Michael smiled. “Well, you can rest easy; my father is from London and rather sophisticated, so you can say I’m only half country bumpkin.”
Interesting, Ronan thought; for the first time since he found Penry, he felt calm. Nakano’s foolish actions, Dr. MacCleery’s pointed comments, the concern he felt about Michael, all of that dissipated when he looked at this girl. Her eyes were extraordinary. Gray-blue, cold-looking like an icicle, but somehow they were warm and inviting. However, she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Ronan could sense that. “You’re not a native New Yorker, are you?”
Phaedra turned to look at Ronan, her dark brown hair, curly and more free-flowing than unkempt, swayed a bit, but her eyes remained clear, precise. “You got me. I was actually born in Mykonos while my parents were attending my grandmother’s funeral. I’m named after her. Phaedra Antonides.”
“I thought I detected a slight accent,” Ronan said.
Her brown eyebrows, not nearly as perfectly plucked as Brania’s, rose about an inch. “I’m impressed. No one usually picks up on that.”
No humans anyway, Ronan thought. “I have a really good ear.”
Regardless of where she was from, Michael liked her too. She didn’t calm him as she did Ronan, but he felt that she was a breath of fresh air. “Well, Phaedra Antonides, I’m Michael Howard and this is Ronan Glynn-Rowley. It’s a pleasure to meet you and if I may be so bold, I predict that we’re all going to be great friends.”
“I find nothing bold about that statement at all, Michael,” Phaedra said, smiling. “I find it to be quite accurate.”
Ronan wanted to question Phaedra further about Mykonos and New York, not that he didn’t believe her, but he felt drawn to her, compelled almost. He usually didn’t find girls that interesting and worth the effort of getting to know, but this one seemed different. Phaedra seemed sincere. However, before any more questions could be asked, Imogene came out of the examining room, her cheeks streaked with tears. “My boyfriend’s going to be all right!”
Standing in the doorway, Mrs. Radcliff didn’t even bother to try and quiet the group when they started to cheer. She knew trying to control a bunch of screaming teenagers was a pointless task. Instead, she said a quick prayer thanking God that yet another child would recover and then told the kids they had three minutes to say good-bye to Penry before they had to let him rest.
“But I feel fine,” Penry protested.
“Doctor’s orders, Pens,” Imogene overruled.
Ronan was thankful Penry was all right. He looked a bit pale and was more lethargic than he would admit, but Nakano didn’t cause any permanent damage. At some point he would have to confront Nakano, make him understand that what he did was unacceptable and hope that he could talk some sense into him. But he feared he wouldn’t listen. Brania was Nakano’s master, not Ronan, so there was only so much he could do. But for today, he had obviously done enough.
“Thanks, Ronan,” Penry said.
All heads turned to stare at Ronan, who was caught off guard. “For what?”
A little color dotted Penry’s cheeks. “For, um, finding me and, um, carrying me from The Forest. Thank you.”
“No problem, mate.”
“You too, Michael.” Then Penry added with a sly wink, “Guess I’m lucky that you two were out having a … morning stroll.”
In response Imogene giggled, Ronan blushed, Michael started to make up some excuse, and Mrs. Radcliff announced that their time was up. Only Phaedra remained silent.
“Take good notes in history, Michael,” Penry said. “You know Willows isn’t going to let me get out of tomorrow’s test.” It looked like Penry would fully recover.
Ronan was a different story. Try as he might, he couldn’t move past the morning’s events. He tried to remind himself that Michael was unharmed and Penry had survived, but he knew he didn’t have the full story. He wasn’t prepared to speak with Nakano, so he avoided him all morning. One altercation with his ex-boyfriend per week was more than enough, so he remained true to his word and met with Ciaran at St. Joshua’s. Two minutes into the conversation and Ciaran wished he had reneged.
“Ronan, is it possible that this is all just coincidence and not worth further speculation?”
“I would like it to be nothing more, but Penry’s neck,” Ronan whispered. “He was bitten.”
It wasn’t that Ciaran wasn’t concerned; Penry was one of his best friends. He just knew that one bite wasn’t deadly. If it was followed up by another, well, then, yes, things could become more serious, but for the moment, as far as Ciaran was concerned, there was nothing to worry about. Still, he couldn’t hold his tongue. “You know as well as I do that Nakano’s a loose cannon. I told you that when you started dating him, but as usual, you didn’t want to listen to me then.” Ronan felt his patience growing thin. He didn’t need to be reprimanded, he needed advice. “So isn’t it at all remotely possible that he bumped into Penry and just couldn’t resist him?”
Why was his half brother so incredibly dense sometimes? “Yes, of course it’s possible, but it’s never happened before. Nakano knows the rules. We all do, and we all know the consequences. Aren’t you at all concerned? Aren’t you frightened?”
He wasn’t, not at all, but Ciaran wasn’t going to reveal why, so he lied. “Of course I’m frightened, but worrying isn’t going to change anything.” Ciaran traced the looping paisley pattern on the couch with his finger. “Do I need to remind you that I’m virtually powerless against you … people?”
“Do not lump me in with Them!” A few heads raised, but not Ciaran’s. He had anticipated Ronan’s outburst, so he remained focused on the couch. “I am nothing like Kano and his kind,” Ronan said in a much more civilized tone.
Looking up, Ciaran lied again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just don’t know what to tell you. Unless you want to expose yourself and tell Michael the truth, there really isn’t any way you can protect him, not one hundred percent.”
Suddenly, Ronan reached out and grabbed Ciaran’s hand. He did it so quickly, for a second Ciaran didn’t comprehend how unusual an act it was. “Promise me, Ciaran, promise me that you’ll watch over Michael and help me keep him safe.”
All thoughts of provoking or antagonizing Ronan vanished as pride swelled Ciaran’s heart. This was all he wanted, to feel needed and connected, to be part of a family. He looked at his brother’s pleading face. He needed him, needed his help, and of course he would have it. “I will do everything humanly possible,” Ciaran said. “But you, Brother, you’ll have to take care of the rest.”
Once again Ciaran said something borderline inappropriate, but this was different. Ciaran was actually displaying a sense of humor, and it calmed Ronan. First Phaedra and now Ciaran. It was an odd sensation, one second to be concerned and aware of imminent danger, and the next to be peaceful and mindful that help was nearby. He had a feeling this was all Michael’s doing. Ever since they met, his life had changed. He didn’t say the words out loud because he wasn’t sure if Ciaran was ready to hear them, but he knew that Michael was his salvation.
And Michael felt the same way about Ronan. He never imagined from that first meeting in the rain that he would come to feel so brave and self-assured, or at least more brave and self-assured than scared and lost. So when he saw Ronan after school heading over to St. Sebastian’s for a swim before tomorrow’s tryouts, he called out his name in a strong voice that was uncolored by shame. “Ronan.”
Stopping in his tracks, Ronan turned around to greet Michael and felt some butterflies fluttering in his stomach, mainly because Michael looked perfectly poised. His voice matched his appearance. “Ronan Glynn-Rowley, would you like to make it official and go out on a date with me?”
A strong wind blew past them and the butterflies were swept away. Ronan had so many reasons to say no, so many reasons to ignore what had taken place between them, their first meeting, their kiss, and to tell Michael that despite his previous declarations, he wasn’t ready
to have another boyfriend or he just didn’t want to complicate his life by dating a classmate. But all of that would be a lie. The truth was, he wanted to spend every waking moment with Michael and he wanted to make their relationship official. And so he said yes.
“Excellent,” Michael said. “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Ronan couldn’t wait for tomorrow night to come. “I’ll be waiting.”
He wouldn’t be the only one. In the distance, Phaedra stared at them, observing their actions the same way she had when she first saw them outside St. Joshua’s. But this time, she was even more alarmed than before.
chapter 13
Michael and Ronan were both swimming in the water. They just happened to be roughly 252 miles apart. Michael was on his third lap in the pool in St. Sebastian’s while Ronan was swimming in the ocean off Inishtrahull Island. They were separated, yes, but only by distance; they each swam with the same powerful determination. They had goals to achieve.
Michael was determined to make the swim team. He didn’t really care about impressing Mr. Blakeley or Fritz, who just this morning expressed doubts that the American had the stamina to make the team, or any of his fellow students. He wanted to impress himself. Prove that the awkward, self-conscious Michael from Weeping Water was nothing more than a distant memory. Ronan, on the other hand, had to feed.
Earlier this morning, he had followed the scent of death to an elderly man living alone in a cottage in the town next to Eden. When Ronan arrived, the man, very tall and thin, was lying on top of an old, stained quilt, barely conscious and having difficulty breathing. Small puddles of sweat gathered in the folds of his neck, and his hands, wrinkled and speckled with liver spots, shook. He never opened his eyes, not even when he spoke. “Hurry up,” the old man groused. “Don’t have much time left.”
His final words were barely spoken before Ronan began draining the blood from the old man. Gulp after gulp of blood, slightly bitter, flooded Ronan’s throat, slid down to his stomach, and spread out to his limbs. His brain was throbbing with the infusion, his entire body starting to glow. Finally the old man’s hands stopped shaking and went limp at his sides, his suffering and his life mercifully ended. Ronan, however, felt incredibly alive. The blood that in the old man’s veins was diseased and no longer able to sustain life thrived in Ronan’s body. But his feeding wasn’t over.
Moving faster than the human eye could see, his feet hardly touching the ground, Ronan raced from the cottage to the beach at Inishtrahull Island. Stripped naked, fangs bared, eyes like two beacons of light, he took a moment to look out at the water. This is my world, he thought. Every last drop of it is mine. He took a deep breath of the fresh sea air and then plunged into the ocean.
At the same time, Michael took a deep breath of the chlorine-tinged air and plunged back into the pool. This is my world, he thought, my new world, and I’m going to make the most of it. He swam hard, lifting his head out of the water every third stroke to take a quick breath, and felt energy protrude from every pore. He didn’t feel tired—though even if he did, he was not about to give in. Michael stopped swimming only when he reached the end of the pool and heard Mr. Blakeley blow his whistle.
Ronan stopped swimming only when he reached the cave and heard the familiar hum. The sound emanated from The Well. It was ordinary-looking, made of thick blocks of curved stone that jutted out from the base of an underwater cave, and was surrounded by nothing except rough sand. From the center of The Well came a light, dull, not especially bright, but enough to bounce off the cave’s roof and illuminate the space. This place was a haven, dry and cool, right in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean about a mile northwest and below the shore off the island where Ronan was raised. But it was only a haven, in fact only visible, to those who could hear its call. This was where the ceremony would take place and where Ronan’s feeding would end.
This is where everything will begin, Michael thought. He stood next to one of the heated lamps drying himself off with a towel and tried not to put too much weight on what was about to take place—swim team tryouts—but today was important. This was another step in his emancipation from that other life, that life he left behind. He would feel much less nervous, much more confident, if Ronan were standing by his side, but unfortunately he was nowhere to be found.
Ronan knelt before The Well, placing both of his hands on the rim, and bowed his head. Immediately the humming grew louder, causing the stones to vibrate and pulse. The Well recognized Ronan as one of its own descendants. As the light shone with more intensity, the pulse of The Well invaded Ronan’s body to create the final transformation. Ronan gripped the stone rim even tighter, eyes closed, his fangs pressing down on his lips, and felt one continuous wave of energy travel through his body until he was filled entirely with The Well’s power. Then the final change began.
Slowly and a bit painfully, his fingers and toes elongated, and small, thin pieces of flesh rose out from between each digit to create webbed hands and feet. Eyes still closed, Ronan smiled despite the pain. Even though he was by himself in this secluded cave, he was connected to every other vampire like him, to every other vampire who belonged to his race, and he was reminded that no matter how lonely he might sometimes feel, he was hardly alone. The transformation complete, all vibrations stopped. Now The Well of Atlantis would allow Ronan to finish his feeding.
Ronan bent over The Well, which was half filled with a clear liquid that was so smooth, its surface appeared solid. It was the essence of his people, the life force that kept them whole and allowed them to exist in a manner that other vampires could only dream of and covet. He leaned over and dipped his hands into the cold liquid, scooping up a handful. He held his now-webbed hands up over his head, careful not to spill a drop, and recited the prayer:
Unto The Well I give my life,
my body’s blood that makes me whole.
I vow to honor and protect
and ask The Well to house my soul.
When he was finished, he brought his webbed hands to his mouth and drank. At first, there was no taste, nothing, just a cold sensation until the elixir reached warm blood, then the two liquids, the two individual life forces, united and, as always, the result was intoxicating.
This time when Ronan gripped the side of The Well it was to steady himself. As the two liquids swirled together inside of Ronan to create an even more powerful mixture, he felt he would either faint or float upward. That’s how exhilarated he became after a feeding. He knew that his race was shunned by the majority of vampires and that they were considered impure, but he also knew that he couldn’t imagine living his life any other way. He also couldn’t imagine living his life without Michael. Now that his feeding was over, it was time to get back to that part of his life.
About thirty seconds before Mr. Blakeley was set to begin tryouts, Ronan bounded into the gym clad in his Speedo, a towel casually thrown over his shoulder, looking more muscular than Michael remembered. Even though Nakano recognized the look and understood that Ronan’s muscles had been given a boost since he had just fed, he, like Michael, had to look away to catch his breath. Fritz had no need to take such a pause. “Thought you were gonna chicken out, Captain!”
Ronan smiled and tossed his towel on the bleachers before shouting back, “Just giving the rest of you time to warm up, Fritzie.”
Michael noticed some dark black hairs growing in the cleft of Ronan’s chest and around the circumference of his deep brown nipples that he hadn’t noticed before. Were they new, he thought? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they made him even more striking.
“Sounding a bit cocky, mate,” Fritz said. “Remember we’ve got an Ameri-can who might show you up.”
Ronan winked at Michael. “I think the American will do just fine.”
Again Nakano had to look away, but this time it was so no one would see him sneer. Fritz just laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you do, Ronan!” He didn’t get Ronan’s attraction to Michael or to boys
in general, but he admired Ronan’s athleticism and sportsmanship, so he long ago decided to accept how Ronan felt and not question it. Anyway, he didn’t have time to razz a teammate. Right now he had to concentrate on winning a starting spot on the team.
“The policy here at Double A is that any student who wants to join a sports team must be allowed to do so,” Mr. Blakeley explained. “A load of rubbish! If you bloody well stink, I don’t want you on my team. But I’m not the headmaster, I’m just a lowly gym teacher.”
Under his breath Fritz mumbled, “Lower than low.”
“I heard that, Ulrich,” Blakeley said. He didn’t have to turn to face Fritz to know that the boy’s dark complexion turned a few shades closer to white. “By academy rules, I am forced to give each and every one of you a place on my team regardless of your abilities. However, I do not have to make you a starter or even let you dip one mankie toe into my pool.”
Michael was completely surprised by this cantankerous speech. He had thought Blakeley, like his previous gym teacher, aimed to instill a sense of pride in his students with positive reinforcement and encouraging words, not intimidate them with threats. So much for thinking he could judge someone’s character. His fellow students were about to have the same revelation.
“Hey, where’s the Hawkman?” one of the boys shouted. “He’s always at tryouts.”
Blakeley tried to hide his contempt for his superior, but failed. “Our illustrious leader is M.I.A.”
“That’s two days in a row,” another boy said.
“Maybe he’s on a bender,” Fritz suggested.
“Hawksbry?” Penry replied. “Hardly. Steady like a hawk and all that.”
“Everybody’s got a secret,” Nakano added. “And all that.”
If Ronan weren’t so elated from his feeding, he would have understood there was cause for concern. The headmaster was the headmaster for several reasons, most notably, that he was, as Penry suggested, steady and unchanging. He would never disappear for even an hour without telling his assistant where he was. But for the moment, none of that registered for him. And as far as Blakeley was concerned, he would’ve let the Hawksbrybashing continue all day, but he had tryouts to oversee. “All right, enough! Within the hour you’ll know if I think you’re worthy to be on my team or if I think you should be our own personal kettle boy.”
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