The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Maybe we can try tomorrow.”

  ~^*^~

  There’s a knock at the door around eight, and I know exactly who it is.

  “I’ll get it,” I say to Dad and can’t help the grin on my face. I kind of love it when Peter can be downstairs with me instead of up in my room like a creepy lurker. Sometimes it reminds me a little of Jane Eyre, with the madwoman in the attic, except I’ve got the vampire angel in the attic. But I’ve got wings now too, so I guess that makes me a vampire angel as well. I sure as hell don’t feel angelic.

  “Hey, you.” I say, giving him a quick kiss.

  “Hello you,” he says, kissing me back and taking my hand as I lead him into the living room.

  “Look who decided to come over,” I say, using my free hand to present Peter as if he’s the prize on a game show.

  “Peter, nice to see you,” Dad says, and for the first time, it sounds genuine. Did I miss something? When did Dad join Team Peter? He hadn’t even been this nice when Peter had held me up during the funeral and been there when I’d been an absolute mess and Dad had been catatonic.

  Dad knows that Peter doesn’t shake hands, so he doesn’t bother, but gives him a warm smile as he sits back down on his recliner. Peter joins me on the couch, and I pull my feet up and lean on his chest and his arm goes around me, his fingers playing with my hair. We’re watching a re-run of one of Dad’s favorite cop shows, but I’m not paying attention. Peter is far too distracting.

  “So, Peter, how’s your job going?” What follows is a friendly convo between Dad and Peter about his job, his family and what he’s been up to. Obviously, it’s all made up, but it sounds nice and Dad seems pleased with what Peter’s telling him, so I guess that’s good. I’m still suspicious of this sudden turn of events, and Dad’s sudden approval of Peter. Maybe Aj said something to him and he’s decided that the way to find out what Peter is up to is by being nice instead of being mean. I didn’t think Dad was that good an actor, but I may have underestimated his abilities. Grossly underestimated.

  Peter doesn’t stay long, because he has to ‘get home to his strict mother,’ so I pretend I’m giving him a goodnight kiss and walk him to the door.

  “He’s a nice boy,” Dad says when I sit back down on the couch, missing Peter already, even though he’s just up in my room.

  “Yeah, he is. Why the sudden change of heart?” I might as well go for it and ask him. I’ve got nothing to lose.

  “Oh, I was just talking with Aj about how good he was during the funeral and how good he’s been for you, and that I should probably stop doing the ‘father with a shotgun’ routine.”

  “So you’re not going to glare at him all the time now? Or make comments about his eating habits?” People don’t change overnight like that. They just don’t. Not unless there’s something else behind it.

  “Oh, you’re being melodramatic. I didn’t glare at him all the time.” Uh yeah, he did.

  I give him a look instead of answering.

  “Okay, I might have played the overprotective father card, but he was the first boy you ever showed interest in, and he seemed so much older. He still does, but I guess that’s just because he’s mature.” I would have giggled at that remark if I were still human. I’m a little more in control of my laughing now, but sometimes it still sneaks up on me.

  “I think it’s just the way he was raised,” I say with a completely straight face because I can do that now.

  We go on and talk a little more about Peter and then Dad says he’s going to bed. I watch as he takes a breath before going into the bedroom.

  “Dad?” He turns around. “I love you. And if you need to talk about anything, you know I’m here, right? I know I’m your daughter, but we’re all we have now. Except for Aj. I don’t say it enough, but I’m here.” I really don’t say it enough, especially lately. I get up and give him yet another quick hug. He clings to me for a moment and I let myself sink into it for the briefest of seconds before letting go.

  “Thanks, baby.” Mom always called me baby. He never did. I lean forward and place the barest of kisses on his cheek.

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  “Goodnight, Ava-Claire Bear.”

  Peter

  Ava finally feels ready to see Jamie, so we go to meet him at his new apartment. His sister is at work, so Ava doesn’t have to worry about hurting her or her unborn baby.

  It’s in the less nice part of Sussex, in a white building with an overgrown lawn.

  “It’s that one, I think,” Ava says, pointing to a porch on the first floor that has boxes of flowers along the railing and several chairs and a baby swing. Jamie had showed her the inside when they’d video chatted, but she didn’t know the outside.

  Before we even make it up the steps, the door flies open and Jamie engulfs Ava in his arms. Her reflexes are good enough that she could have stopped him, but she stays still and lets him pull her off her feet and spin her around in a circle. I watch for signs that she needs me to step in, but she’s laughing and smiling.

  Jamie finally puts her down and lets go.

  “God, Ave, I’ve missed you.” His eyes are a little wet, and it is clear how much he cares for her. Good. The more people she has that care for her, the better.

  “I’ve missed you too. If I could cry, I’d be sobbing right now. Happy tears. You’re an idiot, by the way.” She smacks him in the shoulder playfully and there’s a crack and Jamie falls to the ground.

  “Oh my God, Jamie!” Ava drops down next to him. “What happened?”

  He clenches his teeth and tries to smile, but he’s clearly in a lot of pain.

  “I think you broke my arm.” Within less than a second, Brooke is by his side, helping him up.

  “I told you it was a bad idea for me to stay inside, but you wouldn’t listen, you idiot.”

  “Jamie, I’m so sorry.” Ava reaches out to him, but she seems reluctant to touch him for fear of injuring him further.

  “It’s fine, Ave, it’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is. Jesus, why can’t I cry?” She stomps her foot in frustration and rips her fingers through her hair as Brooke glares at her and carries Jamie into the apartment.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” Ava says, backing up. “I knew something was going to happen. I just . . . I shouldn’t have come.” She turns and runs, but I’m right behind her and am able to catch her, even though she tries to throw me off her trail by dodging.

  “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You are very strong now, and you are still getting used to it.” She pulls herself away from me.

  “I know I was going to be all positive, and upbeat, but I just broke my best friend’s arm.” I try to hold her, but she doesn’t let me.

  “Can you just give me a minute? How about you go check and see if Jamie’s okay? Could you do that for me?” Her eyes are pained. I wish I could take it away, but I can’t.

  I would do anything she asked of me, so I agree.

  “I’ll be right here when you get back.” It is a lie, but I choose to ignore it. We have been so joined at the hip, perhaps we need a few moments apart. I go back to the house and find Jamie in the small living room that is filled with things for his sister’s baby. He’s on the couch with Brooke taping up his arm.

  “He won’t go to the hospital, the idiot. I don’t have any medical training, so your arm may heal and be two inches longer for all I know.” She glares at him, and he tries to smile.

  “Do you have any alcohol?” I say, going to the kitchen.

  “No. We don’t keep it in the house. Alcoholic father,” Jamie says with a wince and a groan.

  I go to the bathroom and find some over the counter painkillers and bring him a glass of water.

  “This isn’t as good as a few shots of something strong, but it might help.”

  He takes the pills and swallows them.

  “Where’s Ava?”

  “She needed a moment,” I say and take the glass back to the sink
and wash it out. Ava taught me how to do all those human things I’d forgotten how to do. I can now do entire loads of laundry, whites and colors, without any mistakes.

  “Shit, this sucks.” Jamie closes his eyes as Brooke finishes taping his arm up. “It really isn’t her fault. I shouldn’t have surprised her like that, and I could have ducked.” I don’t point out that he couldn’t have ducked, because that wouldn’t have been helpful.

  I examine Brooke’s job and see that it’s fine. He should heal, but the bone is definitely broken.

  “I am going to find Ava.”

  “We’ll be here,” Brooke says, taking Jamie’s head into her lap and stroking his hair and saying sweet things to him.

  I find Ava miles away at an abandoned property. She’s wearing halter tops now so her wings are out, but folded.

  I take my shirt off and let my wings out and come to sit next to her. I don’t say anything, because she knows I’m here. She always knows where I am, just like I always know where she is.

  “I can’t believe I hurt him. We were only there for five seconds. It’s a miracle I haven’t hurt Dad yet.”

  Despite her promise to be positive, she is wallowing.

  “Ugh, I hate being this dramatic, that everything is life and death, but it is now. I should have stayed away for longer.”

  “He is going to be fine. Brooke has taped up his arm and the only thing he is worried about is you.”

  She brushes one of her wings over mine.

  “That’s Jamie. Love me even when I’m hurting him. I think he was a little in love with me once, but it was a long time ago. I’ve always loved him, but not like that.” I fold my wing over her and she ducks under my arm.

  “I guess I’ll just have to work on not breaking any more of my friends. They’re not replaceable.” She starts to laugh. “I know it’s not funny, but I can’t cry, so this is my only way of dealing,” she says as she continues to giggle.

  Sometimes, she is a strange girl.

  Ava

  After the arm-breaking incident, I decide to keep at least a ten-foot distance between Jamie and me, or me and any other human (except Dad) for a while. I can control myself if I focus on it, but if I’m surprised, like with the hug, it’s harder.

  My brain still thinks I was human sometimes, and reverts to those gestures that had been second nature to me when I’d been human.

  Jamie isn’t mad at me, but I want him to be. I want him to be pissed and yell at me so I felt even more like shit, because I want to mope. I want to feel sorry for myself, to be emo about the whole thing. I call Tex and invite her over to Jamie’s because I think she might be a good buffer.

  “You did what?” she says on the phone. I repeat that I broke Jamie’s arm and she sighs.

  “Listen, I’m at work, but I can bail. I’ll bring Viktor. Maybe he and Peter can be like your body guards or bouncers or something.” Imagining it in my head is actually kind of funny, but I don’t laugh.

  She and Viktor show up a few minutes later, with Tex’s skirt hiked up to show everyone her everything, and her hair all over the place. She re-adjusts herself without blushing or being embarrassed at all and goes to see how Jamie’s doing.

  “I brought some of my mom’s painkillers. She’ll never miss them,” she says, tossing an orange bottle of prescription pills at him that he catches with his good arm.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” Tex says with a grin. “The place is cute.” I haven’t really had a chance to look around yet, because I’ve been so distracted by the arm breaking and all that.

  Tex keeps rubbing her wrist, and I can see and smell the results of a recent feeding. She never goes anywhere without a massive amount of chunky bracelets encircling both arms. I guess she and Viktor have a system worked out, and she doesn’t seem to mind it, but I think he takes even less than Peter did when we were Claimed. She catches me staring, so I look at the house instead.

  The living room is small, and made smaller by all the baby crap that is everywhere. There’s also a tiny kitchen and dining table with a high chair already at one end. Jamie and Cassie’s rooms are right next to each other with a bathroom in between. It’s not much, but it’s better than living with their alcoholic father, especially with the baby coming.

  “So what did your mom say about you moving out?” Jamie’s mom has been through hell and back with her husband. I always wondered why she never left his ass, but she stayed, and part of me wondered if it was for the kids. Now that they’re gone, will she bail too? That would be good. Leave that dick to fend for himself. He wouldn’t know what to do.

  “She understood why we had to do it, and helped us find some furniture and move and stuff. Dad’s been doing . . . better I guess. He’s still drinking, but not as much and he didn’t throw a tantrum when we left, so that’s good.”

  Jamie is always pretty close-mouthed about his family situation, and for good reason. As bad as his home life was, he didn’t want to go into foster care, or be taken away from his mom. He knew that if his dad stopped abusing him, he’d go after her, and Jamie wouldn’t have that, so he stayed for her, but then Brooke went all noctalis on his ass, so I think things are going to be okay.

  “It is really cute, James,” Tex says after the tour.

  “Thanks. It’s not much, but the landlord is really nice and gave us her old baby gates. She’s also been giving Cassie baby advice and I’m pretty sure she’s going to offer to watch the baby when she’s born so Cassie can get back to work.”

  We talk more about the baby and how they’re going to deal with it, but we don’t talk about Brooke and how she’s going to deal with it. I can’t really talk, seeing as how I just broke Jamie’s arm.

  Tex starts talking about how we should all hang out, the three couples and do something, and I sit back and let her talk about the movies, or shopping or all sorts of other things.

  I make up some excuse about helping Dad with something at home and we leave while Tex is still talking about a triple date.

  “You know what I need? I think it’s time spend some time in the garden. Mom always loved it, and I’ve been neglecting it since Aj left,” I say to Peter.

  She’d kept up the weeding while I’d been gone, but I promised Mom that I would take care of her garden, so I’m going to learn how and do it. There are a lot of things that she wanted me to do, and we’d done most of them, but I still wasn’t a good seamstress, or gardener, and my piecrust still didn’t come out like hers. Not that I would know now, but it doesn’t look the same. I have no idea about the taste.

  Dad is gone when I get home and there’s a note about doing some errands. Hm. Okay. I call his cell, but he doesn’t answer.

  Peter comes to help me in the garden, and of course he knows all about the flowers and which one needs sun, and which one needs more or less water. I try to commit the information to memory, but it’s probably going to take a while. I have time, though.

  “Don’t forget, we need to plant a garden at the new house.”

  “When would you like to do that? It is a bit late in the season for most of these plants, but we could get some others.” He rattles off the Latin names of a bunch of plants and I’m so lost I have to ask him to describe the flowers, because I don’t know what the hell they are. He goes upstairs and brings one of my mother’s gardening books down and opens it up.

  There are notes written in the margins in my mother’s handwriting. Some are dates of what she planted when and if it thrived, or died, and what worked best on pests, and some are her little quotes. There is something on almost every page, and I sit in the dirt and gobble them up as Peter works on the weeding and watering.

  The pages are smudged with dirt and have her fingerprints all over them. I bring the book to my face and breathe in and I can smell the residue from her skin from when she’d last touched these pages.

  I miss her every single second of every single day. I will miss her every moment of my eternity.

  I reach
the last page of the book and look up and Peter is gone. He’s not far, but I know that he want to give me some time alone with my mother’s book.

  It’s good, this alone time. I realize that I’ve been so worried about losing him that I’d kept such a tight leash on him that I wasn’t letting either of us breathe. Figuratively, of course.

  “Thank you,” I say, knowing he can hear me. I get up and dust myself off and take the book inside the house and read it again. I drink up her words and memorize every one.

  ~^*^~

  I open Mom’s third letter after I’ve read the book two more times.

  Ma Fleur,

  Some of these letters are random, but this is not one of them. This letter is about your future, and about love.

  When I was young, I had three dreams. To be a wife, to be a mother, and to be a teacher. I knew that if only I could get those three things, life would be perfect. I met your father and I got my degree and then we had you. And it was perfect . . .but . . .

  Life will never be perfect all the time, but you will have unbelievably perfect moments where you know that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, and those moments are worth the hard ones in between.

  I never told you that I almost broke up with your father. We had a stupid fight about something, which, for the life of me neither of us can remember. I was ready to end it with him, but he showed up at my apartment with a dozen yellow tulips and a letter that was filled with how sorry he was and how desperately he didn’t want to lose me. But he went beyond that. He tried, every day, to show me how much he cared for me, how much he loved me and wanted us to work. That was what made me take him back. It wasn’t just the gesture, although that was very sweet.

  Relationships are sometimes work, and you have to find someone who is willing to put in the time and effort along with you. You may be too young to be thinking about this, but I know you are serious with Peter and he is serious with you. You’re young and happy and have forever in front of you, but there will be times when you will have to work to make it work, and it is worth the time.