Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

“What changed your mind?” That's it, I'm officially insane. I'm standing in a cemetery, discussing suicide in the middle of the night with some guy who kinda saved me from his creepy brother who might have tried to rape or kill me.

“It was not the right time.”

“So what is the right time? Not that I think you should, but...” Open mouth, insert feet and hands, Ava.

“I will know.”

“It can't be that bad.” I know nothing about this guy. “What's your name?” It's my attempt to talk him off the proverbial ledge. All the cops do it on TV.

“Peter.”

“Peter, what?”

“Hart.”

“It's nice to meet you, Peter, I'm Ava.” I stick my hand out, like this is some sort of meet-and-greet. He stares at my hand. I yank it back. I must have come on too strong. Go me.

“So, what, have you just been camping out here, waiting for unsuspecting girls to wander near your mausoleum?” I sound like a lunatic.

“No.”

“Where's your brother?”

“You mean Ivan. He is not here.” Glory hallelujah. I should throw a party, with confetti.

“You're not very good at conversation, are you?” He turns his head to the side. I like it when he does that. Wait, what? I pull my eyes away from him.

“No, I am not. But you continue to try.”

“Call me Saint Jude,” I say with a sigh. It comes out kind of trembly, since I'm so cold. I hope he doesn't notice, but I'm sure he does.

“Do you consider me a lost or hopeless cause?” That catches me off guard. Only Tex or Jamie or my mother or someone familiar with saints would understand that little quip.

“Well I don't know you, so I couldn't say. What would you consider yourself as?” I look up at him, trying to be as confident as I sound. Clearly, he's something. I just don't know what that is. I move the beam back up to his eyes, hidden behind that hair. They sparkle like gems under water.

“I am nothing.” His voice goes quiet. The first change in volume, which tells me something. I just don't know what that is. I'm still shaking and I can't feel any of my extremities.

“You're... something.” I can't say what I'm thinking, that I don't think he's a normal guy. I try not to look at his eyes again, but now that I've done it once, they're all I can see when I close my eyes. My heart kicks into high gear. Why are my palms sweating?

“I just can't figure you out.” He's still standing. “You don't want me to, though.” I meet his eyes for a second.

“I would prefer it.” I'm shivering so bad I can barely talk.

“Well, thank you anyway. For not letting Ivan do, whatever it was he wanted to do, and for not killing yourself.” I cringe inwardly at how ungrateful of a thanks it is.

He studies at me a second before answering.

“You are welcome, Ava.” It's the first time he says my name.

“So, um, goodbye.” As much as I'd like to stay and chat with him, my nose is going to freeze and fall off if I don't leave. He is unaffected by the cold. Come to think of it, I haven't seen his breath in the air. I haven't seen him breathe at all. I should probably just stop thinking.

“Goodnight, Ava.” I stare at his chest, looking for some kind of breathing movement. Of course, it's really hard to see in the dark. I drag my eyes back up to his face, which is calm as ever.

Of course I have to stop and say, “will you be here tomorrow?” in a hopeful, pleading kind of voice. He answers my question with one of his own.

“Will you?” I bite my lip before I answer, considering if I should lie or tell the truth.

“Probably.” I go with the truth. Even with the fact that I've just embarrassed myself irreparably, I know I'll be back. Sometimes you just know things. My mother would scoff at my certainty and say something about fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... I don't remember the rest.

I give a lame little wave as I turn around.

“Will you?” I ask again.

“Perhaps.” Neither of us want to make a commitment. That would make this something more, and I'm still not sure if it's anything or nothing. I want it to be nothing, but it's probably something.

***

Ava. Such a symmetrical name. I liked symmetrical things. Books on a shelf, rows of flowers, roads. I wondered if it was the chaos in me that secretly longs for order, for things to be in their place.

I told her my name. It felt strange on my lips, like a forgotten language. I had not shared it with a living person in a long time.

She held the light she brought like a torch, as if it would illuminate every dark corner, help her to see what is hidden. Light could not hurt me, contrary to legend, but she did not know that. I didn't tell her.

Her eyes blinked over and over. I watched the emotions on her face, like waves carving sand. I was used to watching faces as they die. They went so still, froze in a mask that was impossible to change. She paged through so many feelings; fear, anger, frustration, amusement. My face was still. I'd forgotten how to make my face move like a mortal. It unnerved your prey when they could not read what you were thinking on your face.

She had so many questions. I didn't feel like answering them, so I didn't. She couldn't understand anything about me. I thought she wanted to try.

I focused on her smell, which was as strong as any human. They had no idea how much they gave off. Sweat and dirt and blood and skin and cologne and deodorant and soap residue and food and smoke. Everywhere they'd been rubbed off on them, so I could tell what they'd done that day, and sometimes the day before. It clung to their skin, even when they tried to wash it away. The scents layered and gave each person have a signature.

She was a little scared of me, and she smelled of sleep , smoke, alcohol and sweat. Soap that smelled of artificial coconut. She must have had chocolate earlier, and cooked vegetables. Meat was a strong smell, but I didn't smell it on her. There was a residue of her house there as well. Paint and fabrics and wood and plastic. The people she lived with were on her. A woman with flowery perfume. A man as well. Men and women smell so different. Pheromones. Science hadn't discovered them yet when I was alive.

Underlying it all was her blood. So warm and active, being pushed and pulled through her veins. I wanted to take it away from her.

Her eyes were green. They widened as she made contact with mine. I didn't mean to, but I tried to hold the contact for a few seconds. She broke it and I saw she was scared. Not enough to run.

She knew that I was different, not human. Those eyes asked the question that her voice didn't. What was I?