Unafraid aa-3

by Michael Griffo

  But David surprised them both and displayed immense restraint. He simply gripped the side of the door with his hand, but so tightly that Ronan was afraid the door would snap in two.

  “As your headmaster, Michael, the only rules that have any meaning here are mine,” David said, his voice as firm as concrete. “If you’d like to remain a student of this institution, I implore you to remember that.”

  David left as quietly as he had appeared, the door barely making a sound as it closed behind him. It took less than a second for the quiet to be disrupted.

  “Are we supposed to just forget what he tried to do?!” Michael screamed, jumping off the bed. “Are we supposed to forget that he’s our enemy and act like he’s nothing more than our headmaster just because school’s about to start up again?!”

  Ronan watched Michael pace the room like Michael had watched him do so many times before, but this time there was a change. Michael wasn’t moving from one end of the room to another as a result of frustration; he was moving with purpose. His strides weren’t occupying time because his mind had lost control of its body; they were helping him formulate a plan. The realization made Ronan both proud and scared. He didn’t want Michael to scurry away from confrontation, but he didn’t want him to run headlong into it either. It was time to offer some insight. “As difficult as it might be to accept,” Ronan began, “as long as we’re at Double A, David is our headmaster.”

  “He’s a piece of sh ...”

  “Who deserves our respect!” Ronan shouted over Michael’s more derogatory description.

  Finally, Michael stopped in his tracks and stared at Ronan as if he had never seen him before. “Are you serious?”

  Ronan knelt on the bed and reached out his hand to Michael, but Michael wouldn’t budge. When he realized his boyfriend wasn’t going to reconsider, Ronan let his arm fall limply at his side. “Our race agreed a long time ago to coexist peacefully with David’s kind,” Ronan explained. “Regardless of their actions we will not provoke a war.”

  Michael knew the jargon, he knew the peace-comes-first philosophy of The Well and he agreed with it, but The Well didn’t have to live near David. The Well didn’t have to see his smug, ugly face every day and bow to him like he was some righteous ruler. It was outrageous to be expected to sit by quietly and not do anything. “So we just let them destroy us?!”

  “Of course not! We defend ourselves when necessary!” Ronan said, his voice rising to match Michael’s volume. “But we do not instigate violence, Michael. It’s not who we are! We’re about bloody peace for God’s sake!”

  There was nothing peaceful about how Ronan looked. Kneeling on the bed, his back was rigid, his fists were clenched, and one arm was raised high over his head. The only movement, in fact, came from his chest that heaved from the exertion of his declaration. Despite his words about upholding an ideology of peace, Michael thought he looked like some fanatical warrior hell-bent on leading an army into a deadly skirmish. His unbridled passion was unexpectedly comical. “Should I call the troops to war, general?”

  Catching a sideways glimpse of himself in the mirror, Ronan collapsed onto his bed into fits of laughter. Once again, Michael had helped diffuse a situation that threatened to get out of hand. Once again he showed Ronan that there were more important things in life to worry about than David and his next actions. Things like grabbing Michael’s hand and throwing him on their bed so they could laugh and cuddle and kiss. “Sorry, love,” Ronan murmured. “I can get carried away sometimes.”

  Ronan’s excitement didn’t bother Michael at all; he welcomed his passion almost as much as he welcomed every opportunity to get lost in his kisses and his embrace. However, at the moment they had other things to do. Squirming out from under Ronan’s body, Michael jumped to the side of the bed. “No can do, Ro,” Michael announced. “Per the headmaster’s decree I have more important things to do, like convince you to move my car.”

  Extending his hand to Michael, Ronan had other plans. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let’s feed.”

  They found the body less than a minute later on the outskirts of Eden, at the bottom of a hill that was steep, but not particularly tall. Maybe thirty years old, the man was thin and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his knapsack still on his back and his hand still clutching a map of the area. Although Ronan and Michael both had the ability to detect when death was imminent, they didn’t need those skills to know the man was seconds from dying; they simply had to look at the way his body was distorted. His legs were bent at peculiar angles, and his neck was twisted severely to one side. It was an unusual state for a body to be in, but one that was enormously appetizing.

  Michael watched as Ronan’s face elongated, his eyes became more like diamonds instead of circles, his sharp, white fangs appeared and rested on his plump, red lips. Michael thought Ronan had never looked more beautiful.

  The man barely moved as Ronan’s fangs plunged into the largest vein that protruded from his neck and Ronan sucked out the blood that would soon be wasted if it remained in its original host. The blood was refreshingly sweet; the man had obviously been healthy, and his irreversible condition the result of an unfortunate accident. Unfortunate for him, but bounty for Ronan and Michael.

  As he lifted his head, drops of blood spilled down the corners of Ronan’s mouth. Unable to control his hunger at the sight, Michael leaned forward and licked the blood from Ronan’s chin until there wasn’t a trace left. Unfulfilled and growing delirious, Michael punctured two more holes into the man’s neck with his fangs and held his body close to him as he felt the man’s blood gush over his tongue. A rush of energy entered his body and spread out through his limbs, caressing his organs, making him feel superhuman. Consumed with desire and vitality, Michael spontaneously kissed Ronan deeply on his bloodied lips, their fangs pressing against each other roughly. He was wild-eyed, and Michael’s voice was a harsh whisper when he spoke. “Let’s offer ourselves to The Well.”

  Naked, they dove into the ocean and plunged deep into the sea’s belly until they reached an area that could never be seen by a mortal’s eyes—the underwater cave that housed The Well of Atlantis. When they entered the enclave, a low hum emitted from the rock walls as if to welcome the boys. The sound was familiar and yet thicker than usual, more resonant, and it seemed to pierce through their bodies even as it floated gently over their heads. The Well was greeting them as it always did, but this time its greeting was more intense.

  Kneeling before the circular stone, Michael and Ronan each cut their palms with their fangs and lifted their hands above the center of The Well so their blood could spill into the silvery water below.

  Even though they had witnessed this miracle many times before, they still watched in awe as their blood swirled with the holy water to create something new, something that only their eyes could behold: the mixture of their blood, their souls, and the life force of The Well.

  Their voices mimicked their clasped hands, and they became one as they recited the ancient prayer:

  “Unto The Well I give our life our bodies’ blood that makes us whole.

  We vow to honor and protect and ask The Well to house our souls.”

  Immediately the transformation began. Their hands and feet lost their human appearance and became webbed; their bodies and their limbs grew even longer. Together, they dipped their webbed hands into The Well to scoop up its silver water, and then they drank the now-familiar brew. As the cold liquid filled their bodies, a translucent light—like the one that shone from the center of The Well —emanated from their skin. They were being illuminated by their creator, in Its beloved image.

  The cave was suddenly aglow with the combination of light that shone from Michael, Ronan, and The Well, and it looked as if the sun had fallen from the sky, submerged itself under the ocean, and decided to light up the sea. The rock walls of the cave twinkled as if they were covered with rows and rows of sparkling lights. The ground was hardly visible, and the boys looked lik
e they were standing on a floor of white electricity. It was obvious: The Well was truly grateful for their offering, and in turn the boys felt truly blessed.

  Ronan was already sitting on the shore of Inishtrahull Island when Michael emerged from the ocean. He watched his boyfriend walk toward him and did his best to control his anxiety. Michael sat down and allowed his bare, wet shoulder to graze against Ronan’s, but kept his eyes transfixed on the undulating ocean. He knew Ronan was going to tell him his final secret. He knew he would listen to every word that Ronan had to say, but he didn’t think he could watch him as he spoke. He just didn’t think he was that brave.

  Ronan, however, knew better. He touched Michael’s hand softly and turned him so they could face each other. He was so beautiful. Aflame with The Well’s power, Michael radiated strength, both physical and emotional. Yes, Michael was nervous. He was unsure of what Ronan was going to tell him, unsure that he even wanted to hear it. But just by looking at him, his face stoic, his eyes compassionate, Ronan was confident that Michael would hear his words with both an open mind and heart and that he would ultimately accept his words with grace and thankfulness. Once he heard Ronan’s story, he would understand why it was so important that it had to be shared.

  “I need to tell you about Morgandy,” Ronan said. “Morgandy van der Poole.”

  Michael had never heard of the name before and yet he knew it was the name of his enemy. The reaction was primal, instinctive. Somehow, he also knew that it was the name of Ronan’s first soul mate.

  “He was the eldest son of a major Atlantian family. He was preordained to become a Guardian of The Well,” Ronan explained. “And I loved him.”

  As unhappy as Michael was to hear that last bit of information, that news didn’t come as a shock either. Michael had known there was someone who had come before him and Nakano, someone who Ronan had been in love with. Giving that love a name didn’t change the past. It did, however, make it more permanent and make it more difficult for Michael to ignore the fact that he wasn’t Ronan’s only love.

  “I can’t lie and tell you that I didn’t think I would spend all eternity with Morgandy when we asked The Well to join our souls,” Ronan admitted. “At the time it was what I wanted.” His next words caught in his throat, and Ronan paused. It had been a long time since he had said Morgandy’s name out loud. He thought it would be easy; he didn’t think it would conjure such a wellspring of emotion and make him feel as unstable as a wave caught in the tide, but he was wrong. He looked away from Michael and watched the waves roll closer, then recede. Michael knew Ronan had no interest in watching the ocean’s dance; he was pausing to find the strength to continue. Michael would wait as long as it took.

  “Until I learned the truth,” Ronan resumed, his voice stronger now. “Until I learned that Morgandy never loved me, he never wanted to be my soul mate. He merely wanted to betray our people and the sanctity of The Well.”

  Breathing deeply, Michael felt the sun and salt water in the air. It almost made him feel as good as it did to hear the honesty in Ronan’s voice. Ronan meant it when he said he didn’t want there to be any more secrets between them. He was keeping his promise not because he felt a need to confess, or because he was scared that Michael would one day stumble upon his secret, but because he loved and trusted Michael and wanted to share every detail of his life with him, the good and the bad. “It wasn’t until after we pledged our souls that I discovered he was secretly working for David.”

  Michael had not expected that twist to Ronan’s story, and the surprise revelation forced him to break his silence. “Morgandy was one of Them? ”

  “Physically he was still a water vampire,” Ronan explained. “But spiritually he was part of David’s race.”

  A gentle breeze blew past, cooling the fire that was beginning to consume them. Ronan accepted this intrusion as a reason to rest, calm his mind; Michael accepted it as a reminder that Ronan was his sole purpose now and that he needed to embrace every opportunity to let Ronan know that he would never leave his side. Michael held Ronan’s hands tighter. He stared at his face until Ronan had no other choice but to return the gaze. When he did, Ronan saw nothing but love in his eyes.

  “That must have really hurt,” Michael said.

  Nodding slightly, Ronan answered. “Yes, it did.” Ronan caressed Michael’s hands and noticed that they felt stronger than before. They were still incredibly smooth, but as if stone lived under the flesh.

  “He was my first love. He was handsome, charming, worldlier than I was.”

  Michael couldn’t help but smile. “I know exactly how that feels.”

  Blushing, yet alarmed, Ronan hadn’t realized those same words could have been used by Michael to describe Ronan in the early days of their relationship. He had to make him understand that beyond the superficial description, there was no comparison. “But Morgandy didn’t love me like I love you,” Ronan said, his voice so earnest it almost broke Michael’s heart.

  “I know,” Michael said. “I didn’t mean to suggest ...” He didn’t want to keep talking, so Michael kissed Ronan, softly, but long enough to make Ronan understand he had not meant to compare him to Morgandy. Ronan was grateful, and one kiss turned into another and then several. It was splendid kissing Ronan on the beach, their bodies drenched in sunlight, but Michael wanted to know what had happened to Morgandy once his duplicity was revealed. Pulling away from Ronan, Michael asked, “So what happened once you found out his real agenda?”

  “The Well intervened,” Ronan replied. “It showed Morgandy and every other Atlantian just how powerful It is.”

  Michael tried to wait for Ronan to continue, but he couldn’t; he was dying of curiosity. “So what exactly did The Well do?”

  “The Well gave us back our souls, and our connection to each other was forever broken.”

  Although Ronan spoke the words simply, Michael knew the emotions that surrounded them had to be complex. He must have been heartbroken, Michael realized, devastated that someone he loved could turn against not only him, but his entire race. That’s how Michael would feel if Ronan ever betrayed him. The thought filled Michael up with such despair and fear, he shook his head to unleash it from his mind.

  Unfortunately, Michael knew there was more to the story. “So what happened to Morgandy?” he asked. “After, you know, The Well separated the two of you.”

  “I don’t know,” Ronan said, shrugging his shoulders, the anxiety finally released from his face. “He was cast out and banished from ever living among water vampires again. Truth is, I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  Contemplating it for a moment, Michael didn’t think Morgandy’s survival was possible. “How could a water vampire live without being connected to The Well?”

  Ronan wanted to feel Michael’s warm embrace, and so he turned him so his back leaned into his chest and wrapped his arms around him. “I don’t think it’s possible, love,” Ronan said. “Along with human blood, it’s the life force that keeps us alive.”

  Just when Michael was getting comfortable with the silence and the feeling of Ronan’s heart beating into his own skin, Ronan resumed his story. “Right after that my mum wanted me and Ciaran to go to Archangel Academy together,” he said. “She blamed herself because she was living in France near Saoirse’s school and wasn’t keeping her eye on me. Not that she could’ve seen anything coming.

  Everyone thought that my future was set.”

  His eyes closed, it looked as if Michael was sleeping in Ronan’s arms, but he had heard every word.

  “Because Morgandy was supposed to be this Guardian and you were going to be like the Guardian’s husband?”

  He really finds humor in the most impossible situations, Ronan thought. “Something like that,” he said, nuzzling his lips against Michael’s warm neck.

  Once again their kisses grew in number and passion, and soon Ronan was lying on top of Michael, their bodies moving as fluidly as the ocean. “I’m sorry Morgandy lied t
o you,” Michael said. “But at the same time I have to give him a big fat thank you wherever he is.”

  Ronan understood. “Me too.”

  “Otherwise, I might not find myself in this position,” Michael said, grinning widely. “Or this one.”

  Unexpectedly, Michael rolled over so Ronan was now pinned against the sand and Michael was lying on top of him.

  Looking up, Ronan squinted at the image of Michael’s angelic face, his blond hair almost white as it disappeared into the sun’s glow, the same distinct color as Morgandy’s. No! Ronan was thankful that the glare of the sun obscured his shock from Michael’s view. How could he think that Michael bore any resemblance to Morgandy? They didn’t share any of the same qualities, not in mind, spirit, not even in body. Ronan shut his eyes tight, and when he opened them he saw that Michael looked the same as always. “Forever beautiful, forever mine.”

  Michael laid his body flat against Ronan, and they rose and fell in one breath. “Thank you,” Michael whispered. “Thank you for telling me about your past and especially about Morgandy.”

  “You’re welcome, love,” Ronan replied. “And I probably don’t have to say this, but you have nothing to fret about. I don’t have any feelings for Morgandy.”

  Hmm. Michael needed to be sure Ronan was indeed telling the truth. “You may not love him, but don’t you hate him now?”

  Without hesitation, Ronan replied, “Not at all. All my feelings for him, good and bad, died a long time ago. That part of my life is over.”

  Michael accepted Ronan’s kisses, but not his words. He knew Ronan believed what he said was the truth, that Morgandy was part of his past, part of every water vampire’s past. But somehow he also knew that was wrong.