“Is there anything I can do? I'm not sure what that would be, but I'm here. All you have to do is ask,” he says.
“I don't know, Jamie. I just want it to go away. I just want it to stop. I want to go back in time, or to change my life, or something.”
“I'm so sorry for you, Ave. If I could change it, I would.”
“I know.” He rubs my hand with his. “I love you.”
“I love you. I'm only a phone call away. I can get in my truck at 3 a.m. if I have to. Anytime. Anywhere.”
“Thanks.” I give him a hug, and he picks me up off my feet, spinning me around. It's been so long since he did that.
“We need a Miller's date soon.”
“Absolutely. As soon as possible.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek and then leaves, his truck sputtering down the road.
“He is a good friend. I am glad you have good humans in your life.”
“I'm glad I have good immortals, too.”
Twenty-Five
Brooke
“So who are we trying to find?”
“Di. She was the one who found me and brought me to the man that changed me. I need to convince her to stop being a bitch, basically.” She'd told me about binds and how they worked. Ivan hadn't, and I didn't understand why. He'd made two binds with me, and if I hadn't followed them, I would have died. Or re-died. I wasn't sure how that worked exactly. Since I didn't have a beating heart, I wasn't alive. But I could walk and talk, so what did that make me? When I thought of 'undead,' I thought of zombies. I definitely didn't lurch around and hunger for brains. Blood, hell yes.
“And what will we do once we find her?” I said, sitting down on a rock.
The desert stretched out in front of us, endless and red, like it was on fire. It had nothing on New Hampshire. I should have been more excited, but I didn't really get excited anymore. Although, the world was both a more beautiful and ugly place since I'd become immortal, I was still trying to make sense of it all.
“Try and convince her to stop being insane,” she said.
I was frustrated with Helena because she didn't tell me anything. When she asked if I wanted to come, I thought the trip would be a distraction from Jamie. In reality, nothing would have distracted me from Jamie. He existed in my mind, as if he'd colonized part of it and wouldn't give it up. I thought about his hair, his voice, his blood, his smile, his arms, and everything else. I wanted to go back, but I couldn't. I had to stay away. He was just too much of a temptation. His blood was too much of a temptation. If only I could change him, and then we could be together, but I didn't think he'd want that. I couldn't take his mortality from him, no matter how much I wanted to spend my immortality with him.
“How do you intend to do that?”
“I'm not really sure yet. I've had how many years to think about it?”
Helena told me about the saga between her and Di. In my opinion, Di was a lost cause. Clearly, she had been going down a crooked path for so long she probably couldn't find her way back, even if she wanted to. I didn't tell Helena that. Who was I to judge?
Helena stopped and stared at the sky. “I can't believe I'm nervous. I don't remember the last time I was nervous.”
“I don't remember being nervous,” I said. Except for when I thought about hurting Jamie, maybe. That was more panic than nervous.
“It feels like my life is going to end,” she said, breaking a tree limb and crushing it in her hands. I knew what she meant.
“Did you make a binding promise?”
“Yeah. No, I won't tell you what it is.”
“Why not?”
“Because. That's why.”
That wasn't a reason, but I wasn't going to push it. The truth was I didn't care that much. Once I was done with her and all this, I was going to move on. Go somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“Whatever,” I said. “How do you know where she is?” I decided a subject change was in order.
“I don't know. I'm just following a hunch.”
“And where does your hunch lead you?”
Helena scented the air, considering. “I'm not sure yet.
Twenty-Six
Peter
That night I finish Ava's coursework for her. Most of what she has is done. At least I didn't have to write her English essays, because I'm not sure I could get her voice quite right, but I did her math, finished her history paper and put the finishing touches on her French project.
Her father doesn’t get home until well after nine, and both he and Ava are restless. Her aunt is also asleep in the guest room, and she apparently has the habit of talking in her sleep. Sam doesn’t sleep at all, instead staying up and typing on his computer. I hear him talking to himself. Ava has the nightmare again, and I try to send good dreams to her, just to see if I can. It works for a moment, but then the anxiety takes over. It is harder in her sleep to keep her mind positive.
Claire is dying. She knows it and I know it. Sam and Ava know it, too, but they are still holding out hope. I had a moment with Claire in the hospital. She looked at me and smiled, as if we shared something. I guess we do. I died and she is about to. Except her soul is still intact, while mine was given away and couldn't be taken back.
I picture Claire's soul like a butterfly, floating away on a breeze. Effortless and beautiful. I send the image to Ava, but it's wiped away by the image of Claire and I burning in green fire.
I'm not sure if I believe in heaven. Maybe a place where souls go. A garden where they all gather like bubbles, different colors dancing and playing with one another. Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't. I will never know. If Ava has her way, she will never know. She won't get a heaven, but I'll get mine. My heaven is her. Nothing could be greater than spending the rest of my earthly time with Ava. Nothing.
Ava
In the morning when I wake, Dad is already at the hospital and Aj is attempting pancakes.
“I don't know why they're falling apart,” she moans, as she tries to flip the pancake soup she's somehow made. “I made it just like the package says.” She points the spatula at the box in frustration.
“You have to add less water. I don't know why they say that on the package, but it's total crap.” I find the bowl of mix and toss in some more of the powdered mix. I stir it a few times, making sure not to do it too much so the pancakes won’t be tough.
“I'm going to go pick up Peter. I'll be right back,” I say. I wish I could just tell her that Peter spent the night and be done with it, but I know she'll tell Dad and then that will open a whole can of worms I don’t need to open at the moment.