Nocturnal (27 page)

“Knock, knock.” I fold down a the corner of my page. Normally I don't approve of folding down pages, but this copy is so battered it doesn't matter.

“Come in.”

Mom looks like she's been bursting to ask all night. 

“You have some explaining to do, ma fleur.” She sits at the edge of my bed.

“I know,” I say, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

“How old is he again?” She says it casually, but I know the answer matters.

“Eighteen.”

“He seems older.”

“Yeah, I know. He's an old soul.” This is true.

“How did you meet again?” 

“I spilled a drink on him. He made some witty remark, I said something dorky back and the rest is history.” I roll my eyes.

“He's...” she struggles to come up with an adjective. “Intense.”

“He is that.” Also true.

“Are we going to be seeing more of him?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Why beat around the bush?

“His family's okay with that?”

“Yeah, they're cool.” Gah, I sound like a moron. “He's got two brothers.” In this lifetime, I don't add.

“Parents?”

“Just a mom. His dad died.” It's amazing how little I have to lie. Although, if you consider the omission of the truth as lies, then my pants should be on fire.

“Well, I hope we get a chance to get to know him better.”

She strokes my hair. It feels nice, but it just reminds me of the fact that I'm not going to have this forever. I think the worst thing is not learning of your own mortality, but that of those around you. I'd rather if the world just went ahead and ended. Because it won't be the same without her. 

“I'd like that,” I say, gazing up at her. My chest loosens some.

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Night.” I feel how frail she is when I hug her again. She doesn't smell the same either. I mean, it's not like she doesn't still smell like lilac perfume and dirt and the dinner she cooked. But with my added senses, I smell something different, rotten. I don't like it. Because I know what it is. It's the cancer, eating away at her.

I still hold her tight. I'm not thinking about it. 

“I love you.”

“I love you,
ma fleur
.” 

She tucks me in like I'm a child again. For a second I almost ask her to read out loud to me like she used to, but it's been years and she looks tired. Peter's also been gone for hours and I want him to be able to come back. Even if he's lurking on the roof like some sort of beautiful gargoyle. The image of him hunched over with his wings tucked makes me want to laugh. 

My mother turns off the light and softly exits the room. As if I'm a baby she's scared to wake. I wonder if she still sees me like that sometimes. And then I cry. 

I have no idea where it comes from, but one second I'm giggling to myself about Gargoyle Peter and then I'm crying into my pillow. 

“Shh.” Of course I don't hear him come in. He's so damn stealthy.

“Leave me alone.” Okay, so it's mean, but I don't want him to see me cry. Again. I don't want anyone to see me cry.

“Do not be ashamed of tears.”

“But they're embarrassing. And they make your face all red,” I say as I shake. The sobs explode out of me and I grab my pillow to muffle the sound. I can't let my parents know I'm crying. That would be the worst of the worst.

“Would you like me to hold you?” He hasn't touched me yet. 

“Yeah,” I sniff like a three-year-old. 

He holds his arms open and I fall into them. He isn't warm, but I don't really care about that. I can do without the beating heart. I need something to hold onto. So my tears don't take me away with them. He's also big enough to muffle the sound. 

I don't know how long I stay there in his rigid arms. He doesn't rock me. He doesn't say anything. He just lets me go. And it's exactly what I need. He lets me cry it out, dribbling snot and tears all over his shirt. I feel bad, but there's really nothing I can do about it.

Like a hurricane, it takes a while for my crying jag to blow itself out. I also probably look like I got hit by a truck, but that's beside the point.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” I nod.

“And some aspirin?”

He comes back with both and I swallow two pills. I should have asked him for the nighttime ones that make me sleep, but I wasn't thinking of that.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I probably look like crap.” I wipe my hands on my face as my vanity gets the better of me.

“You look emotional.” I can't tell if that is a compliment. It kinda feels like one.

“Thanks. For that. Most guys would have run the other way. Girls turn ugly when they cry.”

“I am not a guy.” His shirt is really gross. I want to offer to wash it for him.

I give him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“I know.” I sigh and flop back on my pillows. What a night.

“I am so freaking tired right now.” Tired in body and soul. I need to sleep for like a week to recover.

“Sleep. I will stay with you.”

“That might not help me sleep.”

“Then I will leave.” He gets up. I try to grab his arm but he moves too fast.

“No! That wasn't what I meant. I don't know what I mean anymore. I think I just need to stop thinking and talking.” I'm having trouble finding the words I want to say. 

“Don't worry. You're safe.” He brushes back some of my hair with his finger. I feel a little bit of something from him. And that reminds me.

“Oh my god, did you suck in all my stupid emotions?” I sit up again.

“Yes.”

“I am so freaking sorry. You shouldn't have touched me.”

“It made me feel alive. I am not sorry to carry some of your grief for you. It is more than enough for one person.” I open my mouth to protest, but he puts his finger to my lips. 

“Less talk. More sleep.” To the point. I roll my eyes and sink back down.

“Goodnight, Ava.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

***

It overwhelmed me, this grief. It brought back the memory of my own, even though it was dulled and tarnished with time. Her's was raw and fresh. There was beauty in it, but I didn't mention that to her. As far as she was concerned, her world is ending. I would not be the one to tell her that it wasn't true. The world will still turn when she lost her mother. Even if she didn't want it to. I understood that all too well.

I enjoyed holding her. Other than the dancing and flying, it was the most prolonged contact we'd had. It reminded me of the dancing, but only in intensity. I wished I could put the moment in a jar and keep it, like a winking firefly. To remind me. That moments like that can exist for me. I could have some sort of existence. Even if I didn't deserve it. 

I couldn't leave her. Not even to go out on the roof. I needed to be in the same room with her; surrounded by her air and her heartbeat. I hoped it didn't bother her. I tried to stay quiet. To not infringe. I had not bathed in some time and wondered if I should use her shower. It was also strange for me not to hunger. I did not take much of her blood, but what I did take sustained me. It might be one of the side effects of the Claiming. I needed someone to speak to about it. Normally, I prided myself on my own resourcefulness, but I didn't want to take chances where she was concerned. 

Her eyes fluttered as she tried to keep them open. So stubborn. I told her she was reckless, but she is just as stubborn. It made me want to smile, but my face still didn't know how. She said she would teach me. Maybe tomorrow.

After she went to sleep, I used her computer to send Viktor an e-mail about everything, asking for advice. I haven't had contact with my kind in years, but I knew he checked his messages regularly. He would like her, I am sure of it. 

***

“What are you doing?” I roll over. He's sitting on my floor, legs crossed, shirt off, wings out. Reading. My night vision isn't good enough to see the title, but I recognize the cover. “Harry Potter? For real?”

“I was curious.” He doesn't look up from the book. He's reading the second.

“I have the first one on the shelf.” I run my hand through my hair and get it caught. 

“I read it.”

“You read it? What time is it?” I lean over and look at the clock. It's only 11:30. “You read an entire Harry Potter book in less than an hour?”

“I'm a fast reader.” I watch as he turns a page. I squint at him in the dark. He turns another page. Huh. I guess he is a fast reader. That's pretty cool.

“You should go back to sleep.” He turns another page. I want to ask him how he liked the first book, but I feel like kind of a dork. I have no idea why he picked that, of all books, to read.

“Do you like it?” What the hell? I'm giving him my blood. I shouldn't be embarrassed about something like this.

“Yes.” Another page. 

“I remember when they first got big. I made my mother take me to a midnight release party to get the newest book. I can't believe she took me, but she did. We drank tons of soda to stay up and in the morning she made me pancakes. Even though I had to go to school and she had to go to work, it was totally worth it.”

“You are lucky to have a mother like that.”

“I am.” I won't be having her for much longer. That takes me back to my crying episode. My head still hurts and my throat is parched. I get my feet under me and fetch another glass of water. He's still in the same position when I get back. 

“What's with the wings?”

“I flew for a while when you were sleeping.”

“Was it nice?”

“Yes.” He turns another page. His presence is so calming, and the sound of pages turning is like a lullaby. A weird one, but still. I crawl back under the covers and try to go back to sleep. The last thing I remember is the sound of the pages turning. 

He's gone when I wake up in the morning. My Harry Potter books are stacked up on the floor. All seven of them. There's no way he read them all. I shake my head as I drag myself out of bed.

I've got about a million texts I missed from Tex. Seems like we've made up now she's in on Thing Two and Thing Three. About a third of them are questions about Peter's brother. Maybe I shouldn't have told her. Or I should have killed her shortly after or had Peter do his scary-noctalis-thing and freaked her into silence. Too late now.

Unlocking the Past

“So he's like, old enough to be your great-grandfather. I should start calling you jailbait.” Tex has definitely come around to the Peter thing. Except for the age difference. She's totally cool with the blood drinking, but not the fact that he could have grown up with my great grandfather. I really don't like thinking about that.

“Will you stop? This isn't a normal situation.” I chug a can of soda. I hate relying on caffeine, but I have to stay awake. Tex attacks a bar of chocolate like she's a caveman gnawing on a mastodon bone.

“Does he have pictures of kids on his computer?”

“He doesn't have a computer. He doesn't even have a house!” My temperature is rising. I'm tired of hearing it.

“Where does he live?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” It hasn't really occurred to me. It probably should have, before now. Like way before now. I guess I figured because he doesn't sleep, he doesn't need a bed. Therefore, he doesn't need a house. I've never seen him with stuff. I get out my phone to remedy the situation.

Where do u live? I never asked.

Nowhere. Everywhere. 

Where do you keep your stuff?

I'll meet you at your car later. I can show you.

My stomach leaps a little. He's been close all day. I hope he's found a way to occupy himself. I hate to think of him sitting in the parking lot or hanging out down at the railroad tracks with the dope heads. Maybe he's really into Sudoku. Who knows?

“Hey, over here!” Tex snaps her fingers right in front of my face. I slap her hand away.

“Yes, Texas Anne, I see you.”

“Don't call me that.” Her finger points back in my face. “Only my mother calls me that. You know how much I hate it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Of course I'm the one who caves. I always cave. Especially when it comes to Tex. Her personality is too strong. 

“I'm just looking out for your best interest.”

“I know, I know.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” She looks around as if someone else might pop up. 

“Just you.” I crumple up my chip bag and toss it in the trash. “I think I'm going to tell my mom.” Tex ceases her chocolate massacre. “You're going to tell your mom.”

“Why not?”

“This just keeps getting weirder.” The bell rings, but we don't move.

“Curiouser and curiouser.” I quote Alice in Wonderland. I've definitely fallen down the rabbit hole. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

***

My face breaks out into a huge smile that makes my cheeks hurt when I see Peter leaning on my car. The first thing I notice are his shoes. Birkenstocks. He must have swiped them from somewhere. I make a mental note to ask.

“Hey.” 

“Well hello again.” I forgot Tex was behind me.

“Hello, Ava. Texas.” He nods at her. She smirks back at him. She's unbearable when she knows a secret. I'd forgotten how awful it is.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?” Her eyebrows are doing this up and down thing that I don't remember her face ever doing. What is wrong with her?

“Nothing. Ready to go?” I give him a look and try to send him some vibes.

“Yes. Would you excuse us?” I never knew he could be so polite, but they were like that back in the old days. Must be some relic of his past life. I squint at him, sending him a question mark.

“Call me later.” Tex pinches my arm. Hard. I'm forced to look at her and she winks at me. I'm starting to think it was a bad idea telling her. 

“Okay,” I say, giving her a thumbs up. She prances off to her own car.

“I am sorry about that. I don't know who that is, but she's stolen my best friend's body.” I shake my head at him and we get in the car.

“So what did you do today?”

“Ran.”

“Around the school? All day?”