Chapter Four
Peter
I wait until she is deep enough that the chances of her waking up are slim before I leave. I don't want her to wake while I am gone. Her anxiety is palpable, and I do not like to contribute to it.
I meet with Viktor in the woods outside of Ava's house. He has been staying in Maine with me so he can help keep watch for Di, or whoever she might try and send to do what she couldn't accomplish. Ava is right, Di will find a loophole.
“Are you well?” Viktor's formal greeting is as much a part of him as his accent and his stoic facade. He must have been similar in his human existence.
“I am well.” I answer him just as formally.
“And the girl?”
“Well.”
“Have you seen our brother?” He turns without asking me if I want to take a walk. Whereas I prefer to stay still, Viktor likes to keep moving. We duck under the cover of the trees on the edge of Ava's property. The darkness swallows us like a mouth with jagged tree-teeth.
“Not since that night,” I say.
“He and I had a conversation. He has gone to Nevada to gorge himself on homeless people.” I can imagine Ava's reaction to this statement. It makes me want to smile. I would try, if she were here.
“What did you speak about?”
“He is still intent on destroying you.”
“Did you tell him that was not a wise decision?”
“He did not care.” Typical Ivan.
“He is single-minded when it comes to something he wants.” That was true. He has held a grudge against me for almost a hundred years because of one girl. Josephine. Her name haunts me.
I had been making my way through France and had quite a time in the countryside. Young, freshly changed and reckless, I killed entire villages, burning them down when I was done with the bodies. I'd stack them up in the biggest building and set it on fire. The roofs were thatched, which made it easy as striking a match.
Josephine's village was along a narrow road in the countryside, filled with barns and sheep and fields. Her house was the third I visited that night. I do not recall who I killed or how many, but I remember smelling Ivan. I had met Viktor a few months before, and had traveled with him in Paris where I met Ivan. I was surprised to smell him in a human village. I was hesitant to enter the house, but the smell was several hours old. I wondered why he had been there if the family was still alive. I was perplexed, but only for a fraction of a second.
I took the entire family, including the girl who had been sleeping in the room under the eaves, her hands curled under her chin and a sweet smile on her face. Her eyes flew open when I bit into her neck. I felt her heart race, but it made me drink faster. I had had so many people at that point, I was intoxicated and could not stop. She tried to scream, but I had my hand over her mouth.
The rest of her family was already dead, but she hung on, struggling feebly as I sucked her life away like a drowning man drinks air when his face breaks the water's surface.
When I was done with her, I threw her body out the window into the street, like an empty food container. There was an inhuman sound in the street at the appearance of her body. A noctalis sound. Ivan.
He crouched in the street, pulling at her crushed body. Sobs tore through him, but there were no tears. We cannot cry.
“You did this,” he told me when I flew down from the window. People who saw me with my wings extended often thought I was an angel. It was much easier to feed when they fell at your feet in supplication. Screams filled the street, people rushed to catch their children and a bell clanged in the distance. A warning.
“I will never forgive you for this. I swear that someday, when you care for someone, I will destroy her. I will destroy you, because you have destroyed me.” He crouched over her body and whispered something so soft, even I could not hear. Townspeople streamed around us, screaming and carrying on. Neither Ivan nor I noticed them. The struggles of the human race were far removed from us. Their lives were short. Ours were not.
He kissed her head, on the only place clear of blood and licked her cheek, getting one last taste of her blood. Then he turned and ran. I set the village on fire and took to the woods. I did not see Ivan again for many years.
“Would you like to run?” Viktor brings me back to the present. It is dangerous to get too tangled in the past.
“Yes.” I liked the woods in Maine, so full of sounds, but so quiet at the same time. I wanted to take Ava up north sometime, to take her into the wilderness that other humans could not reach. To let her feet touch the sacred ground.
Ivan and I could run until the end of time and never get tired, but we don't. Without speaking we turn back to the house after only a few hours. I must get back to Ava before she wakes up.
I do not remember what it was like to be tired. Sometimes, I wish I did. I wished I could feel pain again. At least, pain of the body. It is strange what you miss when you are no longer mortal.
Ava
I'm grumpy when I wake up the next day. I ended up having a terrible dream that I couldn't remember in the morning, no matter how hard I try. My phone buzzes with a good morning text from Jamie. I send him a smiley back.
“So other than cheesecake, I'm trying to figure out what to do for Jamie,” I say, toothbrush in my mouth. He has magical understanding abilities, even when I have a toothbrush in my mouth.
I turn away from my face in the mirror. Yurgh. Not a pretty sight. I hold my hair out of the way and spit.
“I wish I could just give him a bunch of money, but he'd never take it. Although...” My fingers drum on my chin. “I could do something and then not tell him. Something he couldn't return.”
He's reading again, this time the fourth book in the Scottish series. “He seems very fond of his vehicle.” I almost smack myself for being so dense. Jamie's truck. He'd been wanting to get it detailed or get a new paint job forever.
“How much does a paint job cost for a truck?” Like he'd know. He just blinks. How did I predict that one?
I boot up my computer and do a quick search for local car detailing. Yikes. That crap's expensive. At least a couple hundred bucks. No way I could afford that.
“You could sell some of my things.” I jump. Peter's reading over my shoulder from a few feet away. Because he doesn't have to get close to read the tiny computer print.
“I'm not selling your stuff.”
“It is not mine anymore.” I meet his eyes and nearly get lost in them. One of these days I'm going to gel his hair back, just to see what happens.
“The trunk may be in my room, and I may have the key, but those are your things. Your life. I'm just keeping it safe for a while.” My hands twist the cord with the key on it.