Aven's Dream (38 page)

“Here goes nothing,” I said.

I shifted all the way down and held my breath as I pressed down on the accelerator. The car rocketed forward so smoothly that it really did feel like I was piloting a spaceship.

“This is amazing!” I laughed.

“Little indulgences,” Gen smiled. “All of us have gained an appreciation for technology we never would have seen in our natural lifetimes. Some material extravagances take away some of the tedium. Plus, fast cars are just fun. We all have our more meaningful pursuits, but when you have forever to look forward to, entertainment is essential.”

“Little indulgences? For me, that’s a pint of cookie dough ice cream.”

The navigational system came on, telling me which direction to turn when we reached the main road.

“Are you ready to put it to the test?” Gen asked as I turned.

“My driving or the car?”

“Both,” she said. “Go ahead.”

I pressed down on the accelerator steadily, waiting for the car to hitch and then jolt forward. It didn’t happen. When I looked at my speed, I was already over seventy miles per hour. Jerking my foot from the accelerator, I glanced at Gen.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was going to do that?” I gasped, my heart pounding as the car slipped back under sixty miles per hour.

“It was much more entertaining to watch your face. And now you have some energy to spare.”

“Terrific.”

“Little indulgences,” she smiled again.

“Right.”

It wasn’t hard to forget everything else driving a car like this. I followed the navigational instructions and enjoyed the ride. It was nice to sit in comfortable silence. By the time I parked, Gen led me out of the parking structure before taking an immediate detour for coffee. We walked inside, and I followed Gen to the counter, where she ordered a double shot of espresso. When the barista called out the order for
Jen-a-veeve
, she picked up the drink and handed it to me. Sniffing it, I frowned before taking a tiny sip.

“Ugh! It tastes like rocket fuel!”

“That’s the point,” Gen said smiling.

Instead of sipping the drink, I finished it in two painful gulps before setting the ceramic teacup on the counter. As we walked outside and headed toward the mall, I felt a twinge of relief that we would be shopping for Gen this time. When I followed her into the dress shop, I watched in awe as she began picking out dresses of various lengths and styles. She didn’t hesitate at all, and yet I knew that every single one of them would look amazing on her.

“Did you want to try on anything—you know, for fun?” she asked me as a dazed-looking sales attendant came up and took the dresses to hang in the dressing room.

“For fun? Sorry Gen, but I don’t shop for fun. I shop out of necessity.”

Although, I
could
see why she would go clothes shopping
for fun
. She picked out another half dozen dresses, and I followed her into the dressing room. Watching her try on clothes was demoralizing. Gen could have made a burlap sack look like a fashion statement, and when she tried on a shimmering, silver satin gown, it made her bronzed skin glow even brighter. Shaking my head, I laughed, knowing the other girls in the dressing room would abandon their shopping if they saw her.

“I’m so glad I went shopping before seeing you try on clothes,” I said ruefully as she slipped on a hot-pink V-neck dress with cutouts at the waist.

After she had decided on four dresses, I followed her to the counter while she paid.

“Which one are you going to where to the dance?” I asked.

Gen shrugged.

“Yeah. Tough choice when everything looks perfect on you,” I smiled.

When we reached the escalator, Gen froze, her eyes locking onto something in the distance. I frowned, automatically following her gaze. I saw nothing unusual, but when I turned back to her, Gen was holding her cell phone, her fingers racing briefly across the keys before she replaced it in her purse. Her expression seemed perfectly relaxed, and when we reached the first floor, she pulled me along to the smoothie shop.

After I paid for an orange juice, Gen steered me to a table at the very edge of the food court and positioned herself so that she could watch anyone who passed our general vicinity. I watched warily as her eyes shifted back and forth with an unsettling vigilance. I had barely finished my drink when she began ushering me toward the exit. My palms were sweating and my pulse was racing as we walked toward the parking structure. I knew of only one thing that could possibly make Gen nervous.
Fidatov
. But he was at least a hundred and fifty miles from us. When we reached the car, she got in the driver’s seat.

“Gen? Is everything all right?” I asked hesitantly.

She flashed me a dazzling smile that was most likely intended to scramble my thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

But my stomach wasn’t lying.
Something
had happened in the mall—that much I knew. Relieved not to be driving while adrenaline poured through my veins, I sat back and smiled as Gen began asking me questions about where I grew up, my childhood, and what I thought of Oregon. I knew she was trying to distract me, but I didn’t mind. It was a good chance to find out more about her.

“Do you remember anything from when you were human?”

She nodded.

“I grew up in
Vieux Carré
—”

“Where?”

“The French Quarter of New Orleans,” she laughed.

“Have you been back there since?”

She smiled.

“I have, but we try to avoid spending extended stretches of time so far to the south. Will told you about UV radiation?”

“It burns your energy faster, right?”

Gen nodded.

“It quickly degrades any energy we might glean from humans or other creatures, forcing the cravings to an unmanageable level.”

I thought how sweltering it had been in the summer after my dad and I first moved to Oregon. Record temperatures, according to the weather reports.

“What do you do during the summertime?”

“We travel to St. John’s, or we just spend more time indoors. And there’s always nighttime.”

I nodded and looked out the window toward the trees, wondering if the Big Bad Wolf was out there somewhere, waiting for me. After a while, I closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, Gen was pulling into the garage. As soon as we stepped into the house, Gen touched the keypad, causing the doors to slide closed. Then I watched as a second layer of glass slid down. A shiver went through me as locks slid into place.

“
Perimeter secured
,” a pleasant female voice said.

I looked at Gen.

“What was that?”

“It’s Will’s security system. We call her Deirdre.”

“Cute,” I said dryly. “Are they coming back soon?”

Gen took out her phone and looked down.

“I’m tracking them via GPS. They should be back by tonight unless something goes wrong,” Gen said.

My pulse spiked.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “Nothing will go wrong.”

I nodded, trying to keep calm when I knew she had seen something in the mall.

“All right. I’m going finish up my homework.”

In Will’s room, I sat down on the sofa and started the next reading assignment for Ms. Gilbert’s class. It was a short story—way shorter than
For Whom the Bell Tolls
. I opened my anthology of short fiction and touched the page, shivering at the title.

The Dead

By James Joyce

The story took less than an hour to finish, the ending leaving me unsettled and anxious. The story hadn’t been what I had expected. I had thought it would be ghoulish, like Edgar Allan Poe. Instead, it had been about a dinner party in Dublin, Ireland—which made sense since an Irish guy had written it.

Toward the end of the story, the main character’s wife had been fixated on the boy she had loved years ago—Michael Furey, who had died shortly after coming to her window in desperation to see her. Somehow this fictional character from James Joyce’s story reminded me of Will. Frozen in time, eternally young. It made me wonder—again—if I would one day be an old lady thinking back on my time with a beautiful, ageless creature.

I slogged through Trig before studying for the Health Sciences test. When I took a break, Gen found me in the kitchen just as I finished eating. Propping her elbows on the countertop, she waited impatiently while I cleaned my dishes. As soon as I was done, she pulled me to her room, where she ordered me to sit down on the bench seat in front of her antique vanity. I groaned when I saw the makeup she had purchased during our previous shopping trip. It was spread out in an orderly fashion, like surgical tools. I stuck out my tongue when she told me to close my eyes.

A moment later, I felt a brush sweep across my cheekbones, then my eyelids. The stroke of the brush was as light as butterfly wings. I swallowed as I thought of Gen crushing loose change with the same hands she was now applying my makeup with. I waited for a few more minutes before opening one eye and giving her an imploring look.

“One more minute, and then you’re done. I promise,” she said cheerfully.

I closed my eyes again and waited patiently.

“And … perfect.”

Opening my eyes, I turned to the mirror and inhaled sharply at the sight of a stranger’s face staring back at me. Gen had made my skin flawless, like a picture out of a magazine.

“Wow,” I gasped. “I don’t even look like me.”

Gen laughed at my awed expression.

“I only highlighted your natural features. Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it? I needed some practice.”

“For what?” I asked with a frown.

“The dance … and Will has something special planned for you.”

“What?” I blinked.

“It’s a surprise.”

I shook my head.

“No, no, no. Please, Gen. I don’t do well with surprises.”

She laughed again and pulled me up from the bench toward her closet. Ordering me to strip out of my clothes, she continued dressing me up like a life-sized doll. When she was finally satisfied, she spent the rest of the evening trying—unsuccessfully—to teach me how to play chess. She remained incredibly patient, despite my lack of strategy and the fact that I kept forgetting which way to move the pieces. I knew she was trying to keep me entertained until Will’s return, but luckily for her I could barely keep my eyes open by eight o’clock.

I retreated to his room, where she had left my bags, and I gratefully curled up in his bed. With the door open, I listened to Gen’s cello as I closed my eyes and wondered if she felt as nervous as I did about the others being gone.

Will kissed my neck, and I sighed, whispering his name. Then someone laughed—and my eyes snapped open. If kissing Will had been a dream, then who had laughed? I sat straight up in bed and stared into the darkness. When the lights suddenly turned on, I saw Will sitting at the edge of the bed, smiling.

“How long have you been here?” I mumbled.

“Just a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t resist. You were talking in your sleep, and it sounded like a very good dream.”

“It was,” I blushed.

Reaching up, I touched my face self-consciously, suddenly aware that I hadn’t washed off Gen’s makeup experiment from earlier.

“And Gen did my makeup,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I guess that makes me her guinea pig.”

“You would have looked just as beautiful without it.”

I stretched my arms.

“What time is it?”

“Almost two-thirty.”

Will’s lips brushed my collarbone, his fingers carefully tracing my jaw. Rising up on my knees, I leaned forward to kiss him. Reality was much better than my dream. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his other arm circling my waist. I pulled back and smiled.

“I missed you,” I whispered.

Will pulled me back to him, and his mouth covered mine. As his lips parted mine, I could feel the craving—Will’s craving—but it was stronger this time. He growled, low in his throat, and my head started to swim as I reached to grab the front of his shirt, pressing myself closer to him. Warning bells began going off in my head, but I couldn’t get myself to pay attention.

“Being with a human is more difficult than you ever gave me credit for, is it not?” a voice said, sending ice through my veins and extinguishing the heat of Will’s touch.

Jerking back, I looked over Will’s shoulder and saw James sitting on the sofa. A second later, Will was gone—and James was flying across the room. I felt the bed shake beneath me as James hit the far wall. I looked back at Will, whose eyes were burning with a kind of madness. I stayed where I was, afraid to breathe or move.

“Aven?” James said.

I looked over at him. He was already standing despite smashing into the wall seconds ago.