots of tears, and sobbing so much that it makes you exhausted and gives you a headache. I’ve given that up.
“You could try telling him. Your mother took it well,” Peter says, as if he’s reading my mind. For all I know, he is.
“I don’t know. I don’t think now is the right time. Maybe in a few years?” I don’t sound sure. I’m not. I want Peter to tell me what to do, because I don’t know. For the millionth time, I wish there was a noctalis handbook with a chapter on how to “come out” to your parents.
Peter
Ava is distraught after the phone call with her father, so I leave her alone for a while and start cleaning up the church and putting it back to rights. The bed I will leave on the side of the road with a “free” sign on it, which should take care of that.
I text Viktor to check on the progress at Ava’s new house and he assures me that it will be furnished by the time we get there. We had to work fast, so the house still needs major repairs, but a lot of those Ava and I can do ourselves, since we don’t need any heavy construction equipment.
I scrape off as much of the wax from the candles as I can and listen as Ava walks through the woods. She’s humming, which is a good sign, but she’s humming “Mad World”, which is not a good sign. It’s one of the songs she hums when she’s sad.
I don’t want her to be sad, but this is a part of the change that she’s gone through. At least she will be able to stay in contact with her family, once she learns how to control her hunger.
I look up and she’s standing in the doorway, the moonlight spilling in behind her, and I can’t believe how incredibly beautiful she is.
And she’s mine.
A smile creeps on her face when she sees me looking up at her.
“You’re staring.”
“I can’t help it.” She steps toward me, slowly.
“So I’ve fed and I’ve flown, but there’s one other thing that starts with an f that we haven’t done.”
I think I know what she means, but I would never use that word to describe being intimate with her.
She puts her hand on my chest and I feel a flare of desire from her and it sparks an answering desire in me.
And then neither of us think about doing anything else but tearing our clothes to shreds and making love on the floor of the church.
The bed is long forgotten as our bodies reintroduce themselves to each other and I don’t hold back and neither does she.
It’s wild and harsh and terribly beautiful.
I can’t get enough of her and she can’t seem to get enough of me. No matter how close we get, we still need to get closer.
Our bodies fit, for the first time in my first or second existence, I believe that two people can be made for each other.
Neither of us can seem to stop, and somehow we end up outside the church, under the moonlight, and we slow the pace and shift positions. She looks down at me, her hair spilling around us, her eyes luminescent.
“Let’s just do this for eternity.”
My only answer is a growl as she slows her movements even more, torturing me in the sweetest way.
Twelve
Tex
I pack for my supposed trip and tell my parents that’s what I’m doing. Honestly, if I told them I was going to run away to Vegas to be a hooker at the Bunny Ranch, they probably would have shown the same enthusiasm. You’d think, because they’d been up my butt about my future and choosing the right school, that when I finally said I was going to do that, they’d do more than say, “Don’t get into trouble.”
Um, did they know me at all? I attract trouble like Hugh Heffner attracts busty blondes.
Coby is being especially lurky as I pack my suitcase with anything and everything I might need. I ignore him for as long as I can stand it.
“Cobalt, if you’re going to be a creeper, you should at least be more stealthy about it,” I snap.
I know he hates his real name, and will probably stab me in my sleep for using it, but I don’t care. He’s being annoying and still hasn’t talked to me really since the other day when I’d decided to be nice and be his big sister for the first time in years.
“You’re not going to visit colleges,” he says, as if this is some big secret. I figured he would know that this is a ruse to get out of the house for a week and do something I don’t want Mom and Dad to know about.
“Wow, ten points for you Sherlock for your brilliant detective work.” I start clapping my hands slowly.
“Are you going somewhere with your boyfriend?” He says the word “boyfriend” as if it’s something dirty. Cute.
“Yes. We’re going to rent a hotel room and screw each other’s brains out for an entire week. We’ll do it standing up, and sitting down and with me on top—” He makes a disgusted sound and runs across the hall to his room and slams the door, proving my plan to get rid of him is effective.
“Little punk,” I mutter as Viktor climbs in my window, his hair all blown about. It’s not that much different a look than his sex hair.
“You could try to be nicer.” He’s always telling me to be nicer. I’ve been really nice about being nice, but it’s next to impossible to be nice to Coby. There’s just too much history, and too much distance there to make the attempt to cross it.
“He could be nicer. And get a freaking haircut.” I toss another micro miniskirt into my suitcase. You never know when you’re going to need one. Or five. Plus, it gives Viktor easy access to grope me in public places, which is kind of awesome.
“Tex.” Ugh, why does he have to be so superior all the time? Just because he’s older, and more experienced doesn’t mean he knows everything.
“Why don’t you talk to him?” Now that would be funny. Coby is terrified of Viktor. Or maybe he’s just terrified of being around Viktor when I’m around. I have a bad habit of grabbing Viktor’s ass and muttering dirty things to him when Coby is lurking, to make him go away. Add that to the loud sex we have all the time, and it’s a wonder he wants to be near either of us at all.
“I could. Would you mind?”
I shake my head. Why the hell would I care? I’ve tried to get through to Coby. Can we say “epic fail”? Maybe Viktor can. Use his magical powers or something.
Viktor goes across the hall and knocks on Coby’s door. Coby pokes his head out and looks Viktor up and down.
“Can we talk?” Coby’s answer is to open the door and let Viktor in. Huh. I shake my head and start throwing more skirts in my suitcase. You can never have too many.
I decide to take a moment and call Jamie. It takes him a while to pick up.
“Please don’t tell me you and Brooke are naked right now.”
“Hello to you too,” Jamie says with a yawn. It’s not even that late. “And no, we weren’t having sex.” I hear Brooke’s voice in the background saying something.
“So what’s up?” he says, and I hear him walking into the next room. I wonder where he is, because he never leaves his room when he’s home.
“Nothing. Have you talked to Ava at all?”
“Not yet. She’s texted saying she’s okay.”
“I went up to see her.”
He pauses and I know he wants to tell me I’m insane, but decides not to. “You did? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because she can’t touch me and neither of us wanted to put you in danger.”
“She can’t touch you because of that Claiming thing, right?” Jamie is the least in the know when it comes to the noctalis stuff. Mostly be
cause Brooke is so new herself and her maker (that’s what I’m going to call him, no matter what anyone says) Ivan, didn’t tell her a whole lot before he went and got himself killed (again, for whatever reason). So all she knows is from Viktor and Peter and what Helena told her.
I still can’t believe Di let us go like that. I’m totally with Ava that it’s some part of a nefarious master plan to lull us into a sense of security, but I have other things to worry about at the present moment.
“Yeah, so I’m okay, but honestly, she’d probably rip your throat out. I mean, I didn’t see her in action, but I can feel it, you know? She’s the same, but different.”
He thinks about that for a moment. “Tex, that makes absolutely no sense.”
“Hey, I didn’t say it made sense, I’m just telling you how it is. She’s still Ava, but an Ava that kills people and drinks their blood. She even told me that if I wasn’t Claimed, she probably would have killed me. It’s like there is this whole other side of her that takes over now.”
“Yeah, Brooke told me.” His voice is softer, and I know he gets it. The reason he and Brooke first met was because she was luring him so she could kill him, but then she somehow fell in love with him instead.
“She could Claim me. Then I wouldn’t be in danger.” I’d thought the same thing, before Viktor had Claimed me. It had seemed like such a good idea, and terribly romantic.
It’s worked out so far, but I don’t know how long it’s going to continue to work. I mean, can we really go on like this for the rest of my life? I don’t see myself ever wanting anyone other than him, but what if I meet a nice human man and want to marry him? It would be like cheating on him, without the actual cheating part. Could I pass Viktor off as a friend that just comes to visit every now and then? Yeah, I don’t think so.
It doesn’t really matter, I guess. I’m immersed in this world now, and I’m not going to get out of it.
Viktor
I have never been in Coby’s room. It’s painted in dark blue, and his art was scattered all over the walls, covering holes he’d clearly made with his fists. There are clothes and other debris on every surface, and I have to wade through it to get inside.
“What do you want?” he says, closing the door behind me.
I point to the art on the walls. “These are good. You have talent.” It’s easy to see.
“What do you want?”
I sit down on the bed, because that’s what a human would do, and I’m going to make the effort to be as non-threatening as possible.
It also puts me on a lower level, so I’m not towering over him, although Coby is quite tall.
“I thought we could talk again since your sister is so bad at it.” He looks like he’s almost going to laugh, but then doesn’t.
“She hates me,” he says, his voice void of emotion. We both know that he is saying this to bait me, so I don’t take it.
I wait for him to say something else. He sits at his desk and crosses his arms. Trying to be tough.
“I’m not afraid of you. If that’s what you’re going for. I’m not.”
“You’re lying. The second you saw me at your door, your heart rate increased, and your body started to release stress hormones. Your fight or flight instinct has also kicked in. I’m not here to kill you, but it is natural for you to fear me. Most humans do, on a basic level. It is your survival instinct telling you that I am dangerous, and could kill you.”
He watches me as I say it, and his eyes flicker a bit, telling me that I’ve frightened him even more.
This is not going very well.
“I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about you.”
He gives me a look that is so similar to a look Tex gives me that I nearly laugh.
“What do you care? You kill people, so why do I matter?”
“Because you are Tex’s brother and she matters to me, so by extension, you matter. There is something upsetting you, and since you won’t talk to her, I thought you might talk to me.”
He snorts. “Not fucking likely.”
Once again, the use of swearing to try and shock me. I wait again. This is going to take a lot of patience. Luckily, I have plenty.
He swivels back and forth in his chair, as if he’s waiting for me to say something else. Nope, he’s going to have to speak next.
“No one gives a shit about me. Not my parents, not Tex, not anyone. Why do you?” I’ve already told him this and I’m not going to say it again.
“If I died tomorrow, no one would notice.” He spins all the way around and faces me again, using his feet to stop the chair.
“Life is fucking pointless. I’m going to die eventually, so what does it matter?”
My turn to speak has come.
“Then die, if you want to. It has been my experience that people who say they want to die, really don’t. They just want to matter. To know that they have a purpose. A reason. It doesn’t have to be anything big, but everyone has a purpose.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.”
He puts his hands on his knees and leans forward. “What is it? Your purpose.”
This time I smile.
“I’m still looking, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“How long have you been looking?”
“A while. Years.” I’m not going to tell him how long.
“So what hope do I have? You’re immortal.”
“The same hope as everyone else. You just can’t give up searching, because once you find it, you’ll know and it will all be worth it. Then you can die without fear.”
He makes a sound that says he’s dubious about what I’ve said. I expected him to be, in the beginning. It will take time, and he’ll have to think it over, but I know I’ve gotten through to him.
“Think about it,” I say, getting up and going back to Tex. She’s done talking to Jamie and she’ll probably want to have sex.
Coby doesn’t answer as I leave his room, just keeps swiveling in his chair and thinking.
Thirteen
Ava
Seriously. I never, ever, want to stop having sex with Peter. This part of being immortal? The best part. It also helps me stop thinking about the bad things: My mom, killing people, Dad. Everything.
And not just the physical feelings, it’s the connection we have. We already had the mental connection, but adding the physical to that takes our relationship to a whole other place. Somewhere among the stars where only the two of us have ever gone.
It’s not possible that anyone has ever felt like this. Only us.
Somehow, Peter is able to stop us long enough to remind me that we need to get going to the new house so we can meet Tex tomorrow. He also reminds me that I need to eat, and I know that I can’t deny it anymore.
“Would you like to hunt?”
“No,” I lie. After all the . . . connecting . . . we’ve done, it’s like all I want to do is chase and bite and feel someone’s life drain out of them.
Part of it still disgusts me, but that part is small, and easily shoved to the back of my mind. Easily forgotten.
“If you want, we could go to another state. It would only take a little while. Or Canada. We could go to Canada.”
“No, I don’t want to kill Canadians. They’re so nice. Lets go to New Hampshire. Could we maybe get some child molesters or murderers or something?”
He agrees and then we’re flying again. It’s different at night. The sun is gone, which makes me sad, but I love how different the night looks with my new eyesight.
Peter finds a seedy part of one of the suburbs of a larger city. Yeah, it’s definitely a gross place. Falling down houses and couples screaming, and the scent of drugs and alcohol and despair coats everything.
“Now. Hunt.” Peter gives me a little shove as I put my shirt back on. Maybe I should invest in some of those haltertops with the built-in bras. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, so I close my eyes, because that seems logical.
r /> I feel like an idiot, and then I hear it. There is a man raping his wife three houses down. My new body and my new instincts know what to do.
It is all too easy to yank him out the window and then break his neck as his wife screams and I drag him away.
God, that was so easy. I lay him in an alley, and it’s only Peter’s hand forcing me to his wrist instead of his neck that keeps me from ripping it open.
“Wait,” he says as my head is an inch away from his skin. “Listen. Feel him. Feel his body. Get his heartbeat in your head. Feel the blood pump. Learn him so you know when to stop.”
Screw that. I tear into his wrist and the blood explodes in my mouth, and I do hear his heart and know how much I’m taking (too much), but I can’t stop until every drop is gone and my stomach is full to bursting. A bit actually dribbles out of my mouth and onto the ground. Such a waste.
My head is buzzing “Ava.” Peter’s voice has a warning tone in it and I look at him. He wipes blood from my face, and I lick it off his fingers.
He kisses me and licks a bit off my lips. He hasn’t fed, and I wonder if he’s hungry. I should have shared.
Peter stares at me and I stare back and we lock ourselves in each other’s eyes. He sends a wave of want (of another kind) crashing over my head and I almost shove him down on the ground and take him right then.
Abruptly, he shuts it off and I crash back into myself.
“Oh God. I did it again, didn’t I?” Yup. Another body. I punch Peter in the shoulder, even though it isn’t his fault. I have to take it out on something, somehow. My coping mechanisms are changing now that I can’t cry.
The sounds of the town come back to me. So many voices, so many lives. I hear the wife of the man I’ve just killed on the phone with the police, saying that they were attacked. I look at Peter in the dark, which isn’t so dark anymore.
“You were supposed to stop me.”
“I tried, but you are strong and you are young and impulsive. The only way to learn control is practice and time. It will come, I promise.” He kisses my forehead and I stare down at my carnage. It looks like the guy caught his hand in a meat grinder. Had I really done that?