Haven (24 page)

My nervous fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper. It finally slipped away, revealing a cream-colored jewelry box. My heart pounding, I opened the lid and peered inside.

Lying against the satin was the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen—a series of teardrop-shaped diamonds and aquamarines set in what looked like platinum. It was clearly an
antique, probably priceless, and I’d never seen anything like it in all my life.

“It’s . . . it’s beautiful,” I murmured.

He smiled as he lifted it from the silk and undid the clasp. “It was my mother’s,” he said. “Aquamarines were her favorite. Here, turn around.”

He put the necklace around my throat, and I lifted my hair as he clasped it.

“I can barely picture my mother without remembering this around her neck,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “I had the clasp replaced, so it should be pretty sturdy now.”

My eyes were suddenly damp. “But it was your mother’s, Aidan. You can’t just give it to me.”

“Of course I can. There, turn around.”

I did, raising my chin, trying to make my neck as long as a swan’s.

“Perfect,” he said. The look in his eyes took my breath away.

“Thank you,” I said, knowing it wasn’t enough, would never be enough. “Just seeing that around your neck makes this the best Christmas I’ve had in . . . oh, more than a century, I’d say.”

“And they say we’re mortal enemies,” I joked.

“Funny, isn’t it?”

But it wasn’t funny, not really.

“Merry Christmas, Violet,” he said, kissing me softly on the lips.

“Merry Christmas,” I replied, feeling somehow sad and elated, all at once.

I
don’t want to do this,” I said, shaking my head. “Enough, okay?”

Aidan scowled at me. “No, Violet. It’s not okay. This is important.”

I nervously ran my fingers down the smooth piece of wood I held in one hand—a makeshift stake, blunt on both ends. For practice. “We don’t even know for sure if I’m a . . . you know, whatever it’s called.”

“Yes, we do,” he insisted. “And it’s
Sâbbat
. Get used to the word. Now, c’mon, concentrate. Right here.” With a fist, he tapped his left pec. Which I couldn’t help but notice looked nice and sculpted beneath the T-shirt he wore.

“Yeah, I got it,” I said, rolling my eyes. “The stake, through the heart. You’re out of your mind if you think I can do it.”

“You
can
do it, Vi. It’s not that different from fencing. Just think of the stake as a slightly thicker foil. You’re already well-trained; this should be easy for you. You
did
win the All-Ivy title last month, after all.”

I glared at him, my hand tightening on the wooden stick. This was
nothing
like that, and he knew it. “Yeah, just call me Buffy.”

“Just tell me you’re paying attention.”

“I am. Is that all?”

His eyes were hard. “No, that’s not all. Once that’s done, you’ve got to separate the body from the head, and—”

“What?” I screeched. “You’re kidding, right? Because there’s no way in hell—”

“Listen to me, Vi. If I’m around, I can take care of it, but you need to be prepared to do it yourself. Separate the head and body, and then burn them both. It’s the only way you can be sure—”

“What, that they’re not going to . . . to come back to life? This is crazy, Aidan. Totally nuts.”

“Maybe so, but I need assurances that you understand what I’m telling you.”

I just stood there staring at him like he’d gone mad. Because
he must have, if he thought I was going to “separate” someone’s head from his body, vampire or not!

Aidan just glared at me from across the chapel’s wide aisle, our so-called training ground. Christmas seemed so long ago, as if it had been months since we’d sat opening presents together in Patsy’s living room. An antique copy of
Pride and Prejudice
for me—and by antique, I mean it probably came from his personal library back in England— and an iPod for him, since I’d never seen him with one. By unspoken agreement, we’d decided to keep the necklace he’d given me a secret.

In reality, it had only been two weeks since we’d returned to Winterhaven—two
very
long weeks in which Aidan had spent every spare moment trying to convince me to learn to use the stake. He’d finally won the battle, and here we were.

“Anyway,” I muttered, “don’t you think it’s a little weird,
you
teaching someone how to kill a vampire? I mean, is this normal?”

He shrugged, and once again my attention was drawn to his pecs. Somehow I’d never realized how cut his chest was.
And if his chest is that sculpted, what about his stomach? Ripped abs, maybe?
I was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see him without that shirt.

“I have no idea what’s normal,” Aidan said, interrupting
my lustful thoughts. “I’ve never met a
Sâbbat
before, so I don’t know how they usually get their training.”

“Maybe you should take your shirt off,” I offered. “It’ll be easier for me to see where the stake goes.” Yeah, that was a good excuse.

His scowl deepened. “My shirt stays on.”

Amazing how he knew exactly what I was thinking without even reading my mind. When had I become so needy, anyway— so aggressive and clingy?

Since this morning
. Cece had pulled me aside right after breakfast, just before first period. “I have to tell you something,” she’d said with a frown, ducking into a little alcove. “I don’t think it means anything, but I feel guilty keeping it from you.”

I followed her into the quiet, windowed space. “What is it?”

“Last night, I was having trouble sleeping, so . . . I went for a little walk around campus. Astrally speaking,” she added.

She glanced around furtively, then lowered her voice even though we were alone. “I saw Aidan. Right at the edge of the woods, over toward the river.
Way
after curfew. He was . . . with Jenna Holley. They were just talking,” she put in quickly, seeing my eyes widen. “Actually, I think they might have been arguing. I thought about eavesdropping, but it’s against the COPA. But if you want me to . . .” She’d trailed off.

I’d told her no, but the curiosity had been eating away at me all day.

“What’s the deal with you and Jenna Holley?” I asked Aidan before I had the chance to think better of it.

I caught a flash of surprise in his eyes. “What do you mean, me and Jenna? There
is
no deal with us.”

“Hey, I’m a
Sâbbat,
remember?” I threatened. “I can get inside your head if I want to.” For a second there, I actually thought about doing it—without his permission. But it seemed so wrong, so sneaky. Like reading your boyfriend’s e-mails or texts when he wasn’t looking. I didn’t want to be
that
kind of girlfriend, no matter how curious I was.

“If you’re asking if I’ve ever hooked up with Jenna Holley, the answer is no. But go on, feel free to read my thoughts if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s okay,” I said, deciding to trust him. “But I’d watch out if I were you, because I think she wants you.” It was the only other explanation I could come up with.

But he laughed at that. “I don’t think so. Jenna and I . . . well, let’s just say there’s an uneasy truce between us. An understanding of sorts, end of discussion.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Jenna’s secrets are not mine to tell,” he said quietly.

“Great,” I muttered. “Keep her secrets, then.”

“Are you jealous?” he asked, sounding surprised.

Yeah, I was, and I hated it—I felt like a total bitch. “Maybe,” I said, hedging. “Just a little. I mean, c’mon, have you looked at her? Who could compete with that?”

“You’ve no competition, Violet. Not ever,” he added, with such assurance that I felt small and petty for doubting him.

I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat.

“Let’s get back to work,” he said, tapping his chest again.

Which only drew my attention back to his pecs. There went my thoughts, right back into the gutter. “You know, there are much more interesting things we could be doing right now,” I said.

He just stood his ground, completely unaffected. “Not today.”

Immediately I thought of Isabel. There it was again, that ugly green-eyed monster. “I bet you never refused your little opera dancer.”

“And she ended up dead for her pleasure,” he reminded me. “Remember that.”

“What, now you’re going to get all protective of me? Ten minutes ago you were showing me how to
kill
you. Or do you prefer the word ‘slay’?”

“Call it what you like, so long as you learn how to do it properly.”

I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “This sucks, you know that? Big-time.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, come on, let’s try it one more time. You’ve got to get the angle right, or you’ll miss the heart.” His voice softened. “How about this? A compromise—I’ll reward you with a kiss if you get it right.”

“Fine, then,” I conceded. “Let’s up the ante. Say I get it right
three
times. Then what do I get?”

“You sure like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he asked, obviously following my train of thought. “I’m not sure whether I should applaud your bravery—”

I perked up at that.

“—or chastise you for your stupidity,” he finished with a shake of his head. “You really are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”

I advanced toward him, clutching the stake so tightly that my knuckles were white. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“If he’d listened to your warning, he’d still be alive, wouldn’t he?”

The stake clattered to the ground, and I slapped him.
Hard.
“Fuck you!”

He didn’t even flinch; he just continued to stare at me, his eyes shifting from blue to a stormy gray.

Tears flooded my own eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the
satisfaction of seeing them fall. I retrieved my bag and headed for the door. “We’re done. I’m going back to my room now.”

As I pushed open the heavy double door, I heard him mutter, “Well, at least I get to keep my shirt on.”

I fumed the whole way back to the dorm. Only when I stepped into my room—empty, thank God—and slammed the door shut did it occur to me that maybe he’d made me mad on purpose. Ever since Christmas Eve, when he’d almost bitten me, he’d been careful to keep his distance. His kisses had been brief, almost chaste, as if he feared what might happen if we lost our heads and started making out.

And while I respected that—the rational part of me really didn’t want to get bitten—it was frustrating as hell. Maybe he was frustrated too. I hoped he was; it was only fair. Maybe that would explain the sniping, the short tempers.

Or, even worse, maybe it was just our natural instincts finally developing. We were supposed to be enemies, after all. Mortal enemies. “I’m supposed to rid the earth of your kind” enemies. I didn’t want to believe it; it broke my heart to even consider it. But what he’d just said to me . . . he’d called me stupid, called my dad—

No. Oh, no.
My vision started to tunnel, and I felt like I was falling into the abyss as I sank to my bed.

“Now,
Sâbbat.”
It was Julius. I recognized his voice from
before. “Now, or your friends die.” I looked behind me—a woman with long, dark hair held Kate in front of her. Beside her, a second woman held Marissa. Both of my friends looked terrified. I turned back toward the voice, saw Julius, saw Aidan beside him. Aidan’s gaze locked with mine, and he nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “Do it, now!” Marissa screamed, her voice full of terror. Aidan spoke in my mind, his voice calm and soothing, “Do it, Violet. There’s no other way. Go on, I taught you how . . .”

“No!” I screamed, burying my face in the quilt. I beat the bed with my fists, fighting against hysteria, my throat so tight I thought I might pass out. And then the tears came.

I must have lain there, sobbing on my bed, for nearly an hour. And the worst part? I kept waiting to hear Aidan’s voice in my mind, comforting me; to feel his presence outside my window; to hear my cell phone ring . . . something, anything.

Instead there was nothing.

K
ate came in and flopped down on Cece’s bed. “Hey, why so glum?”

Sitting beside me, Sophie winced. “She and Aidan had a fight. Where’s Cece?”

“She and Marissa have a study group for English,” I answered, my voice dull. “And it wasn’t a fight, not really.”

“Yeah? So dish,” Kate said.

“I’d rather not. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

“Let me guess.” Kate smiled knowingly. “He tried to get in your pants, and you weren’t quite as easy as he hoped?”

I almost laughed, she was so far off the mark. As
if
things were as simple as that. “No,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“He just . . . he said something about my dad that pissed me off, that’s all.”

“Your dad? But I thought . . . you know.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I thought your dad was dead.”

“He is. And I really don’t like talking about it, not even with Aidan.”

“I get it,” Kate said, nodding. But she didn’t get it, not really.

Everything was so damn complicated, and I had so many secrets to keep, besides. Aidan’s
and
my own. Everything my friends saw, everything they believed . . . it was all just smoke and mirrors. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, an unyielding pressure to make sure they saw only what they were supposed to see; believed only what they were supposed to believe.

Aidan was just a regular teenager with psychic powers, like the rest of them, and I was just his precog girlfriend. That was it, the whole truth, as far as they knew.

Forget parasitic infections; forget rogue sects of vampires and slayers born on a Saturday. Forget the fact that I’d foreseen my friends in the clutches of vampires who would kill them as sure as look at them, who expected me to shove a stake through Aidan’s heart.

No, instead I had to fake normal teenage angst—or, at least,
normal by Winterhaven standards. I had to pretend that Aidan and I were fighting over stupid stuff like him trying to get some ass, and me playing hard to get.