“It’s the truth,” he replied.
The simplicity of his words and the seriousness of his voice gave Saoirse pause. She didn’t want to believe his accusation, but what was the alternative? That Ronan was staring at her—his face a disturbing blend of compassion and fear—and lying. He would never do that, would he? It took someone who loved her brother just as much as she did to make her understand, as painful as it was, that Ronan was telling the truth.
“You know you can trust Ronan, Saoirse,” Michael said. “He would never lie to you.”
Michael was right, that made sense. Holding Morgandy’s hand didn’t. She let go of it like she had just been zapped with an electric current, without thought, the will to survive taking over. Looking at Morgandy’s angelic face, she couldn’t believe he was the demon from her brother’s past. “He’s the one you and Mum never wanted to talk about?” she gasped.
“Yes,” Ronan replied.
“He’s the one you were living with while I was trapped in France and being ignored?”
“Yes.”
Saoirse’s body started to shake. Her voice grew from a breath to a roar. “He’s the one who was so cruel, your race could never even speak his name?!”
“Yes!”
Michael wished he could reach out and hug the girl. She looked so confused, so young, and he knew exactly what she was going through. Not long ago he had felt the same way. The circumstances were different, but the emotions, conflicting, shattering, devastating, were the same. But Saoirse wasn’t Michael; she really was Edwige’s daughter, and although she looked frail and destructible, she wasn’t. Even now, gripped by emotional turmoil, she didn’t want consolation; she wanted answers.
“Morgandy!” Saoirse’s voice was part-shout, part-plea. “How could you do this to me?”
Finally, he spoke, his cavalier attitude belying the gravity of the situation. “Seersh, ya got it all wrong.”
“Don’t call me Seersh!” she screamed, her body jerking forward viciously. “Just answer my question! How could you deceive me like this?!” she cried, taking another lumbering step toward Morgandy, the intensity of her movement making him back away involuntarily. “How could you do it knowing bloody well that Ronan is my brother?!”
The sun had already set, and they were far from the brightly lit street, so the only light came from an uncovered work lamp that hung above a loading dock at the end of the taller brick building across from the café. Half of the alley was illuminated, the other half was dark, a slant of black that started from the work lamp and ended squarely at Morgandy’s right foot, his body literally cut in half. His face and the right side of his torso were softened by lamplight; the rest of his body was drenched in darkness. “I figured out that he was your brother,” Morgandy said. “Glynn-Rowley isn’t the most common last name.”
Saoirse wasn’t the only one shocked by this revelation. “And you didn’t think that was something you should mention to her?” Michael asked.
Morgandy looked at Michael with pity, his eyes condescending, like an arrogant teacher who knew the truth lay well beyond his student’s grasp. “Ronan and I had a little ... oh I guess you could call it a misunderstanding.”
“Bugger that!” Ronan shouted. “There was no misunderstanding! We share a past!”
This time Michael didn’t try to calm Ronan, not because he didn’t think it was necessary, but because he couldn’t. He was just as angry as Ronan was. Morgandy had betrayed Ronan. He had returned and betrayed Saoirse. And now that he was caught, he was taunting them, making a mockery of their outrage. How much of a freaking jerk could he be?
“You came on to me, and I rebuffed you,” Morgandy said dismissively.
Luckily, Ronan didn’t have to explain what had happened. Saoirse knew Morgandy was lying. She slapped him hard in the shoulder, making him scuttle back awkwardly into complete shadow. “Oh right, you just forgot that you and my brother offered your souls to The Well!”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” Morgandy replied, his face hardly visible, so it seemed like a voice had materialized from the ether. “I don’t know about any well!”
“I don’t believe you!” Saoirse shouted back.
“It’s the truth.”
Now Ronan was defending Morgandy? What the hell was going on? Saoirse was more confused than ever. Her eyes darted from Ronan to Michael, and she could tell from Michael’s expression that he wasn’t surprised by Ronan’s outburst, so she figured her brother must be telling the truth once again. She took a step closer to Ronan and waved her finger in his face with such force that if it had been a knife she would have split the air into shreds. “You have one bloody minute to explain in simple bloody detail what the bloody hell is going on here!!”
Michael could sense that Ronan was about to reach out to his sister, put his arms on her shoulder, but Michael had an even stronger sense that Saoirse didn’t want to be touched. He applied more pressure to Ronan’s arm and thankfully he got the hint. Keeping his distance, Ronan laid it out as plainly as he could. “When Morgandy betrayed me and our entire race, The Well forbade us to speak of him again, which is why you never knew his name. The Well also wiped his memory clean, which is why he has no idea we were ever soul mates.” Ronan paused, not only to give Saoirse time to digest the information, but to give himself time to breathe more evenly. “At some point David must have found him, I don’t know when exactly, could have been before we were ever joined together or after he was banished, I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. All that matters now is that he’s chosen to become one of Them.”
Everything she had shared with Morgandy was a lie. Not one kiss, not one secret conversation had meant anything. Not one daydream that she had had of their future was ever going to come true. All because Morgandy was a sham, a creep, and worst of all, a fool. “I can almost get over the fact that you forgot you were gay and that you now think you’re straight, but you gave up being a water vamp to be like those other ... things?” Saoirse was so repulsed she could hardly look at Morgandy. “Just how bleedin’ stupid are you?”
As he stepped back into the light, Morgandy’s face was a scowl and had lost some of its innocent beauty. When he spoke his voice wasn’t innocent or beautiful; it contained too much knowledge, it sounded too deep. “You have no idea how incredibly powerful David and his people are.”
Saoirse’s laughter made Morgandy’s scowl harden. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” she asked. “I know everything there is to know about Them.” Her laughter grew louder, so uncontrollable it interfered with her speech. “I know ... that outside this school and this quaint little town ... those oh-so-powerful vampires have to scurry around like cockroaches afraid of the sun!”
When Morgandy spoke his tone had softened, but his face harbored the same harsh look. “No, Saoirse,” he said. “Let me show you Their true nature.”
Now when Saoirse felt Morgandy’s hand on her arm she felt like she was being contaminated; it repulsed her. “Don’t touch me!” But for all of her bravado, for all of her strength, she was still a teenage girl who had just witnessed her first love be exposed for the liar he was. “I’m gutted, Morgandy! Do you get that?” she cried, tears finally spilling from her eyes. “Bloody gutted, and it’s all your fault!” And when Saoirse hit Morgandy again, this time with a fist to his chest, he hit back, slapping her hard across the face. His action was more than shocking. It proved Saoirse right—he was bleedin’ stupid.
Acting as one, Michael and Ronan leapt forward, each grabbing an arm, and propelled Morgandy backward, ramming his back into the brick wall of the building across from the café. When Morgandy’s face transformed into its vampire countenance, his eyes became so black, so filled with hate, that they actually created light within the dense shadow. “So is this how you girls play?” he hissed, his thin, coarse tongue slapping against a fang. “Two against one.”
Michael and Ronan looked at each other, not surprised to see that their faces
had undergone a change as well, and they smiled. They turned to face Morgandy so he could see the full beauty of their fangs, and in unison they responded, “Yes.”
Without giving their opponent a chance to reply, they slammed his back into the brick wall again, this time harder, making some of the bricks wobble and shake. They continued the motion over and over, disregarding Morgandy’s demands that they let go of him, hardly feeling his legs kick into their flesh or the bricks bounce off their bodies after they were wrenched from the wall. In sync, Michael and Ronan stopped at the same time, long enough to give Morgandy a false sense of hope, to think that their tirade had ended. When they saw that Morgandy’s eyes were once again filled with the determination to fight back, and weren’t just glazed over and in pain, they sent him flying in the air behind them. They didn’t have to turn around to see the result of their actions. When they heard the crunch of metal they knew they had been successful—Morgandy’s body had crashed into the metal bars that covered a boarded-up window.
Michael and Ronan smiled at each other. They were so far removed from their human form that they weren’t bothered by complex emotions. They didn’t feel guilty for hurting another creature. They didn’t feel anything except delight that they were making Morgandy pay for his duplicity and for striking Saoirse. They never even heard the girl shout for them to stop.
Turning around just as Morgandy was rising to his feet, Michael leapt forward and grabbed his ankle. He swung him around, and Morgandy had to bend forward and hold on to the back of his knee so his head didn’t slam into the wall on the first rotation. The second time around, Morgandy had acclimated to the motion, so when he flew past Ronan he reached out his hands to grab him, his fangs chomping at the air in hopes of piercing Ronan’s flesh. The third time Michael whipped him around, Saoirse’s command was finally heard.
“Enough!”
Obeying, Michael let go of Morgandy’s ankle, and he was propelled halfway down the alleyway until gravity was victorious and he landed facedown on the ground. The powerful momentum made Morgandy’s body spin wildly on the cobblestone until he smashed into the wall, bouncing against it like a wayward Frisbee, stopping only when movement was no longer an option.
Their desire for revenge, not entirely satiated, but for the moment abated, Michael and Ronan felt their bodies change. When they saw Morgandy stand up and stumble forward, they were looking at him with human eyes, their minds, however, still free from guilt. They had defended Saoirse from an enemy and would do so again. In fact, when Morgandy stood in front of Saoirse they were hoping for another opportunity.
Still off balance, Morgandy held out his hands slightly to steady himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He shook his head as if to will his features to resume their human appearance, but it was as if his true self was too proud, too determined to remain in control, and he didn’t change. The beautiful face Saoirse loved to stare at was nowhere to be found. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
She wasn’t frightened by his ugliness, by the deep black sockets that had replaced his eyes, by the thin, parched lips, or the scaly, scarred flesh. Looking at Morgandy now simply made her incredibly sad. “Guess I’ll just have to take your word on that.”
Stepping away from Morgandy, away from the darkness, and toward her brother and Michael, she seriously wished for the first time in her life that she were a vampire. Not so she could destroy the boy she used to call her boyfriend, but so she could use her power to get away from him as quickly as possible. “I want someone to take me home.”
Feeling not at all triumphant, but pleased that Saoirse recognized that any kind of relationship with Morgandy was impossible, Ronan put his arm around his sister and led her away from the guy who had broken both their hearts. Her brother’s strength felt wonderful. It was comforting, loving, and exactly what she needed. With Ronan by her side, it made turning her back on Morgandy easier than she would have imagined.
And more painful than Morgandy could ever have dreamed.
A guttural cry sprang from Morgandy’s throat before his feet even left the ground. “Nooo!!!!” he howled. But before Morgandy reached his targets, Michael was already tackling him in midair and wrestling him to the ground. He allowed the protective instinct to be in full control. It was as if Michael was outside of his body watching it act. He saw himself crouched over Morgandy, pinning him down. He saw his webbed hand cover most all of Morgandy’s grotesque face and push down hard so the ground underneath his skull started to crack. He saw a thread of saliva that ran from his top set of teeth to the bottom vibrate as he spoke. “Touch either one of them again, and I will kill you.” It was only when he saw that Morgandy believed he was speaking the truth and not merely issuing an idle threat that Michael saw his body release its hold on Morgandy and rise. When he joined the others Ronan didn’t have to say a word; Michael saw the pride and even a little bit of awe flowing from Ronan’s eyes. “Go ahead and say it,” Michael allowed, his features back to the way they were when Ronan first laid eyes on him.
Ronan smiled and whispered, “That I told you so?”
“Yup.”
“No, love,” he said. Ronan held Saoirse even closer to him and kissed Michael softly on the lips. “It’s just time for us to go.”
Looking around, Michael saw Morgandy was upright. Even though he was stealing glances at them, his head was down and his shoulders hunched. He was one filthy animal that was retreating from a fight, not looking for another. Still Michael needed to stay behind. “I’ll catch up with you,” he said. “You two could use some brother-sister time anyway.”
Unsure, Ronan looked down the alley and saw that Morgandy was gone. He didn’t completely understand Michael’s motives, but he knew he’d be okay on his own. “Don’t be long, love. We have to feed.”
“I have to speak with Edwige.”
As much as Vaughan liked seeing his son, he had a large ego, so his first impulse was to tell Michael that he should come back when he had to speak to him as well. Before he could respond, Edwige interrupted. “I’d like to talk to you as well.”
Outnumbered, Vaughan moved to the side and let his son enter his apartment, closing the door behind him. When it was obvious that no one was going to speak until he left the room he made an exit. “If anyone needs me,” Vaughan said unnecessarily, “I’ll be in the bedroom.”
The first thing Michael noticed when his father left the room was how much better Edwige looked. He imagined it was because her secret was out, because she was no longer in hiding, no longer had to worry about her children finding out about her new alternative lifestyle. Her hair was still jet black, but it wasn’t shaggy like the last time he had seen her; it looked like it had been recently cut and styled. And her makeup was the way Michael remembered, not applied with a heavy hand, but dramatic, and her outfit was worthy of a clotheshorse’s wardrobe.
She wore a pair of emerald silk pajamas that were like something Michael had seen an actress who played the rich hostess of a house party in an old movie wear. The top resembled a man’s buttoned-down shirt, except that the sleeves grew in width from the elbow to the cuff and flowed with the movement of her arm. In contrast, the pants were more formfitting and cropped at the ankle. Ironically, she had finished off her pajama ensemble with a pair of gold, bejeweled sandals with a heel that Michael thought had to be at least three inches high, maybe four. Guess when you’re a short woman you have to create an illusion of height. Sitting next to Edwige, Michael got the sense that that was the only illusion.
“The power of a makeover is remarkable, isn’t it?” Edwige commented.
“Well, you do look like your old self,” Michael happily agreed. “We were worried there for a while.”
“I never meant to frighten any of you,” she said, her voice compassionate but strong. “What’s the human phrase? I had hit rock bottom.”
“Headfirst, I’d say,” Michael replied.
Laugh
ing at Michael’s honesty, Edwige felt comfortable enough to explain her actions more fully. “I had come to loathe myself and my life, Michael. It was a new and ... all-consuming feeling,” she confessed. “I felt as if I needed to be punished, and so I cast your father in the role of my jailer.”
“Did my father keep you here by force?” Michael asked.
“No,” Edwige replied firmly. “I possess that other very human characteristic of free will.”
Surprisingly, Michael was relieved to know that Edwige’s seclusion was self-induced and not a result of Vaughan’s machinations. Maybe Brania had been right: His father really wasn’t that bad after all. Reading his expression, Edwige concurred. “Vaughan is far from perfect,” she said, “but when given the opportunity, he proves himself to be a very good man.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Michael replied. “And I’m glad to see that you really look happy to be here.”
Edwige didn’t hesitate in her response. “I am.” She also didn’t hesitate to get to the real reason for Michael’s visit, now that the air had been cleared.
“You’re here to speak to me about Ronan, aren’t you?” Edwige asked, knowing full well the answer.
“How did you know that?”
Relaxing into the couch, Edwige smiled. “Despite my reconnection with your father, the strongest connection that we share is our love for Ronan.”
Michael surprised himself by blushing. When was the truth going to stop making him act like a little boy? Ah well, maybe that was the secret to love; it kept everyone eternally youthful.
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