Blood Awakening (8 page)

“He has bags at home, but they’re not cutting it.” The thought of Chance sitting down to watch an episode of The Walking Dead (his fave show, though I have no clue why) with a couple bags of O negative on a plate brought the shivers back. They crawled along my skin as I fought the urge to gag. Which made no sense, seeing as how I drank blood, too; though I was getting the feeling that Chance enjoyed the experience much more than me.

“You want me to drive you?”

Sure, Ava. He wants the girl who turned him into a blood-drinking corpse to take him home. Fun times.

That voice again. Sometimes I hated me.

“I’ll be fine.” Three little words that hid many more: “I don’t want you around me”; “You’re the last person I want to drive me anywhere”; “Stay away from me, you murderer”; I could almost hear him saying those things—or at least thinking them.

“Okay,” I said, defeated. I tugged tightly on my backpack, already dreading what was coming. “See you tomorrow.” I offered a shy smile and walked away from him, from the guy I loved—by far one of the most difficult things I had done since waking up half dead. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny voice was telling me that it was for the final time, and a twitch in my heart was agreeing. I had fought a coven of vampires, trained with one of the oldest and most powerful monsters in the world, and even survived high school. And yet, turning my back on Chance was near impossible to do.

“Ava?” Chance’s voice behind me, close. I stopped and turned to find him trotting to catch up to me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being an ass, I know it.” He was looking down at his feet, which were busy scooting loose rocks back and forth across the pavement.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said, fighting back tears. “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to be.” He looked up and at me—really at me—and moved closer. So close that had he still been alive, I would have gotten a blast of the electric heat that used to permeate off of him. “You didn’t do this.”

“I did.” I suddenly couldn’t look him in the eye, focusing instead on the gym wall behind him. “I made him do it, Chance. I made Aldric turn you into a vampire.” His body shifted slightly; he was clearly still uncomfortable with the word. Probably more so, now.

“He told me what happened,” he responded, his voice soft. His eyes dropped again.

“You don’t remember?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. Just bits and pieces.”

Boy, did I know what that feeling was like. “So what do you remember?”

He looked at me again. “I remember you saying you love me.” That’s what I had been fishing for, had been praying he would say. The pain and torture he suffered at the hands of Sebastian and his evil mongers, the loss of the life he once knew because of what I had done, those things could have been washed away forever. It would have been too much had he lost the memory of my words; I was overjoyed he hadn’t.

“It’s true,” I said, mimicking the soft tone of his voice. “I love you, Chance.” I expected—hoped—he would smile and say it back, and tell me that he would always love me.

“I’m sorry, Ava,” he answered, not at all what I was yearning for. “But I can’t do this right now.”

“I know.” I was crushed, completely. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He finally looked at me again, his eyes filled with pieces of the old him melded with the new. “I just can’t deal with everything going on inside me. It’s all too much.” A short pause, then, “I just have some stuff to deal with right now. I need some space.” I had anticipated that, anticipated him saying he didn’t want me around; it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“I get it,” I said, forcing the tears away. “But I wanna help you get through this. I wanna be here for you.”

“I don’t think you can help me. Nobody can.” He began that awkward, uncomfortable shifting of his weight again. “I…I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for…everything.” He stepped around me and headed toward his truck. Part of me wanted to let him go, let him deal with things in his own way. The other part—the stronger part—said to hell with that, and bounded after him.

“Chance,” I said, once I caught up to him. “Please.” He stopped walking and turned around. “Let me help you. Tell me what I can do.”

“Can you bring my mom back?” It was like a slap in the face, and it hurt.

His mom.

Of course she would be top priority. His mom was murdered (again, because of me) and now it was killing him. Here I had been thinking only of myself for the past month, and whether or not I was on his mind half as often as he was on mine. Not once did I even consider what losing his mother must have been doing to him. I was awful.

“I wish I could.” The lamest answer, but it was all I had.

“Told you you couldn’t help me.” He turned and walked away again, and again I followed. He tossed his backpack into the open window of his truck before opening the door and climbing inside.

“Maybe I can,” I said, placing my hands on the door between us. I wanted desperately to climb into the truck with him and pretend that none of the past month had ever happened, that he was still human and we were in love as we should have been, and our real life was about to begin.

“How?”

I stared deep into the now-altered jade of his eyes. “I can help you say goodbye to her.” This time, it was Chance who looked as though he had been slapped in the face. He stared out the windshield of his truck, clenching and unclenching his jaw. I could feel the tension and anger and sadness emanating from him, even if it was no longer a physical effect. “I can take you to see her. Her grave, I mean. If you want me to.” I must admit that it was a bit morbid discussing his mom in such a cavalier way, and I resisted the urge to shudder away the creepiness digging into my shoulders, refusing to let Chance see my pain when he had so much of his own.

It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke. “Okay.” His face looked worn, ragged. Saying okay meant that he had to accept his mother’s death—something I knew he would never do. “But not today,” he went on. “I can’t today. I need time.”

“Okay,” I said, relieved that at least he was letting me back in—however macabre the means. “How about Friday? After school?” It was a week away, so I hoped it would be enough time for him to come to terms with what this trip would mean.

“Friday’s good.” He started his truck before finally looking over at me. “See ya.” He backed out of the parking space and sped away, leaving me standing alone in the snow.

The rest of the week came and went—with very little contact between Chance and me, which made me physically ill, so I was grateful that Kayla kept me busy with organizing her dad’s files and trying to pinpoint where he may have gone off the grid—and Friday was here before I realized. All day, Chance seemed different somehow. He was more aware of things, like he was sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for someone to come and pull the chair out from under him. During gym class, he didn’t participate in the touch football game I had gotten so used to watching him in, not that he had done much of anything sports-related all week. Instead, he sat on the bleachers with his nose in a book. The only interaction I saw him have with anyone other than the fictional characters he was reading about was when Lacey sauntered over to him and planted her fake self right up against him. Though jealousy had all but replaced the half-dead blood running through my veins, I smiled a little when she pulled away, obviously chilled by his now-icy skin. I tried to look inconspicuous as I watched the two of them, Lacey turning on her signature sleazy charm, Chance doing his best to fend off her come-ons while simultaneously trying to keep from sinking his fangs into her neck. After nearly two minutes, my stomach couldn’t take it anymore and I stormed over to them.

“Hi Lacey!” I did my best imitation bubbly voice, trying to sound like I gave a crap about her.

“Hi.” She glared up at me, her eyes shooting venomous darts in my direction. I deflected as best I could and kept a large, overzealous smile smeared across my face. After a few seconds, she slowly stood. “So, you two are back together?”

I sidestepped around her and took the seat she vacated; for good measure, I linked my arm with Chance’s. “We were never apart,” I said, again with a fake smile. I only prayed that Chance didn’t pull away—at least not until Lacey had moved on to available prey.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She flashed her own fake smile—which was way more devilish than mine—and turned her attention to Chance. “I’m here if you need me.” A quick hand on his bare knee (which I had totally ignored, but now that she pointed it out, I kept staring at his exposed arms and legs) and a real smile, and she was bouncing off to join the Laceybots across the gym floor.

I swallowed back the nausea. “Did you tell her?” I reluctantly pulled my arm from his.

“Tell her what? ‘Hey Lacey. I can’t stand seeing your face, but your neck’s looking pretty tasty right about now. Can I have a bite?’” He dog-eared a page in his book and tossed it on the bench before running a hand through his dark, curly hair in frustration. As always, the curls fell back into place, and my heart broke a little bit more. “No, I didn’t tell her. She’s just upset about my mom.”

“Sure she is.” The words escaped before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted them.

“You don’t think she is? You don’t think other people actually care?”

I didn’t care too much for New Chance.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sure she cares. I just don’t think that’s the only reason she came over here.”

“So you think that nobody can actually care about me just for me, is that what you mean?”

Yeah. Definitely not liking him right now.

“Of course not.” I took a deep breath, praying I wouldn’t say something that would make things even worse. I tried to remember that I was just as on-edge as he was when I first woke up in that coffin. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he blurted as the bell to go home sounded. “Are we going or what?” He walked away from me and toward the exit, his frustration practically leaving a visible pattern in his wake. I slowly got up and followed. I knew that his angry attitude was partly because he was a vampire now, and partly because he missed his mom and was mad at the world because he couldn’t be there when she needed him. He had told me that, as a Healer, it was his job to save people—especially from vampires. Not being able to protect the most important person in his life had to cause unimaginable pain. I just hated that I was the one who was taking the brunt of his rage—though I totally deserved it.

The drive out to the cemetery was the first time Chance and I had been alone in a really long time, only now, he practically hated the sight of me, so barely two words were spoken the entire trip. Thankfully it was only a few miles outside of town, so a half hour of silence wasn’t the end of the world.

We turned onto a tiny side road and parked where the asphalt met orange dirt. We climbed out and crossed the threshold into the cemetery, and I couldn’t help but think that we both should have burst into flames or something, being undead and all. But instead, more silence hung between us as I stepped in front of him and led the way to the back. Darkness hung on everything, casting shadows across neglected headstones resting lonely beneath towering oak trees. I was mindful of where I stepped, remembering what Kayla had told me when we came to the funeral, that stepping on someone’s grave was bad luck. Definitely didn’t need any more of that, thanks.

I had only been to the cemetery once since her death, but I found Ms. Caldon’s grave rather quickly. I stepped to the side and into the shadows once we got there so Chance could have a moment, but he wouldn’t move from where he stood—which was several yards away from his mom. The tiny, shattered shards of my heart burst into even smaller, more fragile pieces at seeing him broken and beaten down. I would have given my life to save him.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked, my voice carrying on the bitter wind. Other than the scratchy rustle of naked trees, it was the only sound not buried beneath the whirl of the wind. Chance didn’t answer, but slowly stepped toward his mom’s grave, quietly dropping to his knees in front of her headstone.

“Mom?” His voice was cracked and laden with pain, I’m sure a mirror of his heart. I held back tears as he talked to her. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m sorry I let this happen. I know you thought that me being a Healer was wrong, that it would lead to no good.” A long pause, his head hung down, then, “I guess you were right, Mom. I failed you.” He stopped talking, simply staring at her name etched into the stone, his hands gripped tightly together. His body was shaking, seemingly from the cold, but I knew that wasn’t it.

He was crying.

“I miss you so much, Mom. I wish I could go back and fix this. I wish I could save you. I wish none of this ever happened. I’m…so…sorry.” His tears were free-flowing now, streaking his face. I could almost reach out and touch his pain it was so present, so real. I moved next to him and slowly placed my hand on his shoulder, thankful he didn’t pull away. “I have to go now, Mom,” he went on. “I love you. And I promise you that I will make him pay for doing this to you. I won’t stop until he’s dead.” His emphasis on that last word scared me; I knew all too well that he would make that promise to his mom come true. I held my breath as he leaned forward and touched her headstone one last time before standing up. I moved my hand from his shoulder as he did, using it to wipe the tears from my face before he noticed them. He stepped away from her grave and over to the wooded area directly behind it, keeping his back to me the entire time. I knew he was still crying, that he was boiling over with emotion, and I wanted nothing more than to help him through.