Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

***

I go outside to get some air. My hips miss the feel of Peter's hands. I tell myself I'm being ridiculous. It's absolutely freezing and there are a bunch of dying cigarettes shoved in a flowerpot polluting the air, but I needed to get out of there. I walk down the porch, to the back of the house where some of the party noise is blocked and the cool air rushes through the trees that line the property.

“Ava?” I turn to find someone staring at me, illuminated by the floodlight from the porch. Blond hair, leather jacket, hiking boots. And one brown eye and one green one. Oh shit. It's him. Ivan.

My mind races to my purse, which is somewhere buried under the seat of Tex's car. My cell phone is unreachable, stuck in this insane holster-garter-thing that Tex let me borrow so I could keep it under my dress. Sooo, completely useless.

Trying to act casual, I move back toward the porch, my hand groping for the railing.

“How did you find me?” I mean, it can't have been that hard, but still. My foot in the stupid high heel bangs against the first step of the porch. It's wrap-around, so I'm still really far away from the door. Too far away, if I'm being honest.

“I smelled your scent on Peter. So I followed it.” My best bet is to keep him talking and get myself back into the house. There's no way he's going to hurt me in a house full of witnesses. Right? Sweat slides down my back, making my dress damp in the night air.

“What do you want?” One step.

Silence.

Another step.

“I want you to kill Peter.”

“You what?” Have I missed something about the immortal part of being a noctalis?

Man, I wish I had that pepperspray. Not that it would have saved me anyway. It's more to make me feel like I have some sort of upper hand, that I'm not a damsel in distress. No, I believe in girl power and all that.

Oh, who was I kidding? I'd let Peter rescue me, no white horse or charging required.

Someone pukes in the bushes on the other side of the house. I'm so close I can hear what song is playing inside. A girl giggles and I hear a male voice shush her as they stumble to a car. They're so drunk they'd be no help.

“How?”

“I think I'll let you figure that out. Just keep dressing like that.” His eyes scrape over my body and I want to strangle Tex for making me wear this.

“Does Peter know you're here?” Maybe if he hears his name? I scream it in my head, praying that somehow he'll be able to hear me. Peter, Peter, Peter.

“Yes.” He takes one step as I take one, so we're the same distance apart. All my organs turn into ice and I can't swallow.

“I've upset you,” he says, amused.

I guess that emotionless noctalis thing is reserved to Peter.

He gives me a smile that sends chills through my veins.

“You may go,” he says after a moment. Just like that? I take a step backwards, testing. He stands there serenely. Freedom is only a few steps away. Not wanting to fall on the steps, I turn around to ascend the rest of them, but something seizes me from behind, latching onto my neck. I thrash, making contact with someone's shoulder. I hear his voice in my ear as the air is squeezed from me by hands strong as steel bars. What is it with people strangling me?

“So fragile,” he says, releasing me. I slam into the steps, trying to drag air into my lungs. I cough, holding onto my throat. The only sound I hear is my attempt at breathing, and the music. I raise my head, but he's gone.

I use my arms to get myself into a sitting position. What. Just. Happened? One minute I'm dancing with Peter in a way that makes me tingle and want him and then his brother, who I've met once, is trying to kill me. Again.

“Peter?” I don't know why I say his name. It's not like I want to see him. The traitor. He let his brother used my windpipe as one of those squeezy stress balls. Maybe they planned this all along. I close my eyes and lean on the porch railing, trying to put my scattered thoughts back together.

“Ava?” Tex's voice makes me flinch. I can't see her in my condition, but there's no way I can hide. Her steps clack against the wood as she approaches me.

Twenty

“Hey Tex,” I say, smiling and coughing at the same time.

“Holy crap, are you okay?” She leans down so I can see right down her top if I want to. I close my eyes again and clear my throat, which feels like gargling with mouthwash full of broken glass.

“Yeah, I just came out for some air. I think I had one beer too many.” I give a fake laugh, which tears my throat apart.

“We should get you inside.” She trips herself as she tries to sit down next to me. Great, I'm going to have to drive her car. She reeks like a bewery. I wonder how much she managed to gulp down while I was getting interrogated and then strangled. Clearly plenty.

“I'm fine.”

“You need a drink, come on.” She grabs my arm and gets me to my shaking feet. It's the drunk leading the traumatized, but she gets me inside and onto a couch where I camp out for the next hour. She goes off every now and then, but comes back to check on me. I hide from Jamie, who would certainly have a litter of kittens if he knew what condition I'm in. I'm actually lucky Tex is as drunk as a skunk and doesn't notice my condition. I feel safer inside the house, protected by a layer of intoxicated teenagers.

I watch the party as if I'm apart from it. The people get drunker, and the dancing gets sloppier. The noise level rises and the bathrooms are full of people puking their guts out. I've had enough when a girl gets up on a table and starts taking her clothes off while screaming the lyrics to some song that no one can understand, and a guy tries to lay down in my lap.

“Ready to go?” I yell at Tex as she brings me another glass of water. Her top is askew, one bra strap hanging over her arm and she's got lip gloss smeared everywhere. I don't even want to know.

“Yeah,” she says, handing me the glass and looking around, as if realizing where she is. She plops down next to me and rests her head on my shoulder.

Instead of getting louder, Tex gets quieter the more she drinks. More cuddly and emo. The last time I'd seen Jamie, he was loading a bunch of lacrosse players into the drunk van. I'd text him tomorrow.

After jumping at every shadow and voice, worried someone is finally going to follow through with strangling me, I haul Tex out to her car and push her into the passenger seat. It doesn't matter if she goes home wasted, since her parents are out at some booksellers conference and won't be back until Monday. Coby's off with their grandparents, but Tex had been allowed to stay alone. Which, considering what went on tonight, was not the best idea. Her parents honestly thought that their punishment system worked, but Tex just got craftier at fooling them. They see what they wanted to see.