Unafraid aa-3

by Michael Griffo

  Whoa! Morgandy must be certifiable. Nobody talked to David like that, not without serious repercussions. It took a few seconds, but it came. Ciaran heard the sound before he saw the silver decanter crash through the window, and he had just enough time to raise his arms to shield his face and eyes before the shards of glass started to shower down upon him.

  While flying through the air, the decanter twirled on its side, and just as it began its descent the top detached from the long, swan-like neck and flew in the opposite direction, landing near the entrance to The Forest. The decanter itself continued to twist in the air, its contents spilling out from its spout like a lasso of blood. Crimson drops decorated the side of the building, the snow, even Ciaran’s body until the decanter finally landed on an embankment, blood pouring from its mouth, turning the snow pink, and burrowing into the hungry earth.

  Then there was silence, no sound, no voices, nothing. Ciaran stood still so he wouldn’t make a noise, wouldn’t step on a piece of glass from the shattered window. He saw that his jacket and hands were speckled with blood, but even in his frozen position he was able to see that he hadn’t been cut.

  That was a relief. Then again maybe not. With two vampires a few feet away, he wasn’t exactly comforted to know that he was stained with blood. Ciaran’s discomfort only grew when David spoke again and he noticed that the timbre of his voice was even more unrecognizable. What the hell was wrong with the headmaster?

  “Your past was destroyed by the cruel hands of time,” David growled. “And time is an evil mistress! She lurks, she waits, but she never disappears! Never! She always comes back, and she always comes back wanting revenge!”

  Time is an evil mistress out for revenge? David must be reading one of Ronan’s potboilers.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Morgandy asked, rather impudently. “Time had nothing to do with my losing my memory. It was taken from me by that Well.”

  Another eerie silence passed, and Ciaran imagined that David was either searching for the right word or something else to fling out the window. “Yes, yes, of course, I know that The Well has been cruel to you,” David rambled.

  “And so have you.”

  Oh okay. Now Ciaran understood. Morgandy was a vampire with a death wish. Why else would he keep attacking David if he didn’t want him to strike back? How stupid could he be? Didn’t he know how powerful David was, how incredibly strong, unpredictable, and evil? If all that was true—and Ciaran knew that it was—then wasn’t he even stupider than Morgandy? The urge to flee, to run back to the safety of St. Albert’s, was overwhelming, but no, he must have come here for a reason. That’s right, Ciaran, treat this like a routine experiment, wait it out, wait for the result, and maybe you’ll finally be able to comprehend what is happening.

  “How dare you speak to me in that tone!” David bellowed.

  “Then don’t talk to me like I’m a fool! Like I’m some human!! ” Morgandy spat back, his voice even deeper and more repugnant than David’s. “You told me when you found me wandering through the back alleys of London, filthy, alone, feasting on sewer rats to stay alive that you were my salvation!”

  “I am your salvation,” David whispered, his voice hoarse, strained like it was about to snap.

  “Then start acting like it!” Morgandy howled. “Stop forcing me to take on these stupid roles... .

  Saoirse’s boyfriend, where did that get me? Nothing but a waste of time.”

  “Do not question me!”

  Ciaran seriously thought he was going to have a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or be killed. David was breathing so heavily that when Ciaran looked up he was certain that he would find David gazing down at him from the window, but no one was there. Even still Ciaran could hear David panting, struggling to control his breathing. Was this the real David? A frightened man instead of a frightening ruler?

  “I’m not an idiot, David! I know that you didn’t stumble upon me in London accidentally,” Morgandy stated. “I know that somehow we were partners before that damned Well wiped my memory clean. Why don’t you just admit it?!”

  This time when Ciaran heard the crash he knew nothing was going to fly out the window because he felt the side of the building shake. Whatever David had hurled against the wall, it hit low to the floor, and the vibration sent Ciaran heaving forward, his hands slamming into the ground, a jagged piece of glass piercing the fleshy part of his left hand between his forefinger and his thumb. “Ahhh!” Ciaran cried. The only thing that saved him from being heard was that David cried even louder.

  “YES!!! We were working together!” David admitted, his voice positively tremulous. “You were destined to be The Guardian of The Well, but you were also destined to be its destroyer.”

  “So you used me,” Morgandy replied, his tone more a statement than a question.

  “I guided you after you came to me!” David corrected. “After you begged me for my help! We are kindred spirits, you and I, of the same mind, and so few ... SO FEW understand our desire, our destiny!”

  “Then let’s destroy it once and for all!” Morgandy shouted.

  “It will be destroyed!” David declared. “Together our ranks will find The Well, obliterate it, and celebrate the end of all water vampires!”

  Ciaran couldn’t stop shaking. None of this was new, not really, so then why was he acting as if he was learning it for the first time? Sure, hearing Morgandy possessed with vengeance was startling, but Ciaran had known what David’s intentions were all along, and until now he had been willing to help him with his plan. Mouth agape, he fell back against the cold stone wall. What in God’s name am I doing?

  Then it hit him. He was finally, finally, breaking free from David’s hold over him. Hearing David speak, hearing only his words and his rage, but not being in his hypnotic trance, made Ciaran hear for the first time how barbaric and irreversible his message was. Horrified and ashamed, Ciaran clutched his head with his hands. He was no better than David; he was just as sick and cruel. How could he ever have considered working with David? How could he ever have agreed to hand over his research, his results, to a man who wanted to murder his family?

  Yet for the longest time he had thought about nothing else. But how? One, two, three slaps to his forehead, the blood from his cut staining his skin. How could he have let it come this far? Some part of him had to have known what kind of monster David was. Did he simply ignore the truth because he wanted to be accepted, because he wanted approval? How pathetic could he be?! Well, no more! That was it. The pathetic, lonely boy who could be mesmerized by a madman, Svengalied by some psychopath who stroked his ego, was officially dead. He was absolutely going to continue on with his research, because that’s what Science Boys did, but there was no way in hell that this Science Boy was going to give any information to David. Not even if David threatened to kill him or worse, turn him into one of Them.

  David could take his body, do whatever his sick, twisted, blood-guzzling mind wanted to do with it, but there was absolutely no way that he was going to get his dirty, unholy hands on Ciaran’s soul.

  chapter 22

  Standing at the foot of their bed, Ruby didn’t think a more beautiful couple could possibly exist. It had nothing to do with their physical appearance, though Michael and Ronan were both quite handsome.

  Ruby saw beyond their exteriors. She didn’t possess sight, but she could see into their hearts, and even deeper, into their souls. She could see their souls despite the fact that they were no longer housed within their bodies, but had been offered to The Well and currently existed within its cold, shiny waters. Ruby was able to see their souls, intertwined as one, because she wasn’t really Ruby; she was being possessed by a spirit. It was just one of the things she thought it was time that Michael and Ronan should know about.

  “My spirit name is Rhoswen,” she said.

  Asleep, Michael and Ronan each saw Ruby in their dreams. When she spoke to them, her lips didn’t move. When she opened her eyes, they both saw they
were completely white. When she took them each by the hand, they accepted her touch and felt themselves being pulled out of their beds. Standing on Inishtrahull Island, the boys knew they were staring at Ruby’s body, but whoever had led them here was definitely not Penry’s sister.

  “I have been watching the two of you and so many others from afar,” Rhoswen explained. “The time had come for me to join you, and to do that I had to borrow Ruby’s body.”

  Even though this Rhoswen spirit used the word borrow, they knew she hadn’t asked Ruby’s permission before taking over her body and forcing Ruby into a state that resembled being in a walking coma. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the most important piece of information the boys wanted their guide to divulge.

  “Who are you?” Michael asked, his lips as still as Rhoswen’s.

  “And what do you want?” Ronan added as silently as the others.

  Rhoswen smiled, delighted by the questions, heartened by the fact that these two acted as one. She brought their hands up to her cheeks so she could feel the cool flesh against her skin for a moment and then set them free so they could fall. “I am a friend,” she answered. “And I have come, in part, to remind you of your destiny.”

  The boys looked at each other. Their expressions were mirror images of doubt and skepticism, and Michael spoke for them both. “What about the other part?”

  Just as Rhoswen reeled her head back and roared with laughter, a huge wave crashed noisily onto the shore, and neither boy thought it was a coincidence. They also knew instinctively that they weren’t going to have their questions answered to their satisfaction. Ruby or Rhoswen, or whoever they were looking at, was in control of this dream.

  “The other part of my journey is none of your concern,” she replied, her voice friendly, but final.

  “All that you need to know, all that is important to you, will be told.”

  The boys watched Ruby’s hair and nightgown blow softly in the early dawn breeze, and this time they didn’t need to look at one another to know they shared the same look of impatience. Rhoswen saw it too, and she responded to it. “Now.”

  She clutched their hands and once again they travelled. This time their distance was short, but their destination symbolic. Hovering over the ocean, The Well somewhere underneath their bare feet hidden by the miles of water below them, Rhoswen held onto Michael and Ronan, and together, hand in hand in hand, they floated effortlessly as small waves crested and rippled just inches from their toes.

  Despite Rhoswen’s benevolent smile and the bucolic setting, Michael had an uneasy feeling; the last time one of his dreams took place in the ocean it had ended in horror and left him unsettled for days.

  Sensing his apprehension, Rhoswen understood it was time to honor her promise.

  “The prophecy of The First and The Other is your destiny,” she announced.

  This was not the first time Ronan had heard this theory. Edwige had told him the very same thing when she became aware that he had fallen in love with Michael, an outsider, but hearing it from Rhoswen and not his mother made it sound like possibility and not interference.

  “The legend of The First and The Other describes the origin of my people,” Ronan said. “Are you saying that Michael and I are destined to be part of that legend?”

  “You’re already a part of it,” Rhoswen confirmed. “You were from the day you were both born.”

  Ronan reached out to grab Michael’s hand; he just had to touch him, and the three of them formed a circle above the ocean. “I knew from the first night I saw you, love, that it was fate.”

  Odd, even though they weren’t alone, even though he was holding Rhoswen’s hand and she looked just like Ruby, Michael wasn’t embarrassed by Ronan’s sweet confession, perhaps because it was the truth.

  “It isn’t a coincidence that you are both from places of water,” Rhoswen continued. “Ronan from Inishtrahull Island and Michael from Weeping Water.”

  Then again, maybe it was all a lie. Michael was glad he didn’t have to speak the words; he barely had the strength to think them. “But I wasn’t born in Weeping Water. I was born in London.”

  The human circle didn’t come unbroken, but it definitely lost some of its tension. Michael and Ronan felt as if a spiteful wave had just slammed into them and they were struggling to maintain their balance. Rhoswen merely smiled. “But where were you conceived, Michael?”

  What? His conception was not something Michael had ever thought about. Besides the fact that he knew it wasn’t immaculate, he really didn’t want to know anything else about it. “Um, where I come from, Miss Rhoswen,” Michael stammered, “that’s what we call a really personal question.”

  Another hearty laugh, another watery explosion. The wave rose, and Michael and Ronan felt its power shudder through them and crash onto the ocean’s surface, yet they remained dry. And Rhoswen remained amused. “Didn’t your mother travel to the other shore that touches this same water when she was a young woman? And wasn’t it there that she met your father?”

  Ronan was staring at Michael who was staring at Rhoswen, but he could still see his eyes grow wide and his jaw drop. “Oh ... my ... God! My mother came to Atlantic City to be in the Miss America pageant when she was a few years older than I am right now!” Michael exclaimed silently. “You’re saying she was pregnant with me before she got married?”

  A nod of Rhoswen’s head explained everything. “You were both conceived on shores of the ocean where The Well resides,” she explained. “Created out of love, christened by the same sea, bestowed with the same destiny.”

  Amazing and yet so simple. And very reassuring. At least now Michael had proof that his parents had truly loved each other, for a brief time anyway. Their love might have died when Grace found out that Vaughan planned to become a vampire and wanted his firstborn to follow in his eternal footsteps, but for a while they had been happy, and when he was conceived his mother must have known happiness in his father’s arms. He was grateful for that knowledge even if it made his head throb.

  Slowly the three of them began to move, their bodies floating in a circle as one united group, swirling like the water within the body of The Well. The more Rhoswen spoke, the faster they spun.

  “Ronan, The First, and Michael, The Other, you were destined to be together,” she said, her silent voice sounding like an ancient chant. “You are meant to be where you are, you are meant to lead your people to a victorious future, and never doubt your connection or fear that your strength won’t be enough to survive.”

  They were spinning so fast now Michael and Ronan could no longer see Rhoswen; she was a blur, red hair, white nightgown mixed in with the blue sky behind her, smeared colors trapped in a never ending circle. Michael lost hold of Ronan’s hand just as Rhoswen’s grip grew stronger, and when she spoke for one final time Michael knew he alone could hear her. “And no matter what happens to Ronan you must never be afraid.”

  Back in the stillness of their bed, Michael and Ronan woke up at the same time facing each other, their hands clasped together. Unlike other mornings their first connection wasn’t a kiss, but a memory.

  “Rhoswen?” they said jointly.

  Quickly nodding their heads, they realized they had just shared the same dream, just been spirited away by the same supernatural guide and given insight into their future. But could the information that had been bestowed upon them be trusted? “I don’t want to put a damper on our dream,” Michael said, “but Phaedra kind of insinuated that Ruby couldn’t be trusted.”

  Rolling onto his back, Ronan stared at the ceiling for a few seconds contemplating Michael’s comment. As much as he hated to admit it, his boyfriend’s visions were usually accurate, no matter how much of a downer the takeaway message might be. But if you think about something hard enough, you can usually find a loophole. “But Ruby isn’t really Ruby. She’s Rhoswen,” Ronan reasoned.

  Michael scrunched up his face. “I’m sure Phaedra just used her earthly name because she didn’t wa
nt to confuse me by calling her Rhoswen, you know, her spirit name, which until now I had never heard of.”

  Smiling, Ronan pressed his forehead into Michael’s and gave him a belated good-morning kiss. “I have no idea who this Rhoswen is, but I have a feeling she was telling us the truth,” Ronan whispered in between fits of laughter that brought their bodies even closer together, “which is why I’m so happy you weren’t conceived in the middle of some desert.”

  “Speaking of conception,” Michael said, “I betcha thought I forgot again.” It could have been a result of their dream-journey, but Ronan had no idea what Michael was talking about until he exclaimed, “Happy birthday!”

  Glancing at the calendar, Ronan saw that it was indeed March 15. What do you know? It was his birthday. “I told you, love, birthdays aren’t a really big deal,” he said.

  “Maybe so, but I wanted this one to be special,” Michael replied. “You know, to make up for last year.”

  Before Ronan could remind Michael that he wasn’t holding a grudge because Michael forgot his previous birthday, Michael jumped off the bed and pulled out presents from underneath it. “Open this one first,” he said, giving Ronan the larger of the two boxes, the one wrapped in a brown paper bag and twine. “I was going for retro chic,” Michael explained. “But it just turned out looking cheap.”

  Ronan had to agree. “Guess it won’t matter if I tear the paper to shreds then,” he said, doing just that. But once he saw what the wrapping was concealing, it didn’t matter how terrible the wrapping was. “Blimey, Michael! I love it!”

  And Michael had known he would. It was the complete Oscar Wilde collection, each book bound in black leather and sporting the title of the work in silver lettering on the spine. Making it look even more impressive was the fact that the entire collection was housed in a sterling silver sleeve that made it display-worthy. Jumping off their bed, Ronan shifted some books on his shelf and placed the gift above his desk. “It’s perfect! I can’t wait to reread every one of them,” he said, bounding back to the bed to give Michael a thank you kiss. But Michael wasn’t done bearing gifts.