“Sorry you can't have any,” Tex says to Viktor before stuffing the burger in her mouth. Real attractive, Tex.
“It is fine. I do not desire food, so I don't miss it. Although, when I was human, my mother used to make a potato casserole that I loved. Somehow I saved the memory of eating that through my change.”
Peter told me that when you change, you had to fight for your memories, so Viktor fought for that one. I realize I knew next to nothing about his family.
“Rasha and Kamir are coming this weekend,” Viktor says as Tex and I stuff our faces and feel guilty. At least I know I do.
“Who?” I say after swallowing. Tex just talks with her mouth full. Guess Viktor didn't seem to care.
“They are friends of mine that have agreed to come to our aid. They are taking their boat here as we speak.” It's true; I can't picture a noctalis on a plane. Too much enclosed space with blood-scented circulating air.
“You sure they're okay?” It's terrible that I don't trust their judgment. They've been wrong before, and I am unsure if I can take that experience again.
“Yes, they are trustworthy,” Viktor says. Ookkaaayy. “I am not going after you, Ava. If I could make a binding promise not to hurt you, I'd do that as well. I have one year. It will not take nearly that long.” He's so sure. What is he, a psychic now?
“See?” Tex says, as if that settles it. I'm still skeptical.
“They have helped me before,” Viktor adds. Well, that would have been good to know in the first place. Even though it's true Cal helped Peter.
“You gonna give us details?” I ask.
“Yeah, details, please,” Tex says around a mouthful of burger.
“I will only say that I was in a jam, and they helped me out of it. You can trust them.” Oh there is a story there. I'd have to get it from Tex, because I have the feeling she's going to get it out of him. Subject closed.
We finish the rest of our lunch, talking about nothing in particular. I watch Tex and Viktor. They keep their bodies turned toward one another and if she moves, he moves. She also plays with her hair a lot, which is a sure sign that she likes him, if that was ever in doubt. Visually, they make a good couple, with the matching blond hair. Even though he towers over her.
“So how's it working out having a boy in your room?” I ask Tex as we toss our trash and hop back in the car. I sit in the back with Peter, and Viktor claims the front seat. Since my legs are so short, and his are so long, I'm sitting behind him so he can push the seat back as far as it will go.
“My parents are oblivious. They wouldn't notice if I had an elephant in my room as long as I went to school and work and so forth. Speaking of work, I think Toby might be done.” She says the last part with a little squeal of delight.
“Oh, really?” I look at Viktor, but he just stares straight ahead. “And how did that come about?”
“Let's just say that some books went missing while he was working and some of the money wasn't where it was supposed to be.”
“Texas Anne!” I'm shocked she would resort to such measures to get rid of him so she could hire her boyfriend. Huh, I guess Viktor is her boyfriend now. Never thought I'd see the day.
“What? Viktor needs to be around me, and Toby needs to go away. See? Two birds, one stone.” She starts humming as if that closes the conversation.
“You're not very nice when you want something, you know?” I say.
“No, I'm not. I'm a bitch. This is not news. Doesn't mean I'm gonna change any time soon. Viktor likes me the way I am,” she says, grinning hopelessly at him.
Viktor looks at her and nods. “I would not change you.”
“There you have it,” Tex says, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
I cross my eyes at her and glance at Peter. He blinks at me. What are you going to do?
Peter
Ava lets me come in the house that afternoon, even though her father is home.
“I need you to do that thing where you make me not freak out, because I feel like I'm close, and I really don't want to bite him,” she says in a rush.
I take her hand.
“Thank you,” she says.
We open the door and the foyer is filled with flowers in multi-sized and colored vases.
“Holy crap, it's like a florist in here. Or a funeral. Or a florist's funeral.” She gasps after she says the word funeral, as if she has cursed. “Oh God, I shouldn't have said that.”
“Ava-Claire, is that you?” Claire calls from the other room. Ava and I make our way around the mounds of blooms that are so numerous that they're stacked on the floor because there aren't enough surfaces to hold them all.
“I told you it was something,” Claire says as we walk into the kitchen. There are more flowers there, and many containers of food, some still warm. They scent the air and clash. How humans can find that appetizing is beyond me.
“What the hell happened?” Ava says, gaping at the full kitchen counter.
“The doorbell has been ringing nonstop. Your father has been fetching them and signing for them all day. I don't even know where some of them are from. That doesn't even count the casseroles. At least I won't have to cook for a little while. Or a few years,” Claire says, waving at the dishes and pots. “When humans are confronted with death, they buy flowers and cook things. It helps them deal with it and feel like they're contributing,” Claire tells me.
“Yes, I am familiar with the practice. So many people cooked for my mother when my father and I died, she ended up giving most of it away.”
Claire’s breath catches when I talk about dying.
“So you consider yourself dead? Or undead?”
“Immortal,” I say.
“Um, should we really be talking about this in the kitchen when Dad's home?” Ava says.
“Oh, he's taking a nap,” Claire says, waving Ava off and stacking two of the containers on top of another. I move to help her. Claire’s body is too wrapped up in fighting to stay alive to keep her strong. “Thank you, Peter. Could you slide those in the fridge for me?” I do, somehow finding a place in the crowded refrigerator.
“Dad's taking a nap? Did you drug him?”
Claire laughs and pulls Ava in for a kiss on the cheek. “No, he's just been really tired lately. We've been staying up late talking about things.” Claire fiddles with some peonies in a silver vase.
“What kind of things?” Ava says. I feel as if I should absent myself for this conversation, but Ava will not let go of my hand. I have to stay for her, so I do my best to pretend I am not there.