Nightmare (17 page)

“You should go now,” I said.

“And not get to catch up with that lovely lady you have Claimed? Never. I can smell her from here. And her mother. Shame about her shortened life.” He lifted his face to scent the air. “Seems as if they have a guest. Honeysuckle? Interesting.”

“Go.”  

“I don't think I will.” I stepped away from him and looked at Viktor. There was nothing we could do. I had a brief and pleasing image of tackling him and grinding him into the ground, or wrapping him with chains that he couldn't break. But none of those things were possible. 

We were a match, strength-wise and even with Viktor's help, nothing would be strong enough to hold him. Unlike the vampires and werewolves of legend, our only weaknesses were the promises we made. We could be weakened by thirst, but it would take weeks to get to that point. We didn't have weeks.

“You going to stop me? You and what army?” He gestured to the empty woods. “I could always contact our lovely mother to settle this. I'm sure she'd love a visit to see how her protegees are getting along.” He stands next to me and throws his arm over my shoulder. “Right?” His smile could sharpen knives. I had no choice but to comply. 

My only consolation was that he couldn't touch Ava. Her family... I would have to protect them. Viktor and I shared a wordless glance and he ran in the opposite direction of the house. 

“Where's the fire?” He knew Viktor was going to set up a perimeter to protect from an ambush. I would handle the humans in the house.

And then we were on Ava's doorstep.

Her face was first one of happiness to see me and then confusion at why Ivan was here.

****

“Who's at the door?” Claire calls after our greeting and several seconds of silence in which I try to find the words to explain to Ava what is going on.

“Uh, it's Peter and, his, uh,
brother
.” She says the last word dubiously, no doubt remembering the last time we met. Claire comes around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. 

“Oh. It's nice to meet you...” she says, silently asking one of us for his name. 

“Ivan,” Ava and I say at the exact same time. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Sullivan.” His smile is firmly on his face. Charming. She blushes a little as he says her name. He tends to have that affect on human women. Ava glares at Ivan. 

“Mom, could you excuse us for a second? And keep this on the DL?”

“Sure, I need to check on dinner anyway.” She gives Ava a look I have seen before that means she will demand details later.

“What the
hell
are you doing here? I thought you said he was in Vegas.” She fires the last part at me.

“I came to see you,” he says at the same time I say, “he was.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. 

“I do not need this right now.” She groans and leans against the door. 

“Oh come on, is that any way to greet us? I came all the way from the glittering city to this out of the way town to see Peter's best girl. You could give me a little something.”

“What do you want?” Her hands twist together, and I feel her anxiety, and undercurrent to her confusion and anger. She's also curious, underneath it all.

“I would start with a kiss, but that might be hazardous to my health, if you know what I mean.” He winks at her. Ava sputters for a moment as a glare settles in her eyes.

“If I could slap you without breaking my hand I would. I thought you were the one who was pushing me toward Peter, what happened with that plan?” Her arms cross and she gives him a triumphant look. I was so proud of her. 

“Oh, I haven't ruled that out. But what is that they say? All roads lead to Rome?” Her face drains of color. I know why, but I'm not sure Ivan does. 

“I think you need to leave.”

“Ah, love. You pierce my heart.” He holds his hand to his chest dramatically. Ava is shocked for a moment, then angry. She hasn't had the pleasure of seeing Ivan in his element. I have seen it far too much.

“You don't have a heart.”

“Correction. I don't have a soul. Those are two different things. I had a heart. I gave it away.” His cockiness drops for a brief moment. Strange. I'd never seen him do that before. Not ever.

“I know.” Ava's face melts into a smile. A pang of guilt goes through her. Why does she feel guilty? She didn't kill Josephine. 

I did.

“Well, it's been delightful to see you, Sweetness. I hope to repeat this often. But for now, adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” He blows her a kiss before running into the night. In the space of one of her blinks, I decide it would be best to stay with her and not follow him.

“What the hell was that?” Her human eyes search the night for something they cannot find. Ivan is gone. I will have to find out where.

“That, was Ivan. Being Ivan.”

She leans against the door, still looking for him. “That's what you had to put up with for a hundred some odd years?”

“More or less.”

“Is it more or is it less?” I think for a moment.

“More.”

Chapter Fifteen

Ava

“Is Peter coming in?” Mom calls from the kitchen. 

“I don't know,” I yell back. “Are you coming in? Please say you're coming in. I'm about ready to explode and I don't think I can take anymore.” My voice shakes and I have to close my eyes for a moment. The world is a heavy thing, and it's crushing me.

“Take my hand.”

“Hm?” Takes me a moment to open my eyes and figure out what he said. The porchlight sparkles on his hair. It's in his eyes, but with my good vision, I can see the glittering irises of his mismatched eyes. God, he's so beautiful. He holds his hand out to me and I take it.

“I want to try something.”

“Go ahead.” His skin is cool as it meets mine. I watch as he stares at our linked hands. I wait for something to happen. My eyes close of their own volition. They snap open a second later. 

“What are you doing?” My hand's got that feeling like when you lay on it and then the sensation comes back slowly. Prickly. And, warm. And... really nice. 

“How are you doing that?” My eyes are open and I feel like I've gotten a jolt of... something. It's like dipping my entire body in a cool, still lake. Silent and quiet. And calm.

“It was a guess.” His gaze is still on our hands. My fingers flex. His thumb traces my knuckles, back and forth. I'm not used to such a human gesture from him.

“Thank you. That was. Amazing.” I have no other word for it. I feel like I could take on anything. Even Ivan. 

Maybe not.

“Ava, dinner's ready. Why don't you bring Peter in?” I hear Dad hiss to Mom as they walk into the living room, “I didn't know he was coming over. When did this happen?”

“Shh,” she says back.

My hearing picks up on Aj whispering to Mom as well. 

She was saying something about what could Peter and I possibly be doing in the doorway and it couldn't be anything good. Mom says something about giving me privacy and that Peter wouldn't do anything that wasn't gentlemanly.

“You know I can't eat,” Peter says in my ear.

“We put cheese in the burritos so you can't have them anyway. So just come and sit next to me and show Aj and Dad that you're a nice human boy. Let's just be human tonight. Please?”

“Human,” he says, taking my hand and kissing the top of it. “Okay.”

I lead him inside, praying that I'd made the right choice.

“Look who came over,” I say, presenting him to Mom, Aj and Dad. Their reactions are mixed. Mom winks. Aj frowns. Dad looks pissed. So really, we've covered the rainbow of emotions in one room. Go us.

“Dad, you remember Peter, right?” Such a stupid question. “And you met Aj earlier.” He nods to her. She gives him a little wave. Oh dear. Now Dad knows that Peter was here earlier. 

“It is nice to meet you again, Mr. Sullivan.” Peter puts out his hand. Oh, well done.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. Why don't you take a seat so we can talk.” He shakes Peter's hand, but the look on his face says he'd get more pleasure out of breaking Peter's fingers. He wouldn't stand a chance. Peter could crush his fingers without even blinking. 

Dad just thinks he has the upper hand. All the rest of us know he doesn't, but are willing to let him believe so. Unless he starts being a tyrant. Then he'll get shut down.

We all troop into the living room for the Interrogation. 

Peter sits down on the chair next to the couch, leaving me no option but to sit on the couch next to Mom. Which is good, because I can give him subtle hints via my eyebrows about what he should and should not say. 

Dad gets right down to it.

“I suppose I have you to thank for getting my wife so quickly to the hospital this week.”

“You are more than welcome. I did what needed to be done.” He doesn't sound like an eighteen-year-old. This is the first problem.

Aj looks like she wants to add something, but I give her a glare and she keeps her mouth shut.

“So Peter, my wife tells me you play water polo. That must be exciting.” Peter doesn't even glance at me. Apparently Mom had given Dad some sort of backstory about Peter. Except she'd neglected to inform me what she'd told him. We hadn't had time to coordinate our stories.

“Yes, it is.” This is the second problem. Dad's going to think Peter's monosyllabic answers are snarky, or rude or something. But even if Peter were eloquent and the most charming person on earth, Dad would hate him.

“Peter loves to swim,” I add, trying to throw a life raft. It's probably too little too late. We're sinking and we haven't even left the dock.

Dad leans back, doing that weird leg-on-knee thing guys do. I think he's trying to look grown-up and threatening. Little does he know Peter's got at least sixty years on him. Ew. Head in the game, Ava.

“I didn't know there were many water polo teams in Maine.” Dad's eyes narrow, as if he's trying to figure out what water polo could be a euphemism for.

“They have them at all the fancy private schools. I had a friend growing up who went to Galdon and she did archery,” Mom says, twining her hand with Dad's. Using her feminine wiles again.

Peter looks as if he's fascinated by us. By the whole situation. I try to send him a mental kick in the shin.

“I did archery at camp. Remember Sam? I never hit the target.” Aj tries to inject some humor. I think it's far too late. Dad isn't really in a laughing mood.

Peter finally speaks.  “I have done that as well.” 

“He's a really good shot.” Do I sound like I drank the Peter Kool-Aid or what?

“I bet you are.” Dad's eyes narrow, trying to decide if that is some sort of sexual innuendo. At least I think that's why his face is like that. It's kind of debatable. I have no idea what goes on in my father's head.
Say something
, I telegraph to Peter via my mind and eyebrows.

“I cannot eat, but I would like to sit with you. If that is all right.”

“What's wrong with our food?” Dad snaps. I shoot him withering look. At least I hope it's withering.

“He's lactose intolerant. I
told
you that.”

“Hm,” he says, grunting. Of course Peter is unperturbed. There's the most awkward pause in the history of the universe which Mom finally breaks.

“Well, we're all ready, for dinner. Shall we?” 

Aj and I serve as Mom, Peter and Dad sit down. I want to set another plate for Peter, but we wouldn't put anything on it, so I decide it's a stupid idea. His fingers brush my waist as I walk by him to give Mom a burrito.

“Don't you at least want a glass of water?” Dad barks from the head of the table. 

Peter's eyes move away from me and focus on Dad. “No, thank you. I will eat at home later. I just wanted to come over and see Ava.” I sit down next to him and give him the briefest of smiles.

“So what are your plans when you graduate?”

“I'm going to college to study history.”

“Hm.” Oh that was it. I had to say something.

I give Dad a death glare. “Is there something wrong with history?”

“Yeah Sam, is there?” Aj jumps to my defense. Dad looks up from his meal, unaware that he's being ganged up on. His eyes bounce from me to Aj and back to Mom. He seems to have forgotten that his sister has a degree in history and works as a research assistant at a University.

“I guess not,” he mumbles. Point One for Team Peter.

Mom chimes in, “so Jenny, I haven't had a chance to ask you about that project you were doing on the, uh, torture devices.” Aj's specialty was medieval torture devices. She was just a little bit twisted. Which was why we got along so well.

Aj's eyes light up with a feverish glow.

“Oh, it's going really well. We found this amazing set of thumbscrews that someone had in their attic. They had no idea what they were.” And she's off, going on about garotting and this thing that's called the Spanish Tickler which probably wouldn't make you laugh. It wasn't appropriate dinner conversation, but it was better than Dad verbally assaulting Peter. Or talking about Mom. Anything was better than that. 

So we eat our burritos and Peter watches and we talk about thumbscrews. Typical Sullivan house dinner. Except it wasn't. 

“Is this really appropriate?” Dad finally says.

“Oh lighten up, Sam. You were always such a wet blanket.”

“I just don't want to talk about ripping flesh while I'm eating dinner.” He wipes his face with his napkin and throws it back on the table. So much for a joyous family reunion.

Mom tries again, bringing up the current political scandal. Something about a call girl and a married senator. Those were a dime a dozen. I take my head out of their chatter and focus on Peter. 

I've never felt weird eating in front of him, but now I do. There's a whole group of people scraping plates and chewing and he's sitting there with nothing in front of him. And then I have an idea. I pick up my knife and use it to cut part of my burrito. Because in the Sullivan house we can't eat burritos with our hands. 

My utensils scrape the plate and I slide my knife on purpose toward my hand.

“Ouch!” I say as I slice my finger open. Luckily we had the fancy knives and not the butter kind, or it never would have broken the skin.