Thirty
“I just don't know what to do.” It's the middle of the night and I'm in the cemetery with Peter. It's been getting worse being away from him. Pretty soon I'll have to walk around holding his hand like he's some ratty security blanket that I can't go anywhere without.
“Calm down.” Oh, he can stay calm. I'm busy pacing in front of the mausoleum and nibbling my nails.
“I can't calm down. You're sure I'm not turning into a noctalis? Because I think...” I can't finish. I can't tell him that I think I'm smelling blood and I picture killing people when I'm mad.
“It would require a much greater exchange of blood. It is not possible.”
“Well, Jesus Peter, you're a vampire with wings. Anything's possible.” I'm being mean to him, but I don't have anyone else to unleash my freak out on, so he gets the brunt of it.
“Ava.” His voice makes me stop pacing.
“What?”
“It will be fine.” His cool voice normally soothes me, but I'm too worked up.
“How do you know?”
“I do.”
“How can you be so sure of things?”
“I am sure of you.” We lock eyes, and I let him do that thing that pulls me in. I lose myself for a moment, but he yanks the contact, eyes going toward the woods. My hearing may not be as good as his, but I hear someone coming. A noctalis someone.
“Peter.”
“Ivan.” Oh, shit. My eyes snap to Peter, waiting for him to leap in front of me, or pull out a sword.
Nothing. If this is Peter riled up, then I'm in trouble. If possible, he's even stiller than normal, which does not bode well for me.
“What do you want?” I say. I'm wondering if I should run or scream or do something. I glance to Peter for guidance, but he's not looking at me. A little help here?
“Has Peter ever told you about the first noctalis?” My eyes grope to pick him out from the shadow of the trees. There. He's wearing dark colors, which appear to be the noctalis clothing of choice.
“No.” What does that have to do with anything? I'm still debating about running. Peter said he couldn't touch me, so I might as well not provoke him. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're attacked by a bear? Not run away. So far, he hasn't done anything threatening, which is actually more threatening than if he would have just run at me.
“The legend goes that he was a man who lived a long time ago.” I want to ask him why he didn't start with the once upon a time, but I keep my mouth shut and try to look disinterested, when I am the opposite. I hate that Peter kept so much from me.
“He was traveling one day and met a beautiful woman on the road. Men are always lured by beautiful women, are they not?” I try not to shift my feet. I try to channel Peter and then I stop. I'm not getting good vibes anymore.
“The woman was strange and still and exquisite. He had just lost his mother and father to an illness and was traveling to find a new life. She spoke to him, whispered in his ear promises of eternal life, of never being sick, or growing old. He would be perfect, forever. He would also be powerful. No one would be able to hurt him. Ever. She stroked his cheek and he fell under her spell. She kissed him and bit his lip. He tried to pull away, but she was too strong. She sucked the blood from his lips and laughed. The sound was like cracking ice. Sharp and hard. She took so much blood from him, his soul came with it. He felt a horrible tearing and screamed with the pain of it. The beautiful woman had taken his soul, but given him something else. Immortality. But it had come with a price, like everything.”
I had to admit, it was a pretty story. It also sounded like one of those legends that might be true, but it made me shiver.
“So, what is the moral of the story?” It takes me a second to realize he's actually asking me. I feel like I need to raise my hand. I do some quick thinking, which, given the situation, is nearly impossible. I take a guess.
“That noctali have no souls? They traded them for powers and immortality.”
“Precisely.” Ten points for me.
“No,” Peter says. I'm not sure who or what he's saying no to.
“Yes. You can't blame me, Peter. Blame yourself. Or blame her.” His eyes shift to mine, and I struggle not to get caught in them. Being trapped by him would be walking into a spider's web willingly.
“Don't talk about me like I'm not here,” I say.
They both snap their attention on me and it's like being blinded by a spotlight. It sort of reminds me of my first dance recital. When I stepped out on the stage the first time, my tights falling down and itching my legs, I was blinded by the lights and tried to run back to the wings and hide. My teacher had shoved me back on, hissing at me to get on the stage. I was terrified of her, so I went. The fear lasted until the music started.
I'm still waiting for the music to start.
“We are more aware than you know, Ava.” I hate the way my name sounds coming from him. Ivan starts to laugh. It's not really a laugh. It's a harsh sound that grinds against my eardrums. I want it to stop. I want to clap my hands over my ears and hum to drown it out, but I can't. I can't show weakness. I must be strong.
Never turn your back. Advice is least heeded when most needed; Bad is never good until worse happens; A half-truth is a whole lie.
It is always darkest before the dawn.
“Stop.” We all turn.
It happens so fast that I don't have time to duck before I'm on the ground. Dirt blasts into my lugs and I lay there for a second, praying nothing is broken. There's something holding me down.
“Stay down.” It's Peter. I try to move my head, but I'm having some issues. Finally I'm able to turn it enough so I can breathe. I choke on some of the dirt and grass I've inhaled. I try to survey my body for any damage and figure out why Peter is holding me on the ground.
“Hello, Ivan. It's been a long time since you came and visited me.” Turning my head, I see Ivan on the ground, like me, with someone on top of him. Unlike me, I don't know who the person is. The voice is female. I make a tiny noise, and Peter shifts his hold on me so I can move my head a little more.
There is a woman perched on top of Ivan, holding him down. It's kind of crazy, because he's struggling, but somehow she has enough power to subdue him. A fountain of reddish-blonde hair skims her back. She's wearing a filmy dress that isn't even dirty or torn. I can't see her face, but something tells me she must be gorgeous.
“Hello, Mother.” Mother? It's clear there's no love lost between them. It sizzles in the air like static electricity. I wish I could sink into the ground and slink away. Whatever has happened, I'm not sure I want to be around to see how it turns out.
The pressure releases somewhat from my back and I can breathe better. I lift up my head a bit more. Peter squeezes the back of my neck. It's some sort of signal, but I have no idea what he wants me to do.
“What have we here?” She turns to face us, still holding Ivan down with very little effort. I'm right, she is beautiful. I can't say exactly why. Her nose is small and dainty. Her eyes, one a multi-hued hazel, the other an icy gray, are perfectly set in her face. I remember once in biology that we talked about the Golden Ratio. I didn't understand it exactly; it has something to do with symmetry being the essence of beauty. Anyway, if there is anyone who fits those calculations exactly, it's be her.
“Hello.” I can't think of what else to say, so I go with my gut.
“Hi.”
“I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Di Hart. I see you've met my boys.” Her eyes flick to Peter and Viktor and Ivan in turn.
“I'm Ava.” The absurdity of the situation is not lost on me.
“You should let her up, Peter, dear, I believe she might suffocate.” Finally, the pressure is completely gone from my back. I use my hands to push myself up. They shake a bit, and I know everyone notices.
“I know how you hate it when you can't breathe,” Di says, nodding. None of us says anything.
“Mother, you are interrupting.” Ivan is remarkably calm now, as if there isn't a woman sitting on his chest.
“Am I?” She acts like she's committed a faux pas. “So sorry Ivan, darling. I just thought I would come and see you. See all my boys again. It's been so long.” She may be pretty, but there is steel behind those words. They could cut deeply. She freaks me out, almost more than Ivan. That's saying something.
“What are you doing here?” This time it's Ivan asking. I feel like that's all anyone says.
“I told you. I came for a visit. To see how you are.”
“We are in the middle of something,” Ivan says.
“I can see that.” She looks at me like she is both disgusted and afraid at the same time. “Peter, dear? Could you explain your relationship with this?” Her hand waves to indicate me. I'm the 'this.'
She stares hard at him, like she's trying to probe through his thoughts via his eyes and root out all his secrets.
“What is your role in this Viktor, sweetheart?” Apparently everyone gets an endearment after their name. It's very old-fashioned. I wonder just how old she is. Peter never told me.
“I am here.”
“Yes, I can see that.” They share another silent communique. I'm seriously starting to think they can read each other's minds.
“Ah, loyalty. Such a valuable commodity.” She looks down at Ivan and strokes his face with one finger. He looks like he wants to bite it off.
“Viktor, sweetheart, what did you promise me, when I made you?”
“That I would always be there when you called.” He recites it like a prayer he memorized in Sunday school. I'm still trying to catch up.
“Ivan, darling, what did you promise me?”
“That I would never leave you.” There's so much venom in his words, I'd be afraid to be near him.
“Peter, dear, what did you promise me?”
“That I would never love anyone as much as I loved you," he says, quietly. I feel his despair as well as my own.
“That's right, which is why you have to kill her. You must keep your promise, Peter, dear.”
“I know.” He turns toward me and I plead with him in my head. I can't speak. After all we've been through, the Claiming and that kiss we shared... This can't be it.
“Ava.”
“Please,” I whisper.
I close my eyes.
Thirty-One
The pain doesn't come. I wait, but nothing happens. I squint my eyes open to find a pretty frigged-up scene. It must have taken less than five seconds, but when I do a quick survey, everything's changed.
Peter and Viktor are on the ground, only this time Di is under them. It takes one of them on each arm to hold her down. Ivan stands next to them, hissing through his teeth. The sound makes every hair on my body stand on end. Di hisses back, and I want to cover my ears so it will stop.
“What are you doing to me? You promised. All of you.” She glares at each of them, but they don't move.
“You took advantage,” Viktor says. “You tricked us. Took our souls and then our freedom.”
“I made you what you are. Without me, you would have died,” she says.
“Then so be it. The past cannot be changed,” Viktor responds. She smiles.
“Exactly.” Everyone seems to have forgotten me even Peter. Then I feel a tug in my mind and I know he hasn't. Even without his eyes on me, I can feel that same pull toward him.
“Now you are going to make a promise.” Peter finally speaks. I want to get up and run to him, but I'm not getting close to her. She wants to kill me.
“Never,” she hisses.
“You will make a binding promise or I will break mine.”
“As will I,” Viktor says. Di thrashes against them. I've seen videos of alligator wrestling on cable. This is kind of like that, only the alligator is a petite woman in a pretty dress.
“You can't,” she laughs, but she doesn't sound sure. The sound grates on my ears like broken glass.
“We will,” Viktor says. Her eyes ping-pong back and forth, looking for lies. I can picture Peter's blinkless eyes. I don't know Viktor well enough to know what he looks like when he's telling the truth or a lie. I'm sure she can.
“You wouldn't dare," she says, glaring at each of them in turn. “Ivan, help please.” Seems like now they've got a common enemy, they're working like brothers. Guess Ivan hates Di more than he hates Peter. Interesting.
Ivan takes Peter's place and Di makes a break for it, but they're too strong. Ivan punches her in the face and she hisses again. Not that I'm cool with men hitting women, but I'm kinda glad he did. I'm not sure she counts as a typical woman, seeing as how it takes two of them to hold her down.
Peter walks over to me. I'm still on the ground, not having been able to get up yet. My mouth is dry and gritty from dirt. I'm sure most of my exposed skin was scraped off when Peter landed on me. I'm in such a daze that I'm not feeling it. Yet.
“Here,” he says, taking my arm and helping me up. My legs wobble and he clutches me. I am once again grateful for his solidness. Once I think I can stay upright, I look up at him. Even though it's dark, I can see the white of his teeth. He's smiling.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You.” Everything around us gets a little hazy, and all I can see is his face. Finally, I reach up and push his hair out of his eyes.
“Peter!” The word cracks like a whip, but we ignore it. He just smiles wider, and I can't help it, but so do I. Despite Di screaming at him, he moves his face closer to mine.
“Fine! What do you want?” We finally turn and look at her. Everyone's staring at us. Normally, I'd be kind of embarrassed, but it's kind of a weird situation.
“A promise.”
“No.”
“That's what I want.” Her face breaks for a second, and we all see the fear. She knows he's got her hands figuratively tied behind her back.
“What do I have to promise?”
“That you will never hurt, or ask anyone else to hurt or in any way seek to harm Ava. Forever.”
“She's going to destroy you!”
“Then so be it.” His eyes go back to me and I feel a rush of energy so strong I think I'm on fire. This is both one of the best and one of the worst moments of my life. Strange how things can be that way.
“I won't do it. You can ask anything else.”
“No,” Peter says.
“I could release you. From your promise.” Wait, what? She can do that?
“That's not what I want.”
“Peter, are you crazy?” I say. His head goes to the side and I want to kiss him, but this is too important. “Think about it. If she takes it away, then everything will be fine.”
“It won't. You don't know her like I do,” he says.
“Listen to him,” Viktor chimes in.
“You stay out of this,” I say. He just showed up five seconds ago. He has no right to an opinion.
“Yes, Viktor, stay out of this.” Ivan looks up at me and smiles slowly. Yes, I know you have an agenda, but you don't want to kill me, so I'll deal with you later. I need to get out of this situation first.
“You could be free,” I say, touching his hair again. I always thought it was dirty, but it's soft, like feathers.
“The only one who can set me free is you. Without you, it wouldn't be worth it.”
“Peter, don't do this to me. I'm your mother.” Di is really desperate now.
“My mother's name is Ellen Mackintire. She died in 1964. You are the woman who took away my soul, nothing more.”
“Peter.” Somehow she thinks saying his name over and over will change his mind. That only really works when there are tears involved. I'm pretty sure noctali don't cry.
“Please, Peter,” I say. We're both begging him for different things.
“Let me do this, Ava-Claire,” he says to me. It's the first time he's called me by both my names. My heart contracts and I know what he's going to do.
He turns to speak to Di. “I want you to promise me that you will leave Ava alone. You will not harm, or cause, bribe or convince anyone else to do so. You will not harass her, or contact her in any way. You will stay away from her. You are never to look at or talk to her again.”
“Peter.” She struggles once more, but Ivan and Viktor hold her down. If she were human, her shoulders would have been broken or dislocated, but she is not.
“I promise,” she whispers, not losing eye contact with Peter. At first I think I imagine it, but a breeze hums through the air. There's a crackle, like static and I tingle with it. It reminds me of that one time Tex dared me to touch an electric fence at the pig farm. The wind gets stronger, whipping my hair over my face. Other than their hair, the tableau in front of me doesn't move.
The air goes still. It's done.
Peter turns his back on Di.
“She'll kill you, Peter dear! You don't want to die, do you?”
“I'm already dead. Just existing,” he says, touching my face.
“What about all I've done for you?”
“You took my soul. She's going to give it back to me.”
“Peter!” Ivan punches her again, and the sound is cut short.
“Let's go,” he says, holding out one hand.
“What about her?”
“They will take care of her. You need not worry.”
“Are you sure they'll be okay?”
“Yes.”
I have reservations about taking his hand. I don't want him to think I'm fine with him choosing me instead of ridding himself of his promise. My hand reaches out and takes his as if I don't have a choice. I'll always choose him.