Unafraid aa-3

by Michael Griffo

  Dropping to the floor with a thud, Nakano stayed in a clump for almost a minute before finding the strength to get up. When he stood, he saw David was standing by the window, his eyes closed, sunlight pouring over him, calling attention to the lines and crevices that were now undeniable parts of his face. The headmaster suddenly looked old.

  Nakano remained staring at his leader, and he was torn between the desire to embrace him or to push him through the window, hoping the glass would slice his face, further destroying the robust beauty he had once possessed. But he couldn’t move to fulfill either thought. He was too confused, too blindsided. It was as if he were suspended in time and space and didn’t know where to go, even though he had very specific orders to carry out. The grandfather clock ticked louder, each tick, tick, tick, more insistent than the last. Nakano wished he could turn back the hands of time to just an hour ago when people were applauding him, thanking him for doing something they had never even dreamed of doing. He almost laughed out loud. Now he was going to do something he had never dreamed of doing: kill his ex-boyfriend. It was absurd, it made no sense to him whatsoever, yet it was David’s wish, and Nakano knew it was useless to try and defy his leader’s mandate even though he might be showing signs of weakness. He might actually have an Achilles’ heel, but he was still more powerful than any creature Nakano knew and, more than that, he was still in charge and he still expected his orders to be carried out without hesitation.

  To prove that point, just as Nakano was leaving David’s office he heard the headmaster mention that he would be greatly rewarded for his efforts. Sadly, Nakano already knew the kind of gift he’d receive in return for committing murder.

  He took the long way to The Forest and walked around the back of St. Sebastian’s, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone. The swimming competition and cheerleading seemed so far away now and so inconsequential; they seemed to have happened to someone else, not him. But it just wasn’t his lucky day. A few yards away Michael and Ronan were stealing kisses behind a tree, wearing only their gym shorts, their bodies fused together as one. When they finally separated, Nakano saw that matching gold medals hung from their necks. Of course God would let them win gold since they didn’t have enough already. They just had each other, the perfect relationship, the perfect bodies, the perfect lives, everything Nakano would never have. Running off into the bowels of The Forest, Nakano didn’t hear Michael call out to him. He only heard the voice in his head telling him he was getting exactly what he deserved.

  When the damp air poisoned his nostrils he cursed himself for returning to the cave, but what other choice did he have? Where else did he have to go? He had to talk to someone, and Brania was the only one he could confide in and the only one who might possibly be able to help. Kano knew she wasn’t on the best terms with David, but she was still his daughter. Maybe she could intervene, get him to find someone else to carry out this horrendous deed. Or better yet, get him to reverse his decision and realize it was a mistake. He could talk to Saoirse; she had become a friend. But no, despite being surrounded by the supernatural she was still an innocent, and Nakano couldn’t take that away from her. No, Brania was his only hope.

  As usual Ghost Girl was lurking about, sulking because she was lonely or bored, and Brania was acting as if she actually enjoyed being in this hellhole. How could anyone enjoy living here? And how could anyone think killing Jean-Paul was a smart idea?

  “Because it’ll mean my father will forever be in your debt,” Brania reasoned.

  That would have made sense if Nakano had wanted a connection. The real problem was he didn’t want to be tied to David; he wasn’t sure he wanted to be tied to any of his race any longer. “But why me?” Nakano replied. “Your father’s got an army of henchmen, bloodthirsty killers who love this sort of thing.”

  Brania wasn’t surprised that her father was too much of a coward to kill Jean-Paul himself, but she was surprised that he had sealed his fate so quickly. He was obviously a desperate man. Desperate, yes, but also cunning, duplicitous, and quite possibly the most resourceful man she had ever known.

  “Because Jean-Paul would never suspect you to be his assassin,” Brania replied. “It’s quite a brilliant plan actually.”

  That was not what Nakano wanted to hear. Bowing his head, he tossed a few tiny rocks against the side of the coffin. “Stop that!” Imogene shouted. “I don’t come to your home and throw rocks.”

  “This isn’t a home. It’s a cave!” Nakano shouted.

  Staring at Imogene, Nakano thought he found the answer: The entire world had gone insane. A vampire’s life was not supposed to be like this; it was supposed to be too good to be true! It wasn’t supposed to be filled with questions and repercussions and guilt.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Brania said, reading Kano’s mind. “You’re only following your master’s orders.”

  “Then why do I feel sick?” Nakano asked.

  The question gave Brania pause. She wanted to tell Kano that he’d get used to the feeling just as she had, but there was no need to admit the things that crowded her own heart; those things were not meant to be shared. “My father must have a very good reason for asking you to do this,” she said, trying to sound as if she didn’t know exactly what that reason was. “Jean-Paul must have done something terrible. Perhaps he committed treason or betrayed our race. He must have done something unspeakable to have the mark of death placed on his head.”

  That could be true. Nakano had witnessed Jean-Paul’s evil side firsthand when he saw the vision of him killing Diego without mercy, compassion, or necessity. It was very possible that he had done something even worse that David had found out about, something that deserved the ultimate punishment. The more he thought about it, however, the more he realized his ambivalence had nothing to do with killing Jean-Paul and everything to do with saving himself. “It’s just that ... I’ve tried hard

  ... really, bloody hard ... to turn my life around,” Kano cried. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Kano, you’ve already killed once before,” Brania said gently. “Will it really make that much difference if you kill again?”

  That’s why he had come here, so he could hear someone speak the truth out loud, a truth he was too afraid to acknowledge. He was already damned. It wouldn’t matter if he were damned twice.

  Counting the pebbles he still held in his hand, Nakano replied, “I guess you’re right.”

  His voice was so resigned, so defeated, Brania almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “I have something that will help you,” she said.

  She walked over to the coffin and pulled out the white rose that Rhoswen had given her. It was even more full-bodied than it had been before. “Put this in your pocket and keep it with you at all times,” she instructed, handing Nakano the rose. “And you’ll succeed in carrying out our leader’s wishes.”

  Whatever powers this flower possessed, they were pretty remarkable. All Nakano had to do was think Lead me to Jean-Paul, and it was as if his legs were walking on their own. Until they picked up speed and began to run, then glide over the land until he wound up at the hideout in Eden.

  The last time he had been here he had snuck away from school so he and Jean-Paul could make love. Turns out there really had been no love involved, not from Jean-Paul’s point of view anyway.

  Today, Nakano would be the one with the cold heart. At least he was trying to keep it cold, and he had been doing a good job of it until he heard that unmistakable French accent.

  Standing outside, he overheard Jean-Paul’s breathy voice and remembered how mesmerized he had been by the sound, how important it had made him feel to know Jean-Paul was talking to him. When he got inside, however, Nakano understood that Jean-Paul’s words were now meant for someone else.

  “Alexei,” Nakano said, startling the half-dressed couple. “Don’t you have a race to swim?”

  The Russian picked up his T-shirt from the floor and used it to wipe away some sweat bu
bbles that had formed above his upper lip. “I medaled already,” he snickered. “Not due back until the team competition in a few hours.”

  “Gold?” Nakano asked.

  After a pause, Alexei replied, “Bronze.”

  Before Kano could make a wisecrack, Jean-Paul spoke. “I ’ear zee only medal you can ween eez for shaking your pom-poms.”

  Nakano heard their laughter, but didn’t respond to it. He didn’t ignore it; he simply used it as fuel, motivation to push him closer toward his goal. “Hello, Jean-Paul,” he said. “You blokes do remember there’s a bedroom right upstairs?”

  Jean-Paul’s lips sloped into an arrogant smile. “We were so ’ungry, we couldn’t wait.”

  “Well, don’t let me stop you,” Kano said, then impressed himself by coming up with a solution to his problem. “Unless you fancy some company.”

  What an interesting proposition. Jean-Paul turned to Alexei to see if the boy was just a boy and was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t. “Despite crossing over to Lady Academy, you showed some pretty smashing moves out there in the gym this morning,” Alexei marveled. “Could be fun.”

  Nakano couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t promise anything except that it would be memorable.

  Fact was he didn’t know what was going to happen next. He was no longer thinking, only saying the first thing that popped into his head, and he had no idea if he was in control or if the rose had taken over his mind as well as his body. “I can only promise that it’ll be an afternoon you’ll never forget.”

  “Then what are we waiting for,” Jean-Paul said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Jeremiah’s old room was the same, except that it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in over a year. It had always resembled a flophouse, but without any upkeep it had slipped into a further state of decay.

  Other than the accumulation of dust, there was very little else in the room besides the bed, which was all they really needed anyway. Watching Jean-Paul kiss Alexei, Nakano waited to be gripped by jealousy, hate, something, but nothing came. He watched the passion behind their kisses escalate, but felt no emotion whatsoever. As he had climbed the narrow stairs to the room he had thought he would go ballistic seeing the two of them become intimate with each other, but he had been wrong. Might be for the best—he wouldn’t be distracted by his feelings and could focus on carrying out David’s orders.

  His heart remained steady when he felt Jean-Paul’s hand on the back of his neck push him toward Alexei. His heart rate didn’t increase when he felt their lips touch, when their tongues flicked against each other. It was as if it was all happening to someone else. But it wasn’t; it was happening to him, and he had to grab hold of his mind and his feelings before they floated away completely and weren’t retrievable. If he was going to do this, he had to take responsibility for his actions. He might be a soldier, carrying out a direct order, but he also had a choice.

  He could feel Alexei’s hands on his body. He just didn’t think about them; he thought about his options. Maybe he could defy David’s command and run far from Double A, become a fugitive. But how realistic was that? David could track him down wherever he ran to or instruct one of his minions to hunt him down and kill him for his disobedience. No, Nakano wasn’t thrilled with his life, but he wasn’t suicidal. He only had one choice, the one David had given to him. The one he had given to him without explanation.

  How could anyone who was able to kiss this well do something that would warrant a death penalty?

  It was ludicrous. Jean-Paul’s lips tasted the same, sweet and soft, in stark contrast to his rough beard, and his long tongue had its own lazy rhythm. All the incredible times they had spent together rushed back, and Nakano remembered why he had fallen in love with Jean-Paul in the first place. The only thing that seemed off was his laugh. That didn’t make sense. Why was he laughing?

  “I’m sorry, Kano,” Jean-Paul said as he clutched his stomach and rolled back onto the bed. His open shirt fell to the side and exposed his smooth, lean chest and the thin, vertical line of black hair that started just below his bellybutton. He looked beautiful, but his appearance was truly the only beautiful thing about him. “I can’t do theese,” Jean-Paul said, howling with laughter. “You are, ’ow do you say?

  Yes, making me seeck.”

  Nakano was the only one who didn’t think it was a funny thing to say. Alexei cracked up and fell back onto the bed, his head resting next to Jean-Paul’s. “You’re like that leetle peeg,” Jean-Paul continued. “That fat peeg Diego.”

  Finally the feelings that Nakano had been ignoring burst inside his heart like a balloon that was filled with too much air. He fell forward onto the bed, his head dangling, and heard something release from his lips, like a groan. There were no words, only sound. The mattress was dipping slightly from the sudden extra weight, and Nakano’s forehead pressed against the sheets as he slowly started to punch the bed. Once, twice, so many times that he lost count. He had no idea how he looked, and he didn’t care. Jean-Paul and Alexei, however, thought he was putting on one hilarious show.

  Rolling onto his side, Alexei shouted, “Somebody toss the pig some pom-poms!”

  Jean-Paul wailed and started banging the bed with his fist, mocking Nakano. When he caught his breath, he begged, “Now squeal for us, leetle peeg! We want to ’ear you squeal!”

  “Sorry,” Nakano replied. “This little piggy would rather kill.”

  Reaching inside his jacket Nakano whipped out a wooden stake that he had whittled from a thick branch he had found in The Forest. A second later, the laughter had stopped.

  Kano’s empty black eyes stared into Jean-Paul’s frightened irises, and he watched them grow, aware that Jean-Paul believed his life was coming to an end. But Jean-Paul was not ready to give up.

  As Nakano raised his arm, Jean-Paul grabbed Alexei and used him as a human shield, and when Kano’s arm slashed through the air he didn’t have enough time to stop the movement. The stake that was meant for Jean-Paul rammed straight into Alexei’s heart.

  As the unlucky Russian burst into flames, Jean-Paul rolled to one side and Kano jumped to the other, both shielding their eyes from the sudden explosion. The only thing that separated the two were bright red, billowing wisps of flame, outlined in black, that crackled and licked the air. And then there was nothing but a pile of ash.

  “Sacre bleu!” Jean-Paul screamed in his native tongue as he scrambled to his knees. “Murderer!”

  “Now who’s squealing like a leetle peeg?” Nakano asked.

  Speechless, Jean-Paul reached for the edge of the bed so he could stand up, but only succeeded in grabbing the sheets. He lost his footing and fell backward as the sheets and Alexei’s disintegrated body fell on top of him. “Merde!” Jean-Paul shrieked, brushing the ash off of him wildly. “You weel burn in ’ell for theese. David weel see to eet!”

  “And who do you think ordered your death?”

  A wave of shock washed over Jean-Paul’s face. “That ees a lie!” Jean-Paul spat, finally standing and facing Nakano. “My father would never send you to keel ’is only son.”

  His son? Jean-Paul is David’s son! That can’t be true. Brania would’ve said something. She must know Jean-Paul was her brother. Nakano stumbled back as Jean-Paul moved toward him. As twisted as it sounded, Nakano knew Jean-Paul spoke the truth. But how could a father order his own son’s execution? Nakano’s own father despised him, but Nakano could never imagine he would place a price on his head. How could David do such a thing? And why had he been put in the middle of it all?

  “You’re David’s son?” Nakano asked.

  “Yes,” Jean-Paul replied. “And I weell see to eet that you suffer for what you ’ave done ’ere today!”

  But Nakano wasn’t finished. As Jean-Paul reached out to grab the stake from Kano’s sweaty hand, the white rose vibrated in the boy’s pocket. Before Kano could comprehend what was happening, Jean-Paul slipped on the fallen bedspread, his body lurching forward, and he clutch
ed Kano’s shoulders.

  They both looked down at the same time and saw that the stake had found a second target.

  In an instant Jean-Paul’s beautiful face was gone, replaced by a ball of fire. Then just black soot. As the ash smoldered at his feet, Nakano pulled the crumbled rose out from his pocket and watched it bloom to life. “Brania was right about you,” he remarked, before tucking it back for safe keeping.

  Who knew when he’d need that kind of luck again?

  When Nakano walked into David’s office a few minutes before midnight, he didn’t acknowledge the headmaster, but went directly for the geisha’s ornate box. It really would make the perfect urn. He opened up the brown paper bag he was carrying and emptied the contents inside of it. Closing the lid, he presented it to David.

  Outside, the cheers continued, the students still reveling in Double A’s gold medal victory in the Team of the Year competition. Inside, the celebration was much more subdued.

  “You have done well,” he said, his voice thick, but too in shock to cry.

  “I’ll expect my reward shortly,” Kano replied.

  As he left the room he couldn’t help but smile. David had no idea his treasured souvenir actually contained Alexei’s ashes. The bag that had been filled with Jean-Paul’s remains was floating somewhere in the polluted water of the Eden sewer system. Nakano couldn’t think of a more perfect resting place for the bastard.

  chapter 28

  O feathered wings that soar above this land that we call home.

  Immortal creatures filled with love protect us as we roam.

  Throughout this earth and back again over land and sea, guide us so we may return where we were born to be.

  This hallowed ground, our resting place, Archangel Academy.

  When David finished singing the school’s anthem he felt his shoulder blades twitch. His own wings were eager to present themselves, eager to come out of hiding and show the assembled crowd indisputable proof that David was and would always be their unrivaled leader. Looking at the sea of faces staring at him, the blank expressions of those who had gathered in his office, David thought they could use a jolt, a reminder that they existed only to carry out his bidding, but now wasn’t the time for exhibitionism, now was the time for action.