Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles 2)

“I have heard that can happen. I have not experienced it myself.”

I nearly stumble from the pain, but clench my teeth and keep running. This has to be done. I have to find another way for her to be free. Even if it causes some pain.

Viktor stares at me. “You are in pain without her.”

“Yes.”

“I understand.” I know he does. Perhaps not the physical pain, but he does understand what it is like to lose someone as a noctalis.

He stays silent for a while, thinking. I do not need mind-reading abilities to know who he is thinking about.

Her name was Adele and he had met her on a brief trip we had taken to Paris. She was sixteen when she was turned into a noctalis, but looked much younger. Everything about her was small and delicate, down to her tiny nose. He took her to the top of the Eiffel Tower and that was it. They hunted together in the slums of Paris for several months and I stayed with them a few times. Adele was lovely and bubbly and Viktor smiled when he was around her. We made a family. At least for a little while.

One day we were running and Adele collapsed to the ground. Viktor dropped down next to her, asking what was wrong. And she crumbled to ash, leaving her clothes empty.

I will never forget the sound he made. It would be similar to the one I would make if I lost Ava. Part of me can still hear it. Viktor had gone back to Russia after that and would only feed when desperation became too much. He had only ventured out when I needed him a few weeks ago.

“Do you miss your cabin?”

“I have had many years of solitude. It was time for me to end it.”

“Where is he?” So far we are just coming into the border between Maine and New Hampshire.

“Florida.” Florida. That is a long way away. I had never thought of places in terms of distance before. I could fly anywhere, so distance did not matter. But being tied to Ava, it does.

The pain is already bad. I don't know if I can make it. But I will try. The taste of Ava is still on my lips.

Viktor and I are mostly silent. He changes into his noctalis form, and I have to push to keep up with him. If I could fly, there would be no contest.

When we pass Pennsylvania, I have to stop for a moment.

“You should have brought her. I did not know it would be this difficult.”

“Nor did I.” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the pain. I am so cold, if I could shiver, I would. I hope she is not in as much pain. I try to get a vibe, as she calls it, but there is nothing. My thoughts and emotions are my own. It is a cold and quiet feeling.

“We must go.” So we do. I have to stop again in Georgia. I can barely run, so Viktor slows down to match my pace. The heat is thick on my tongue. I imagine it tastes like Ava's blood.

We have to dart in and out of roadways. I prefer the rural setting of Maine. It takes much less time to get anywhere because of all the free running space. Although the architecture is lovely to look at. I cannot focus on anything but moving one foot in front of the other. One more step, one more step, one more step. And then I can take no more steps.

A jolt of pain tears through me. It is too much. Too terrible. Too great. My body cannot take being without her for one more second. I will end.

I fall to the ground, screaming, the sound shattering my ears.

Chapter Nine

Ava

Mid-morning I'm in so much pain that I can't even stand up. Mom is seconds away from calling 911 when I cave and tell her the truth.

“It's because,” excruciating pain, “he left.” More excruciating pain. “Oh, god.” The pain is so bad I have to run to the sink and puke. Good thing my hair is up.

“Baby, you're sick. We need to take you to the hospital.” She looks so worried, but I'm in so much pain I don't have room for much else than that.

I can barely turn the sink on to wash out my mouth.

“Is there any way you can get him to come back?” She pushes a few strands of hair back from my sweaty face.

“No, he doesn't have a phone.” When did talking get so hard?

“He should probably get one if this is going to happen.” I want to scream because it might make me feel better, but I can't get enough air in to do it.

“Come on, let's get to the couch.” She barely has enough strength to get us from the kitchen to the couch. We sort of cruise over, me hunched like a little old lady. I never thought sitting down would be so impossible.

“Have you taken anything?”

“A little while ago.” It's down the drain by now.

“Maybe we should put some heat on it.” She's weirdly calm, as if I've just got a strained muscle. She must be seriously freaked out, and trying not to show it. I guess I failed Dad with the whole, don't-stress-Mom-out thing. I failed the morning after I made the promise. If I were a noctalis, I'd be dead within 24 hours. Or re-dead.

The only sound, other than the screeching of my own pain is the telephone. Dad's called about forty times today, making sure Mom's okay. Somehow she's able to hide what's really going on in an eerily composed voice.

I start screaming his name in my head, just to focus in something other than the agony that burns inside me.

Peter Henry MacKintire! Get your ass back here right now! Please.

I dissolve into just saying his name over and over in my head. If I could, I'd rock back and forth. Mom comes in with a heating pad and plugs it in. She practically has to use the Jaws of Life to get me out of the fetal position.

“What was so important that he left you like this?”

“He had to go do some stuff.” It's too complicated to get into while in this state.

“Did he know this was going to happen?”

“No.” I suck in a breath through gritted teeth. Jesus Christ, it feels like someone is jamming a flaming sword into my chest over and over. And over. Mom flutters her hands over me, putting a blanket on and then taking it off, bringing me glasses of water and every single pill in the medicine cabinet. Nothing helps.

Just when I think I can't take it for one more second, it gets fractionally better. Like 1/1 millionth. But it's enough that I notice. I don't say anything about it. Maybe it's a fluke.

Nope, it moves another notch better. A few minutes later, another notch. Mom's rubbing my head and humming songs. Like I'm a fussy baby she can't calm.

Finally, it lessens enough so I can breathe again.

“Is it getting better?”

“Yeah. A little.” It's still a lot of effort to talk. I keep screaming his name in my head, trying to feel for our connection. I'd lost it a while ago and my head had been so silent.

It had been really lonely. Weird how the only person I'd had in my head was me for 17 years, but after Peter had infiltrated my mind, I'd gotten so used to it, that it was a quiet place when he was gone. I wanted it back. I also wanted the pain to go away, and I was starting to get my wish.