The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Peter!” The word cracks like a whip, but we ignore it. He just smiles wider and I can't help it, but so do I. Despite Di screaming at him, he moves his face closer to mine.

  “Fine! What do you want?”

  We finally turn and look at her. Everyone's staring at us. Normally, I'd be kind of embarrassed, but it's kind of a weird situation.

  “A promise.”

  “No.”

  “That's what I want.”

  Her face breaks for a second, and we all see the fear. She knows he's got her hands figuratively tied behind her back.

  “What do I have to promise?”

  “That you will never hurt, or ask anyone else to hurt or in any way seek to harm Ava. Forever.”

  “She's going to destroy you!”

  “Then so be it.” His eyes go back to me and I feel a rush of energy so strong I think I'm on fire. This is both one of the best and one of the worst moments of my life. Strange how things can be that way.

  “I won't do it. You can ask anything else.”

  “No,” Peter says.

  “I could release you. From your promise.”

  Wait, what? She can do that?

  “That's not what I want.”

  “Peter, are you crazy?” I say. His head goes to the side and I want to kiss him, but this is too important. “Think about it. If she takes it away, then everything will be fine.”

  “It won't. You don't know her like I do,” he says.

  “Listen to him,” Viktor chimes in.

  “You stay out of this,” I say. He just showed up five seconds ago. He has no right to an opinion.

  “Yes, Viktor, stay out of this.” Ivan looks at me and smiles slowly.

  Yes, I know you have an agenda, but you don't want to kill me, so I'll deal with you later. I need to get out of this situation first.

  “You could be free,” I say, touching his hair again. I always thought it was dirty, but it's soft, like feathers.

  “The only one who can set me free is you. Without you, it wouldn't be worth it.”

  “Peter, don't do this to me. I'm your mother.” Di is really desperate now.

  “My mother's name is Ellen Mackintire. She died in 1964. You are the woman who took away my soul, nothing more.”

  “Peter.” Somehow she thinks saying his name over and over will change his mind. That only really works when there are tears involved. I'm pretty sure noctali don't cry.

  “Please, Peter,” I say.

  We're both begging him for different things.

  “Let me do this, Ava-Claire,” he says to me. It's the first time he's called me by both my names. My heart contracts and I know what he's going to do.

  He turns to speak to Di. “I want you to promise me that you will leave Ava alone. You will not harm, or cause, bribe or convince anyone else to do so. You will not harass her or contact her in any way. You will stay away from her. You are never to look at or talk to her again.”

  “Peter.” She struggles once more, but Ivan and Viktor hold her down. If she were human, her shoulders would have been broken or dislocated, but she is not.

  “I promise,” she whispers, not losing eye contact with Peter.

  At first I think I imagine it, but a breeze hums through the air. There's a crackle, like static and I tingle with it. It reminds me of that one time Tex dared me to touch an electric fence at the pig farm. The wind gets stronger, whipping my hair over my face. Other than their hair, the tableau in front of me doesn't move.

  The air goes still. It's done.

  Peter turns his back on Di.

  “She'll kill you, Peter dear! You don't want to die, do you?”

  “I'm already dead. Just existing,” he says, touching my face.

  “What about all I've done for you?”

  “You took my soul. She's going to give it back to me.”

  “Peter!” she yells. Ivan punches her again, and the sound is cut short.

  “Let's go,” he says, holding out one hand.

  “What about her?”

  “They will take care of her. You need not worry.”

  “Are you sure they'll be okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I have reservations about taking his hand. I don't want him to think I'm fine with him choosing me instead of ridding himself of his promise. My hand reaches out and takes his as if I don't have a choice. I'll always choose him.

  Thirty-Two

  Peter drives me home and tucks me into bed.

  “Will you stay?” I'm reluctant to lose skin contact with him.

  “I will always stay. I could not leave, even if I wanted to,” he says, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

  “I know, but you don't have to stay on the roof. You can read my books if you want.” I'm caught between wanting him to stay and wanting him to go so he won't start caring more than he already does about me. I'm freaked out and scared and I care more about feeling safe than anything right now.

  “I will stay.”

  “Good.” Despite the insane night, and the almost dying part, I yawn. “You still have my book.”

  “I know. I will return it to you.”

  “I don't care, you can keep it.”

  “I'll return it.”

  He turns his back on my bookshelves. My hands twist around the covers with desire to pull him toward me. To hold onto him like a life preserver.

  “You should get to sleep.”

  “I know.” I sit up, watching him and wondering what he's thinking. “How do you feel?”

  He thinks a moment before he answers. “Free.”

  “But you still have the promise.” I want to call it a curse, but refrain.

  “It doesn't matter.” I sling my feet over the side of the bed.

  “It does,” I say, starting to stand up. I can't take being on the other side of the room from him.

  “You are safe. That is what matters.”

  “What if you... fall for me?”

  “Then I will cease to exist.” The way he says it triggers a memory of something he said before. Oh. OH.

  “That's what you want. You told me that when I first met you.”

  Blink.

  I pull away from him, stung. The pain of the night crashes on me, as if the adrenaline that had kept it at bay shuts off like a dripping tap.

  I survey my body. The worst is my hands and forearms. My legs are encased in jeans that are torn here and there, but otherwise I'm fine.

  “Ava.”

  “I should wash up.” Tears threaten to spill over again if I look at him anymore. I dash to the bathroom and turn on the water.

  “Ava, things are complicated.”

  “No shit,” I say, looking at my face in the mirror. There are a few scrapes, but nothing major. Nothing makeup can't cover.

  “It's okay, Peter. I just got confused and thought something else. It's fine. You can go fly if you want.”

  “I want to be with you.”

  “Then why do you want to kill yourself?” I spin around, my hip smacking against the sink. What's a little more pain?

  “I am already dead. My soul is gone. Yours is intact. When you die, your soul will continue to exist. Whether that is in another place or in another body, I don't know. You will always exist because your soul belongs to you. I gave mine away. When this existence ends, I will end.”

  “I don't want you to end.” My voice chokes on tears.

  “I know. Strange that the only person who could end me is the only one I want to stay with.”

  I look up, startled. What? “You want to stay with me?”

  “Of course.” His head goes to the side and I want to kiss him so much it hurts. “How could you think otherwise?”

  “I don't know.” I lean against him, pushing my head into his chest. His arms go around me, pulling me closer.

  “Let's get you cleaned up.”

  “Okay.”

  I sit on the tub as Peter bathes my cuts and scrapes with alcohol. It stings and I bite my lip so
I don't make a sound.

  “This doesn't bother you, does it?”

  “No. The blood is dried. The life has left it.”

  “Oh.”

  I don't talk about the elephant in the room. Di. We both know if she wants to keep him and get rid of me, she's going to poke a hole through that promise. There are always loopholes. I know enough by being the daughter of a loan officer.

  I don't want to think about that tonight. I don't want to think about how Ivan teamed up with Peter and Viktor and protected me. I don't want to think about explaining the scrapes and how tired I'm going to be and how behind I am in school and how I'm going to have to tell my mother about Peter. I can't keep it from her any longer.

  Once I'm covered in antibiotic cream and an entire box of Band-Aids, I get back into bed. Peter sits beside me, almost nervous-like.

  “Come here,” I say. He leans over. I rake my hands through his hair, pulling it away from his face.

  “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “If you want.”

  I blink at him. He smiles.

  “I will take that as yes,” he says.

  Yes.

  Now here’s a sneak peek at Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Two), the sequel to Nocturnal, available now…

  One

  Ava

  “You look different in the sun,” I say, turning on my side so I can ogle, I mean look at, Peter. I usually walk a fine line between ogling and looking. With his long, messy hair out of his eyes and his shirt off so he can soak up the maximum amount of sunlight, he's pretty damn gorgeous. With my heightened eyesight he is even more amazing than before we swapped blood.

  “So do you,” he says, opening his eyes and glancing at me. One blue, one green, a mark of being a noctalis. He tries to smile, but it's still not quite right. “How was that?”

  “Still needs work.” He blinks at me, which is the noctalis equivalent of a shrug, or a sigh, or an, “Oh well.” Sometimes it's all three. This feels like one of those times.

  Even with the unpleasantness that happened here a week ago, we're sitting outside the mausoleum where I first met him. It seems like it was years ago, but it hasn't even been two months. Funny how time works like that.

  “You know she's going to find a way,” I say, taking the conversation to a dark place. He has told me so many times that we'd worry about it when it happened, but I just can’t do that. The breeze teases our hair, tossing it around, as if it agrees with me. Peter closes his eyes.

  He says the same thing he's said every time I've said it.

  “She is not here now, and it will take her time to come up with a plan. Enjoy the sun. Isn't it glorious?” He's so freaking cheerful I want to ask if he got a personality transplant. Instead, I puff my cheeks out and give up. For now. One day this is going to be a problem, but Peter seems content to let it go. Apparently our personalities have switched places like in some magical teen movie.

  I was the reckless one when we first met. The one who, after I knew he could kill me, still wanted to hang out with him. Which I did. Multiple times. Even after he physically threatened me, it wasn't a deal breaker. The only way he could have gotten rid of me was to actually kill me, which he hadn't done yet.

  And then there is his brother, Ivan, who wanted me dead at first, but then decided he wanted me alive so I could destroy Peter. They're not really close, if that wasn't clear when I first met them. But Ivan and Peter united to face a common enemy: their mother, Di. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. We'll see how long that lasts.

  Normally boys will battle to the death to protect their mother's honor. Di isn’t their biological mother, but the woman who made them what they are. Noctali — a word I still didn't really understand. As far as I know, it means that Peter has wings and he drinks blood. An angel vampire.

  His other brother, Viktor, is a vampire werewolf. I don't even know how that works. I have no idea about Ivan and Di. I never asked. Ignorance is bliss where that is concerned.

  “I really need to go home.” I groan, rolling up to a sitting position. I don’t want to go, but I know I have to. At least Dad wouldn't be there and I wouldn't be subjected to smelling him. Not that my dad smells bad. He smells really good, kind of delicious, and I don’t want to think about the fact that I started smelling other people's blood and it made my mouth water. Nope, I am not thinking about it.

  “Then you should go.” I know he isn’t human and doesn’t see things the way I do, but it still stings that he doesn’t beg me to stay.

  “Okay, then.” I stand up, folding up the blanket I was using so my butt didn't get wet. It is nearly May, but the warm air doesn’t reach Maine until at least June. “Are you coming over later?”

  “Why wouldn't I?”

  “I don't know.” I'm getting frustrated, which happens quite often with Peter. I brush a bit of grass off the blanket.

  “I will be wherever you are.” And then he says things like that, and my heart does this squeeze thing and I get all tingly. I want to kiss him, but don't act on it. I'm wary of anything physical with Peter. Not because I don't want to, or he doesn't want to (I think), but because I don't want him to die.

  Peter can't fall in love with me, which should give him a good enough reason to say good-bye and good riddance. There's just one problem. Neither of us can stand to be without the other one. The Claiming is kind of hard to ignore, what with him only being able to drink my blood and me wanting him to. There is also the fact that I think he's the sexiest thing I've ever seen and I just want to sit and stare at him.

  I'm still recovering from the last donation. I let him take much more than was good for me, because he needed it. If I am not careful, I am going to get anemic. We already have one sick person in the family. We don’t need another.

  “See you later,” I say, trying to tear myself away.

  “Good-bye, Ava-Claire.” I smile when he uses both of my names. He and my mother are the only people allowed to call me that. I give him a stupid little wave as I leave, but he just watches me as I walk away. I like the way he watches me. It also scares me.

  Peter

  I prefer to sit in the sun with Ava, but I understand she has activities that do not involve me. I respect her time, as she respects my “noctalis things,” as she calls them. Before I met her, many of those things involved hunting, chasing, feeding, and killing. I enjoyed that time, but I enjoy my time talking with her more. Strange how priorities can change in a heartbeat.

  Hers.

  I can still hear it, even though she's in her car. I could go with her, but I think she fears being with me too often. She fears that I will end, even though I have already died. She spends a lot of time thinking about not getting too close to me. I can see it in her eyes, when she leans in and doesn't kiss me, and when she smiles and then puts it away.

  If my existence were to end, I would feel peace knowing she was the one to end it for me. That does not mean I want it to end. Not anymore. I want to be with Ava as long as I can. Even if that is one more second, I will take it.

  I stay in the sun for another hour, absorbing as much as I can, feeling it sizzle through my veins, dissolving Ava's blood into fuel. If I'm not careful, I'm going to get drunk on her blood. We can get intoxicated if we have too much. It has happened to me many times, and I would rather not relive the experience. Instead of being slow and sluggish, we crave more and more and will stop at nothing to get it.

  I leave my shirt off and let my wings push their way out of my back. I don't worry about someone catching me. It's hard having them away all the time; they feel strangled, constrained. I spread them out, stretching as far as I can. I can't fly until dark, but at least I can run. Tucking my wings back, I take to the woods. One of the things I like about Maine is the undisturbed wilderness. The leaves and branches grab me and try to catch me as I go. I leave them in my wake, shattered. It is a relief to let my strength out. I have to be careful when I'm with Ava.

  It takes minutes to
get to her house. I approach slowly, as the building appears like a ghost from behind the trees that line the backyard. I hear two heartbeats. Ava and her mother. Both are strong, but her mother's is tired. She has cancer that will take her life shortly.

  With our connection, emotions course through me like liquid fire.

  Hers, mine.

  Ours.

  It is amazing to me how often they coincide. Sometimes I feel one way and I receive another from her and we both realize and shift to try and fit the other person. She laughs and I attempt to. We are still working on that. So far, she has told me my laugh sounds like a creepy clown mixed with Lord Voldemort. Having read the Harry Potter series, and also seen a circus, I know this is not a good thing.

  I can't practice laughing without her. Things aren't as funny when she isn't here.

  I knock politely on the door, waiting for Ava to bound down the stairs. She opens it, face flushed with exertion. The piece of me that she took with her falls back into place, and it is easy to move my face into what I hope is a smile.

  “Not bad.” Her smile shines nearly as bright as the sun. I often wonder if it is the Claiming or something greater that makes me think these things of her. It doesn't matter either way.

  Ava's mother steps in behind her and gives me a smile as well. Not as warm as Ava's, but it is still a smile.

  “Hello, Claire.”

  She makes sure her wig is straight before saying hello. Human vanity is a mystery.

  “Hello, Peter. It has been so long since we saw you last.” I have grown used to her and Ava's sense of humor, which borders on dry.

  “Mom,” Ava says, giving me an apologetic look. “Come on.” She doesn't wait for me to follow her into the living room. I am only allowed downstairs when Ava's father isn't home. Claire winks at me as I walk behind Ava to the room where we spend most of our time under her watchful gaze. Ava is wary of being alone in her room. Either worried her mother will get the wrong idea, or she might get too close to me. I am not sure which she is more concerned about. The residue from the night I hurt her hasn't worn off completely. I regret it now, but at the time I thought it was for the best.