Neither (26 page)

“Ava, you have the power to destroy me every second. What more of an upper hand do you need?” There he goes again, turning it around on me.

“I guess you have a point. Still, it would be nice to beat you at an arm-wrestling match.”

He gives me a slow smile. “I could let you win.”

“Such a sweet boy,” I say, patting his cheek and wiping some dirt off it. He's a dirty boy, too.

“Come on, why don't you get cleaned up? Not that I don't like the garden boy look on you. There are some clean clothes in your drawer.”

“I will be right back,” he says, smearing dirt on my face as he walks by. Naughty boy.

I like this playful side of Peter. It is rare, so I cherish it even more. I realize this is what it could be like. Forever. I could lie in the dirt with him forever. Never grow old. Never change, never worry about getting sick.

My parents pull into the driveway as I'm putting the tools back in the shed. Dad helps Mom out of the car and she leans heavily on him.

“What's wrong?”

“They did some blood tests, so I'm a little woozy,” Mom says as she toddles up the steps to the front door, Dad helping her like she's a baby learning to walk.

I wish they would stop doing tests. They're not going to change anything, because she's not going to get better. I lean on the banister of the porch steps. That's a horrible thing to think. I know they're doing tests to figure out what medications to give her so she can be more comfortable, not just because they're sadists with God complexes. First do no harm, and all that, but still. Why can't they leave her alone?

I walk back inside as Peter is walking downstairs, slicking his wet hair back from his forehead. God, I love it when he does that.

“Oh hello, Peter. I didn't know you were here,” Mom says. Such a lie.

“He was just helping me in the garden,” I say because Dad looks really suspicious, like he's going to start talking about cleaning his gun, which he doesn't have.

“Oh,” he says.

“And he was just going home, right Peter? You have finals to study for.” I give our connection a little pinch.

“So do you,” he says.

“You're welcome to study here if you want to,” Mom says, smiling and giving Dad a pinch that we all see, but pretend not to.

“Thank you, Claire, but I should get home. Goodnight, Ava.”

“Goodnight, Peter.” I dive and give him a kiss on the lips right in front of my parents. If things go according to our promise, they're going to be seeing even more of that. Best to start them out slow.

“See you later,” I say as he walks out the front door. He's just going to turn around and go through the backdoor. Or in his case, roof. I'm adding Stealthily Climbing In My Window to the Peter Love list.

Twenty-Two

Peter

Ava's mother has a cold the next morning.

“It's nothing,” she says, her voice full of mucus.

Sam sends her back to bed with lots of medicine and orders her to rest. Ava's anxiety twangs upstairs to me, and I know that she is very close to breaking. I send her as much positive energy as I can. If I could, I would attach my hands to her skin and keep them there, to keep the bad things away.

I wish she did not have to be in school. Although I think it is important for her to maintain her human life, it does not seem possible right now. Minimizing my impact as much as possible is all I can do, and she makes it difficult. Especially now that I have promised to make her a noctalis. I knew it would come to that. She is so intent on ending her human life and starting her immortal existence. Sometimes I wonder if it is the escape from mortality, or if it is me that she is after. It is times like this when I wish I could read all her thoughts.

“I can't go today,” Ava says when I get in her car at the end of the driveway. “Can we just go to the beach or somewhere and just be the two of us? I need some us time.”

“Of course. I will take you wherever you need to go. Always.”

She looks at me with so much pain and desire to be with me it is nearly impossible to deny that she does want to be with me. Still, I will always have that doubt that if I had not Claimed her, she would not feel so about me.

“Thanks,” she says, giving me a peck on the cheek.

“Do you want me to drive?” I ask. I do not mind driving. It is rather pleasant, in a strange sort of way.

“Thanks, baby.” She kisses my cheek again and gets out of the car to switch seats.

“Buckle your seatbelt,” she says as she buckles hers, and pushes her seat back so she can lie down.

“Tired?”

“I don't know. I just couldn't turn my brain off.” The circles under her eyes have been getting darker and darker. The instances of her nightmares are more frequent as well.

“You had the nightmare again,” I say, brushing one finger along her arm to watch her skin burst into goose bumps.

She sits up, startled. “What?”

“The nightmare you have about me and your mother burning as we... say those words.” I have to stop myself from saying it. The words are in the back of my throat and burn like ash, but I'm able to swallow them down.

She groans loudly and pretends to smash her face on the dashboard. I start the car and drive toward town. I want to take her somewhere new. Somewhere she hasn't been. A place without memories so we can make some new ones.

She groans again, and I rub her back. “I really wish you couldn't read my mind. Really, really wish. Not that I don't love you, but I really don't need you in my head.”

“I am sorry. It comes to me and I cannot stop it. I like knowing what you're thinking. Not all the time, though. I also like you surprising me.”

“Well that's good. I'm sorry about that.”

“You cannot control what you see when you sleep, my girl.” She smiles when I call her mine. I like saying it because I like her reaction. I don't call her baby because she asked me not to. I will have to try out some other endearments to see which she likes the best.

“I don't really believe in omens and all that. Tex gave me this book on dream interpretation, but it was no help. I know what it means. I'm scared to lose you, but that's no mystery. I think about it all damn day. You'd think I'd get some peace when I slept, but no dice.”

“I am sorry. I would invade your dreams and change them if I could.” Anything to help her sleep. Her human body needs it.

“That would be kind of cool, even if it was creepy that you could affect my dreams.”

I think for a moment. “I do not remember dreaming.” I only know what it is like from her perspective. It is murky, dark and changes quickly, going from a normal day at school to a cave to a blue sky. Confusing and strange. They are a kind of magic, dreams.

She shrugs. “It's not that great. I wish I had more time to do stuff. You waste years of your life sleeping.”

“What would you do with your time?” I turn onto the main road that leads from Sussex to the more populated areas.

“Read more, probably. Maybe I'd be better at math if I had more time. Or maybe not.”

She laughs and turns on the radio to the pop station. One of her favorites, Taylor Swift, comes on and Ava hums along. Her mood is better, but there are still dark edges to it. She is worried about Claire, but is trying not to think about it.

“What would you like to do today?” I say.

“Nothing.” The wave of desire that hits me reveals her lie. Yes, she has shoved anxiety about Claire far to the back of her mind. I give her a look.

“Okay! Okay. I hate that you can read me like that. It's crazy embarrassing.” She hides her face in her hands.

“Ava,” I say, putting one of my hands on hers. I send my desire to her and she gasps, uncovering her eyes.

“You are not the only one.” I remove my hand from her skin so we don't get carried away.

“It's a good thing I'm not driving. I might have crashed.” Her voice is unsteady and her blood pumps faster. I should not have done that.

“I am sorry.”

“S'okay. Just... warn me next time.” She struggles to calm herself down, fiddling with the radio again. “Where are you taking me?” she says finding another Taylor Swift song.

“A place I found when I first came to Sussex. You'll like it, I promise.” It is so easy to promise her things. She may think that they are empty, since they are not binding, but for me, they are more important, because I choose them. I choose her.

“You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?”

“That would ruin the surprise.” She is worse than Claire.

I keep driving, taking her to a little church I found when I first started coming to Sussex to see my family and tried to end my existence. Every year after I hadn't succeeded, I would find a new place to reflect. Mostly on my failures. Now I want to show one of them to Ava. She will appreciate the beauty of a simple stone church.

It only takes twenty minutes to get there, since I drive as fast as I like. Ava doesn't ask me to slow down. She knows that if the car was to crash, I would be able to get her out. It thrills me that she trusts me with her life, but it is also a large responsibility. The heaviest thing I have ever carried.

We don't talk much on the ride. I am content to give her all the calm I can, holding her hand so I can pump as much as possible into her. She closes her eyes and dozes.

It is the most peaceful I have seen her in a while. I wish it could last forever.

Ava

I should go to school. I should focus more on other things, but I need a break. My poor human brain can only take so much. I need a vacation, even if it's only for a few hours. No Di, no Helena, no Brooke. No worrying about Viktor turning Tex. I'm still worrying about my mother's cold. She's not supposed to get sick. We've tried to keep the house sterile and limit her contact with people, but somehow some germs got into the house. Her immune system is compromised as it is, and a cold can be dangerous. Maybe it was Gretchen, that bitch.

I somehow fall asleep and wake when Peter kisses my shoulder.

“We're here.” I stretch and look out the window. Tall ancient trees surround a little stone church. It's so old there isn't even a road for cars. “Come on,” he says, getting out of the car and opening my door.

I step out onto soft ground that is spongy with moss. No one has been here in a while. The air is thick with moisture.

“What do you think?”

I look at the unassuming church. It's small, even smaller than my house, and made of stone. The door has long since rotted away, leaving only a stone doorway. There is a little turret that rises about ten feet above the main part and is capped by a little triangle with a tiny cross on it. I suppose there was once glass in the windows, but it is long gone. Peter takes my hand and leads me closer. The stones are rough and uneven, as if they were gathered and not made by a mason’s calloused hands.

“How old is it?” I say.

“I am not sure. Older than me.” He smiles and leads me inside.

The smell is of wet stone and dust, but it's not unpleasant. Our steps echo in the small space and my breathing is loud. Animals scurry and nestle in little nooks and crannies, and there are more than a few bird's nests.

“Wow,” I whisper, too afraid to use the full volume of my voice. It seems sacrilegious.

“Even if I don't have a soul anymore, I can appreciate the beauty of a church. My mother played the piano for our church when I was young. I can still hear the hymns in the back of my mind,” Peter says, his voice also quiet. I walk down the middle, brushing my hands on the stone benches that once held parishioners.

“I've never really been to church. Jamie used to go, back when he was younger, because his mom made him, but my parents weren't into it. Mom is too practical. She says she's more into science than religion. Guess that's different now.”

“I came here the first year after I changed. I don't remember how I found it, but I felt at peace here.” He walks all the way to the front of the church, where there is a stone altar.

“I feel like we shouldn't be here. Like we're not worthy, or something,” I say with a little laugh. Some dust crawls up my nose and I sneeze. “Is God going to smite me for sneezing in his house?”

“I don't believe so, Ava. If he does not strike me down for coming in without a soul, then I think you are safe.” He stops at the altar and looks up at the stone cross that somehow still hangs on the wall.

“It's so beautiful and sad. This empty church. It's like it's missing a heartbeat.”

“Like me. A shell without a heart.” It breaks mine to hear him talk like that.

“You're not the Tin Man. You have a heart; you just don't think you do. Just because the one in your body doesn't work anymore, doesn't mean it isn't there. Just because you can't use it, or say the words, doesn't mean you won't ever. Someday, you are going to tell me you love me, Peter Henry Mackintire. Someday you will say those words to me. I won't stop until it happens. Got it?” I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “I'm losing one love; I can't deal with losing another.”

He pulls my face up for a kiss. “My girl,” he says, “my heart.” He puts his hand on my chest, feeling my heart beat.

I'd give it to him if I could.

Twenty-Three

Brooke

I had to leave him. I couldn't stay or else I'd kill him.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” I said to Helena as we sat outside Jamie's window.

I knew it was weird, but I liked being close to him. I hadn't been able to apologize to him yet. He'd passed out again in his truck as I drove him home and carried him to bed. His parents and sister hadn't been home. I had to fight the urge to take the rest of his blood once it was on my tongue. Even if I couldn't see him, I could hear him breathe and listen to his heartbeat and his voice. I'd hurt his hand, and though it was healing, I couldn't heal what I'd broken. He was afraid of me, but he still wanted to be with me. I was afraid of me, too.

A million times I'd thought of what I would say to him. How I would apologize and explain, but the words wouldn't come. I wanted to tell him that I thought about him every waking moment, which was all of my moments, because I didn't sleep. I wanted to tell him that if I could go back and be mortal for him, I would. If there were a way I could be the girl I was three weeks ago, I would. I couldn't, and I couldn't tell him. I had to go. I was just having a hard time letting go.