Nightmare (26 page)

“Because I want to understand you.”

Twisting the towel in her hands, she says, “I'm thinking that even if we were to be together, that it wouldn't be as good as it could be. Because you're missing out on something. It makes me so unhappy thinking about it.” Her anxiety knifes me, and I seize her face.

“I do not want you to be unhappy.”

“Then fix it.” Her eyes reach into mine, begging, searching for a solution.

“Cal will find away. Only five days left.”

Her eyes sear into mine. “What if there is no other way? What if you waste time looking for something that isn't there?” She grasps my hands, fingers clutching, digging.

“Then we will find someone else.” Frustration finally seeps through her skin.

“And then someone else, and someone else. Where will it end? You won't give me a timeline. That's not fair, Peter and you know it.” I don't know what to say to her. She's right.

“Never mind,” she says, waving her hands. “We'll just have to agree to disagree tonight. I don't want to go to bed fighting.”

“We're not fighting.” I cannot exactly remember that we have ever fought. We have had disagreements. But many of those were resolved.

“You're doing that thing again, but I'm going to let it go because my back is wet and I need to detangle my hair and I have to go to school tomorrow.” 

“I will do it,” I say, running my fingers across her cheek. She takes off the hat and puts it back on my head.

“Thanks.” She turns her back and hands me a brush.

Ava

Waiting for Saturday night is complete an total torture. I'd take the Spanish Tickler over doing that ever again. I try to fill my time with homework and staring at Peter and emailing Aj massive email sagas about anything and everything that I can tell her and hearing about her new boyfriend and thinking about kissing Peter and trying to get whatever crazy plan he had cooked up out of him with no such luck.

And Peter. And Peter. And Peter. I wasn't mad at him anymore.

I'm so focused on the waiting that my blood want is not foremost in my mind. It's true, what Peter said. You can fight it. And I do. 

Finally, Saturday comes. Jamie has one of his last track meets of the season, so Tex and I go to support him. Both of us nearly fall over when we spot his mother, his father and a baby-bumped Cassie. She's just barely starting to show. 

Tex and I share a look before we all go over and say hello. Mrs. Barton gives us hugs, saying how much she's missed us. I missed her, too. It's easy to adore Jamie's mom. When we used to go to his his house after school, she'd make us s'mores bars and pink lemonade. She was the kind of mom who let us blow things up in the backyard and didn't ask questions. That was when things were good. Before his dad started drinking and Cassie started getting into trouble. Before his family fell apart.

Somehow, it looked like it was coming back together.

Despite the anticipation for the coming night, I'm filled with light and happiness. A bright moment in my sometimes dark existence.

The thing that makes it the best is that Peter is there, standing behind me. I told him there was no way I was going into a crush of sweaty people without him as my personal talisman. So he came. I definitely got some weird looks from a few of the girls in my class who were on the team. He even gets the once and sometimes the twice-over. Taylor Abbot looks like her eyes are going to fall out of her head. Ha.

I twine my arms with his, showing them that he's with me. Hands off, ladies.

Mine.

When the meet is over, Jamie comes to give me a slightly sweaty hug, twirling me around before noticing Peter. 

“Hey man, it's good to see you again. I'd shake your hand, but I'm pretty gross right now.” Actually, he smells intoxicating. Peter moves closer to me and puts a hand on my back. To anyone else, it would look possessive. But really, he's keeping me from sinking my teeth into Jamie's skin.

“It is good to see you as well.”

“Hey, why don't we all go out for pizza? I'm starved. Cassie's going to come.” He waves at her and she waves back, one hand on her stomach. I've never seen her look so happy. She's practically glowing.

“I don't know, Peter and I had plans...” I trail off, hoping he'll fill in the blanks for me.

“We can break them.”

“Are you sure?” Is he sure?

“Yes,” he says and blinks. Okay then.

Tex comes too, and we actually have a fantastic time. There's an awkward moment where Peter has to explain his lactose intolerance as the reason for not eating, but everyone accepts it and moves on. It's been ages since I talked to Cassie. She's bubbly like I haven't seen her in years, gushing about the baby and all her plans. 

After we're all stuffed with pizza (except for Peter), I drive Tex home, Peter hanging out in the backseat. It's awkward, but at least I can see him in the rearview. Which actually makes it hard to focus on the road. Somehow I get us all there in once piece. 

Tex is busy fiddling with something in her purse when I pull into her driveway.

“Shit,” she says, yanking her hand out of her purse as if it's on fire. Before I can say anything, a smell that overpowers everything else slaps me in the face. 

Blood. Fresh, red and oh-so-delicious. No, wait! Not delicious. Yucky, gross...

Distantly, I watch Tex hold her hand up, examining the bead of scarlet on her fingertip. 

“Stupid needles. They never stay on that little card...” Before I have the chance to wonder what Tex is doing with needles hanging out in her purse, my vision blurs and narrows to one point. That little, itty, bitty drop of blood. I want it. 

I don't think. I just act. My hands, of their own accord, snap out like whips and wrap themselves around Tex's wrist. Slowly, closing my eyes and trying to be calm, I bring her finger to my lips. I register some resistance, but I will not be deterred from my goal. I shove her finger in my mouth. And...

Nothing. I spit it out and she yanks it back. 

“What the hell, Ava? What is wrong with you? Ugh.” She wipes my spit off on her skirt. 

“I'm so sorry.” My voice comes out so quiet, it's like I have no air behind the words. They shiver through the car, and I don't think Tex hears me.

“What is wrong with you?” She repeats. Her voice is quieter too. It's colored by disbelief. I stare at the shifter because I seriously cannot look at her. See the her face as she looks at me. As she realizes what I've done. As I realize what I've done. And then I want to get of of the car. Because I can'tbreathecan'tthinkcan'tcan'tcan't.

“Ava? Do you hear me?” Her voice seems so far away. As if she's talking through a tube that's been blocked. My vision continues to swirl and my head seems to float away from my neck like a balloon on a string. Just before it happens, I realize I'm going to faint. I have just enough time to watch the steering wheel smash into my face as I meet it halfway.

Chapter Twenty-One

Peter

I pull the door off the car and discard it before catching her face before it hits the steering wheel.

“Holy shit!” Texas screams, jumping back into the passenger door. I have no time for her.

“Ava?” I pull her face toward me. Her eyes are closed. “Ava. You need to wake up.” I shake her gently, and her head bobbles loosely. I know you are supposed to slap a fainted person, but I am afraid to do her damage. I pull her from the car, laying her on the driveway. 

“Ava?” Her eyes flutter a few times. She's coming back. 

“Peter? What happened?”

“You fainted, Ava-Claire.”

“I, what?” She puts her hand to her head. I feel her disorientation, thick and sticky. Her eyes search mine, her forehead puckers. I try to brush it away with my thumb.

“Peter?”

“Yes, Ava?”

“I did something bad.” The worry gnaws at her, bites at the edges of her mind. I feel it as well. She need not worry. I brush my fingers on her cheeks. Such a precious thing she is.

“You could never do anything bad, my Ava.” Her face smooths like a piece of silk, but the worry doesn't go away from her mind.

“You've never called me that.”

“Not out loud.” Her skin starts to warm mine. My desires collide with each other. I want her lips as much as I want her blood. I am not sure which will win.

“Ava?” Texas crawls out of the car.

“Tex.” Ava closes her eyes and breathes her name like she wished she could take it back.

“Are you okay?” Tex hovers, as if she wants to make sure Ava is okay, but also scared of what occurred. 

“No. I'm not.”

She nods. “Yeah. I know. I think we should talk.” Her hands twist together, as if she's coiling and uncoiling a rope. Ava stares at me. I can feel it from her. She doesn't want to. But I know we have to.

My thumb traces her mouth. “You need to share this with someone. Someone
human
. Because I am not.”

She tries to shake her head. “I don't care.”

“I know. But you need her. Now more than ever. Don't burn your bridges, Ava-Claire.”

“That's what she'd say.” She means her mother. I know. I take my hands from her face and help her to sit up. 

“I really don't want to do this.” My back blocks her face from Texas' view.

“I know.” She closes her eyes and pulls in a shaky breath. Such a simple thing, breathing. It seems to calm them. Noctali are naturally calm, but ever since I'd Claimed her, I had experienced turmoil without a way of assuaging it. I tried to take a breath into my lungs. The dry air rattles.

“That was gross,” Ava says, sounding more like herself. “It sounded like a rattlesnake.” She makes a face as I help her to her feet. Her legs wobble like a newborn calf, so I hold her elbows to make sure she doesn't fall.

Tex sighs. “Let's go in and sit down. Looks like I'm going to have to get ready not to freak out.”

“You did okay the last time,” Ava points out.

“True.” She rubs her arms and pulls her skirt down. A nervous habit.

“Come on kids, I'll get some cookies and milk.” Tex walks us to the front door, using her key to get inside. The house is clean and square and very human. 

There are books, but none of them look like they've been read. You can tell when a book has been loved. The pages show crinkles and folds where a thumb has pressed against them. The covers have stains. A residue of human oils sticks to them where they've been held with living hands. None of these books have that.

Texas escorts us into a kitchen filled with white and stainless steel. It doesn't look as if it's been eaten in. The overwhelming scent is artificial lemon cleaner.

“Water. Shouldn't you have some water?” Texas asks Ava.

“Yeah, sure.” I put Ava into a stool, standing behind her so she doesn't fall off. She holds onto me as if she's never going to let go.

Ava

So here we are again. Different time, different location, but the same deal. Explaining the mistakes I'd made, yet again. 

“So you're a vampire now?”

“No,” I say for the third time. She doesn't seem to understand that while, yes, I do think blood smells really freaking good, once I put it in my mouth, it's not so much. I know that taste is tied to scent, and that if you can't smell, you can't taste, but that doesn't seem to apply in this case. It's like the second the blood hits the air, it starts getting not so yummy.

Oh, who am I kidding? I've been living with this for a few weeks now and it hasn't gotten better. It's gotten worse. What worries me the most is that day when blood will taste good. Then things are going to get dicey.

“But you want blood.”

I squirm on the stool. “Uh, yeah.” 

“So what is it that makes a vampire?”

I throw up my hands. “I don't know Tex, there isn't a manual with a specific definition.” 

Peter senses my frustration. “We are in the dark on this, Texas.”

“I've told you, it's Tex.” She holds up her hand as if to get her point across. She's still being weird to him. That doesn't make me very happy. I want her to be nice to him because he's my boyfriend. 

God, this is complicated.

“So what happens now?” Tex says. I'd asked Peter the exact same thing when he Claimed me. 

I shrug. Peter blinks. I should probably explain that gesture to her. Eh, she's a smart girl, she'll figure it out.

“What is that blinking thing?” Maybe not.

“It's kind of like a shrug. Sometimes. Other times it's a yes. Sometimes it's an eh.” Peter looks at me. “What? I pay attention. It can mean about a thousand different things. I just figured out what some of them are.”

“You are correct.”

“Am I?” I'd never asked him about it. Seemed like something I'd be able to put together on my own.

Tex brings us back to the matter at hand. “Okay then. So you want blood, and you can't control yourself. Clearly. And apparently I have nice-smelling blood. And you're my best friend. This. Is a problem.” I'd go so far as to say crisis.

“It is time to see Cal.”

Tex pipes up. “Who's Cal?” Probably hoping for another attractive brother.

“You explain,” I say, leaning back into Peter's chest. I'm so very tired. And Tex's blood fills the room. Even though it still smells like lemon cleaner. The blood's there, too. It's always there. And it will be until Peter faces facts and turns me. But what will it be like then? Will it be worse? Somehow I think I know the answer to that question.

Peter gives her an even more abbreviated version than I got. It pisses me off when he keeps secrets, but he's never kept anything that I really needed to know. For the most part.

“So you really think he can help her?” Tex is doing her job being the skeptical best friend.

“He agreed to it. He has helped me before.”

“Oh, I bet there are some good stories there.” Tex leans on the counter and raises her eyebrows suggestively. Luckily, Peter is immune to that kind of thing.

“More or less.” Oh snap, Tex gets the more-or-less line. “Cal was the one who helped me stop killing.” 

“How?”

He blinks. This time it stands in for a heavy sigh. “It is a long story.”