Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles 2)

“Ava, are you feeling okay? You look really pale.” Have I mentioned my mother is awesome? There was no way with what happened this morning that I could get through a day of school tomorrow.

“Yeah, I'm not feeling that great.” I lean over in my chair, putting my head on the armrest. Mom gives me a look that says I'm laying it on too thick.

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Yeah, I think I might.” It try to inject just the right amount of weariness into my voice.

“Maybe you should stay home tomorrow.”

“I'll see how I feel in the morning.” We're totally talking in code, and Dad's completely unaware. He's too busy brushing her wig behind her ear. She'd put it on before he got home from work. I think she wants to smack his hand away but doesn't.

Tex texts me as I'm walking up the stairs. I groan inside, but read the message anyway.

movies? U, me, the boys?

maybe, but nothing mushy. no vampires either.

no romcoms, no vamps. got it.

ttyl.

peace, bitch.

“Guess it's the movies,” I say to Peter when I finally walk in my room. He's always in the same position. Back against his trunk, book in hand, feet stretched out in front of him, hair in face.

“For the date?” Somehow he knows what I'm talking about.

“Yeah, whenever we get around to it. Where is Viktor, by the way?” I belly flop onto my bed, exhausted. I was sure I'd just lived through The Longest Day Ever.

His eyes don't leave the page. “Searching for information.”

“He's a good brother.” Compared to Ivan, The Traitor.

“He is.”

I watch him as he reads. It's better than any reality show. “Why did he stay in that cave in Russia for so long?”

“It was a cabin,” he points out.

“Whatever.”

He pauses, as if he isn't sure Viktor would want him sharing the information.

“He loved a girl. She died.”

“Was she human?” I want her to be. I want to know that our love is possible. If we didn't have the Claiming and the curse and all that. If it were just the two of us.

“No. She was a noctalis.” Damn.

“When did that happen?”

“1914.”

“Wow, that was a long time ago.” It feels like another world, another planet from mine. Back then they had radios and cars only went 10 miles an hour. Women couldn't vote. I probably wouldn't be able to be half as sarcastic and snarky as I am. It would be awful. The only thing that would make it worth it would be Peter.

“Love between our kind is unusual. We do not need companionship and it is not how we procreate.” I giggle when he uses the word procreate. What can I do? It's a reflex.

“Sorry. I just think it's a funny word. Keep going.”

“He met her in Paris. They only had a few months together.”

I put my chin in my hands, and he closes the book. I wonder if she was the noctalis he saw die. “What happened?”

“She turned to dust one day when we were on a hunt.” His eyes meet mine unflinchingly, and I don't want to talk about this anymore. But I was the one who asked.

“Viktor has spent most of the time since thinking about it.”

“Wow.” It's kind of romantic, I guess. It makes me feel bad for Viktor. It also makes me understand him a little bit better. His stoicism is just a broken heart. Aw. But that's not going to happen to me, or to Peter. Not while I can still fight.

Peter

I watch her try and sleep through another fitful night. I tap her shoulder a few times and she rolls over, sighing and moaning. Her dreams plague her. Unconsciously, her hand scratches at her wrist where I have taken her blood. I lean forward and smell her skin. Intoxicating.

It was still true, what I had told her that first time she had come back to the cemetery. She was reckless. And beautiful and smart and witty. Everything that she should be.

For not the first time, I wish I had never entered her life. If I had not Claimed her, we still could have ended it. I would have spent the rest of my existence thinking about her, but she would have moved on. My resilient Ava.

What would her life have been like? I push some hair away from her face. She might have gone to college, studied whatever she wanted. Met a boy and fallen in love. Real love. Human love. They would have married and had children and a house.

I could see her, sitting on a porch swing with a baby in her lap, her head thrown back in laughter. And a man taking her picture. I cannot see what he looks like, but he is human. I could see her lying on a flowered couch, a book in her hand. Her face, softened by age, her hair a luminous white. Grandchildren run in to bestow hugs and kisses on her. She smiles with eyes that have seen the world.

All of it. I see all of it in one flash. I had taken it all away from her.

That night I had Claimed her had been a mistake. Perhaps Ivan would not have harmed her. If I had left her alone, he would have. And Di would have. If Ava wasn't a threat to her, she would have been that human girl.

It was my fault. My own selfish fault.

I trace her face with my fingers. This sarcastic, stunning human. I couldn't be without her. That first night, Ivan had told me that I wanted her. I did want her. In so many ways. In every way.

She says my name in her sleep. Reaches out. I take her hand and kiss it. Her eyes flutter open and then closed. I pull her to my chest, resisting no longer.

Ava had surrendered to me, and she wasn't even aware of it.

I would have to remind her. Every day.

Chapter Twelve

Ava

True to her word, Mom lets me stay home the next day, dealing with Dad so I don't even have to see him in the morning. I wake to the smell of baking. This is a good sign. I roll over and find Peter immersed in another historical fiction. This time it's a continuation of Pride and Prejudice. I hadn't gotten a chance to read it yet, but he seemed engrossed.

“Hey, baby.” I didn't get much sleep, and I know he noticed. I'm also trying to be nicer after trying to guilt trip him last night. I wasn't very nice to him sometimes. He never seemed to mind, though.

“Baby?” He blinks once, asking.

“I don't know. I just thought I'd try it out. Doesn't really work.” Nicknames for Peter? Not so much.

“You slept badly.”

“Yeah, I'm aware. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I am concerned.”

“Aw, thanks Peter. That's so helpful.”

“You are more sarcastic when you do not get much sleep.” And now I want to punch him. Then I see his face and he's all beautiful in the morning sun that peeks its head through my curtains and falls across his face as if it was painted there. And then I want to kiss him. So much. But I can't.