Smiling, Edwige pulled her black leather gloves off, one finger at a time, before tossing them into her purse. “I’ve come to thwart Brania’s plan to kill you.”
“Oh, well, that’s really nice to hear,” Imogene replied. Wait a second! What did she say? “Kill me?!”
Brania lunged at Imogene, but before she could grab the girl’s arm, Edwige’s purse struck Brania in the face. The force of it knocked her backward and Brania fell into the bathroom, hitting the back of her head on the sink. Seeing Brania crumble to the floor, Imogene ran to the front door, but just as she turned the doorknob, Edwige gripped her hand so tightly she couldn’t move it any farther.
“What are you doing?!” Imogene screamed. “We have to get out of here.”
Edwige didn’t look like she was exerting any energy and yet Imogene couldn’t turn the doorknob an inch or release her hand from this woman’s grip. “Darling, you misunderstood me,” Edwige said calmly. “I’m not going to let Brania kill you because I want that honor all for myself.”
Finally the terror that Imogene had been feeling all day rose to the surface and she screamed. Edwige cut the bloodcurdling sound short with a harsh slap to her face that sent Imogene sprawling on the floor. Scrambling to get to her feet, Imogene saw Edwige standing over her, her face changing right before her eyes. Frantic, she grabbed whatever she could and threw it at her, shoes, books, a chair, but all her effort only made Edwige laugh wildly. Until Brania jumped on Edwige’s back and knocked her to the ground.
“This one is mine!” Brania shrieked, grabbing the back of Edwige’s head and ramming her face into the hardwood floor. Before she could do it a second time, however, Edwige flipped around and grabbed a fistful of Brania’s hair. “Let go of me!” Brania screamed. Naturally, Edwige didn’t comply but simply pulled harder, causing Brania to tumble over onto her side and crash onto the floor. Straddling her, Edwige grabbed Brania’s wrists and pressed them to the floor. “She’s mine!” Brania shouted, gasping for breath. “She killed one of my most trusted men!”
Edwige’s eyes were filled with such uncontrollable hatred that for a moment she lost herself. She released the pressure she was exerting on Brania and leaned forward so her face was less than an inch away from hers. “And you took Vaughan from me!”
That’s what this is about? Rallying all her strength, Brania cocked her head forward and banged it into Ed-wige’s forehead. Lurching backward, Edwige fell onto the bed, and before her eyes could focus, she felt Brania’s hands violently squeezing her throat. In one quick move, Brania stood up and held Edwige high over her head. “So it’s revenge that you want?!” Brania cried. “You’re jealous because I got to that fool before you did?”
Edwige kicked Brania in the chest with the heel of her shoe, and Brania was thrown back into the window. Edwige fell to the floor, her feet firmly planted, and stood over her nemesis. “Damned right I am! And now I’m going to kill this one before you can bring her over to your side.”
But the one she was talking about was almost out the door. Once again, Brania was impressed with Imogene’s moxie, but there was no way she was letting her escape, and there was no way she was letting Edwige get to her first. Like a flash of silent lightning, Brania yanked Imogene away from the front door and held her in front of her. Imogene’s feet dangled a few inches above the floor while her hands tried to pry away Brania’s arm, which was tucked underneath her neck. It was no use. Imogene was kicking and flailing as much as she could, but Brania’s hold was like a vice. She tried to scream, but no sound could penetrate through the hand that was covering her mouth. Imogene was filled with despair when she felt something scrape against her neck just like it had the night in The Forest, the night Penry was killed.
Brania smiled triumphantly. “Once again, Edwige, you lose.”
Not so fast! Scurrying across the floor like a rat running from a flood, Edwige’s fangs ripped through Imogene’s thigh before Brania’s could pierce the girl’s neck. Stunned at Edwige’s speed, and furious at being outsmarted, Brania loosened her grip for just a second, but it gave Edwige enough time to pull Imogene away from her and drag her across the floor. Sitting in a corner, Imogene lying limp in her lap, Edwige raised her head and purred, “No, Brania, this time I win.”
If she weren’t so incensed, Brania might have felt some pity for this girl who put up such a valiant fight to live. Instead she watched in disgust and loathing as Edwige plunged her fangs into her neck, and blood was transferred from one body to another.
While Imogene’s life on earth had come to an end, Michael’s was about to begin its next phase. The fourth time Michael whispered Ronan’s name, Ronan appeared. Leaning against a tree in front of Archangel Cathedral, Michael looked like he was sleeping. “Thank God,” Ronan muttered. How he would love to cradle him in his arms and let him sleep through his exhaustion, but the time had come.
“Michael … please, we have to go to The Well,” Ronan said. He then added with more than a little hope, “Will you come with me?”
Looking up at Ronan, Michael’s eyes filled with the glow of the moon. “I love you, Ronan.”
If only that were enough. “I love you too,” Ronan said. “But time is running out; you’ve gotten too weak.”
Michael nodded his head. “I know, but I’m not scared any longer. I’ve made a decision and I’ve chosen you.”
A lone drop of rain fell from the sky, landing somewhere between the boys. Ronan’s heart had never been fuller and he extended his hand to Michael. “Does that mean you trust me?”
Without hesitation Michael placed his hand in Ronan’s. “Yes.”
chapter 24
“I can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible.”
The words were written by Oscar Wilde in Dorian Gray, but it was Michael who spoke them aloud. “My life,” Michael continued, “since I met you, Ronan, has been nothing but incredible.”’
Ronan leaned in and kissed his boyfriend on the mouth. “And after today it’s going to get even more magical.”
The waves crashed hard on the sand, their sound thunderous, as if to remind them that there was still work to do, while cold sea foam cavorted over their feet, making Michael’s naked body tremble slightly. Ronan rubbed Michael’s shoulders briskly to create some heat. “Are you ready to enter my world?”
I’ve been ready since before I met you. “Yes,” Michael whispered, his voice clear but almost lost amid the rough noise of the waves. One final kiss above land and then … Michael wasn’t exactly sure what would happen next, but he trusted Ronan with his heart, his soul, and his life, so he simply held his hand and followed him into the water.
Knee-deep in the ocean, Ronan stopped and looked at Michael, his expression both fatherly and passionate, and took a deep breath and exhaled, so Michael did too. He repeated the action and Michael once again followed. All around them was activity. Gray clouds traveled in a swift, horizontal path across the navy blue sky, the cool air swirled to create an insistent wind, the ocean undulated wildly so that their bodies were covered in a smooth layer of salt water. But the boys remained still, their breath now slow and even, their eyes locked in an embrace. What was happening around them had no consequence; all that mattered was what was happening between them.
Nodding slightly, Ronan squeezed Michael’s hand. Before he could imagine where Ronan was taking him, he felt his body dive into the water. Michael glided effortlessly, his body steered by Ronan’s strength. They swam farther and farther away from the beach, moving on a diagonal so they were also swimming deeper into the depths of the ocean. He could feel the water above him churn with more force and he could see it growing darker. How much lower would they go? How much longer could he hold his breath?
Burrowing deeper, Michael felt a pain creep into his lungs and he tugged at Ronan’s hand. When he looked at him, he couldn’t hide his fear. But Ronan was as calm as the water that now enveloped them. As Michael’s legs nervously treaded water, his free arm cre
ating a small whirlpool around his hand, Ronan seemed to float, his body relaxed, suspended. Michael watched as Ronan opened his mouth and breathed underwater, easily, as if he were born to perform such an inhuman act, as if somehow he was born of the water. Didn’t Ronan mention something about being able to breathe underwater? Or was that a dream? Michael laughed a little, some bubbles escaping from his mouth. What did that matter? Hadn’t he come to learn that his dreams were mere visions of reality?
His trust for Ronan outweighing his fear of the unknown, Michael opened his mouth and felt the cool rush of water fill him; his body tensed involuntarily and Ronan grabbed his free hand to steady him. Michael kicked his feet and tried to pull away, to race toward the surface of the water, toward air, but suddenly realized he wasn’t choking, he wasn’t rejecting the water, he was, quite impossibly, breathing. Astonished, he smiled at Ronan, and wondered what other wonders lay ahead. He wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out.
Ronan pointed downward and led Michael deeper and deeper into the ocean, so deep that there was hardly any light and it looked as if they were swimming in the darkness of the night sky. Instead of stars twinkling, iridescent light emanated from the eyes and skin of fish that inhabited the ocean floor. Michael felt like an explorer entering a world he always knew existed but had never seen before with his own eyes. And when he stood before The Well of Atlantis, the feeling only grew stronger.
It looked just like it did in his visions: the underwater clearing, the curved stone, the serene and quiet beauty filling the space all around it. Letting go of Ronan’s hand, Michael walked toward The Well, his legs confident, his stride full of purpose, the simple truth clear in his mind. All his dreams, all his prayers, had led him to this point, had led him to stand before this altar with his equal by his side. Without turning to look, Michael reached out his hand and Ronan’s was there to take hold, just as he knew it would be. They may have started their journeys separately, but from now on they would continue together.
Standing before The Well, Michael peered over its edge and saw the shimmery silver liquid, its surface like ice, solid and strong, and saw their reflections look back at him. Michael and Ronan. How he loved the sound of that, how he loved this boy next to him. It no longer mattered how he had reached this point, it no longer mattered that he was no longer human, but a vampire. All that mattered was that he would spend the rest of eternity looking into his beautiful blue eyes, feeling the strength of his body next to his, his love always just a breath away. How far have I come? Michael thought. How far from the lonely, unsure person I was. Someone who never thought he’d have a future, and now I’m someone whose future will never end. My life is truly just beginning. But for there to be a beginning, there must be an end, and it was time for Michael to put an end to his mortal life and offer himself to The Well.
Ronan stood behind Michael, his warm flesh pressing into him, and he placed his hands on the rim of The Well. As soon as he did, Michael felt its power; a current, like electricity, flashed through his body, the sensation not entirely painless, but Michael understood he couldn’t let go and so he held on to The Well even tighter.
Slowly the pain grew; every inch of his body was touched by it, and it couldn’t be ignored. He would have shouted out in agony, but his fangs prevented him from making any sound. The sharp, white fangs throbbed more intensely than before, craving the blood they had so far been denied, and Michael felt them twitch when Ronan reached in front of him and held out his arm.
The blue veins looked so inviting underneath the smooth, alabaster flesh that Michael felt faint. Ronan had already offered his body to Michael and now he was offering his blood. It was a gift he could no longer resist.
Gripping the side of The Well even harder, Michael gave in to his desire and bit into Ronan’s skin. His blood flowed easily and willingly, and Michael couldn’t imagine that two beings had ever been closer than he and Ronan were at this moment. So close that it was overwhelming and he felt as if his spirit was leaving his body, that his mind was going to burst. This time, however, his mind wasn’t bombarded by images; he didn’t see visions that were previously known only to Ronan. All he saw was the icy water of The Well begin to swirl.
Firmly, Ronan held Michael’s body close to him and gently pulled his arm away from his mouth. Michael watched as Ronan held his arm out over the center of The Well so his blood would pour into it, the blood that was a mixture of his and Michael’s. As Ronan spoke the ancient prayer, Michael found himself mouthing the words. How he knew them he didn’t know, but they were a part of him as surely as Ronan was. Unto The Well I give our life our bodies’ blood that makes us whole. We vow to honor and protect and ask The Well to house our souls.
When the last drop of blood fell from Ronan’s arm, he placed his hands on top of Michael’s, which were still holding on to the side of The Well, and noticed that they were starting to develop webbing between each finger. Michael bent his knees and arched his back as he felt the same painful sensation in his feet, and when he scooped up the cold liquid from The Well, he needed Ronan’s help to steady his shaking hands. Ronan let go when his hands grew still so Michael could place his webbed hands to his mouth and drink. At first Michael’s throat encountered cold, then a taste that he couldn’t describe, but one that he knew he could no longer live without.
Together they watched the swirling water of The Well begin to steam, become a mist that rose almost to the roof of the cave. It didn’t touch them, but Michael could feel a presence, a welcoming presence that enveloped him. It was warm and comforting and loving, and Michael felt as if his mother was once again wrapping her arms around him. It felt like home.
And so it was completed. Michael was now a part of Ronan’s race, a vampire with ties to Atlantis, a descendant of The First and The Other. Ronan kissed Michael softly on the temple, a kiss filled with love, pride, and even surprise; he had seen and felt this transformation once before, but this time was different, this time the connection was stronger. He pressed his cheek into Michael’s and he didn’t know if the words came from him or from The Well, but he heard them clearly all the same. “This union will last forever.”
When the mist disappeared, there was another change. The smooth silver surface didn’t return as Ronan expected; in its place was a sight that filled Ronan and Michael with awe, a sight that made them understand how undeniable their destiny was. They saw their individual souls meld together to create a bond that could never be broken. They saw their souls and themselves become one.
Miles away as he walked across St. Anne’s campus, Fritz hoped Phaedra would want to create a similar bond. He didn’t understand his feelings, but he knew he was changing, and it was all because of this girl. Until he met her, he was content with being a smart-ass, the guy who cared more about sports and making fun of others than someone who wanted to have a girlfriend, someone who wanted to have a relationship. Part of him still wanted to take that familiar, safe route, but lately, since Penry’s death maybe, Fritz wanted more. He longed to be with Phaedra and not just to kiss her or see if he could score, but to be in her presence, talk to her, get to know her better, and as a result get to learn more about himself. When he saw her packing her clothes in her room, he thought he would never get the chance.
“These aren’t my things,” Phaedra said. “They’re Imogene’s.”
Greatly relieved, Fritz was speechless for a few seconds. “So, um, I guess the rumors are true. She’s not coming back.”
Phaedra tenderly folded one of Imogene’s favorite T-shirts, black with a white stick figure whose head was in the shape of a heart. It made her smile as she lied. “No, it seems that she ran away from the trauma center in Carlisle. The police still haven’t found her.”
What? That was news to Fritz. “Her parents must be out of their bloody minds.”
Don’t cry, Phaedra; you can’t protect everyone. “Yes, they must be.”
“Do they have any idea where she went?”
Phaedra shook her head. “No, but I … I get the sense that she’s going to be all right.” Suddenly, Phaedra was more interested in what Fritz was holding. “Is that for me?”
“Um, oh yeah,” Fritz stuttered. “I, um, thought … I just … I just wanted to get you something.” Exhaling, Fritz sat down on the bed next to Phaedra. Normally he’d make fun of a girl with such hair, always kind of unruly and disheveled, but he liked that she wasn’t perfect; it made it easier to look at her.
“I see that you wrapped it yourself,” Phaedra said, smiling at the thin, rectangular box that was covered in three different types of paper held together by thick strips of masking tape.
Blushing, Fritz explained, “I kind of ran out of supplies.”
Phaedra looked at this boy, his smooth dark skin and lovely light brown eyes, and had no idea what she was doing or feeling, but decided to take advantage of his kindness. “Thank you, this is very sweet.”
Score one for Fritz! Well, not score, he chastised himself, more like congratulations. “I know you have a sweet tooth.”
No one had ever given Phaedra a box of chocolates before; in fact, no boy had ever given her a gift. She liked how it made her feel. “Thank you, Fritz, this is really … really thoughtful.”
And Fritz liked how Phaedra’s comment made him feel. He hoped the answer to his next question would make him feel even better. “There’s another rumor going around campus too.”
Mmmm, chocolate-covered cherries truly are delicious. “What’s that?”
“That, um, that you’re leaving school too,” Fritz said. “Is that true?”
Maybe it was the hope in Fritz’s eyes or the feeling that her work here was not yet done, but Phaedra was certain. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
Beaming, Fritz couldn’t contain himself and kissed Phaedra quickly, but sweetly. “I’m glad to hear that.” Phaedra didn’t trust herself to say anything more, so she simply held the boy’s hand. Once again, Fritz was relieved. Her hand felt a little heavier than before, like it really was going to stay and not disappear. Not like some others.
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