Unafraid aa-3

by Michael Griffo

  Michael felt the current swirl around him, swift and encouraging, as if trying to get him to follow them, but he couldn’t, he was frozen. It was as if he was locked in an iceberg, too frightened to move, just like in the vision he had had before school started where he was locked in a sea of ice and Ronan was just out of reach. Think, think! What had Ronan said in his dream? What did he tell him he had to do? “You must protect me.” Well, of course he would protect him. Michael didn’t need to be told to do such a thing. Oh really? Then what was he doing in the middle of the ocean while Ronan was being taken God knows where by David? As Michael swam closer to the surface he was more determined than ever to make his dream come true.

  This Tri-Centennial Disaster was not the stuff dreams were made of. All Fritz wanted to do was hang out with Ruby all day, maybe sneak in a little private time, advance their relationship, but the earth was not cooperating. Why did it have to wait until his one day off from studying and schoolwork to go all wonky? Instead of holding Ruby’s hand as they strolled through The Forest on their way to St. Sebastian’s, Fritz was constantly sidestepping rolling rocks or dodging falling trees. It was downright apocalyptic. If the world wanted to end, why the hell didn’t it just do it already and stop pussyfooting around? Being greeted by Ciaran the second they set foot into the gym was further proof that the planet was against him. He wanted his end-of-the-world moment to be just him and Ruby. He didn’t want it to turn into some sort of group hug.

  “Ruby, are you all right?”

  Nor did he want Ciaran to steal any of his thunder. He had ignored his friend’s previous attempts to chummy up to his girlfriend, feeling rather confident, though not entirely certain, that if given the choice Ruby would choose him. But with the whole “sky is falling” fairy-tale thing coming true, he wasn’t about to take any chances. “Hey, mate,” Fritz said. “I think it’s time you back off.”

  A deafening growl of thunder prevented Ciaran from hearing Fritz’s demand and made Ruby more eager than ever to sit as far away from the windows as possible. The earth was revolting. Now the sky was going to join in too? “I saved a space for us in the middle of the gym,” Ciaran said.

  “Ain’t that just hunky dory,” Fritz groused. Another thunderclap, another missed opportunity to help Ruby lie down and rest her head on a rolled up sweatshirt.

  “Sorry, I’m not used to so much running around,” she said. “Since I lost my sight I haven’t been able to be very active.”

  All that was about to change, because Rhoswen had decided it was time to part ways with her host.

  Ciaran wasn’t sure if the ghost rising from Ruby’s body went unnoticed by everyone around them because there was so much commotion or if she only appeared to a chosen few. Fritz was not happy to be one of the selected.

  Staring in fright at the apparition who had just stepped out of his girlfriend’s body, Fritz’s first thought was that the guest monster of issue seventeen of Tales of the Double A had come to life. That was the issue in which Parasitico, the alien from another planet who has to take over people’s bodies to survive, first appeared. Fritz didn’t actually have a second thought because he fainted.

  A bit more used to witnessing unexplainable phenomena, Ciaran was entranced by Rhoswen’s eerie beauty and not disturbed by the fact that she had been living inside Ruby’s body. Rhoswen couldn’t see Ciaran, but she could sense his presence. And his future. “Stay here, and you will all be safe,” she said. “And don’t worry, Ciaran. Before the summer ends, Ruby will be yours.”

  Beaming, despite the tragedy he had recently witnessed, Ciaran sat next to Ruby and held her hand as she slept. He was greatly relieved to know that they wouldn’t need any help to survive the so-called celebration that was raging all around them.

  Imogene didn’t need any help either. She had gotten what she wanted—her freedom. Standing on the other side of the rocky dunes on Inishtrahull Island near an inlet about a mile from the shore, Imogene, with Brania and Edwige behind her, waited for it to come. When they saw the boy walking toward them, they knew Imogene’s freedom had arrived.

  “Penry!” Imogene squealed. She was so excited she jumped up and down in place and forgot that she could run, that she was free to do as she pleased. She didn’t have to wait for instruction or fear to compel her to disappear. Or maybe she just wanted Penry to make the first move. She didn’t have to wait long.

  Penry didn’t stop running until he had wrapped his arms around Imogene and lifted her up off the sand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long!” he cried, his red hair shining in the sunlight.

  All Imogene wanted to do was count the freckles on his cheeks. She couldn’t remember how many there were, and a girlfriend should know those sorts of things. But there was time for that. “I’m sorry,” Imogene replied, not letting go of his embrace, but tilting her head to indicate the other women on the beach. “I was kind of delayed.”

  Edwige looked away to give the couple some privacy. She knew that she should feel guilty for having killed Imogene, but she didn’t. She wanted to look at life differently, so she accepted the fact that she was the one who had made it possible for Imogene to be reunited with her boyfriend. Truth was, she couldn’t take all the credit.

  “My plan worked!” Imogene cried.

  “What plan?” Penry asked.

  “To die.”

  That didn’t make any sense. They all knew that she had fought harder than anyone else to stay alive.

  They just had no idea how hard she had fought to stay dead. “I didn’t want to die, Pens,” Imogene clarified. “I wanted to live to a ripe old age with you by my side, but there was no way I was going to hang out with either of them for eternity, so I decided to take some action.”

  Edwige couldn’t help but smile. Imogene really was a spitfire. Brania felt her heart shrink. Imogene really was an ingrate.

  “I’ll fill you in later,” Imogene said. “But once I realized I had some power over my situation, I took advantage of it.”

  Shaking his head, amazed as he always was by his girlfriend’s moxie, Penry shrugged his shoulders.

  “All that matters is that we’re together, and now I get to show you the world,” he said. “You won’t believe how magical everything looks from this side.”

  “I thought you said you were waiting for me?” Imogene cried. “Not traipsing all over the earth.”

  “Crikey, Ims! You were taking your sweet time. What did you expect me to do?” he laughed. “I did wait, but then I got bored so I started to explore a little.”

  She couldn’t blame him. He had returned when she needed him, and she knew he would never leave her side again. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s go explore.”

  Watching Penry and Imogene run down the beach, holding hands, on their way to start their journey together, Edwige blushed. The warmth in her cheeks was comforting, because it meant she understood what it was like to have known a love that was so innocent and pure. Brania had no such knowledge.

  Edwige also knew that there was a man in her life who might be able to help her feel that kind of love again. He wasn’t as good as Saxon, but in time and with her love as encouragement, he could be a worthy successor. Before she left the island to go find him, she hesitated and thought about her children. Her maternal connection was rusty, but it was still working. She knew that Ciaran and Saoirse were unharmed, and she knew that as long as Ronan was with Michael he would be safe and, most important, loved. It was time for Edwige to commit to finding those same joys with Vaughan.

  The only thing Michael knew for certain was that if David didn’t land soon, he was going to crash onto the beach with Ronan’s lifeless body still clutched in his hand. His feathers were peeling off his wings and swirling in the wind as they floated onto the ocean’s surface, polluting the water with their filth. Now that David had proven himself unworthy of Zachariel’s unholy gift, the vile archangel was destroying his creation. Michael prayed he didn’t destroy his boyf
riend in the process.

  Standing on the shore, Michael watched as David whirled about at a dizzying speed. Up, down, around, spinning, diving, flipping. Michael couldn’t tell if David was showing off or if he was throwing a tantrum in the sky. He had never felt more frustrated, more helpless than he did watching Ronan hang like a rag doll in David’s grip. But then all motion stopped, and David hung in the sky like a vulture that spies a bleeding lion. And just like a greedy vulture, David swooped down toward the beach zeroing in on yet more prey.

  Michael was prepared to move at the last second. He would not become David’s next victim. But David wasn’t returning to land to seize Michael; he was after a different treasure. Rolling on the beach to avoid being whipped in the face by a rotting wing, Michael turned around just in time to see David grab Brania by the throat and soar back into the sky. What the hell was he doing?! Attacking Ronan was one thing; it was a vicious act, but it was understandable. Trying to kill his own daughter too?

  That was deplorable. Michael had always believed David was an immoral being, and now he had proof. A blight on an otherwise gorgeous blue sky, David hovered miles above ground, his wings unsightly, half-evaporated, holding Ronan and Brania like puppets in front of him.

  A shiver of fear ran up Michael’s spine. He did not have a good feeling about this. And he was right.

  A maniacal laugh spilled out of David’s mouth, poisoning the air, the sea, and the earth below.

  The laughter continued as David raised his arms and let his cargo fall.

  chapter 31

  Michael watched Ronan’s body free fall through the air, and he couldn’t believe that another one of his visions was coming true. He hadn’t wanted to believe this one was a prophecy. He didn’t want to believe Ronan’s life could be in danger. All this time he had held onto the hope that he had remembered it wrong or that he had misinterpreted the true meaning of his dream. And now that the vision was coming to life before his very eyes, he realized that’s exactly what had happened.

  When he heard the words “You must protect me” spoken once again, he heard them as they truly sounded, not the way he had imagined hearing them. It wasn’t Ronan’s voice that called out to him; it was The Well’s. He recognized the magnificent voice immediately as the same one that had spoken through Saoirse last year, and the moment he heard The Well call to him, he knew what he had to do.

  Just before he ran across the waves, his feet hardly touching the water, he begged Ronan for forgiveness.

  Pushing fear from his mind and trusting his instinct like Rhoswen and Phaedra had previously instructed him to do, Michael leapt into the air and caught Brania in his arms. As The Well’s guardian, his first priority was to protect it, and the only way to ensure its safety was to maintain peace with the enemy. If Brania died, she would never take the crown from her father, and there would never be hope for peace between their two races. When he carried Brania safely to shore and saw that she was in shock but still breathing, he knew hope had been salvaged. She was weak, but she was alive. And when she regained her strength she would take the reins from David and grow into a much more compassionate, beloved leader than her father could ever dream of becoming. One who understood that courage and devotion deserve mercy. A leader just like The Well.

  Rising from the ocean’s surface, Michael recognized the familiar circular structure made entirely of ancient stones. The Well had not abandoned them; it never would. It hadn’t run away to secure a new hiding place; it didn’t have to hide. It was simply waiting for the right time to return. As Michael watched Ronan plunge into the center of The Well, into its comforting, silvery water, he humbly realized the timing could not be more perfect. As David watched from above, he realized his time had come to an end.

  “Damn you, Zachariel!!” he shouted as the last feather fell from his wings, and then he too plummeted to the earth. Falling, falling, falling, David cursed his duplicitous lord, he cursed his vengeful daughter, he cursed every one of his subjects who he felt were unworthy of his leadership. He even cursed the fates as he became acutely aware that immortality like life itself was fleeting.

  Conscious when he hit the surface of the water, he imagined it was like crashing into concrete. But then his mind went blank as he continued to fall deeper into the ocean, and, when he floated into his sister’s waiting arms, he had no idea if he was alive or dead. It didn’t matter to Rhoswen. “I knew you’d come back to me, Dahey,” she said, instinctively knowing it was her brother she was holding even though all she could see was darkness. “Now you can read to me for all eternity, the way you used to.”

  After more than three centuries, Rhoswen had finally gotten her revenge.

  And after years of prayer, Ronan had finally gotten his wish. “Dad?” He didn’t know where he was, in the past, the present, earth, heaven, he didn’t care. He was looking at his father again, and it didn’t matter if it was a dream or real or a gift from The Well.

  “Hello, son,” Saxon said.

  His voice was exactly the same as Ronan remembered. It was strong and gentle and loving.

  Trembling, Ronan had so many questions. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, so many things that he wanted to know about his father, but his heart was so filled with emotion he couldn’t speak a word. “I am so proud of the man you’ve become,” his father said.

  Tears came first and, finally, words followed. “Oh Dad ... I’ve missed you so much,” Ronan cried.

  “But how is this possible? Where am I?”

  Smiling the same way he had when Ronan last saw him as he was engulfed by flames, Saxon explained, “You’re on the other side of The Well. It’s where our race began and where it will end.”

  Ronan had no idea what Saxon was saying; he couldn’t comprehend a word. He just wanted to stare at his father’s strong, kind face. He wanted to relish every moment because he knew that it wasn’t going to last. This wasn’t supposed to happen; he had just gotten lucky. As lucky as he had always been. “Michael is a wonderful partner and a noble Guardian,” Saxon said. “The Well could not be in better hands.”

  “And neither could I,” Ronan added.

  Smiling, Saxon could feel the love his son shared for his soul mate, a love that should no longer be apart. “You should go now,” Saxon said. “Your Michael’s waiting for you.”

  Before Ronan could respond, before he could tell Saxon how much he loved him, how wonderful it was to see him again, how he hated being separated from him, he opened his eyes and he was staring at Michael’s beautiful face. So everything he wanted to tell his father, he would just tell his boyfriend.

  “Hello, love.”

  Embracing Ronan and holding him tightly to his chest, Michael kissed his neck, his forehead, his mouth. Gratitude wasn’t the emotion he was feeling at the moment; it was bigger than that. After everything that had happened, after everything that could have happened, Ronan was fine. And Michael was humbled because he knew that it was only partly due to divine intervention; it was mainly because he had trusted his instincts. Whatever the reason, the best part was that Ronan was still forever beautiful and still forever his.

  When Michael looked up to offer proper thanks he saw that The Wall was gone and the sky had returned to normal. No matter. As The Well’s newest Guardian such formal communication was unnecessary. The Well knew, as it always had, the truth that lay in Michael’s heart. In many ways, so did Brania.

  “I am your leader now,” she telepathically told her people. “David has succumbed to hubris, to his own foolish quest. From here on in we shall live in peace with the water vampires. This war is over.”

  Turning to Michael and Ronan she informed them that she had called a truce. “This is a new beginning for all of us,” Brania declared. “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.”

  Michael saw his image reflected in Ronan’s beautiful, blue eyes, and he knew their connection had never been stronger. “Neither can we.”

  epilogue

&nbs
p; Three Months Later Archangel Academy was resilient. So were her students.

  Only a few indications that carnage had ripped through the school during the Tri-Centennial Celebration remained. There was a small memorial site near the entrance to The Forest made up of a cross that was spray-painted in Talisa’s favorite bright shade of pink and surrounded by notes from her heartbroken classmates, along with the most incredibly robust white roses that usually only grew outside St. Joshua’s. The window that Morgandy had crashed through, near the front door of one of the smaller buildings next to the cathedral, had been replaced with a colorful stained glass rendering of an olive branch. And right above the entrance to the locker rooms was a portrait of Coach Peter Blakeley.

  Depicted wearing his navy blue and gold Double A tracksuit, he had his whistle draped around his neck, and his expression was more smirk than smile. But he looked as strong and as valiant as he had the moment he died.

  The gym was alive and noisy as always. The windows had been cranked open, and the space was filled with a warm breeze that floated in from the outside bringing with it the smell of lavender mixed with pine. The pool was full of students splashing, dunking one another, and simply enjoying an impromptu end-of-summer party. Despite everything that had happened, despite the loss of life and the shift in power, Double A had survived. And probably would for another three hundred years.

  “So I hear McLaren is going to be the new headmaster,” Nakano said, sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling in the cool water.

  “Really?” Saoirse replied, holding onto Kano’s ankles and treading water. “I was hoping they were going to give it to Sister Mary, show some girl power for once.”

  Cocking his head to the side, Kano thought for a moment. “Would’ve been a right fine choice,” he remarked, then added a bit shyly, “But not nearly as hot a choice as Professor Brit Lit.”