Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

“Uh huh.” I feel like my brain has temporarily gone on autopilot.

“I should go. For now. But I will be back.”

“Okay.” He's gone a second later and I'm left sitting on the couch, feeling my lips sizzle.

***

She kissed me. It was unexpected. Even though I felt a bit of her desire, it was hard to tell it apart from what I felt. We were both wrapped up in some sort of haze that consumed us. I should have pushed her back, but I didn't want to. I needed it as much as she did. Some form of human contact. Once I'd had a little, I need more. Before her, the kill was what I needed. The hunt. The feel of the drain of life out from under me. It was not unlike this rush. Instead of death, this tasted of life. Of a different desire. In some ways, this was stronger. It was also desire that could never be satisfied. I could never have enough of her. Not if we spent every single second together.

I had to leave and it was terrible. The more time I spent with her, the more I never wanted to leave, and the harder it was for me to even want to. The feeling of being full, so full I could burst swooped over me, and I knew that this was it. My end. A car sounded up the road. I used the sound to pull me out from under the haze. I also heard another sound. Viktor was waiting in the woods.

***

“How did it go?” I say. My brain is still a little fried from the kiss. My parents arrive through the front door about sixty seconds after Peter left.

“Everything looks good. No change,” Mom says. I wouldn't say that was good, but I smile anyway. I'm still dazed. Everything has kind of a rosy glow around it. God, I'm kind of high.

“I think I'm going to lie down for a little while. They took a little too much blood out of me.” Please don't remind me about blood. I give her a hug and a kiss and she drifts down the hall. Dad's still bringing in groceries.

“How was it?” I say when he comes back in.

“The same. She's not getting worse, which is good. She's stable for now. They could have done more tests, but I wasn't going to push her. There's no point, really.” He says the last part bitterly. I can tell he's been stewing on it all the way home. He slams the milk into the fridge.

“It's okay to be mad,” I say quietly.

“I'm not mad,” he says, slamming the fridge. Instead of arguing with him, I walk over and put my arms around his waist, like I did when I was little. I haven't hugged him like this in a very long time. He's shaking and I look up to find his crumpled face. He's crying. Silently, but there's no mistaking it.

He starts to collapse and we both slam to the kitchen floor. He's barely making any sound, which is much worse than the sobbing sound I should be hearing. There's nothing I can do as he holds me so tight it hurts.

“It's okay, Dad.” I say it quiet, so she won't hear. “It's going to be okay.” I'm more than a little freaked out that I'm on our kitchen floor trying to comfort a grown man, let alone my father. When there's really nothing I can say or do to make it better. I'm in just as much pain. He's been holding it in too long, but this can't be the first time he's let go.

“I can't lose her.” The words rip from him like tearing fabric.

“I know.” I pat his back. It seems like the right thing to do. Over and over he says it. I can't lose her. Yeah, well, me neither. My own tears come, try as I might to stop them. I have to keep wiping them away. It takes a few minutes, but he gets ahold of himself. Once he's done shaking, he extricates himself from me and stands up as if nothing happened.

“Don't tell your mother,” he says before he walks out the door. I swallow the rest of my own tears and go to wash my face with some cool water. My life is bipolar. One minute I'm flying on a cloud, kissing Peter and the next, my father is sobbing on my shoulder. I like the ups, but I could do without the downs. I guess you have to have both, though to balance things out and all. Or maybe I get the highs because of the lows. Or maybe... I'm thinking too much about this.

My phone buzzes. Yay, a distraction.

Where the hell r u? Did u die? Of course Tex is melodramatic. I almost don't want to answer her, just for the hell of it. I can't really deal with her right now. I've got bigger problems.

At home. Dealing with a lot. C u tomorrow.

Exhaustion crashes in on me, and even though it's only 7:30, I'm ready for bed. I look in on my mother, but she's asleep and I don't want to wake her. Dad is outside, still supposedly getting the groceries. I should check on him, but I don't want to. Color me selfish.

I barely have time to get my clothes off before I'm completely out. The last thing I remember is someone pulling a blanket over me, but I'm too tired to see who it is.

Twenty-Nine

“Did you meet the brother? Did you?” Tex bounces up and down like a child waiting for a pony ride.

“Yeah. He's cool.” I don't want her getting any ideas. She's taken this noctalis thing really well. Far too well.

“And? I need details. Height, eye color, do-ability.” She does that eyebrow thing again.

“Tex,” I say, putting my hands on her shoulders so she'll pay attention. “He's a creature that isn't human. That drinks blood, and would probably kill you. This isn't time to be looking for a boy toy.”

“Why not? I'm done with human boys.” She shrugs off my hands.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” She just rolls her eyes. What have I done? The bell rings and she skips away from me.

“We'll talk later. I want to meet that brother.” She spins so her skirt flares out. A couple of heads turn, but she doesn't see any of them. I'm going to have to warn Peter and Viktor about her. I never underestimate her when it comes to boys. She tends to go a little nuts. When Blake broke up with her I had to physically tackle her and Jamie had to hold her so she wouldn't go through with her plan to key his car, slash his tires and go all Carrie Underwood on him like in that song.

I resist the urge to smash my head against my locker and stumble my way to class. Maybe drift is the better word. I am so not present at school anymore. It makes me feel guilty, that I'm not getting the good grades my parents want me too, especially my mother. She's always the one who puts my report cards on the fridge and takes me out for a treat if I make the honor roll. There's not much chance of that happening now, unless a miracle occurs, which is not likely.

I do try to focus, but it's kind of a losing battle. When my mother had first been diagnosed, and I'd been in the bargaining stage, I thought that if I got really good grades, she'd magically get better. She got worse and I got straight A's. Nothing made a bit of difference, so I stopped trying.