Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

I totally blame the book. The only other thing that would have done it was a huge tin of fudge or chocolate cake. Then I'd be his slave for life. Something inside me pulls me there. I yearn to hear his quiet voice in the dark. His one-word answers. His hair in his face. I want it so much it hurts.

My heart skitters a bit when he isn't here. I sit down anyway, crossing my legs so they'll stop jumping around. Did I mention I'm nervous? Trying to prove that I'm not a total dumbass, I've brought the pepperspray this time, not that it's going to do any good. I'm still going with my theory that he's not just a guy.

“You came,” I say, and my voice sounds relieved. Why? Why do I sound relieved? I try to stop the mental NASCAR race my thoughts are driving around in. Instead I stare at him. Same jeans, same shirt. Still dirty. No shoes.

This time he sits down next to me. My voice sounds calmer than I feel. “I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I have to sleep sometime.” I hope he doesn't pick up on my struggle to keep things light. I can't talk about the elephant in the cemetery.

“Then do not come,” he says, as if it's that simple.

“I want to.” More than that. I need to, even if it's reckless.

“Then you must decide.” I lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me. My feet will not stop twitching.

“I know.” He seems completely unaware that I am still staring at him, trying to figure him out. To figure out what draws me back here. I certainly don't have an explanation for it.

“You will stay.” His voice makes me look up from studying his toes.

“Yes.” I shift so I'm closer to him, hoping he won't move away. “Will you keep coming?”

“I will.” No hesitation. It makes me flush. I wish I were so sure of things.

“Why?” I ask. He looks up at the sky, like he's searching for answers. He looks back down at me, his hair shifting for a second to reveal his eyes. All I want to do is see them again, let myself get pulled in. Trapped.

“I will come.”

“Suit yourself.” I bring out the book from my bag. I don't feel right keeping it, even though I'm not sure it's his. I still can't shake the name Ellen Mackintire. I've thought about looking it up online, but I want to ask him about it. I just have to find the right time.

“Did you leave this for me?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“I did.” A direct answer! I want to throw some confetti on him or do a dance or something.

“Why?”

“I thought you would enjoy it. Did you not?” He talks like he's from an old movie. Not like a normal person. I like it.

“No I did like it. I was just wondering where you got it. It's very old.” I gingerly hold it out to him.

“It took me many years to find it.” His hands stay where they are.

“So it's yours? I saw the bookplate in the back. I'm not saying that you stole it. I just wondered how someone like you would come across something like this.” I still hold it out for him to take.

“There are many things you don't know about me.” He glances up at the stars again.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” He doesn't respond to that. “Here. I'm afraid of keeping it. I don't want to be responsible for it.”

“You may hold onto it.” He doesn't take it.

“What if it falls apart? It's got to be worth some money. You could sell it and buy some shoes.” I practically shove it at him.

“It is only a book.” His eyes pierce through the layer of hair.

“If it's only a book, then why did you search so hard for it? I mean, you could probably sell it on eBay for a lot of money.” He pushes the book back. Not a shove, but enough pressure that I stop. He holds onto it, his fingers inches from mine.

“I would never sell it.”

“Then why give it to me?”

“Ava.” It's only the third time he's said my name. “You will not harm it.” He lets go.

“Or else you'll kill me, right? You said so last time.” He doesn't deny it. I wipe some moisture off the cover. God, I was never going to be able to keep it safe. It belonged in a museum.

“Thanks for sharing it with me.” It's the only thing I can think to say.

“I am glad to have someone to share it with.” I don't think he's just talking about the book. It's like we're sharing something deeper, our souls or something. I shake my head at myself. I'm reading way too much into this. I lean my head back and watch the stars. Neither of us say anything, or move. Not until my back gets sore and the cold is too much to stand.

“Goodbye, Peter.” This time I'm the first to say it.

“Goodbye, Ava.” He doesn't look away from the stars.

***

The next morning I make a detour to the cemetery before school, placing my own book just where he'd left the other one. Something appropriate. Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. I hope it'll be gone when I check on it later. I also hope he won't think that giving him a book by that title means that I'm creepy cemetery girl. I'd fallen in love with that book a while ago, but hadn't been able to share it with anyone. It was too dark for my mother, and Tex didn't like anything fictional.

I liked the dark. Clearly, more than I had been aware of.

All day long, my mind is in the cemetery. Wondering if he's gone back.

“Hey!” I look down and see Tex, biting my shoulder. She releases me from her teeth before I can shrug her off.

“I had to have some way to get your attention.” She sits back in her seat. The sound of the lunchroom pulls me back to the world outside my own head.

“Sorry, I'm really tired.” I say, yawning.

“From what?” Her eyes follow Ryan Harding as he walks by on his way to his posse's table. As soon as he's put his arm around the girl he's currently seeing, her eyes snap back to me.

“I just can't sleep lately.” I become really interested in my veggie pita.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shrug.

“Not really.” Understatement of the year.

“Sure?” Her eyebrows rise with skepticism. I shake my head.

“Yeah. I'm just kinda behind on homework and stuff. No big deal.” My lunch is tasteless and chokes me on its way down my throat.

“Do you want me to call you off work?” She slips her shoes off and crosses her legs on her chair before digging into her sub.

“No, I need the money.” That isn't really true either. With my mother buying me stuff all the time, I've been saving a lot of money lately.

“If you say so.” She grabs her purse and rummages around. She's got this ugly leather bag that I'm almost positive has no bottom. Like Mary Poppin's bag that she pulls a lamp out of. Tex starts piling things on the table while I wonder what the hell the clanking noise is emanating from the depths of the purse. Tex named her purse Harold. I don't know why.