Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles 2)

“So,” he says, turning back around and clapping his hands together, “it seems as if a gallant rescue is in order, my fair lady. I guess that makes me the noble steed.” I would love to laugh at that, if we were in any other situation. But we're not, and all I can do is breathe and not die.

“This will be a little tricky since I cannot touch your skin. Ah,” he says, reaching for a blanket. I lie there as he wraps me up like a human burrito. My arms and legs are so tight that I couldn't move them if I wanted to.

“Sorry, sweet blossom, but this is going to be a little awkward for a while. Don't fret, I'm fast.” He winks at me. Didn't know he could do that. He leans down and sort of folds me in half to get me into his arms. He pulls the window up and we are blasted with cool air. It's not summer yet.

It's a good thing I can't see, because then I'd be freaking out more. If I was able to freak out, which I'm not at the moment.

“Ready?” I make a sound at the back of my throat that means, “sure, why not?” He laughs again and then we're in the air and landing on the ground with a soft thump.

“Onward we go,” he says, and then he's running. I have to close my eyes against the flashes of the trees that zoom by. If I could move or do anything, I'd probably throw up. This is different than flying. Not that the ride isn't smooth, but I can see so much that it makes me sick.

“How are you?” he says a few minutes later. I whimper, hoping that he understands means, “as good as it gets right now.” Like before when Peter left me, it takes a while for me to even sense that I'm feeling better. It would be the equivalent of being hit by a bus and being hit by a truck. Only marginally better. So small that I'm not sure if it's real.

“Where are we?”

“Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I am following their scent.”

“How much longer?”

“I think you would be the one to tell me that.” I tug on the connection, so relieved when I discover a little resistance. Thank all the stars. It's not huge, but it's something. I just wish...

“What is it like?” Ivan's voice startles me. Even in my weakened and drug-addled state, I am still surprised.

“What is what?” I can't finish, even though the pain is lessening.

“To be Claimed. I have heard of it, but have never seen it done. It seems as if all it causes is agony, from what I have seen.”

“Not agony always.“

“Yes, I can imagine that. I see some of the benefits for Peter, but your motivation is still a mystery.”

“Love. Him.” I clench my teeth around the words. I wish I could forge my words into daggers and have them by my side. Love as my weapon of choice.

“I see.” But really, he doesn't. I want to ask him more about Josephine, but a little nudge interrupts me.

“We're getting closer.”

“But we are still miles away.” Miles and miles to go. Like that Robert Frost poem.

Peter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Peter

The place they put me in is dark and damp and echoes. From what I can tell, it is some sort of underground bunker. It was surrounded by an old stone foundation. Perhaps it was once a house or part of a military barracks. And now it will be the place I spend the rest of my eternity. Or at least as long as they decide to keep me here. They do not say much, but from what I can tell, they plan to leave me here and see if Ava comes. What the purpose of this is, I cannot understand. My mind is not sharp. I need her.

I call out again.

“Peter dear. I am sorry about the accommodations, but you are used to it, I assume.” I can't answer her. She reaches down with soft hands and strokes my face. Di has incredibly small hands. They are about the size of a child's.

“You were always my favorite,” she says, licking my cheek. “My youngest.”

“Cal.” I am trying to ask what about him, when I feel it. Feel her. It is faint, and still so far away, but she is there. She is coming.

I knew I could count on Ivan.

“Cal is my oldest. He was the first. You didn't know that, did you?”

“No.”

“I was barely transformed myself. I had run away from Hartfield and found him in an alley. I seem to like the lost causes, do I not?” I had asked Ava once if she thought I was a lost or hopeless cause. I was both before I met her.

She is coming.

“He had something about him that I couldn't understand. I was inches away from killing him, but still his heart beat on. I couldn't extinguish that, could I?” Cal steps from behind her. She smiles at him and he smiles back.

“My first. We had some times, didn't we?”

“We did.” His voice changes, his accent shifts to a lower-class British drawl. The shift of accent is like a light turning on and off. Cal had never told me of his maker, his origin. I had never asked. I knew little of Di's origin as well. I had never asked.

“And what did you promise me, Cal?”

“That I would do whatever you asked of me.” And there was the loophole.

I close my eyes again and picture her face. Smiling, with the sun shining down on her. Ava, letting me brush her silky hair. Staring up at the stars. Singing along with the radio. Baking with her mother. Relishing the taste of lemon meringue pie. Ava, Ava, Ava.

She is coming.

Closer, closer, closer.

“And you have done whatever I asked of you.” Her hands caress his face, just as she had mine. Cal could not, or decided to no longer hide, his adoration for her. His hands entwine with hers, dancing together as if they have done so for eternity.

Just a little longer, and she will be here.

Relief slowly trickles through me, starting at the tips of my toes, my fingers, the top of my head. My fingers finally work, and I twitch them back to life. Very soon, I will be able to walk. But I must not let them know that. I stay still.

“Where shall we go next?” Di's voice takes on the affectionate tone you might use with a young child. She had never used it on me.

“Anywhere you want. Paris?”

“I went to Paris twenty years ago. How about China? It's been at least seventy years since I was last there.”

“China,” he says in her ear. They embrace. I close my eyes and wait for Ava.

Ava

“Your heart is very loud,” Ivan calmly observes. It's so weird that he is running so hard, but not breathing at all.

“I'm sorry?” My voice has gotten stronger, as has my body. I can lift my head and keep my eyes open now. Progress! My heart races because I'm thinking about Peter and how much I want him, miss him, want to punch him for doing this to me. But most of all I want to kiss the daylights out of him and tell him that he should make me a noctalis ASAP, because I can't come and rescue him all the time.