Nightmare (31 page)

It's a good thing I can't see, because then I'd be freaking out more. If I was able to freak out, which I'm not at the moment. 

“Ready?” I make a sound at the back of my throat that means, “sure, why not?” He laughs again and then we're in the air and landing on the ground with a soft thump. 

“Onward we go,” he says, and then he's running. I have to close my eyes against the flashes of the trees that zoom by. If I could move or do anything, I'd probably throw up. This is different than flying. Not that the ride isn't smooth, but I can see so much that it makes me sick.

“How are you?” he says a few minutes later. I whimper, hoping that he understands means, “as good as it gets right now.” Like before when Peter left me, it takes a while for me to even sense that I'm feeling better. It would be the equivalent of being hit by a bus and being hit by a truck. Only marginally better. So small that I'm not sure if it's real. 

“Where are we?”

“Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I am following their scent.”

“How much longer?”

“I think you would be the one to tell me that.” I tug on the connection, so relieved when I discover a little resistance. Thank all the stars. It's not huge, but it's something. I just wish...

“What is it like?” Ivan's voice startles me. Even in my weakened and drug-addled state, I am still surprised.

“What is what?” I can't finish, even though the pain is lessening.

“To be Claimed. I have heard of it, but have never seen it done. It seems as if all it causes is agony, from what I have seen.”

“Not agony always.“

“Yes, I can imagine that. I see some of the benefits for Peter, but your motivation is still a mystery.”

“Love. Him.” I clench my teeth around the words. I wish I could forge my words into daggers and have them by my side. Love as my weapon of choice.

“I see.” But really, he doesn't. I want to ask him more about Josephine, but a little nudge interrupts me.

“We're getting closer.”

“But we are still miles away.” Miles and miles to go. Like that Robert Frost poem.

Peter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Peter

The place they put me in is dark and damp and echoes. From what I can tell, it is some sort of underground bunker. It was surrounded by an old stone foundation. Perhaps it was once a house or part of a military barracks. And now it will be the place I spend the rest of my eternity. Or at least as long as they decide to keep me here. They do not say much, but from what I can tell, they plan to leave me here and see if Ava comes. What the purpose of this is, I cannot understand. My mind is not sharp. I need her.

I call out again.

“Peter dear. I am sorry about the accommodations, but you are used to it, I assume.” I can't answer her. She reaches down with soft hands and strokes my face. Di has incredibly small hands. They are about the size of a child's. 

“You were always my favorite,” she says, licking my cheek. “My youngest.”

“Cal.” I am trying to ask what about him, when I feel it. Feel her. It is faint, and still so far away, but she is there. She is coming. 

I knew I could count on Ivan.

“Cal is my oldest. He was the first. You didn't know that, did you?”

“No.”

“I was barely transformed myself. I had run away from Hartfield and found him in an alley. I seem to like the lost causes, do I not?” I had asked Ava once if she thought I was a lost or hopeless cause. I was both before I met her.

She is coming.

“He had something about him that I couldn't understand. I was inches away from killing him, but still his heart beat on. I couldn't extinguish that, could I?” Cal steps from behind her. She smiles at him and he smiles back. 

“My first. We had some times, didn't we?”

“We did.” His voice changes, his accent shifts to a lower-class British drawl. The shift of accent is like a light turning on and off. Cal had never told me of his maker, his origin. I had never asked. I knew little of Di's origin as well. I had never asked. 

“And what did you promise me, Cal?”

“That I would do whatever you asked of me.” And there was the loophole.

I close my eyes again and picture her face. Smiling, with the sun shining down on her. Ava, letting me brush her silky hair. Staring up at the stars. Singing along with the radio. Baking with her mother. Relishing the taste of lemon meringue pie. Ava, Ava, Ava.

She is coming.

Closer, closer, closer.

“And you have done whatever I asked of you.” Her hands caress his face, just as she had mine. Cal could not, or decided to no longer hide, his adoration for her. His hands entwine with hers, dancing together as if they have done so for eternity. 

Just a little longer, and she will be here.

Relief slowly trickles through me, starting at the tips of my toes, my fingers, the top of my head. My fingers finally work, and I twitch them back to life. Very soon, I will be able to walk. But I must not let them know that. I stay still.

“Where shall we go next?” Di's voice takes on the affectionate tone you might use with a young child. She had never used it on me.

“Anywhere you want. Paris?”

“I went to Paris twenty years ago. How about China? It's been at least seventy years since I was last there.”

“China,” he says in her ear. They embrace. I close my eyes and wait for Ava.

Ava

“Your heart is very loud,” Ivan calmly observes. It's so weird that he is running so hard, but not breathing at all. 

“I'm sorry?” My voice has gotten stronger, as has my body. I can lift my head and keep my eyes open now. Progress! My heart races because I'm thinking about Peter and how much I want him, miss him, want to punch him for doing this to me. But most of all I want to kiss the daylights out of him and tell him that he should make me a noctalis ASAP, because I can't come and rescue him all the time.

“It's nice. Constant.” Once upon a time, Peter said the beat of my heart was nice. That was a very long time ago.

“You know you can't kill me.” I feel the need to remind him of this, since he just talked about my beating heart. I'd like to keep it that way until the time I decided to become a noctalis, which shouldn't be too far in the future. If I had anything to say about it. Also, if both of us got out of this mostly unscathed. I would not want to be scathed.

“Yes love, I know.” He chuckles, which is a much nicer sound than his laugh, but still makes me wish I didn't have ears. I also wish he would stop calling me love. Endearments were reserved for Peter and my mother. Sometimes Jamie. Tex only used insults as endearments. 

“What about Tex?”

“I believe Viktor is with her.” He pauses for a moment, looking down at me as if to judge whether he should continue. I guess I am deemed worthy. “She looks remarkably like Adele, you know.”

“What?” No one had told me that. It certainly explained a lot. “You thought now, in the middle of the valiant rescue, now, was a good time to tell me that?”

“I was making conversation.”

“Well, talk about something else.”

“What shall I talk about?”

“I don't know.” I cast around my head for something, anything. Anything that wouldn't make me think of Peter. It was a really short list. “What are your opinions on nuclear proliferation? Or, uh, zombies. What is your opinion on the preparedness of humans for the zombie apocalypse?”

“Zombie apocalypse?”

“That's what I said.” Peter and I had never discussed it. Even though it was an important issue. I wait for him to answer.

“From what I have heard, surrounding the house with outward-facing treadmills is most popular, but the fly in that ointment would be constantly powering the treadmills.”

I'm stunned, but only for a moment. 

“Exactly! Since all the power will go down, and everyone will probably be on generators. I've told Tex that a hundred times, but she just keeps going on about how you could stock up on generators ahead of time. But who does that? You can't prepare for the zombie apocalypse.” 

Turns out Ivan is kind of a Chatty Cathy. Who knew? I mean, after the whole neck-squeezing incident, I would have told you he would as soon talk to me as ride a pink unicorn. Saddle up, cowboy.

As the pain recedes and I get giddier, Ivan gets more wary. I can tell the way his eyes dart, and how he slows down a bit.

“Where the hell are we?” Somehow we'd crossed the highway three times, but had managed to avoid major cities and even residential areas. 

“According to a sign a few miles back, Baltimore, Vermont.”

“I've never heard of it.”

“Neither have I.” He stops for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping for a moment.”

“You didn't lose the trail, did you?”

“I am not sure.” I close my eyes. Fantastic. So much for the noble steed. I close my eyes and reach out to to Peter. 

“That way.” I close my eyes and point.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. Don't question. Just run.” I open my eyes. He's looking at me in a way I can't figure out. I get the feeling that he was testing me. Just seeing if I could do it. I don't let on that I know. I close my eyes and hold on.

I give him directions the rest of the way. I think he goes wrong a few times on purpose, just to see if I will correct him. I can tell this isn't a selfless mission. He thinks he's getting something out of it. Well, everyone wants something. And he wants something from Peter. I can't even begin to wonder where he's going with that. The only thing that matters is Peter. Getting to him. We'll figure out the rest later.

When we go over the border into South Carolina, I know we aren't far. I am so stiff from my burrito position, and I really, really want to stretch my legs. It will have to wait and I hope that when the time comes for me to stand tall, my legs will carry me.

“What are we going to do when we find him?”

“I assumed you would have a plan.” Oh no, Peter is the one with the plan. But he didn't tell me what it was so I have to make one up as we go along. I'm going to punch him when we find him.

“We go in, we get Peter and we leave.”

“That is the plan?” 

“So far. I don't like to plan too far ahead. What's the point when things never go the way they are supposed to?”

“That is a valid point. But I am sure they did not storm the Bastile or conduct the Civil War without a plan.”

“I'm sure the South had a plan during the Civil war. And look how that turned out. Maybe if they just flew by the seat of their pants, they might not have lost the war.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” The comment reminds me of something Peter might have said. Peter. God I miss him.

When we're within a mile, Ivan slows way down.

“Can they hear us this far out?” I say it so soft my lips barely move. He shakes his head and then blinks. I guess that means maybe yes, maybe no. Best to take the precaution.

It takes minutes upon minutes to slowly make our way through the woods. It's different than Maine here. The trees are different, less close together. The distant sounds of the highway reach my sensitive ears. 

I focus on Peter, hoping I can hear him or something. I know he must know I am coming. If he could, like, go all ninja and free himself and run to me and we could have one of those slow-motion moments with running and kissing and twirling around and laughing, that would be awesome. It will not happen, but I have a brief moment when I imagine it. I try to send the image to Peter. As if I can do such a thing. But who knows?

I'm coming. I love you. I'm coming. I love you. 

My heart sings and I feel as if I could sprout wings myself when we get really close. We probably should have discussed if we were going to go with our guns blazing (so to speak) or if we were going to wave the white flag. I'm not really a white flag kind of girl. Guess Ivan isn't a white flag kind of guy. Noctalis.

He walks slow, but doesn't try to hide or do something like that. I test the connection. Peter is nearby, but I can't see him. I tug harder. He tugs back. I look down. Oh. I jab at Ivan and point to the ground. He nods. I study the ground in the increasing light. We're going to have to do this fast, or else I'm not going to get home. That would be a fine situation if we got out of this and then were busted by my parents. Worry about it later.

Ivan puts me down. I guess we're storming the Bastile.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Peter

I feel her progress. Di goes out to hunt, leaving Cal to watch me. He does not try to talk, to explain. I do not ask him to. It would be pointless. 

“I know about the bind.” I stay silent. “The bind you made with Di. To protect your human.”

I still do not answer. It has been my experience that to stay silent is the best course of action more often than not. 

Never show all your cards.

“It was a foolish move, I think. But you did not know about the bind that supersedes yours. The bind made at the time of transformation is stronger than any other bind you could ever make. When forced to fight against one another, the stronger bind will win out. But you did not know that, or else you would not have done it.” I cannot stop myself from asking the next question.

“Did Di know?” Even though I already knew the answer. 

“Yes.” She had to have known. Well. She certainly put up a good act. I did not know she was that talented. She should win an award of some sort. Once again, Ava was right. I should give her an award.

“What was that?” Her heart has finally gotten close enough for him to hear.

“A human.” He looks up at the shaft of morning light that falls through the opening of the the cellar. There is no use denying it. 

“What is a human doing here at this time?” For the first time ever, he seems perturbed. It seems that Di brings out his emotions. Like Ava brings out mine.

“I do not know.” 

He goes to the entrance and sticks his head into the air.

“It is your human. And she is not alone.” I call out to her in my mind. Her soul calls my name and it is like an embrace. I was so much to see her, touch her. Kiss her. Adore her.