by E. J. Mellow
“I—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this so you understand. When any of us go, because eventually we all do, we merely hope, if it’s not peacefully, then it’s for what we were given life to do.” He watches me a moment, a small smile inching across his lips. “Because, I mean, how much would it suck to go out tripping on your shoelace?”
I shake my head, fighting a grin at his lame attempt at levity after such a speech. “Yeah, that would suck pretty hard.”
“And you know what else I think?” he asks, his face suddenly close to mine. Always close to mine.
My pulse quickens. “What’s that?”
“I think, when loss is a possible everyday occurrence, you should live fuller in the moments you have.” His gaze bounces from my eyes to my lips and then back up again. “Food for thought,” he whispers before stepping away and, without a backward glance, returns to the group.
I press my lips together, spinning around the words he deliberately left hanging. Again. In the distance, Aveline watches Dev walk away before her gaze pierces mine, and the thought of things being left hanging takes on a whole new meaning.
— 11 —
THE RIDE BACK is silent. The walk back to the apartment is even quieter. Everyone seems to be in a mood, and I’m sure most of it has to do with Cree. I know there will be no funeral, no wake to say good-bye. There will only be a carving of his name onto a wall in City Hall. Joining a million others that have been carved before.
With each step, my muscles wince in pain, my first physical fight leaving me more shocked and wary than I would have thought. Even with my ability to remember worse things than a single Nocturna being killed, much, much worse things, those memories are like recalling a brutal scene in a gory movie—a bit removed. They felt extremely real and all my own when I was given them, but once I fell back into my body, their severity dulled a bit. I’m now realizing it must be a coping mechanism, one that I’m extremely thankful for. Because to be so openly raw to the collective brutality that all the past Dreamers experienced would leave me in an extremely disturbed vegetable state.
Walking into their apartment, Aveline immediately goes to her room while the rest of us enter the kitchen. Tim fetches Dev and me a glass of water.
“So…the group of Nocturna tonight are aware of what I am?” I take a sip of the cool liquid, ridding the taste of bile that clung to me since the fight.
Dev leans against the counter next to me. “Yeah, the ones with us were debriefed. We found it necessary to inform a few select priority people before you arrived.”
“Aurora’s priority people?” The question tumbles out before I can stop it, and I want to immediately punch my own face, uncomfortable with the bit of jealousy I have toward her and knowing this isn’t the time or place for such emotions.
“Some think so.” Dev hides a smile that I’m sure would be wolfish.
I bite down on inquiring if he thinks so and instead ask, “What was that building they were going after?”
“A Navitas generator,” Tim says, pulling food from the fridge. “We have a few scattered around the outskirts of the city. It’s one of the ways we collect energy.”
I nod, vaguely remembering something about the generators, but my recent acquired Dreamers seem to hail from a distant past where such inventions weren’t yet constructed.
“A few decades ago, the Metus learned they could use it to produce more of themselves,” Dev explains. “We’ve created barriers, making it more difficult for them to get at the energy, but it seems they’ve learned a way around them.”
“So what can we do?” I ask.
“That’s what I’m going to meet with my Security board about.”
“I’ll go with you.” I reach for my quiver, but Dev stops me.
“I think it’s best if you took it easy the rest of the day.” He roams my appearance, and whatever he sees softens his features. “You’ve done a lot, and if you don’t feel it now, you will soon.”
I frown. “But I think it’s important for me to attend these meetings. I need to learn more about fighting these things, and I can help. Maybe there’s something I can do to protect the generators.”
“Yes, but for now I’d like you to get some rest. Let what you experienced today settle a bit.”
“What do you mean, settle? I’m fine.” I glance to them both. “I’m fine.”
Dev looks at me as if to ask, are you?
“You know, Molly,” Tim says, holding up a head of lettuce, “I could use some help making dinner. Maybe we can play around with your Dreamer skills in the kitchen, yeah?” He lifts his brows in excitement.
Glancing back to Dev and his careful appraisal, I find myself letting out a resigned sigh. “Okay, sure.”
Dev flashes me a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I brush him off. “Next time, I’m coming with.”
He playfully tugs my earlobe. “Deal.”
I hate that that gesture has me softly grinning up to him rather than scowling.
“I’ll be back soon,” Dev says, wrapping his quiver across his chest. “And Molly”—he pins me with a look of pride and something else that has my stomach somersaulting—“you were breathtaking out there.”
A blush gathers on my cheeks as his compliment fills me with warmth. “Thanks.”
He winks and then leaves me with a humming Tim, who’s already filling my hands with tasks.
“And that’s how you make proper garlic bread.” Tim sprinkles on a bit of cheese with a flourish.
He’s been making me laugh for the past hour with his cooking enthusiasm, seeming to channel what he believes is an Italian cook, but I think he sounds more like the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show.
“Do you cook at home, Molly?” He places the bread to the side, checking on the sauce.
“Not like this. My kitchen barely fits me, let alone enough room to make a proper meal.”
“That’s a shame.” He frowns, unknowingly wiping a bit of food into his grizzly beard. “Well, you’re welcome to cook here all you’d like. I find the ritual of it to be therapeutic. Raises the spirits.”
“I can see that.”
His grin is sheepish. “Yes, I’m a bit much, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re perfect. It’s always nice being around someone when they’re doing something they love.”
He chuckles and shrugs away the compliment. “Tell that to Aveline and Dev. They tend to conveniently step away when I cook.” He gestures to the empty apartment. “As you can see.”
Just then Aveline stomps into the living room, Arcus and duffel bag in tow. “I’m going to the roof,” she says, swinging open the front door and, without a backward glance, slams it shut behind her.
Tim flashes me a halfhearted smile. “Sorry about her. She might not say it, but she really is grateful for your help out there. We all are. Aveline’s just not used to sharing our space.”
I snort out a laugh. “I appreciate the cover-up, Tim, but it’s pretty obvious she hates me, and not because we share the same roof.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just…well, she can be a bit overprotective of the people in her life.”
“Meaning, Dev.”
The side of his mouth quirks up knowingly. “Why don’t you go clean up before we eat. I’m sure you’d like to wash off.”
I glance down and wrinkle my nose, forgetting for a moment that I was still in my grimy clothes from the fight. “What about you?”
“I will in a bit, but for now I’ve got the rest of this covered.” As if to demonstrate, he tastes a spoonful of sauce, makes a face, and grabs for more seasonings.
“All right, if you’re sure…”
“More than sure.” He waves me off.
I’m halfway to the hall when he calls my name. “Yeah?” I turn back around.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asks. “Can you grab Aveline when you’
re done?”
I quirk a brow at him as if to say, are you serious?
His responsive grin is a bit too bright and coy for his intentions to be innocent.
—∞—
The air is crisp with the accompanying wind as I walk onto the roof. The night sky’s clear and bright with the passing stars, and the surrounding city sprawls out in a peaceful wave.
The rhythmic sound of thwacking comes from my right, and I step around the elevator building, spotting Aveline in a section that’s set up as a practice area. Keeping in the shadows, I watch her aim down small targets in the distance. Her technique is fluid, as if the Arcus is merely another appendage, and with her moon-pale hair pulled away from her face, I can make out the delicate pinch of her brows, the mark of concentration. With her features void of her usual scowl, I’m allowed a glimpse at the likeable Aveline, reminding me of the first time I heard her laugh genuinely and how infectious it was.
“Are you here for something other than being a stalker and watching me in the shadows?”
I stiffen when she addresses me, thinking my presence had gone unnoticed. Great, add Molly is a creep to her reasons for hating me. Swallowing my embarrassment, I walk forward. “You’re good at that.”
“We’re all good at this.” She validates her statement by methodically shooting arrow after arrow at the targets, each finding their way to the intended marks. I wonder if it’s my face she’s imagining on them that gives her such precision.
“Okay…well, Tim sent me up to tell you dinner was ready.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I match her curt tone and turn to leave. Why I even try with this one, I have no idea.
“Molly, wait,” she calls, stopping me.
Turning back, I catch her studying the end of the practice field, the silence between us stretching on for an awkwardly long time. I’m about to continue to the elevator, when she finally speaks. “I…I owe you an apology,” she says, forcing the words out like food turned bad.
I blink, confused, and then glance around, searching for the other person that statement was surely meant for, but when I look back, her attention’s on me.
“Um…okay?”
“What I said to you…and to Dev the other day…well, I wasn’t myself and…and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” The two of us are having a hard time holding each other’s gaze.
“It’s all right,” I surprisingly hear myself saying.
“I also wanted to thank you for earlier, at the generator.”
Is this for real? The sickly and rather pained expression she wears makes me think so. Eating her pride must not agree with her.
“Aveline, you don’t need to thank me for that. You’d do the same for me.” As soon as I say it, I hear the uncertainty there. We lock eyes, and I know she’s thinking the same thing, but eventually she nods.
“I’m not usually this…rude.”
“Mean.” We say the last words simultaneously, and the side of her mouth tips up.
“Yeah, I guess mean is also accurate.”
“More like generous,” I mumble.
“All right, don’t push it.”
I raise my hands in peace, and she seems mollified, if only temporarily. “So why are you?” I ask, walking forward. “Mean to me?”
She fiddles with her Arcus. “There’s a lot you don’t know. A lot of history that makes your presence…complicated.”
“Complicated? Complicated for whom?”
She looks at me pointedly.
“Dev?” I ask with raised brows.
“Did he ever tell you how we became partners?”
I shake my head, and she regards me silently for a moment before placing the remainder of her arrows into a case. Closing it with a click, she stands by the roof’s edge, looking out.
“I was brought into this world unfit for most positions. Too small to lead, too weak to fight, too shy for politics. They were quick to christen me a waste of a dream, a girl that probably wouldn’t see life past the Nursery—the place where we’re raised until we come of age. They thought it cruel that my name summoning would give me Aveline—life—when it was so obvious I wouldn’t have one.” Her eyes catch mine, a yellow fire burning bright as they bring up memories. “I didn’t accept that fate, of course. I knew I would prove them all wrong, if only given the chance, and Dev gave me just that.
“He came looking for a partner. The infamous General Devlin, stepping down from his esteemed position to return to guard duty.” Aveline’s tone is laced with fond mockery. “The Nursery was in a fluster gathering all the potential candidates. They were to try out in front of him, and he would choose. No one had heard of something like this before. A warrior such as he removing himself from office to take on a position far beneath him, especially to consider the Nursery, of all places, to find that particular partner was, well…shocking. But leave it to Dev to challenge the norm.” Her eyes shine with pride. “All Nocturna and Vigil are given basic combat training in the beginning, but I was always forced to sit out for fear of my health. Obviously, I found a way around this and would practice on my own and in secret. Surprisingly, the exertion improved my health, and I grew strong, finally tasting what comes from such things—freedom. Never again would I sit idly by and let someone else tell me my capabilities, or in this case, lack thereof. I knew then that I would be a Nocturna guard no matter what anyone said.”
Aveline takes in a deep breath, calming the quake in her voice. “I snuck into the tryouts that day and rushed the line, taking my position to start my turn. You can imagine the scene that caused.” She twinkles a laugh. “They swarmed to take me away, mortified at my behavior and pitying what I’m sure they thought was a delusional dream. That was the first time I bit someone.” Her mouth curves to one side. “Dev was the one that called them to stop. I remember what happened next like it was yesterday.” She glances up at the passing stars. “He walked up to me, and I thought he was the most beautiful thing in the world. I was also terrified. I had heard the stories of his accomplishments, his quick rise in ranks, and of…other things, things that happened more recently. He asked me my name, and I’m not sure what he saw when I answered, but he announced that I would be given a chance to try out. I nearly passed out right there.” She tips her head back to laugh again.
“Well, how’d you do?”
Her smile is crooked. “You don’t see someone else partnered to Dev, do you?”
As I take in her playful expression, I’m simply floored by this other side of Aveline.
“So you see,” she continues, “he was there, believing in me when no one else would. He’s guarded and guided me through this life to be more than even I thought I could be. I owe him everything, Molly. Do you understand? Everything.”
“Yes, I can see why your loyalty would be strong,” I say, studying her sharp features, “but what does that have to do with not liking me?”
“I don’t want Dev to get hurt.”
“And you think I’d hurt him?”
She shakes her head, a sad smile appearing. “I think you’d kill him.”
— 12 —
THERE’S AN OLD parlor trick that has always astonished me. A trick that no matter how many times I’ve seen it done has always left me a bit baffled. The trick where someone rips a tablecloth off a table, leaving all the delicately placed dishes and glasses in place. How on earth do they remain upright when the very thing they were resting on was just unexpectedly torn from beneath them? As I stare, stunned, at Aveline, I realize it’s probably the same miracle that’s keeping me standing now.
“Kill him? What are you talking about?”
“There was a reason he stepped down from his position to be a guard. He…he lost someone.”
Having an idea where this is headed, my stomach tightens. “A girl?”
Aveline nods. “Her name was Anebel. She was the love of his life.”
And like a sixty-mile-an-hour tractor-trailer to my gut, there it is, the mi
ssing puzzle piece that clicks it all into place. The remorseful cryptic comments, the haunting gazes, the desperate declarations that he would keep me safe. All remnants of a lost love.
I’m not sure what my reaction should be upon hearing this. He’s not mine to feel the sting of jealousy or the desire to run and console him, which is why it sucks that I feel all those things and then some.
An image of Jared’s smiling face flashes before me, lying with him in bed as the morning light plays through his honey-colored hair. I hold back a cringe of guilt, knowing whom my emotional loyalty should remain with. Pushing away my confused thoughts, I focus back on Aveline. “What happened?” I ask.
“She was killed by Metus.”
Unwillingly, I find myself sifting through all the memories I have of these monsters taking a life, each brutal, each undeserved. Were any of them her? I swallow back the rage and despair that creeps up my throat.
“The worst of it was that it wasn’t even during a big battle,” Aveline continues. “We tend to prepare for loss then. But she was ambushed on a standard patrol. Aaron, Anebel’s partner, said the numbers came out of nowhere and that he had no idea how he even he survived it.” Aveline frowns. “Terra knows, he wished he hadn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
She studies me, seeming to weigh her options on how much to divulge, but with a heavy sigh she goes on. “Aaron loved Anebel. And I don’t mean in a brotherly way—he wanted to be with her, be her mate, and from what I’ve been told about Anabel, no one can blame him. She’s said to have been very beautiful and kind, passionate beyond belief. Tim says that she burned as bright as the stars.” Instinctively Aveline and I both glance up to the brilliance of the passing lights. “Dev never resented Aaron for his feelings for her. He seemed to understand the draw Anebel had, but when she died, both men lost themselves. Aaron completely vanished. One moment he was there, and the next he just wandered off to die in his final fight against the Metus. Maybe to find penance for the blame he put on himself for her death.” She shrugs, unsure. “But Dev…well, I was told he became a shadow, also disappearing for a time. When he returned, he looked like he went through hell and back, and in a way I think he had. He doesn’t really speak of it, the time he was gone. I just know he sought whatever retribution he could find. That’s when he resigned his high-titled position and went back to guard duty.”