Unnatural (26 page)

“Doesn’t it look so natural?” she asked. Instead of pushing her hair back, Edwige brushed it forward with her nails. “I woke up this morning and realized I had never been a blonde, so I made an appointment with Marcel. He’s a genius when it comes to these things. He said if I wanted to dye my hair, I had to go for a whole new look, and you know how I love to experiment. Do you like it?”

Regardless of what Ronan truly felt, he knew from experience there was only one answer to give. “It looks great.”

Edwige smiled approvingly. “It truly does, doesn’t it?” And it did. It actually suited her much better than long hair since her body was less about curves and more about confidence. She knew she was a woman; she didn’t need traditional feminine characteristics to enhance her beauty. Her allure came from within. Such a boyish haircut on another woman would look harsh, androgynous; on Edwige it made her look sexier than ever. And against her skin, which was as pale and unlined as Ronan’s, her blond hair made her look tantalizingly fragile. It was a look that would cause most men to want to protect and ravish her, but Ronan saw past the new color and style and into his mother’s eyes. They were as manipulative as ever.

“I said, how do you know Michael’s name?” Ronan asked, trying not to sound as unsettled as he was.

Edwige stared at her son.
He looks like such a man,
she thought,
but still he’s a little boy.
“I’m your mother, Ronan; it’s my job to know these things.” In one quick movement she sat up in the chair, swung her legs off the bed, and crossed them, her burgundy leather skirt traveling away from her knees and toward her thighs. If she was going to interrogate, she might as well look like an interrogator. “He’s quite beautiful,” she commented. “He and I have a very similar bone structure. Have you noticed?”

Ronan smoothed out the bedspread, not caring the slightest if it was rumpled or not; he simply needed a moment to reclaim his strength since his mother had the skill, and quite possibly the desire, to steal it from him. When he sat at the foot of the bed, he was a bit more in control. “No, Mother, the comparison escapes me.”

“Really?” She made a small circular motion with her foot as if the pointed toe of her shoe were tracing something round in the air. “Because we have the same high cheekbones. Mine are bit more delicate, of course, but his, his are quite remarkable. And of course we’re both blondes.”

“But he doesn’t need to rely on Marcel’s genius for a touch-up when his roots start to show.” That made Ronan feel good. It wasn’t every day he was able to make his mother wince simply by choosing the right words.

Folding her hands in her lap, Edwige changed the subject. “This flaxen mortal is not your usual type. Why the drastic change?”

Now she sounded snippy, almost childish. Ronan was finally starting to feel more comfortable in his mother’s presence, which was quite an accomplishment. Sometimes he could be with her for an entire weekend and never once feel at ease, relaxed. He assumed it must be the aftereffects of having such a wonderful day. Whatever the reason, he decided to go with it. He propped up his pillows against the headboard and leaned into them, then he folded his hands, mimicking his mother’s pose,
before finally speaking. “Haven’t you read the school rule book? Parents are allowed on campus only during previously scheduled academy-approved events.”

Edwige glowered at her son; she detested obstinacy. “You know I don’t share your obsession for literature.” It was worse than that, actually; Edwige hated to read. The only exception being her financial statements, which had grown monthly ever since she inherited a fortune from a spinster aunt years ago after convincing her with a lie that she loved her more than her own mother. Her aunt, unmarried and childless, was grateful that one other person on the planet held her in the highest regard and, when she died, left Edwige her entire estate. Financially savvy, Edwige took the money, invested wisely, and attained a state of independent wealth most single mothers could only dream of. Then again, Edwige was hardly like most single mothers.

“This Michael looks nothing like your other boyfriends,” Edwige said curtly. “I’m not saying I disapprove. I think the two of you make an attractive couple, but I would like to know how he’s drawn you out of your comfort zone.”

“I guess I’m just like you,” Ronan said with a smirk. “I woke up one morning and realized I never had a blond.”

Sometimes a mother has to allow her son some freedom; sometimes she has to allow him to feel that he is winning an argument. Or wandering this earth independently without familial obligation. Edwige did not feel that this was one of those times. “The Well needs fresh
blood, Ronan,” Edwige reminded her son. “You must take him.”

His mother’s words slammed into his ears and echoed loudly. This is all she wants, Ronan thought. She doesn’t care about my feelings; she doesn’t want to know how wonderful Michael makes me feel. Sure, I can have his flesh as long as The Well has his blood. “I can’t,” Ronan replied.

“You mean you won’t,” his mother corrected.

Abruptly Ronan jumped off the bed and flung open the door of his closet, his sudden and random action hardly surprising Edwige, who always found her son to be predictable.
He’s a vampire,
she thought lovingly,
but he is a teenager.
“No, I mean I can’t,” Ronan shouted. Then he added quietly, “Not yet anyway.”

Good, he understands; he isn’t a complete imbecile.
“I didn’t mean take him
tonight,”
Edwige said in a soft, motherly tone she had heard other women use, “but soon.” She watched her son pace the room, his strides choppy, like a caged animal, like his father, and her mind was filled with unwanted memories. “He does love you, you know.”

Ronan stopped moving. “What?”

“I saw it in your face the moment you opened the door. I’ve only seen you look like that once before, and you know how
he
made you feel.”

A spark of pain started to grow within Ronan, moving quickly until it erupted. “I told you never to talk about him!”

Edwige wasn’t sure how much more of this tedious
conversation she could take. “You told me never to speak his name aloud,” she corrected. “I had to swear on a Bible, of all the most ludicrous things, and I haven’t mentioned his name, not once. But the fact remains that he loved you and so does this Michael.” Edwige paused just long enough for her words to form meaning in Ronan’s brain. “I daresay that Michael loves you even more.”

Ronan may have been angry, but his mother was clever. He had no idea that she was saying exactly what she knew he wanted to hear. “Do you really think so?”

Although she was tired and her feet hurt from wearing heels all day, Edwige knew she had to get up to play her role most effectively. She walked over to her son and looked up into his eyes. She forgot to prepare herself and for a moment she became speechless as she was reminded of how beautiful his father was. She hated recalling such details; they were useless to her now.
He’s even wearing his hair like him,
Edwige realized.
Must be to impress his new beau.
She reached up to touch his cheek and felt the stubble of his beard.
My boy really is a man,
she thought. “Darling, I say this with absolute certainty. Michael will be the greatest love of your life.” She took a step back and held his hands in hers. “And that’s why you must offer his blood to The Well.”

Ronan looked at Edwige and it was one of those rare moments that he didn’t see a manipulative creature or a spiteful woman, but only his mother. “I don’t know if I can do that to him,” Ronan pleaded. “I don’t know if it’s what he wants.”

“It’s what the universe wants,” Edwige replied. “It’s what The Well wants, so everything else is secondary.” Unable to hold her son’s gaze any longer, Edwige walked to the other side of the room to gather her jacket and purse. “I don’t think I have to remind you that without The Well, we are nothing, and The Well is nothing if we don’t continue to replenish it with fresh blood.” She looked at herself in the mirror and loved how the bolero jacket, a burgundy, white, and black tweed trimmed in leather the same color as her skirt, gave the illusion that her shoulders were wider than they were. A smart purchase, she told herself, very smart. Then she turned to her son and made one more comment. “Blood bound by love.”

His mother may have changed her appearance, but she hadn’t changed her tactics. She spoke directly and she spoke the truth and that was one of the reasons that, despite all of her many faults, Ronan continued to love her. “It’s what makes us special, isn’t it?” he asked.

And although her son looked like a man, he was still her child, a child who desperately clung to sentiment and idealism, which is why, despite all of her many shortcomings, she would always love him. “Yes, it’s what makes us special.”

She opened her purse and found her lipstick, a new shade of frosted pink that Marcel had demanded she buy, and faced the mirror to apply a fresh coat.
Yes, that man truly is a genius.
She tossed the lipstick back into her purse, snapped it shut, then faced her son. “But remember it’s what also makes us vulnerable. So do the
right thing and turn Michael into one of us before someone else beats you to it.” An air kiss to each side of Ronan’s cheeks. “Maybe tomorrow when you all go on your little school trip into town.”

She couldn’t be serious. “No, that’s impossible.”

“Eden is filled with narrow, cobblestone streets that lead to dark alleyways, perfect for a lovers’ rendezvous.”

Without warning, an image popped into Ronan’s mind. He was pressing Michael against the cold stone of some abandoned building, kissing him deeply in the shadow of the alley, his body pushing into him, his passion growing, his fangs piercing Michael’s hot flesh. “Mother!” Ronan shouted, stopping Edwige on the other side of the door. “Why don’t you visit Ciaran before you leave? I know he’d love to see you.” Ronan had no idea why he suggested that. The words tumbled out of his mouth without any thought. Guess it was better than saying what was really on his mind. But one look at the way his mother’s body tensed and he knew his suggestion would be ignored.

Nervously, Edwige patted her purse against her leg, never once losing her smile. “How sweet of you to think of that one.” She grabbed her purse with her other hand and jammed it into her armpit. “But no, I’d rather not.” Ronan could only see the top of her blond short-cropped hair as she descended the stairs, but he could hear her final comment. “Remember to do as I say.”

For several minutes after he closed the door, Ronan was paralyzed, still under his mother’s control. He leaned
his head against the door, unable to move. He was filled with so much anger that he wanted to ransack his room, he wanted to rip the doors off their hinges, he wanted to take his bed and fling it through the window, but he couldn’t find the strength.

When the anger subsided, he was filled with so much sadness, for himself, for Michael, and even for Ciaran, that all he wanted to do was cry, crumble to the floor and sob. But he didn’t have the will to do that, either. Edwige took with her all his strength and left him a little child filled with so many strong emotions, but without the ability to express them. She left him just the same way she was. Like mother, like son.

The only thing that got Ronan through the night was thinking about tomorrow. That he would spend the day with Michael and at the end of the day, they would have a shared memory. When he woke up, his mother’s instructions were not forgotten, but her hold over him had lifted slightly. And, luckily, by the time he got off the train with Michael, Ciaran, and Fritz and stood before the Apple Tree, the towering bronze sculpture that marked the official entrance to the town of Eden, other people’s statements occupied his mind.

“I hope Eve was hot,” Fritz announced.

“What?” the three other boys responded in unison.

“She was a dumb bird, you know, eating the apple
and all,” Fritz explained. When the three boys continued to stare at him with bemused expressions, he continued speaking in a louder tone. “Creating original sin? Plunging humanity into a world of darkness and conflict for all eternity? She was a right swab and you all know it. I’m just saying I hope she was hot so she could make up for it.”

“You know, that’s a really insightful analysis,” Ciaran said.

“I know,” Fritz agreed, not hearing the sarcasm. “I do pay attention in theology, even though Joubert can be a right bore most of the time.”

“Well, the next time he prattles on about Genesis,” Ciaran said, “I think you should share your thoughts about Eve with the class.”

“You think so?” Fritz asked.

“Definitely,” Ciaran replied. “But it would be helpful if you brought in some visual aids or maybe a Power-Point presentation to show how you really envision Eve. Is she curvy? Does she have a nice arse? Big knockers!”

Finally, Fritz figured out Ciaran was ragging on him. “All right, wrap it up, Eaves!” Ciaran had wrapped it up, but he couldn’t stop laughing and neither could Ronan and Michael. “And that’s enough out of you two!”

“Don’t look at me,” Michael said. “I don’t know nothing about no knockers.” After this comment, the three boys laughed so hard they couldn’t walk. Even Fritz, forgetting how the laughter began, joined in. “You know something, Nebraska?” Fritz said. “Sometimes you’re not all that bad.”

Ronan leaned into Michael and whispered so close to his ear that Michael shivered from the sensation of his hot breath. “I can’t wait to find out just how bad Nebraska can be.”

As they continued into the town itself, Michael and Ronan fell back and walked behind Fritz and Ciaran. The temperature had already dipped a few degrees from the other day and it no longer felt like Indian summer; the sky was cloudless and a lovely shade of blue, but it was definitely autumn. A few leaves floated to the ground; occasionally a chilly wind wrapped around their faces, bringing with it the smell of a fireplace burning somewhere in the distance. It was a perfect day for an excursion, crisp, with just the right amount of sunshine.