There are no personal pictures or knick-knacks or silly things like that. It is not a human house. There is no dust. One of the components of dust is dead skin cells. He doesn't have any skin cells. Which is weird when you think about it.
“I did not save you for you to throw it away on a human. I taught you not to kill them. That is enough. You cannot save them. Even if you want to. It is their purpose to live and die. Ours is to exist.” He was like the Yoda of noctali. And what is this saving business? How can you save someone that's immortal?
“She means nothing to me.” I can't help it, but a little sound escapes my mouth. I stare at Peter. Oh there is something going on that he has not informed me of. That's the only way he could say something like that. The words rattle around in my brain. I wish I could shake them out and forget he ever said them. There has to be a reasonable explanation.
There has to be. I wish I could read his mind.
“I only brought her because I had to.” It's the second time he's said it. I can't believe this is happening. I close my eyes, trying to make it go away. I open them again and I'm still here. In this sterile house looking at Cal's sterile eyes.
Cal stares at Peter for what feels like hours, but is probably only a few seconds.
“The only way is to destroy a bind, is to destroy one of the noctali. That is all I know.”
“Then there is no other way?” Peter's voice is still cool, but I hear a note of desperation. Hm.
I glance at a decorative iron clock on the wall. The hands remain still. Either time has stopped, or the clock has. “I have a few contacts. It will take me a week. Can you return in a week?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is what we will do.” Wait, that's it? We came all this way for Peter treating me like less than dirt and come back in a week?
I find it hard to believe that he doesn't know anything, but this is Peter's crazy train I'm riding. And I'd hopped on without knowing the destination.
“Thank you. We will go now. Come.” The last part is directed at me. If I wasn't so shocked I would have told him to kiss my ass.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Peter. Even under these circumstances. I have missed you.” I want to tell him those 'circumstances' have a name. I still haven't said anything since we entered the house. I think he followed the “humans are meant to be drained and not heard,” or something like that.
Peter walks backward, towing me with him. “Thank you again.” Never turn your back.
“I will see you in a week.” He shares a deep look with Peter, and it's like I'm not even there. It's a warning.
For one terrifying beat of time, I think he's going to lunge at us, or do something crazy, but he doesn't. He just stares at Peter for another wordless moment. I hate it when they do that.
“Goodbye,” Cal says.
I start to breathe again after the door closes. Peter scoops me up in his arms, holding me so tight I can't even begin to fight him. He holds my arms tight, but I thrash anyway. My face is pressed to his exquisite chest, which doesn't help keep my anger fired up.
“What the hell was that?”
“Hush,” he says so quiet, it's like a hiss. I still try to move, but he holds me tighter and takes to the air.
“You're an ass**le, you know that?” He doesn't answer. There's nothing to do, so I just stay silent. Even though I am royally pissed, the Claim makes me happy to be in his arms. They're home, even when I want to kick him in the nuts.
He waits a good twenty minutes before he says anything. I refuse to look at him. I know I'll be lost when I meet those eyes. Even in the dark.
“I am sorry. But I could not let him know that I cared for you.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“He is. But you never show all your cards, Ava-Claire. I did not want him to know why I wanted the information or what I would do with it.” I'm powerless against him. I meet his eyes and he pulls me in. His body pulses with each beat of his wings. I open my mouth to bitch him out, but I can't. I mean, it kind of makes sense.
“Whatever. Just don't. Ever. Do. That. To. Me. Again. Got it?” I poke him in the chest with every word. Trying to make my point. “You hurt me.” Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
“I am sorry. I will try not to. But I cannot promise.” Is he trying to piss me off again?
I rub my tears on my shoulder. “Will you at least let me in on your secret plans? So I'm not a bitch to you again?”
“Only if it will work with the plan to do so.”
“So what, you've got all sorts of secret plans?” Who is he, James Bond?
“Perhaps.”
“If I could punch you right now, I would.”
“I do not doubt it.” I decide to move on.
“By the way, your friend is super creepy.” I wiggle my fingers out from under the blanket and put my hand on his chest.
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know what it was. He was just too perfect. His house was too nice, he dressed too nice. The whole thing. I don't know. It was just a vibe. Also, what was that whole thing about saving you and not being able to save humans and letting them burn in hell and all that?” I try to pull myself closer to Peter, but I can't.
“That is Cal.” That's not an answer.
“I don't like it. He got my Spidey Senses tingling. And I didn't like the way you were with him.” He doesn't even have to ask before I explain about Spiderman. That takes us part of the way.
He's still hiding something from me. I'm so attuned to him, I can tell when he's hiding something. Peter never really lies. He omits things he doesn't want me to know. And he's doing it now. I could make a big deal out of it, but I'm tired, cold and still weirded out. I switch topics.
“Guess he's not a big fan of humans, huh?”
“He believes that when we interfere with humans, we disturb the balance of the world. That we may live on the same planet, but we should interact as little as possible.”
“That's very zen.” I'm still offended. “So we have a week to wait. That seems like a long time.”
“It will be fine.”
“If you say so.” I really don't think it's going to be fine.
But there's not a whole lot I can do about it. Just one more thing to worry about. I should make a list. Yes, an orderly list would make everything better. Lists always helped. Someday, when the world was ending in a cataclysmic apocalypse, people would make lists and they would save the world. Somehow.
By the time we get back, my hands are so frozen that Peter has to help me unclamp them from the back of his neck. If he were warm, things would be a lot easier. The rest of me is roasting inside the blanket. I unpeel it from around me and go to the sink to throw my hands in some hot water. At least he stopped blocking me. He finally came back when we hit New York.