Aven's Dream Read online

  At the beginning of this year, my biggest worries had been starting a new school and passing Trig. Falling in love, finding out that there were creatures who fed off of human energy, going to a dance, losing someone else I loved—none of these things had even entered into my consciousness before meeting Will.

  I bit my lip. I had been so focused on finding Will that I hadn’t contemplated what would happen if they did manage to get him back.

  “Gen? I have to ask you something.”

  I paused, losing my nerve, and she looked over at me.

  “Is he …” I took another breath. “Is Will going to be okay when you find him?”

  Gen was silent for several seconds.

  “No,” she said softly.

  I took a ragged breath and then bit down on my lip—hard—to keep from losing it.

  “What do you mean?”

  Even though I had whispered the words, I knew Gen had heard me.

  “He may very well be mad by now, and there is no question: he will be a danger to you.”

  “Then … I can’t see him?” I asked weakly.

  “We can assess the situation after we’ve found him.”

  I looked down. Will had said it himself—he was dangerous to me.

  And my problem was still the same: I loved him regardless.

  Chapter 25: Dance with the Devil

  When we got to Winters, Gen drove through the historic district and pulled into the parking lot of the Winters Hotel. I hadn’t paid much attention to any details about the dance, so I was surprised it wasn’t being held in the gym. A motorcycle pulled up alongside us as Gen parked, and James opened my door. I reached out and took his hand when he offered it, mostly because I was afraid of keeping my balance in my heels.

  I shook my head. All signs pointed to this being a really bad dream. For one, I was at a dance—an event I had only attended in my worst nightmares. Plus, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I was here with the wrong date. Seeing groups and couples walking toward the steps of the hotel, I could feel the energy around us. The air was thick with it.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I muttered as I pulled my hand away from James’s.

  Gen appeared on my other side, and we started walking toward the banner that said Winters High Fall Formal. I concentrated on walking and breathing as we reached the stone steps leading to the entrance. At the revolving door, I could hear the music already. As we walked toward the hotel’s ballroom, I looked up at the black and white pictures on the wall. Farmland and trees instead of gas stations and four-lane roads. These pictures had been taken an eternity ago—and my present company had probably witnessed it.

  At the entrance to the dance, there was a photographer taking pictures, and people were lining up to immortalize the moment. I walked right by into a dark room, lit only by flashes of purple and blue. There were round tables with white tablecloths set up in the back of the room. A long table to my left offered punch and sodas. The dance floor at the center of the room was already crowded with people.

  I kept looking until I finally caught sight of Sean and the others. Lizzie and Amy came rushing over.

  “You came!” Amy squeaked.

  “Someone sort of forced me,” I said sheepishly, pointing toward Gen. “You guys look awesome!”

  “You, too!” Lizzie said. “So much better than …”

  I looked down. How bad had I looked lately? Megan walked up and glanced at me suspiciously, her expression full of envy.

  “Come on! Let’s dance!” she said more to the others than me.

  Amy looked over at me, and I shook my head.

  “You guys go. I’m going to … get something to drink,” I finished finally.

  As they walked back through the crowd to the dance floor, I headed in the direction of the refreshment table. I jumped when James’s hand touched my lower back, sending a pulse of heat spreading across my skin. As he began steering me through the crowd, I looked back at him—tempted to make a comment about all the hormonal energy coursing through the room. Seeing the feverish glow of his green eyes, I decided not to say anything.

  Pulling a can of soda from the ice, I opened it and drank straight from the can. I knew the caffeine wasn’t going to help, but I needed something to distract me. Then I saw an empty table in the very back corner and headed for it.

  I had grown up on movies—a lot of them my mom had watched as a kid—where the quirky, shy girl who never got asked to dances ended up with the hottest guy in school. By freshman year of high school, I had finally accepted that this wasn’t based anywhere in reality. Bitchy girls who dressed like they were in a movie got the hot guys. And now that I knew the hot guy sometimes turned out to be a sociopath, the movies felt even more deceptive. Jason Everett and Scott Adams had been considered gods before Will, Edmond, and James got to Winters. The funny part was that if people knew what Will and the others were, they would be considered the monsters—not Scott and Jason.

  Sitting down on one of the chairs, I immediately took off my heels and drained the rest of my soda. I closed my eyes briefly and felt the hum of emotion coursing through the room. When I opened my eyes and looked across the table, James was watching me.

  “I’m sure there are lots of girls here who would gladly donate some energy for a dance,” I smiled.

  It was true. I knew he didn’t like me—or at least he didn’t like what I represented—but I couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Well, attractive was an understatement. Will, Edmond, and James were godlike. Literally and figuratively.

  “Would you like to dance, or would you prefer to brood in a dark corner for the duration?”

  I smiled.

  “Dark corner for the duration. Please, James. Go have fun. Think of it as a giant energy drink.”

  I glanced around and saw Gen not far from the entrance. Jason Everett was practically slobbering on her, which made me wonder where Allison Monroe was. Then again, what did I care about pretty, bitchy people? When someone’s hand came down on my shoulder, I looked up at Sean and smiled.

  “Come on, Casey.”

  He pulled me up, and I leaned over and grabbed my shoes, hopping on one foot and then the other to put my shoes back on.

  “Back to the land of the living,” Sean said as he pulled me toward the dance floor.

  I chose not to respond to Sean’s comment as I followed him toward the seething mass of humanity.

  “What? I don’t get a thank you for rescuing you from psycho boy?” Sean laughed, looking back at me.

  I gave him a warning look.

  “James is …”

  I frowned, unable to come up with a suitable word. Nice? Sympathetic? Sensitive? Understanding? None of these descriptions fit. He was … difficult.

  “Trying to pick up his dead friend’s girlfriend?” Sean finished smugly.

  I stopped and looked at Sean like he had slapped me. His comment was wrong on so many levels.

  “I don’t even know who you are, Sean Murray,” I seethed.

  What had Will or James ever done to Sean? Spinning on my heel, I started stalking toward the exit. I wanted to find a bathroom so I could have the epic freak-out that I was about to have. There was too much frantic energy and out of control emotion. Granted, a lot of it was mine. When someone grabbed me by the shoulder, I turned—ready to slug Sean—when I felt my entire body turn icy as I came face-to-face with Scott Adams. I could practically feel the tightly coiled aggression leaking from his smirking features, and now that I was close to him again, I couldn’t help thinking that his hazel eyes had a reptilian quality to them. I was also relatively sure that he was drunk again. Maybe that was how he lived with himself.

  “Hey, you’re that girl from my History class,” he said.

  He looked down at me like I should have been congratulating him or falling at his feet. In reality, I shuddered, and when his meaty hand snaked around my waist, I felt nauseous. I wanted to spit in his face, punch him in the mouth, or step on his f
oot. Kicking him where it counted was another tempting idea. But as the music faded and the next song began playing, I stopped paying attention to him completely, my skin prickling with awareness. I looked toward the DJ booth. Only someone who had been stalking me—or my playlists—would request this song. I was sure some people knew of the song, but it wasn’t one that would get requested. Then I saw James over Scott’s shoulder and watched as he tapped Scott.

  “What?” Scott snapped, turning to look at James.

  And that was all it took. Just one look at James and Scott walked away, looking less than sure on his feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling some of the nervous energy draining away. “The song—it was you, wasn’t it?”

  He reached out and put his hand on my hip as he took my hand. Shaking my head, I put my other hand on his shoulder, ready to push him away. Before I could mention how wrong this was—or that I had never slow-danced in my life—Sean’s crass statement from a few minutes ago punched me in the gut.

  Trying to pick up his dead friend’s girlfriend?

  Staring into James’s blazing green eyes, I shivered. It wasn’t possible. He had just found out that Grace—the love of his life as far as I knew—was with Vladimir Fidatov, the guy who wanted to destroy all of them. I had seen up close the pain and ruin in James’s eyes as he had watched the video feed of Grace in the mall.

  Then I looked down at his hand holding mine—and realized that if things hadn’t gone so wrong I would have been dancing with Will right now. Bursting into tears, I pushed at James. The second he let go, I ran off the dance floor, stopping only to pull off my shoes before running full out toward the exit. When I reached the doors to the ballroom, my eyes darted around, searching for the restrooms. I found them at the end of a long hallway. I burst inside and saw a bunch of girls who were clearly from school.

  One of them turned from reapplying her lipstick, and suddenly I recognized Allison Monroe. She turned back to her friends and whispered something. As they burst into giggles, I slipped past them to the bathroom stalls and locked myself in one. I took a few deep breaths.

  I should have known that this was what tonight would turn out to be: a mess.

  Finally I heard them leave. A minute later, the door opened again, but I didn’t hear anyone come in. Then my phone buzzed. Taking it out of the clutch Gen had given me, I saw a text from her.

  Are you okay?

  Was I okay? No, not really. I texted back: yes. I didn’t want her to come looking for me. I just wanted a few minutes to myself. Opening the purse, I found lipstick and a compact with powder. I used the bathroom and then walked to the empty row of sinks where I washed my hands and checked my face. Apparently Gen’s makeup was impervious to emotional breakdowns, which was good.

  The hotel’s bathroom had a lounge area with upholstered chairs. Trying to pull myself together, I walked over and sat down. Then I saw it. A copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls sitting on the small table between the chairs. I reached out for it, my hand shaking as I picked it up. Tucked in the pages, I saw the small scrap of paper. My note. The phone vibrated again, and when I saw the name on the screen, my heart stopped beating.

  Will!

  I touched the screen and raised the phone to my ear.

  “Will,” I whispered.

  There was a long pause, followed amused laughter.

  “You never did tell me if you enjoyed Hemingway.”

  My hands grew cold at the sound the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Ah, Aven. You can’t imagine how pleased I was when I discovered how fascinating William found you. Much like his compatriot found young Grace.”

  “What do you want?” I choked.

  “You misunderstand me, girl. You see. I’ve gone to great pains to take you up on your offer.”

  “My offer?” I repeated, taking the slip of paper from the copy of Hemingway’s novel.

  I looked down at the note I had left between the pages.

  Me for him.

  That had been my offer. My eyes darted to the door as it swung open and more girls from school walked in, laughing and completely oblivious to my nightmare.

  “They’ll stop me,” I whispered, shaking my head desperately.

  I looked toward the door again, half expecting Gen to walk in at any second. Then I felt a chill. Maybe they wouldn’t stop me. Maybe they saw it as a good trade—Will for me.

  “Aven, dear,” Fidatov said, like he was addressing a small child. “I’ve given you an ample head start. I would suggest you take advantage of it.”

  “What do you mean? What do you want me to do?”

  “I would like you to do as you wish—I would like you to come retrieve William. It is in your power to save him. If you don’t care to save your immortal beloved, then there is so much more I have in store for him.”

  “But—”

  “You know where to go,” he said, again so sure of himself and so sure that I would do what he was telling me. “After all, you have been there before.

  “But I don’t know …” I whispered before realizing that he had already ended the call.

  Standing up, I walked over to the bathroom door and nudged it open half an inch. I could hear the music from the dance, a throbbing beat that seemed to match the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Pushing the door open, I stepped out and started walking, my heels clicking on the marble flooring. I made it all the way to hotel’s entrance when I heard Sean’s voice from behind me.

  “Aven! Wait up!”

  I turned and saw Sean hurrying toward me, his tie loosened. Shaking my head, I ran for the door and out onto the stone steps. When my right heel flew off, I kicked off the other one as I raced down the steps. Reaching the street, I stopped, gasping for breath, and looked up and down the street. Fidatov meant for me to go somewhere close—I knew that much. I closed my eyes and ruled out places.

  Not my house—Edmond was there.

  Not Will’s house on the coast—it was too far.

  School? It was close enough.

  The woods?

  My fingernails bit into my palms as I tried to decide which way to run. Then I saw the image from my dream. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my dress—and I knew where to go. Will’s house. Not the one on the coast, but the house here in town that I had only seen from the street, the one he had built a lifetime ago before Vladimir Fidatov had nearly burned the town of Winters to the ground.

  I was in the historic district, so all I had to do was … die. Looking around desperately, I tried to get my bearings. The bakery was to the left, which meant that Kincaid Lane was to my right. Grabbing the skirt of my dress, I started running again. Toward what, I didn’t know.

  My breath came in jagged bursts. Jogging a few miles at a time hadn’t prepared me for running full out for blocks and blocks. If it was cold, I couldn’t feel it. My lungs were on fire. My legs felt like lead weights.

  Did anyone in the passing cars think it was strange to see a girl running through the night like she was being chased by a pack of wolves? No one stopped, and for that I was grateful. What I was even more afraid of was that Gen or James would stop me. But Fidatov had said he had given me an ample head start. I shuddered thinking of what that could mean.

  Kincaid Lane was up ahead. Looking both ways, I darted out into the street and crossed toward the older residential section of Winters. The street was dark and deserted as I climbed the hill toward the last house. When I finally reached the gate, I reached up and grabbed the metal bar. Yelping in pain, I pulled back and saw a dark liquid covering my palms. I bent closer and saw roses—complete with thorny stems—woven all through the fence. Picking up the skirt of my dress, I reached forward and pushed on the metal again. It swung inward, and I stepped onto the property.

  Suddenly I felt a blast of emotion so strong it nearly knocked me backward. The force of it was so intense that I could feel the word behind the emotion like it had been spoken in my ear.

  No.

  I
pressed against the feeling like it was a physical wall as I made my way up the hill toward the house. Surrounded by sprawling grounds, the stone structure had at least three levels and red-tiled roofing. As I made my way closer, I saw that the windows on the ground level had been covered over. The front entrance—with gargoyles guarding the stone steps—was lit by a torch, giving everything a medieval quality.

  Hearing the sound of an engine, I turned and looked down the hill. From where I was standing, I saw a motorcycle turning onto Kincaid. James.

  My pulse jumped. Whatever head start Fidatov had given me was over. Running up the steps, I pressed down on the door handle and pushed against the wood with both hands, leaving behind two bloodied handprints as the wood gave way. The second I burst into the room, the door swung back. Then I heard a bolt slide into place. The room was instantly and completely dark and silent.

  “Will?” I whispered as I slid my hands along the wall, which felt smooth and impenetrable—metallic, not wooden.

  I heard laughter, and then a TV screen came to life high up on the wall on the far side of the room.

  “I do apologize, Aven. William is unavailable at the moment, but you can change that.”

  Vladimir Fidatov’s image appeared onscreen. It startled me how beautiful he looked, much like Will, James, Edmond, and Gen. Impossibly beautiful. But his smile was cruel, like his shining, nearly black eyes.

  I caught sight of the background, and it looked like he was driving—which meant he wasn’t here. The fear drained from my body. I just had to find Will.

  “I’m here. What do you want from me?”

  “Why, I would like you to release William.”

  I felt another shockwave of emotion hit me hard in the chest. Shaking off the feeling, I looked toward the TV screen.