Unnatural (34 page)

MacCleery looked at the students who refused to leave—Ciaran, Fritz, Phaedra, and the American student, whatever his name was. Then he looked at Ronan. The boy wanted to make a scene, that was fine with him. “Imogene remembers being attacked from behind just as the festival ended. Where were you at that time?”

What a brazen accusation,
Ronan thought,
but at least my instincts are on target. He really does believe I’m dangerous.
Which Ronan did have to admit was true, but only when he was provoked. “I left the festival shortly before it ended. At the time of the attack, I would have been in my room. Sir.”

“Can your dorm mate confirm that?”

Ronan felt like he was on trial. Everyone in the room was looking at him, wondering how he was going to respond, and the most curious juror appeared to be Phaedra. “No, sir, he can’t.”

For some reason, MacCleery felt sweat spread across his palms; he was nervous, his throat dry, but he didn’t understand why. Once again he was afraid to be in this boy’s presence, but it didn’t make sense. He was just a kid, nothing more. “So you, um, just want us to accept that what you’re telling us is the truth?”

“It is, sir,” Michael said, his voice clear and firm. “I left the festival with Ronan and I was with him all night.”

Well, well, well, boys will be boys, won’t they?
“There’s no need to lie for your friend,” MacCleery advised.

Anxious, but still amused by the situation, Fritz chuckled. “Ronan’s more than just his friend, sir.”

That’s right,
Michael thought,
it’s time we all spoke the truth.
“I’ve been with him since we left last night. If you want proof, ask Ciaran. He saw me there this morning when he told us what happened.”

Dammit! Why do they always work in a pack? One
always ready to take a bullet for the other. “Is that true, Ciaran?!”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“What about Nakano?” Phaedra asked the question so quietly, it almost went unheard. But as its implications set in, MacCleery thought it made sense. He never noticed anything out of the ordinary with Nakano, not like with Ronan, but they were very close, dorm mates, so maybe, maybe there was some sort of connection.

“Mrs. Radcliff,” MacCleery shouted. “Get Nakano in here. Now!”

Before the nurse could make a move, Ciaran spoke. “That won’t be necessary, sir. Nakano was with me all night.”

Ronan’s cry concealed the doctor’s “What?!”

Calmly, Ciaran told another lie. “Since Michael was spending the night with Ronan, Nakano had no place to sleep. Michael’s empty bed seemed like the perfect solution.”

The doctor ripped his glasses off his face and wiped them vigorously with his shirttail. He didn’t know who to believe anymore, but he knew that no matter how many more questions he asked, he wouldn’t be told the truth. Maybe he should just retire, live out the rest of his days away from youth and illness. Unfortunately, before he could make any life-changing decisions, there was a dead boy lying on a table in the other room, who had to be dealt with. “Tell Hawksbry to call Penry’s parents,” the doctor ordered. “Then call the morgue.” “No!” This time, Phaedra’s word shook the room.

Worn out, the doctor retreated back to his office. “Imogene will be fine, but Penry was dead before he got here.”

At the same time, Michael and Fritz rushed to Phaedra’s side, separating to sit on opposite sides of her to offer comfort. “I couldn’t protect them,” she cried, her words muffled by her sobs. “I should have, but I couldn’t.”

“No one could have prevented this,” Michael said, moving his hand away so Fritz’s arm alone could ease her shaking body. When Fritz saw Michael’s own tears fall down his cheeks, the boy gave his shoulder a squeeze. A simple yet effective gesture from one friend to another.

While Mrs. Radcliff was busy making her phone calls, Ronan grabbed Ciaran by the arm as he was about to leave. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you have to stop it.”

Ciaran shook his arm free from his brother’s hold. He swallowed his anger so when he spoke, he merely sounded patronizing. “Please don’t worry about me, Ronan, not when you have a boyfriend to console.” After Ciaran left, that’s just what Ronan did. He sat next to Michael and put his arm around his shoulder. Michael and Ronan, Phaedra and Fritz, just two couples overcome with grief over the death of their friend. Ronan was thankful, however, no one was looking at him, because he was no longer able to hide his fear. He was just as scared as every mortal in the room.

Within the hour, the whole campus was buzzing with
the news that Penry was killed and Imogene, though she survived, had been left for dead. As a result, a mandatory curfew was placed on both Double A and St. Anne’s. No student was allowed outside without an adult after sundown. But since Hawksbry refused to make a formal statement—an act that made many students question his leadership skills—all that was left was rumor, and according to gossip, the couple had been attacked by an animal, maybe a bear, although no one could ever recall seeing a bear wandering through The Forest. Whatever it was, whatever committed this heinous act, it was bloodthirsty, because Penry had lost more than half his blood. And though Imogene for some reason hadn’t been severely injured, she had been taken to the trauma center in Carlisle to be examined more thoroughly and, of course, questioned by the police. Thanks to Ciaran’s alibi, Nakano wasn’t worried in the slightest.

But Ronan was. He didn’t want to believe that Ciaran would willingly protect Nakano, but he had been right there, had heard his brother lie to protect him. Ciaran was hardly friendly with Kano, plus he knew that he was capable of committing such a vicious act. As frightening as it was to Ronan, it all made perfect sense. First begging Ronan to turn him into a vampire, then cozying up to Brania, and now protecting Nakano, Ciaran was not making intelligent choices unless …
God, could that really be it?
If he wouldn’t turn him into a vampire, Ciaran would find someone who would. But he couldn’t possibly be desperate enough to become one of Them,
could he? As much as Ciaran infuriated Ronan at times, he was still his brother. And it was time he reminded his mother of that fact.

A few minutes later, he was standing in the living room of her London flat, surrounded by a collection of shabby chic furnishings and accessories in every shade of white imaginable. Since she didn’t initiate the conversation, Edwige was trying her best to ignore Ronan, but he wouldn’t stand for it. The topic was far too important. “You didn’t even say two words to him at the festival!” Ronan shouted.

“I nodded when he looked my way,” Edwige said, focusing all her concentration on applying her aubergine nail polish with a smooth, even brushstroke.

“He will do anything to become a vampire! He practically forced me to transform him. Doesn’t that concern you?”

Blowing a steady stream of air onto her nails, Edwige didn’t seem concerned at all. “No, dear, because if you remember, I told you that I would destroy you if you ever gave your brother the gift of immortality.” Ronan flinched at the memory, knowing that his mother meant what she had said. “He does not deserve to be given our life, not after what his father did.”

“I know,” Ronan said quietly. “And that’s why I refused him.”

Finally, Edwige smiled at her favorite child. “No, you refused him because you’re a loyal son. Loyal to your mother and loyal to The Well.” Edwige got up, not to walk toward her son but to stand in front of a large
painting that covered most of her living room wall. “Do you like it?”

Ronan’s eyes glossed over the artwork. “It’s fine.”

“Fine!? I paid sixty thousand pounds for this painting,” Edwige declared. “It’s by a fledgling artist, someone who I predict will be the darling of the art scene one day. And this is, by far, his greatest achievement to date.”

On the wall in a flat, distressed frame the color of an acorn was an oil painting of two men swimming in the ocean at night. Their bodies, touching so they almost appeared to be conjoined, could be seen above and below a sea that was a beautiful blend of azure, cobalt, and cerulean, deep colors, thickly painted and rich in texture. It was obvious why his mother was attracted to the painting, Ronan thought, but he hadn’t come here to discuss art.

“Mother, that doesn’t mean Ciaran won’t look elsewhere to satisfy his craving. To someone like Brania or Nakano. Those people are immoral. They’ve killed Penry!”

“And if he does something so incredibly stupid, then he will prove what I have always known, that he is his father’s son!” Edwige replied, uncharacteristically losing her temper. “It will be his punishment!”

Stunned by his mother’s outburst, Ronan didn’t choose his next words very wisely. “Do you hate him so much because he reminds you of what happened to Saxon?”

Edwige slowly turned away from the painting to examine
her son. “You are very lucky I just did my nails. Otherwise I would slap your face. And we both know that my appearance belies my strength.”

Suddenly exhausted, Ronan roughly brushed the tears from his eyes. Why did every conversation with her have to be a battle? Why couldn’t she be like a normal mother? Why couldn’t he and Michael just run away somewhere and never have to see her or anyone else again?

“Speaking of Michael,” Edwige said, reading her son’s thoughts, “you let an opportunity pass. Why?” Ronan tried to push the images of Michael from his mind so his mother wouldn’t become witness to their intimacy, but it was too late and she was too strong. “The Well wants this coupling, Ronan. It recognizes, as I do, that you and Michael are just like The First and The Other.”

Why must she always talk in riddles? “What are you saying?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying,” Edwige said, turning back to the painting. “You know the legend, you know our beginning.”

“Of course I know all about that! I just … I just want to wait for the right moment.”

“The right moment is now! You know that you are The First and Michael is The Other. If you would stop fighting it, you would see that it really is that simple.”

And Ronan had to admit that it was. He knew the history of his people and he knew that he and Michael were poised to become part of the next generation. He
couldn’t explain it, but it was as if his ancestors were speaking about the two of them when they told the story of their genesis. Maybe it was just another romantic notion, but something had to explain why Ronan had felt so connected to Michael the moment he saw him.

He thought back to when he was a little boy, when he was still human and his father and grandfather told him how their race originated. Then like now, Ronan didn’t fully comprehend the words, but emotionally he was connected to them.

Centuries ago, hidden from mortal eyes, their race was created when a vampire fell in love with a stranger, a woman who was different, who lived beneath the ocean in the city of Atlantis. Sworn enemies, the two species never had any interaction that didn’t end in bloodshed, until The First met The Other and their love changed history.

The First’s vampiric race did everything in its power short of killing him to prevent him from consorting with The Other. At the same time, her people imprisoned her, tortured her, anything to separate her from this creature whom they considered vile and evil. But to no avail. They loved each other, no matter how unnatural everyone around them felt their connection to be. Their love, deep and never-ending, created The Well in the center of Atlantis, and from its waters a new race was born, a hybrid vampire who could walk from out of the darkness and break through the water’s surface, no longer having to fear the sun. A race that had webbed
feet and hands that made swimming to the floor of the ocean possible, and lungs that could breathe underwater as easily as above. And a race that would only have to feed once a month as long as they drank from The Well. All they were required to do was create new vampires, not out of hunger or malice or rage, but out of love.

“You and Michael are from different worlds, you’re both perceived as unnatural by the majority of your people, and you’re both in love,” Edwige said. “There should be no hesitation.”

“I’m not hesitating. I know The Well approves, but I would like his permission first before changing him forever.”

Try to remain calm, Edwige, he is still young. “His love is his permission.”

Clenching his fists, Ronan started to pace his mother’s room. “I know you think our race is superior. I do too, but there are others who disagree. Not everyone admires us water vamps!”

Such a disgusting word.
“Because they’re jealous.”

“Yes, I know that! And I know their jealousy is wrong, but right and wrong have nothing to do with it. The reality is that there are more of Them than us. How can I bring Michael into a world where he will be reviled by so many? Where so many will wish he would just burn up and die?!”

Edwige turned on her son viciously. “Because we have two choices! Either we increase our race or we allow Them to destroy us and all those whom we love.
And I have seen too much destruction in my lifetime!” She turned away to look out the window. High, high above, a vulture was circling, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She knew the scavenger would wait two minutes or two centuries, but when the time was right, it would pounce to destroy what was left on the ground. “And I will tell you for the last time, if you don’t act on your love and bring Michael over to our side, someone else will act on their hatred and create him in their own image.”

Ronan sank into a chair and he felt his heart break at the thought of that happening. He stared up at the painting, at the two men who were captured in one moment of a lifetime, and he imagined how many glorious moments he and Michael could share over an immortal lifetime. The Well was right, his mother right. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

   What Ronan didn’t know was that there were others who had also decided it was time to take action. “I’ve spoken to Him,” Brania said. “And He has given His consent for you to take Michael.”

It was as if a burst of energy flooded Nakano’s brain. The feeling was almost as fantastic as when Penry’s blood spilled down his throat. “Perfect! I can’t believe He’s going to let me do it!”