Unnatural (35 page)

She wouldn’t admit it, but Brania shared his belief. “He finds poetry in having another student do the deed. You.”

“I know that He doesn’t have to explain Himself, but did He give any reason why He changed His mind?”

She would be so happy when she would never have to see this one again. She was forced to accept unintelligence, but she detested disrespect. “He didn’t change His mind,” Brania explained in as calm a voice as she was capable. “Now that Ronan and Michael have made love, the separation, the violation, will be that much more painful.”

“Of course,” Nakano said. “That makes total sense. Except …”

Her patience was gone. “What!?”

“Why is Michael so important?” Nakano asked. “He’s just a mortal, a kid from Nebraska, of all places.”

His arrogance was appalling, but so too was his insight, not that she would commend him for it. “You have exceeded your allotted number of questions for one day,” Brania said. “Now please get to work.”

As Nakano was about to enter the underground passageway that would lead him away from the center of Eden, he remembered something. “I just hope the fog doesn’t get in the way this time.”

Again with the fog.
“You’re a vampire! How can a fog prevent you from fulfilling your duty?”

He really was so happy he was gay. No matter how hard they tried, girls just couldn’t help being stupid. “I’ve told you, Brania, it’s not an ordinary fog. It’s a protection, it’s as if someone is deliberately interfering so that no one can get to Michael except Ronan.”

That’s it. Who’s a born protector? Women, not men.
And no one is more protective than a mother.
“It’s Edwige,” Brania declared. “She’s the source of the fog.”

Maybe,
Nakano thought.
She is powerful, that one.
“How do you know?”

“Because a boy’s mother will do anything to help her son.”

“Wow,” Nakano gushed. “I guess women aren’t that stupid after all.”

No, they’re not,
Brania thought. They’re far more intelligent and resourceful than any man she had ever known. Except of course for Him. Because no matter how contradictory or indecipherable His actions might appear, she always knew He had a plan, and that’s why He was the only man she had ever respected. Yes, she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world to have Him as her father.

Outside, the earth was dying.

Patches of dry, brown grass blotted the area outside Archangel Cathedral as if Penry’s sudden death had taken life from the land. Trees stood leafless, stark, their branches like jagged edges, lonely, dangerous. But even on the cusp of tragedy, beauty could still be found.

The interior of the cathedral was even more breathtaking than its façade. How a group of monks in the fifteenth century could ever have built such a structure, Michael had no idea, but he was grateful. The combination of elaborate religious imagery and simple man-made woodworking was comforting, especially at this time of mourning.

Penry’s coffin had already been carried out, loaded onto a hearse, and was on its way to his family’s cemetery in Sheffield. Gone were his parents, weary with sorrow; his twin sister, Ruby, whose hair was an even brighter shade of red than Penry’s, his grandparents, weathered but sturdy. They were all gone and they took Penry’s body with them. They left behind students who were deeply saddened and also deeply worried because even though very few knew exactly how Penry had died, everyone knew that what had happened to him could just as easily happen to them. Sitting in a pew in the back of the church, Michael clutched Ronan’s hand tighter, closed his eyes, and prayed, “Please, God, keep us safe; our lives are just beginning.”

When he opened his eyes the cathedral was bursting with light. It was as if God had responded to his plea. The huge circle of yellow stained glass acted like a portal through which the sun’s light could enter, and when it hit, as it did now, a perfect cylinder of golden sunshine beamed through the glass and illuminated the altar. Michael knew that the effect was nothing more than the result of clouds moving past the face of the sun, but he didn’t want a logical explanation; he wanted something more miraculous. So that’s what he believed. To him it looked like a pathway bringing a little bit of heaven to earth. He wanted to reach out and touch it, feel heavenly splendor, but as Ronan’s hand moved underneath his, he realized he already was.

He hated feeling so joyful at such a terrible time, but he couldn’t berate himself; he wouldn’t. Too many years
spent loathing life in Weeping Water, too many years wishing it would just be over; now that his life was beginning, he refused to ignore his happiness, even though someone he considered a friend was no longer with them. He looked up at the huge wooden crucifix suspended from an arch and hanging over the altar—different in that Jesus’s body wasn’t nailed to the cross, but only drops of blood, crimson and thick, were painted where his hands and feet would be—and he hoped that Penry was at peace. That whatever horror he witnessed just before his death was now a distant memory, its image replaced with the mercy and serenity of eternal peace. It was his wish for his friend and he hoped it would be fulfilled.

Michael’s eyes moved from the crucifix to the large group assembled near the altar. Classes were canceled today and the front of the cathedral was filled with students, most of them talking to Father Fazio and a few other priests who were counseling them, helping them cope with the grief they were experiencing from this unexpected tragedy. The back of the church, however, was nearly empty. Other than an elderly priest lighting a candle at a statue of St. John the Baptist, it was just the two of them. “I can’t believe Penry’s really gone,” Michael whispered to Ronan.

“It didn’t have to happen,” Ronan said.

“It
shouldn’t
have happened,” Michael corrected. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s death, Michael. As much as we don’t want to accept it, it makes perfect sense.”

The clouds must have returned; the ray of light was gone, the altar and tabernacle once again drenched in shadow. “But so soon? Penry’s life is over before it’s even begun.”

Ronan was searching for the right words. He needed to hear what was in Michael’s mind, what lay in his heart, but he didn’t want to frighten him or make Michael think he was losing his grip with reality. He was given a reprieve, some time to collect his thoughts when Fritz, followed by Phaedra, somber and subdued, approached their pew.

As he genuflected hastily, Fritz’s hand was a blur as it made the sign of the cross, his knees never bending. He didn’t enter the pew to join the boys but remained standing in the aisle, Phaedra beside him, head down, her hands dug deep into the pockets of her sweater. Michael thought she looked older, tired, which made sense since she had most likely spent the night crying. Penry’s death and the attack on Imogene had affected her deeply. Surprisingly, it had a similar effect on Fritz as well.

“He was a right fine mate,” Fritz said with quiet respect.

“Yeah, he was,” Michael agreed. “I wish I knew him longer.”

Fritz nodded in understanding. Phaedra’s eyes remained focused on the hard wood of the floor. During the ensuing silence, Michael didn’t notice Phaedra shift her gaze to Ronan. However, Fritz did. He didn’t know what to make of it; he really didn’t know what to make
of this girl except that she was different from all the other girls he knew. She was high-spirited, then quiet, aloof, then interested. She sparked new feelings in him, adult and unexpected, but she always seemed to be looking at another boy and not at him.

“Do you guys want to sit with us?” Michael asked.

“No,” Fritz answered for them both. “I’m going to walk Phaedra back to St. Anne’s. Light of day or not, there’s a bloody killer out there.”

Phaedra’s stare didn’t waver. Ronan felt her looking at him, but he pretended to be very interested in watching the elderly priest who was now lovingly dusting off the statue of St. John with a very tattered cloth. Even when he heard her ask Michael if he would be all right, he didn’t turn, he didn’t flinch although he knew exactly why she was asking. She, like Dr. MacCleery, didn’t trust him and suspected he had something to do with Penry’s death. Luckily, Michael knew otherwise.

“Of course I’ll be fine,” he replied, squeezing Ronan’s hand gently. “I’m not alone.”

“Neither are you, Phaedra,” Fritz mumbled, but his words got lost among the notes of the soft organ music that began playing in the cathedral’s choir space. For a few moments, all that mattered was the music, the rich melody, filled with vibrations. Achingly hopeful, it commanded their attention, swirled around and between them and then floated above, ascending to the cathedral’s huge space overhead. The music ended as abruptly as it began, just a few moments, just a brief passage of time, just like Penry’s life.

Tentatively, Fritz took hold of Phaedra’s elbow. “See you later, mates.” As she was led toward the front door, Phaedra moved so fluidly with him that Fritz had no idea she wanted to stay, that she wanted to curl up on one of the pews and fall asleep under the crucifix, and awake bathed in beams of sunshine. But that wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t think about her own needs, not now when she was needed elsewhere, at Fritz’s side, even if that wasn’t the place she wanted to be.

When they were once again alone, Ronan couldn’t wait any longer. He didn’t have the patience to be subtle; he had to know Michael’s answer. “If you had the choice, would you choose to be immortal?”

Someone was finding it difficult to let go of Penry’s death, Michael guessed. “Like Dorian?”

“I’m serious, Michael,” Ronan said. “If the choice were presented to you, what would you do?”

Michael studied Ronan’s face. He is serious; he isn’t asking hypothetically or in terms of fantasy. Oh, don’t be ridiculous; of course he is; he has to be. And yet there was something in his eyes, something that made Michael believe Ronan really was asking a serious question. That is one of the reasons I love him, Michael thought. He’s so completely different, so unpredictable. Filled with romantic notions and unusual concepts, his mind is just as attractive as the rest of him.

“Would you accept such a gift?” Ronan asked, pressing him further.

For many reasons, some understood, some unknown,
Michael was compelled to give an honest answer. He took a moment, not that he needed one. He knew the answer before he was even asked the question. “If it meant I could spend every day with you,” Michael replied, “then yes.” The idea, the absolutely incredible idea, filled Michael with unspeakable joy. “Yes, Ronan, I would embrace immortality with my heart and soul.”

Once again the cathedral was flooded with sunshine, glorious sunshine that announced a new day, a new beginning. Ronan had the answer he was looking for. “Then so be it.”

His face, awash with the glow of the sun and his own happiness, looked from one statue to another of saint and archangel and deity, and silently Ronan told them that soon they would be able to add one more to their group. Michael was lost in his own thoughts, trying to imagine what it would be like to spend eternity with Ronan. In one of the small inlays built into the side of the cathedral, he saw a statute of St. Michael. In his mind he called out to him,
What’s it like to never die?
A few hours later, Michael was asking much less complicated questions.

“Are you sure they’re okay with this?”

Walking past Michael with a box of Nakano’s personal things, Ronan kissed him quickly on his cheek. “They both agreed. You and Nakano should switch rooms so we can be together.”

Still a bit doubtful, Michael hesitated to start unpacking the suitcase he had plopped onto Ronan’s bed. “And Nakano really doesn’t mind moving in with Ciaran?”

Ronan grabbed Michael’s hand and made him sit next to him on the bed. Looking at him now, beautiful and breathless, Ronan couldn’t wait for tonight. “Believe it or not, it was Nakano’s idea. He can be a wise laddie when he wants to be, and he figured you’d be spending a lot more nights here so he decided the practical thing was for you and him to switch rooms.”

Living with my boyfriend, life couldn’t really get any more perfect, any more different from what it used to be, Michael thought, unless it was somehow against the rules. “What if Hawksbry finds out? Doesn’t the academy have a rule against this sort of thing?”

Despite the recent tragedy, laughter came so easily now, now that he’d made the decision for them. “You mean this sort of thing?” Ronan knocked Michael over onto his side and then crawled on top of him, ravishing his lips and neck with kisses, tickling the sides of his stomach. “Fraternization among the students.” Squirming underneath Ronan, Michael was giggling so hard he could hardly catch his breath, let alone speak.

Soon laughter turned into passion, so Michael gave up trying to protest, trying to explain himself more fully, knowing it was no use. He wanted to be here on Ronan’s bed, in Ronan’s room, in Ronan’s life, just as much as Ronan wanted him to be. Maybe it was Penry’s sudden death, affirmation that the future was unreliable, that made them want to be together as much as possible. Michael didn’t really know, but he wasn’t going to fight it.

After their need to kiss waned, they silently shifted
position so they were spooning, Ronan behind Michael, their legs bent, hands clasped, Ronan’s arm underneath Michael’s head, his biceps doubling as a pillow. Breathing in Ronan’s scent, Michael realized he no longer needed dreams; his had come true. Just before he fell asleep in his boyfriend’s arms, he made special thanks to Nakano for understanding that Michael and Ronan were meant to be and that he would have to move on.

Michael had no idea that moving on was the furthest thing from Nakano’s mind.

   Brania’s heels clicked against the damp concrete floor as she paced, every few steps or so turning to study the boy. She could not believe that he had triumphed where she had failed. He had come up with a solution, a good one in fact, for this pesky fog nuisance, before she even had any ideas. She was not pleased with herself. She had gotten too caught up with the thought of dealing with Edwige head-on instead of the problem itself, but her father was pleased and therefore so was she. She would give recompense where it was due, learn from this mistake, and reap the benefits from its successful implementation. It was, in the words of today’s crass younger set, all good.