Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles 2)

No, I have to get this out. It's killing me inside, keeping this secret from her.

“I know. I've been wanting to tell you what's been up with me for so long, but I just couldn't find the right time.” Bless the stars for Peter. He sits calmly in his chair, waiting for me to speak and doing his noctalis-not-blinking thing. I take a pause to collect myself. Under the table, Peter puts his hand on my knee.

“Just let me get this out and I'll answer, or Peter will answer, your questions after.”

She folds her hands and takes a deep breath. “Go ahead, ma fleur, I can take whatever it is.”

I take a deep yoga breath, wishing it could last forever. Only it doesn't and I have to let it out and start talking.

I give her more detail than I gave Tex when I told her. Tex also wouldn't stop saying shut the front door. Mom stays quiet, her hands clenched together, as if she's trying to hold onto something. I know she thinks I can't see it, but I can. I focus on her locked hands as I keep talking, trying to get the words out so they'll make sense.

“Is this true?” she says when I'm finished with the noctalis part. I still need to get to the Claiming part, but I needed a moment to compose myself. Mom takes this as part of the question and answer session.

“Yes,” Peter responds.

“You're not human.” She blinks rapidly.

“No, I am not.”

Her face is as white as the tablecloth with the lace on the edges that we only use on special occasions.

“Ava-Claire?” Her attention flicks back to me.

“Yeah?” I meet her eyes timidly. I'm scared of what I might find there.

She breathes out before she speaks again. “I think I need a glass of water.”

“I will get it.” Peter gets up faster than he should and gets the water quicker than he should. Mom's eyes struggle to follow him, as do mine. He sets the glass down in front of her and she stares at it as if it's going to bite her.

“So it's true?”

“Yes,” Peter and I say at the same time. I still can't get a read on how this is going.

“Are you okay?” She slowly reaches for the glass and takes a swig of water. Finding it not dangerous, she drains the glass. I always wonder why people think glasses of water are good in crisis situations. I guess it's working, because she looks a little calmer.

“I'm sorry, I was just under the impression that my daughter was seeing a boy who was too old, and a little odd. Come to find out that she's seeing a supernatural creature that could kill her or drink her blood. This isn't the kind of thing you think is going to happen. I kept waiting to find out your real age or that you'd been in prison. No offense.”

“None taken. If I were held accountable to human laws, I would have spent several lifetimes in prison.” Very helpful, Peter. I want to kick his leg under the table.

“That isn't reassuring.”

“I know,” he says. She traces the rim of the glass with her finger, and it reminds me of that night, not too long ago when my parents told me her cancer was terminal.

“There's more,” I say, sighing.

“Please, don't tell me there's more.” I want to tell her she's right. I so want to.

“It's not bad. It's just something you need to know. It's why Peter is here all the time. I just have to ask you not to freak out. Because it's already done and it can't be undone.” Unless I died or became a noctalis, but I left that part out.

Her hands fold around the glass. “What is it?”

I explain, watching her eyes widen as I tell her about the Claiming. I don't put too much emphasis on the blood thing. More on the fact that it's hard for us to be apart, and that my senses are heightened. Talking about it makes me want to crawl into Peter's lap and forget everything. But I keep talking until it's all out there. Tex would pat me on the back. She's all for complete honesty. From the look on Mom's face, I'm not sure if she feels the same.

There's a silence the size of Aroostook county filling the kitchen when I'm done. I can see her trying to process everything I've said. Which is insane, because I'm still trying.

“I'm sorry to dump this on you. I didn't want to burden you, but I didn't want to lie anymore. Every time you came in and wanted to bring Peter something to eat he always said no, and I knew you thought it was because he didn't want your food or he was being rude. I wanted you to know that it was because he doesn't eat. I know that sounds crazy, but that's the way I feel.” Go ahead and ramble on, Ava.

She reaches for my hand. “I'm glad you felt you could come to me. I always want you to come to me with everything.” Her hand shakes. So does mine.

“And?” I wait for the 'but.'

“And I think I'm going to need a little time to think about this. Peter, you can stay as long as you want, but I need to lie down.” She gets up, and she looks so worn out. Like a wrung out washcloth. God, what the hell was I thinking? She's so fragile and I'd put something too heavy on her shoulders. I'd piled it on top of her like twelve million bricks. Bricks dripping in blood. What a lovely image.

“I'm so sorry,” I whisper, my voice thin as paper. Mom grabs my shoulder, her fingers digging into my skin, making me look up at her.

“Oh, ma fleur, I don't want you to regret telling me something. Honesty is the best policy. I am grateful for your honesty. And yours, Peter. Thank you.” I didn't tell her about the whole thing with Di. I figured that was just too much.

“I told Tex,” I say as she gets up from the table, using both hands to pull herself up.

She smirks, and I relax a little. “I bet that went over well.”

“Actually, it did. She won't stop asking if Peter has brothers.” I want to roll my eyes, but I'm still feeling super guilty.

“That would not be my first inclination.” She casts a wary eye at Peter.

“It wouldn't be anyone's but hers.” She pushes away from the table, like shoving a boat away from the shore. Her dress whispers against her skin as she walks back to her room. I can hear her uneven breathing until she closes the door.

I slump down on the table, banging my forehead.

“That was such a bad idea.”

“The truth is never a bad idea.” Peter puts his hand on my arm. It feels good, even through the fabric of my shirt. It's like my skin wants to forget about the suckiness of this whole thing.

“In this case, I think it is. What if I make her sick?” I turn my face so I can see him.

“She is already sick.”

“You don't have to point that out, Peter, I'm aware.” I hate lashing out at him, but I can't help it. I'm not going to go so far as to say this is his fault, because I'm just as responsible as he is. I was the one who kept going back to the cemetery. I was the one who wouldn't leave him alone. I also didn't stop him when he wanted to do the Claiming. I let it happen. And I'd let him feed from me. Twice. It really wasn't as bad as it sounded. It was kind of sexy. But I'd never, ever, tell Peter that.