by Rae, Nikki
“She is very tired,” he tells me, as if he needs to explain.
“Do you need help back downstairs?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I will be alright.”
I know by now not to try and help when he doesn’t want any, but it’s hard to stop myself from reaching out to him. My hand grazes his back just as he’s turned away.
Without turning around, he says, “You’re a good maker.”
I don’t have any words for that.
It takes me more than a few tries to go into Ava’s room. The smell is multiplied in here despite how white and sterile everything is. That’s what’s most disturbing. Evan has been taking such good care of her. There’s the smell of rubbing alcohol, clean sheets, and shampoo. There isn’t one speck of dust or even a tissue lying around. Everything in this room is so utterly and immaculately clean that smelling the odor of dirt and dried blood almost throws me off.
Ava turns her head when she hears me come in, glancing at the cage where her chameleons are before settling her eyes on me. “Hey,” she says in a voice that tells me she was screaming a few hours before now. “Long time no see.”
The blankets cover most of her body, but I can see her neck and part of her chest through the light cotton shirt that’s showing. Everything under that is a deep red, which switches into purple. Her veins are collapsing, imploding and spreading the poisonous blood further into her body every time she has an attack now. I don’t want to think about how much time she has left when I’ve just barely come to terms with how soon Evan will be leaving me.
I’ve been told by a few other vampires that have experienced it that losing one they’ve created is the worst pain they’ve gone through. That, as their maker, they would keep them alive at all costs. I wonder if they know about Michael and his blood. I wonder if those same vampires would say the same thing if they knew how it felt.
“Hi,” I say, forcing a genuine smile onto my face as I sit down in the chair near her bed. “How are you feeling?”
She takes a minute to sit herself up and I’m surprised she has the strength in her aching muscles and joints to do it. When the blankets slip down, I can see how much weight she’s lost as well. She begins to shake, so I cover her back up to the neck.
“I feel a little better,” she says, her voice raspy. It must have been a bad attack. “Evan left?”
I nod. “He’ll be back soon, though.”
She slowly blinks. “So,” she says. “How’s Sophie?”
Ava wastes no time asking me the hardest question she can think of. I shrug, for lack of a better response.
“Is she okay?” She re-phrases.
“I–don’t know,” I finally say. I have to stare at the carpet beneath my shoes. She shouldn’t be worrying about us; she should be worrying about herself.
“How do you not know?”
“She won’t talk to me,” I say. “I told her everything.”
When I look back up at her, her eyes widen the slightest bit. It’s not something anyone would be able to notice except me. “Everything?” she asks. “About her dad?”
I nod. The only reason Ava knows is because her parents were my mentors when I first decided to live in the human world, when she was just a little girl and very good at eavesdropping.
“So she’s mad at you,” Ava gathers. She takes in a breath, and I can hear it rattle in her lungs.
“Yes,” I say, once she’s let the breath out.
She swallows. I feel her stomach is twist and her hands grip the blanket against her chest. She takes in some deep breaths, counting each one as they enter and exit her body. Once she’s managed the pain, she speaks again. “You have to fix it,” she says.
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I know.”
“How are you going to do that?”
I shrug.
Ava’s staring at me and her eyes are watery. “Are you going to tell me how long I have?” she asks now.
I reach out my hand toward her and place it on her shoulder, on top of the heavy blanket. “You’re going to be okay,” I tell her.
She laughs now, and it’s nothing more than air, but the way it leaves her tells me that she finds something funny. “Well, no wonder she’s mad at you,” Ava whispers. “You downplay even the most obvious of bad situations.” She smiles weakly.
I take my hand away.
She’s right. And I knew that saying everything was fine wouldn’t help her at this point because she knows what’s waiting for her: pain, more poison spreading through her, more cures that don’t do anything. Then death. Maybe Sophie thinks she knows what’s waiting for her too. Betrayal, more people disappointing her, and then ruins.
“Do you think I can fix it?” I whisper.
Ava doesn’t seem to mind how we both keep changing the subject. “Of course,” she says. “You love her, right?”
When she asks this question, it’s like being thrown against a wall. My chest aches. How long has it been since I’ve seen her? Three days? Four? I want to see if she’s okay, knowing that she won’t be–maybe for a long time, maybe ever. My wrist hurts too. A place we were once so connected. It aches for her to touch it again. I’ve never been the maker of anyone I was in love with. With Evan, it isn’t like this. I love him, of course. And I love Adrienne and Alex too. But it’s nothing like this. When I’m away from them, I don’t want to tear my heart from my chest just so it’ll stop beating for a few minutes. I don’t want to curl in on myself at night when I’m alone, worrying about what she’s going through and what she’s remembering. Whose memories she’s reliving.
“Yes,” I say. “I love her more than anything.”
Ava takes a while to speak; I wait patiently. “Do you love her more than being with her?”
My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”
She coughs and I hand her a glass on the table near the bed. She hesitates before taking it; something left over from when Michael had her–she never takes things the first time they’re offered to her because she’s afraid it will be ripped away.
She finally grabs the glass from me, handing it back when she’s done. “I mean,” she says, clearing her throat and making sure she’s ready to talk before she continues. “Would you love her just as much if you weren’t together?”
I don’t even need to think about my answer. “I would love her no matter what.”
“No matter what she’s done? No matter what you’ve done to her?”
I nod. “I’ll always love her,” I say. “Always.”
Ava stares at the ceiling above her. “Then maybe...” Her eyes find mine again. “Maybe the problem you have is not trying to fix it,” she says. “Maybe all you need to worry about it holding it together...for her.”
I have to close my eyes. I want to stretch out my mind and find Sophie, tell her how sorry I am, but I know I’ll only make things worse.
“Is that what you would want, Ava?” I ask quietly. My voice is hard to make any louder.
She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Her lungs have fluid in them, and I would be able to hear it even if I was human. “I have that, Myles,” she says. “Evan is here for me because he loves me. We both know I’m not getting better and that I don’t want to turn. But he’s here. For me.”
I don’t really know what I can say to her. Here I am, venting about my own life when hers and Evan’s are so close to being over.
I open my eyes and Ava turns over so she can look at me. This causes her to spin off into a coughing fit that lasts longer than the last one. Then she smiles at me, almost embarrassed, before she closes her eyes. I smooth the hair away from her face and feel the heat coming off her skin. She shouldn’t be so bundled up with a fever but when a fever never goes away and becomes more like your temperature all the time, it’s pointless to try and bring it down.
“Do you want me to leave so you can rest?”
Though she’s breathing deeper, she isn’t asleep. In the cage, one of her chameleon
s snatches an insect off of a leaf, making a rustling sound that breaks the quiet.
“They even know,” Ava whispers. “They act weird around me now.”
I place my hand on top of hers, which I can feel the heat of through all of the layers of blankets. “The end of the summer,” I whisper close to her ear. “Maybe the beginning of fall.”
Ava doesn’t move, and she doesn’t open her eyes once I’ve told her how much life she has left. She only asks, “And Evan?”
I take a deep breath before I continue. “Winter.”
She pauses when I say that, her breathing becoming a little less even and relaxed. “Winter?”
“Yes,” I whisper back.
It’s hard for her to keep the thoughts from escaping through little cracks in her mind. So I’ll be gone before him. Is that a good or a bad thing?
That’s all I get before she locks herself up tight once more. Years of practice and being raised by two people who knew everything about vampires and how to protect yourself against them keeps her mind closed. If only any of it could help her now.
She opens her eyes, staring into me like she’s the one who can read my mind.
“Thank you,” Ava says. “I won’t tell him.”
I smile a little. I can’t tell her what I really want to. That being dead isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person–she’ll be able to visit anyone she wants in their dreams once she’s gone. Being in between isn’t so hard. Leaving is the hardest part.
I think she probably knows this, the way every dying person must. That’s why she’s still dying and not already dead.
She rolls onto her other side, wrapping the blankets around her like a cocoon, and I finally find the strength to stand back up and go downstairs.
***
Evan returns home an hour later, looking slightly better but still sick. The bags under his eyes have faded and his bones don’t seem to be sticking out as much as before he left. He doesn’t say anything to me when he walks into the living room, just sits down in the chair across from me.
“She’s asleep,” I say.
He spreads his legs apart so he can hang his head slightly between them. “There has to be another way,” he says under his breath.
I swallow. When he talks like that, it’s hard not to think that he might do something to Sophie in order to save Ava. Love makes you desperate. He could have someone turn Ava and then make Ava drain Sophie. Ava would be human again and cured, and Evan would be dead because I would kill him.
That thought bothers me, and I’m not sure if it should or shouldn’t. Could I kill another of my vampires for Sophie? Would I?
Without a doubt.
“Myles,” Evan is saying.
I look up at him. “I would not do anything to hurt you,” he whispers.
I hadn’t realized I was broadcasting my thoughts for him to hear and see.
“You are all I have besides Ava,” Evan says. “And before long, you will be the only one left.”
“For a while,” I say.
Evan nods and we don’t have to say much else.
“There are others who will want to hurt her,” Evan says. “Use her.”
“I know,” I say, standing. “I won’t let them.”
He sits up straight, leans his head against the back of the chair, and smiles. Finally, a genuine smile. “Thank you for coming,” he says.
“You’re welcome,” I answer, even though there’s no need for either of us to say either of these things.
I pause when my hand is on the doorknob. “Is this tour a good or bad idea?”
Evan folds his hands in his lap. “Just keep an eye on Sophie,” he says. “That is all I know.”
I shake my head. Being scared makes me desperate too. I’m scared that Sophie won’t adjust to her new life. I’m scared that even if she does, she’ll want nothing to do with me, that she’ll be hurt by Michael on this tour, despite how everything is being protected just in case.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say. “Within the month.”
Evan nods. “We will still be here,” he says, attempting some form of humor. He was never good with jokes.
Chapter 10
Lost Days
“I haven’t changed, but I know I ain’t the same.”–The Wallflowers
I’m in a dark hallway, my hands shaking, and my legs trembling when I stand. The walls are lined with doors, white ones, brown ones, golden ones with diamond shaped knobs. I’m looking for something.
I open the first door and there’s nothing behind it but four walls of cold cement. The next one I come to is brown, and there’s nothing there either. The room behind the golden one is empty; the same goes for white one and the stained glass one too.
Still looking? Michael’s voice echoes in my head. He laughs, the sound bouncing around me. Will she ever find what she’s looking for?
Flash.
I’m in our rehearsal room, the same one we’ve practiced in since we arrived in New York. Now all of the instruments are here. The piano is in the corner, the microphones sit in their stands, and everything else is in its rightful place. But the piano is covered with a quilt so big that you could swim in it, and without a second thought, I peel it back.
But instead of just the piano, there are two people underneath, sitting on my bench, their elbows leaning on my keys and causing discordant, chaotic notes as they whisper in each other’s ears.
Michael and Manny are the two people in front of me. My breath catches in my throat as Michael is whispering into Manny’s ear. He’s listening intently, nodding his head once in a while. They don’t see me or don’t notice I’m here and I can’t look away from them despite how scared and confused I am. Everything in my field of vision begins to turn a burned red, filling up the space. Then it turns purple, black, morphing into grey before blocking them out entirely before it changes to a blinding white.
Flash.
When everything comes back into focus yet again, only the piano remains in the room with me. I notice that some of the keys are missing, like they’ve fallen through the bottom of the instrument. Like they never existed in the first place.
I know this is a dream. I’ve known it for a long time, almost from the first second I began searching for the doors. That’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is how I never dream about anything unless it’s happened to me. These are memories, but they aren’t mine.
Before I can think about it for a second more, the door is opening again and Stevie is walking through, wearing what looks like one of my trench coats and sunglasses.
“Jesus,” he whispers, slamming the door shut. “It’s so noisy out there.” He slumps onto the bench, setting the glasses down.
Despite how uneasy I am right now, I can’t help being happy to see him.
“What’s with the costume?” I ask.
He sighs. “It’s harder for me to meddle,” he says. “I’m not supposed to be helping you, so I have to look like I’m part of your dream. This was the best I could do.”
I want to ask him who or what is keeping him from helping me, but I know somehow that he’s probably not supposed to say.
“And now,” he says, staring down at the broken keys in front of him. “Someone’s trying to keep me out of your head. Confuse me so I can’t get in with all the noise going on out there.” He points to the door, which has no sound coming through it.
I’m surprised at this. “Who would be doing that?” I ask. “And why?”
He stares at me like I’m missing something, like there’s a huge sign in front of me that I can’t see. For all I know, there is.
I sigh, getting frustrated but not at him. I can’t be mad at the man who is dead because of me but is also trying to help me avoid death. “Sorry,” I say. “We can’t all have magical knowledge of everything in the universe like you.”
He smiles, brushing his curls behind his ear. I wonder how long it’ll stay before it springs free. “He knows,” he says simply. “He knows
there’s someone on my side helping and he doesn’t like it.”
“Nothing like being confident,” I say.
“Well,” he says, getting to his feet once again. “I guess it goes without saying that I may not see you as often until you figure out who’s trying to keep me out.”
“Wouldn’t you know who’s doing it?” I ask. “Mr. I- Know- And- See- All?”
Stevie shakes his head. “You think you know how it works,” he says. “But I don’t even know. Maybe I’m not supposed to.”
“Well that’s lame,” I say. “What good is being dead if you can’t fix everything?” It comes out as a nervous joke but it makes me stop short. “Sorry.”
Stevie takes a step closer. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t do that. I am dead and all.”
“Most likely because of me,” I add on.
“No,” he says, adamant about that fact. “Even if I never met Jade or you, even if Michael wasn’t part of the equation, I would have died.”
“I don’t get it.”
He laughs a little to himself. “Ever hear of the expression, ‘When your number’s up, it’s up’?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“So,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “My number was twenty five. I would have died at twenty five no matter what life I lived, no matter what situation I was in or what people I knew and loved.”
I take a minute to let it sink in, not that I want to believe him. Not that it can even be acceptable for someone like him to die when he did.
“So stop blaming yourself,” he almost yells but he does it with a smile so I can tell he’s not mad. “I’m okay now.”
“You’re saying you’re happy to be dead?”
He snorts. “You know what? Maybe.” The curl behind his ear escapes. “I miss you guys so much, but being where I am now...there’s nothing like it. I’m the lucky one here,” he says. “I can visit you guys any night I want. I don’t have to wonder if you’re okay. I just know.”
“Maybe I should have stayed dead.” My voice comes out flat.
“No,” Stevie says, almost casually. “Jade needs you, and Myles, and...other people too.”