The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set

  On the third day she stopped for a long time. We were in the middle of the desert. New Mexico or Arizona maybe. I should have read more of the road signs.

  “We're close,” she said after ten long minutes of waiting.

  Ava

  I meet Tex in the yard before she comes in the house equipped with a can of Lysol and a bottle of hand sanitizer.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she says when I hold the can in front of my face.

  “My mom's sick, so I have to disinfect you.”

  “You're serious?” She glances back at the end of my driveway where Viktor lurks. He and Peter are such good lurkers. I wonder if it's something you become good at when you become immortal, like not blinking and not breathing.

  “Yes, I'm serious,” I say, turning my attention back to Tex. Dr. Young gave strict orders that we keep Mom's environment as germ-free as possible. Dad and I pulled out an air purifier they had when I was a baby and we cleaned it pretty much every hour. Our house is covered in containers of disinfectant wipes. The floor is so clean, you could eat off it.

  “Turn around and close your eyes.” She sighs like it's the hardest thing she's ever been asked to do. She turns and sticks her arms out, and I hear her take a deep breath. I spray her from head to toe, and of course the wind comes up and blows most of the spray in my face. I choke on it for a second.

  “Serves you right,” Tex mutters.

  “Now the other side.” She squishes up her face and turns it to the side as I spray her again. When I'm done, I make her sanitize her hands and hand her some tissues in case she sneezes.

  “Why don't you just wrap your house in plastic?”

  “Too expensive,” I say, opening the front door and letting her in. I make her take off her shoes and wipe them, too. I also spray them for good measure.

  “Jesus, it's like a hospital in here.” She means by how clean it is. Well, yeah, that's the idea. “I have never seen your house this effing clean.”

  “Pardon?” Dad says, sticking his head out of his office door.

  “Oh, hi Mr. Sullivan. I was just saying I've never seen the house so darn clean.”

  “That's what I thought,” he says, giving both of us the eye. “I'd appreciate it if you stayed in the living room or Ava's room and kept it down. Claire's sleeping.” I want to roll my eyes and make a snarky teenage response, but I don't. I have to be an adult about it.

  “Okay, we will.”

  “Bye, Mr. Sullivan,” Tex says, giving him her brightest smile. Oh, please. He gives her a little wave and goes back to doing whatever he's doing. “Oops,” Tex mouths at me. She glances at the office door to make sure it's closed. I hear sounds upstairs. Viktor's here.

  “Upstairs?” I say.

  “Duh.”

  I turn toward the stairs, but Tex stops me. “We need snacks first.”

  We rustle up what we can and make two trips upstairs. The boys are standing next to my bookshelf, as if they're posing for a magazine cover. They really have no idea. I wish I had one of those fancy cameras to take pictures of them. I don't have any pictures of Peter as he is now. I need to fix that. What if I lost him and had no evidence that he ever existed? Nothing but the key around my neck and a few pictures of him when he was human. No one would believe me that he was real.

  “Hey, babe,” Tex says in a casual way, walking toward Viktor.

  “Hey,” he says in a sexy voice. I glance at Peter and of course, he blinks.

  “Any news from Helena?” I ask Viktor.

  “Not yet. She has not messaged me in a couple of days, which means she has lost the phone, or she doesn't have anything to say. It could be either.”

  “Brooke has a phone,” Tex says. We all look at her. “What? Jamie told me. He bought it for her, the moron.” She shakes her head.

  “He's got it bad,” I say.

  “Tell me something I don't know.”

  “You told me that noctali don't form bonds, but I feel like every single one I've met is hopelessly in love with someone,” I say to Peter.

  “There are many of us who are not. Like stays with like. You have not seen many of the loners. They stay out of sight as much as possible. They exist in this world, but not as a part of it. The only time you would see them is in your last moment of life,” Peter says.

  “They sound like the legit vampires,” Tex says.

  “More or less,” Peter says.

  I poke him in the chest. “I hate it when you say that.”

  “No, you don't.”

  “Okay, that's enough of that,” Tex says, putting her arm between us. Like she is any better.

  “So, um, we have something to tell you,” Tex says, taking Viktor's hand. Oh, God. Peter's hand goes to my back, sliding under my shirt so his skin is against mine. I stop breathing for a second. I know I'm not going to like what she's going to say.

  “We're moving in together. Not, like, right now, but when I graduate.”

  Okay, so that is not as bad as I thought it would be. “Is there more?”

  “What more do you think there would be?” She pretends that she's shocked, but I know better.

  “Oh, I don't know, maybe that Viktor was going to change you?”

  “No, we've agreed not until after graduation,” she says, nodding.

  “What the FUCK, Tex?!”

  “Jesus, calm down. I was just messing with you.” She looks at me like I'm the one who's overreacting.

  “You said you were going to be nice,” Viktor says, touching her shoulder. Thank you.

  Tex sighs. “Yeah, I did. Which is why I brought this,” she says, pointing to Viktor, who whips something out from behind his back. I seriously have no idea where he hid it. He hands it to me and everyone waits for me to open it. The package is square and covered in glittery wrapping. What a shocker. There's also a crap ton of glittery curled ribbon on it.

  “I wrapped it myself,” Tex says, as if she's very proud of this fact. I raise one eyebrow, because I am very familiar with Tex's wrapping jobs. Nearly every Christmas she calls me in a panic and makes me come over to wrap her presents.

  “Okay, so Viktor wrapped it, but I curled the ribbon.” Well, it's the thought that counts, right? It takes forever to get the ribbon off and I peel the paper back. It's a silver photo frame with a picture of me, Tex and my mom.

  “Remember that? I found it the other day and I thought you'd want to have it.”

  Dad had snapped that one a few years ago. Before the cancer, before Peter, before my life took a dark turn. Tex and I were getting ready for the winter semi-formal dance, and Mom was helping us. Dad snapped the picture from the side, so none of us were aware of it. Mom was squishing her face up at both of us, and Tex and I were laughing. We both had our hair done, but hadn't put our dresses on, so we were prom queens on top, and casual below. I liked it because my makeup was done and I felt so pretty that night. Jamie took both of us as his dates, and we teased him the whole night about being a stud.

  Mom looks so healthy and vibrant in the picture. It's amazing how seeing this, seeing how she was, highlights how drastic the changes are. I guess when the changes come about slowly, you don't notice it day to day. The picture is both a reminder of what I had and what I'm going to lose. Bittersweet.

  “Thanks, Tex.” Of course the tears come, and Peter offers his shoulder.

  “I just... I didn't know what to do. I don't know what to say, and I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong thing. I'm no good at this stuff.” It's true, she isn't. She holds her arms out for a hug, and I give her one.

  “That was nice.”

  “Good,” she says, as if she's relieved. “It was either that or a book about losing someone you love.” Dear God, I did not need one of those.

  “I'm glad you went with the picture. It's beautiful.” I put it on my nightstand, right next to my notebook and pen.

  “Your mother is coming upstairs,” Peter says and in a blink, he and Viktor are out the window. Tex and I throw ourselves on
my bed and try to look like we're talking about something stupid and teenagery.

  “Knock, knock,” Mom says, poking her head in the door. Her voice is still stuffed with mucus, and her eyes are all swollen and red.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, baby. Hey, Tex. How are you?”

  Tex's eyes widen a second at Mom's appearance. It's been a while since she saw her last. “Good, Mrs. Sullivan. How are you?”

  “I've been better,” she says, winking. Tex is nervous, as if she wants to run away.

  “Well, I just wanted to say hi. Let me know if you need anything.”

  There is no way that I would ask her to make me a snack in her condition. Dad would never allow that. I'm shocked he even let her come up the stairs. I can hear him hovering at the bottom, ready to rush up the stairs if something should go wrong.

  “I was just telling Ava that I've been dying to see that movie she has. You know the one about the soldier who tries to find that girl? We were just coming down to watch it,” Tex says. She pinches my arm where Mom can't see. I don't know what her sudden change of heart is, but I'm all up for it.

  “You want to watch it with us?” I say.

  “Sure, baby. I'd love to. If you don't mind. I don't want to infringe on your girl time.”

  “Are you kidding? Who else can understand my appreciation of Patrick Swayze?”

  “That is true. I tell you, if I wasn't married...” Mom says, sighing dreamily.

  “Amen to that,” Tex says, getting up.

  I can tell she's nervous, but she's trying to be nice. I see her glance out the window and make a little motion with her fingers. I can just see Viktor and Peter on the edge of the roof, far enough out that they are shrouded in darkness, but close enough that I can see them with my enhanced eyesight. Those boys.

  “So, Tex, I hear there is a new man in your life,” Mom says. I told her Tex and Viktor are together, but I didn't tell her about the Claiming part.

  “Yeah, he's... pretty special,” Tex says, fiddling with her glasses.

  “So I've heard.” They're both pretending the other one doesn't know about the whole immortal thing because talking about it out loud is just too weird. It's one thing for me and Mom to talk about it, but it's another to have a group discussion.

  “I know you know, Tex,” Mom says, stomping on the eggshells and using her mom tone.

  “Know what?”

  “You're a smart girl. I just hope you'll be careful.”

  “I will,” she says. I said the exact same thing to her when I told her about Peter.

  “Okay,” Mom says. “You sure you don't want anything? I can whip up some pudding or something.”

  We walk down the stairs, meeting Dad. He has his own stern look on.

  “Claire, don't tax yourself. I'll do it.”

  “Sam, please.” The pleading tone in her voice gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Tex is clearly uncomfortable.

  “We'll help. I haven't been over here to make anything in so long,” Tex pipes up.

  “You mean ruin it,” I say, trying to pick up on her light tone. “Don't tell me you've forgotten the blueberry cobbler incident.”

  Her eyes narrow with fake anger. “We said we would never speak of it again.”

  “Speak of what?” Mom says.

  “Exactly,” Tex says, giving her a high five. I forgot how well they got along together.

  An hour later Tex, Mom and I are on the couch with three spoons and a giant bowl of chocolate chip pudding. We're all engrossed in the love story playing out on the screen.

  “French braids!” Mom yells.

  “What?” The girl on the movie has French braids, but I'm not sure what that has to do with anything.

  “It's on the list,” Mom says, yanking on my ponytail. “Tex, can we use your head?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she says, licking her pudding spoon. Mom proceeds to arrange Tex on the floor, with me sitting behind her so I have full access to her hair. It's not as long and thick as mine, but still, there's quite a bit to work with.

  “Okay, so you take a little bit here and another there, and start.” My first attempt is awful, so I undo it and start again. I'm fine with a basic braid, and I can do a fish bone on another person, but for some reason the concept of the French braid baffles me.

  “Ouch,” Tex says, when I unintentionally pull on a few strands.

  “Sorry.”

  “Be careful,” she gripes. I make a face at her back and try again.

  By the time the movie is over and the pudding is consumed, I have a halfway decent French braid on Tex's head.

  “Not bad,” she says, reaching up to feel it. “You wanna come over every morning and do that?” My fingers are actually tired from concentrating so hard on getting it right.

  “Good job, ma fleur. You're a natural.” I'm not, but it's still nice to hear anyway.

  Dad comes in to get the pudding bowl and taps Mom on the shoulder, giving her a look. She is coughing a lot, and I had to get her a second box of tissues. I've also been making Tex use the sanitizer.

  “I think that's it for me. Thanks for letting your old crusty mom hang out with you,” she says.

  “Oh stop it, you're awesome,” Tex says, getting up. She looks like she wants to give Mom a hug, but doesn't know if she should. Mom goes for her, giving her one anyway and kissing her cheek. Tex looks at me, and then starts to cry.

  “I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry.” She sobs on Mom's shoulder. It's been several weeks since I told her about Mom, but I guess seeing her in person and seeing how sick she is opens the gates to the water works.

  “It's okay. Shh, it's okay.” They stay like that for a while. I feel like I'm the intruder now. Mom has to let go of Tex so she can cough.

  “Claire,” Dad says, the sharp tone back in his voice.

  “I'm coming, I'm coming. I hope I didn't give you any of my germs.”

  “Who cares?” Tex sniffs. Mom gives her another squeeze.

  “Bye, Tex. Thank you for being such a good friend to Ava. I'm glad she has you.”

  Tex wipes her eyes and nods. Dad takes Mom back to bed and Tex blows her nose.

  “I can't believe I did that. I'm such an ass. She's the one who's...” She can't finish the rest.

  “I know. I feel that way every single day. She's always the one comforting me and it should be the other way around.” We both sit back on the couch and Tex tries to get herself under control.

  “I'm sorry I'm such a bitch most of the time. I don't mean to be.”

  “I know. It's a defense mechanism.” She gives me a look. “Peter's been all over the psychology textbooks. I guess it rubbed off on me.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “Everything.” She doesn't want to say 'when your mom dies,' but that's what she means.

  “Honestly, I don't know. I'm still trying to get through every day. Even if I didn't have the whole Peter and Di thing, I still wouldn't know what to do. I don't think you can prepare for something like this.”

  “So the book was a bad idea?”

  “I would have tried really hard to pretend I liked it.”

  “You're not a very good actress.”

  “Yeah, I'm aware.” She gives me another hug and gets up.

  “I think I'm gonna go home with Viktor. He's good at this stuff. Hey V, I'm going to the car,” she says the last part not to me, but to the noctalis upstairs.

  “V?”

  “Yeah, don't you think it sounds sexy?”

  Not really. “Sure. Why not?”

  She beams at my white lie. Maybe I'm getting better at it.

  Jamie calls me later that night as I'm doing more homework with Peter.

  “She's gone, Ava.” His voice is both robotic and full of pain at the same time.

  “Brooke?” I sit up and stretch my neck. Ugh, I shouldn't have stayed in that position.

  “She left with Helena to find Di,” Peter sa
ys.

  “Thanks for telling me, you jerk,” I say, glaring at him. “You have to stop doing that.”

  “You were concerned about Claire. I did not want to worry you.”

  “You have to stop doing that,” I say.

  “Ave?” Jamie says.

  “Sorry, Jamie. I'm so sorry. Do you know when they'll be back?” They probably won't be coming back alone.

  “She just left. I miss her so much, it hurts.”

  “I'm so sorry.” I know he's better off. My life would be better off if Peter wasn't in it, but my soul and my heart wouldn't be. I can't judge his love if he isn't judging mine.

  “They will be back,” Peter says. “It is time.”

  I take a deep breath. “Don't worry, Jamie. It'll be okay. Okay?”

  “I hope so. I just want her back.”

  “I know, I know.”

  We are all chasing after the ones we love.

  Twenty-Four

  Brooke

  “So what's your story? You're obviously old,” I said to Helena as we ran. We'd crossed the border into Vermont a few minutes ago.

  “Thanks for rubbing it in, kid. You're what, five seconds old?”

  “Sixteen,” I said. Well, was I? How did you count your age when you were immortal? I would be sixteen forever, but the years would still pass me by.

  “Fifteen,” Helena sang. She looked it. “I wish you would trust me, Brooke. I'm a very good secret keeper,” she said as we stopped next to a lake.

  Quicker than I could, she had her clothes off and dove into the water. If I knew anything about Helena, I knew that she loved water. Anytime we were near a body of it that was deeper than a puddle, her clothes were off and she was in. The first time she'd transformed, I'd challenged her to an underwater race. She'd beaten me badly and hadn't let me live it down yet. She flipped water at me as I sat on a rock and let my wings come out. They didn't get wet, exactly, but they were useless in the water.

  “You're no fun. Secrets are fun.”

  I didn't know why I wouldn't tell her about Ivan. She'd been trying since the second we met to tell me about Ivan. Reading between the lines, they thought I was here to destroy Ava. Honestly, I didn't know why I was here. Ivan and I had settled into a strange sort of life of feeding, lying in the sun and having lots of sex. We did what we wanted and took what we wanted. It was a heady and overwhelming time. I knew he didn't love me, because every now and then he would look off in the distance and I could tell he was thinking about another girl. Either Josie or Ava. They followed him like ghosts, haunting him every moment he was with me.