Unnatural (47 page)
Authors: Michael Griffo
In the window, through the crisscrossing currents of
rain, among the grayish-black shadows of the moonlight, he was reminded once again that his image was forever changed. Changed by a drop of red, one tiny drop of red blood that clung to his lip.
Before he came here to Double A, before he met Ronan, he would have thought a spot of blood would spoil his image, ruin it, but now he knew that it enhanced his reflection and gave him strength and courage and power that he had yet to fully comprehend and employ. He flicked the dash of red, the stubborn blood drop, with his tongue, and savored the taste, the taste that reminded him of his monthly feeding earlier in the day, the taste that reminded him of Ronan and of himself. And he couldn’t help but smile. Michael thought how fascinating it was that something like the bitter taste of blood, someone else’s blood, that a few months ago would have been repulsive, was now a vital aspect of his life. And it was all because of Ronan.
Before Michael could turn to look at Ronan, a thunderclap roared somewhere far above him, somewhere out of reach but somehow right next to him, and his gaze remained with the rain, with the cold, with his grotesque face. Because the rain, falling with more intensity now, had altered his reflection. He saw that he wasn’t the Michael he remembered, the Michael he was still trying to hold on to; he was something different, something much, much different from who he was when he began his journey to this new place.
It was as if each drop of rain latched on to the window,
sliding in a multitude of directions to create dark, watery veins that sprawled across Michael’s face like sins as they begin to etch into a soul. His image, torn and dissected, heightened and distorted, looked back at him as if to announce
This is who I am now; that other Michael is no more.
But strangely he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t know exactly how he felt, but he knew that this harsh truth didn’t frighten him. Maybe it was because he was stronger now or because he was learning to accept the unacceptable. Or maybe it was simply because he knew he was no longer alone.
There was no more time to ponder his misshapen reflection or how his present was so vastly different from his past because he heard his name. Ronan’s husky whisper never failed to arouse Michael, never failed to remind him how lucky he was, how grateful that he was exactly where he was born to be.
“Michael,” Ronan said, his eyes still half closed with sleep, “where are you?” Michael didn’t move, but he smiled.
His first thought is about me, the first word he speaks is my name.
It filled Michael with joy and, yes, pride. “Michael!”
“I’m right here.”
The two boys stared at each other, Michael framed by the first determined rays of the sun that demanded to be seen through the dark gray rain clouds and Ronan sitting up in bed, his bared flesh almost as white as the rumpled sheets, his black hair a stark contrast. Reaching out his hand to Michael, he said, “Come back to
bed.” And Michael did because he missed Ronan’s touch just as much as Ronan missed his.
Silently, the boys melded together as one, Ronan behind Michael, his strong, powerful arm wrapped around him, their hands finding one another, their fingers intertwining. A soft kiss on Michael’s neck, a shiver down his spine, bodies moving even closer together, then Ronan’s even breathing, a gentle rush of air every few seconds passing by Michael’s ear, reminding him that he isn’t alone and that he won’t be, not for the rest of eternity. A comforting feeling and one that Michael had begged for but never imagined would come. It had come so quickly that sometimes, like now, his mind was so filled with thoughts and emotions, powerful and conflicting, that it was hard to fall asleep. So instead of sleeping peacefully, he simply held Ronan tighter around him and listened to him breathe.
After the Ending
Michael was being watched. He liked how it felt and so he kept his eyes closed even though he wasn’t sleeping, hadn’t been sleeping since he crawled back into bed a few hours before. He could feel the sunlight on his face, not strong, but enough to remind him it was morning, and he could smell the fresh chill of rain that lingered in the air. January was colder than the locals had predicted—snow had already made several appearances—so Michael, like most sixteen-year-olds, preferred to stay in bed on a Monday morning rather than be up and about, getting ready for class. Especially since he had an audience.
Ronan loved watching Michael. It didn’t matter if he
was talking to friends, swimming, reading a book, or, as he was now, pretending to be asleep, he cherished the view. And even though Michael’s attempt to get a few more moments under the covers would result in his being annoyed when he’d ultimately have to scramble to get dressed and get to class on time, Ronan smiled at the boyish trick. He then decided one boyish game deserved another.
Leaning over Michael, Ronan let his tie dangle an inch over his boyfriend’s face, swaying in the air like a benign pendulum, casting a thin horizontal shadow across Michael’s cheek. Michael lay still. He could feel Ronan’s presence, he knew what was coming, but he didn’t move, because that would ruin the game.
As he bent over even farther, Ronan’s tie scraped the tip of Michael’s nose, but Michael still didn’t respond, he didn’t move until the endpoint of the tie brushed against his lips, then he smiled. He felt the silky material glide over his lips, his chin, his cheek, as if to say hello, good morning, it’s time to get up. Then the tie began to fold and bunch up as Ronan lowered himself and brought his face closer to Michael’s. Both boys were smiling mischievously now, knowing how their game would end, but Michael kept his eyes closed. He knew the rules.
“Who’s there?” Michael said, purposefully adding a nervous tremor to his question.
Ronan lowered his voice as low as he could and growled, “It’s the big bad vampire.”
Michael opened his eyes and feigned a look of fear, but forced himself not to laugh. “Oh no, not again.”
In one fluid movement, Ronan whipped off the blanket and sheets and jumped on top of Michael, his naked body now practically hidden by Ronan’s larger frame. Then he did his best Dracula impersonation. “I’ve come to suck your blood.” Instead of inciting fear in Michael, Ronan’s imitation of the legendary vampire made him laugh out loud, which it always did, so Ronan continued to speak like the count. “You are not afraid of me? You do not fear my power?”
Ronan was many things, Michael thought, but a mimic was not one of them. “Not when your accent sounds more Jewish than Transylvanian.”
It was Ronan’s turn to laugh, hearty and buoyant, and he kept laughing while kissing Michael, wishing they could stay in bed all day exploring and enjoying each other’s bodies, but they had to get to class, couldn’t start the new semester off by being late for first period. Before he could drag Michael out of bed and make him get ready, however, he noticed something in his eyes, resistance perhaps. Could it be sadness, disappointment? “You’re not still upset about your father, are you?” Ronan asked quietly.
Michael looked surprised and shook his head before he spoke. “No. I didn’t expect him to call on Christmas, not after I told him I didn’t want to spend the holidays with him in Tokyo.” As usual, Michael’s father changed their plans at the last minute and informed him a few days before Christmas that he had to go out of town on a business trip to oversee yet another crisis at one of his factories. Far from being upset, Michael was relieved.
He was not looking forward to spending his break with Vaughan, not after the endless series of arguments and disagreements they’d been having lately. He was much happier spending every moment with Ronan. But Michael was bothered by something and he found it curious that he was actually still a bit disappointed by his grandfather’s inaction. “You know, I kind of convinced myself that he would call either on Christmas or New Year’s Eve,” Michael confessed. “I am the only family he has left.”
“Age doesn’t make people wiser, Michael,” Ronan said, brushing the smooth side of his tie against Michael’s cheek, “just makes them old.”
Luckily, age was not something Michael and Ronan were going to have to worry about. And for that matter, Michael thought, neither should education. “I know! Why don’t we go see Germany today instead of hearing a lecture about it? Or what the hell, why not Tokyo?” Michael suggested. “I’m sure it’s really exciting even if, you know, my father’s there.”
Oh, I can’t wait to travel the globe with you, Ronan thought, country by country, but those kinds of adventures will have to wait. “We have forever for me to show you the world,” Ronan said. “First we have to learn about it.”
Underneath Ronan, Michael sank deeper into his pillow, one hand pressing into the back of Ronan’s neck, the other into the small of his waist. “That’s ’cause you have a crush on Old Man Willows.”
Taking the bait, Ronan pushed his body closer into
Michael’s, making the mattress bend even farther under their weight. “No, but McLaren’s bloody hot.”
“I knew it!” Michael cried out in mock jealousy, slapping Ronan on the shoulder. “That’s the only reason you like to read!”
“And if you want to read past a tenth-grade level, you need to get up now and get dressed,” Ronan declared. “You’ve world history in fifteen minutes.”
Thanks to his preternatural speed, thirty seconds later, Michael was completely dressed, his clothes a bit unkempt yet presentable, and ready to leave, but still he was without his usual enthusiasm for education. “Seriously, Ronan, why do I need to go to school anymore?” Michael moaned.
The question surprised Ronan. “I thought you loved school.”
“I did, but that was, you know, before, and, well, now …” Michael stuttered, then announced, “I’m a vampire.”
“Um, so am I, mate.”
“And you’re also a student, which just doesn’t make any sense.”
Tucking Michael’s shirttail into his pants, Ronan looked knowingly at his boyfriend. He understood his questions, his desire to be an active part of the world and not just read about it in a textbook, but he also understood that outside of Archangel Academy, the world was different. It wasn’t as safe, it wasn’t as receptive to their kind, and so, for now, this was where they needed to remain so they could learn and prepare themselves
for the world beyond the academy’s borders. “We may be immortal, Michael, but we’re not infallible,” Ronan said, aware that his tone was dangerously close to patronizing. “If we want to prosper and lead, we can’t be ignorant prats; we have to study, learn everything we can.”
“You can teach me everything I need to know,” Michael said.
Ronan blushed and thought how wonderful it was to have someone need him so much, someone who revered him, but no, he was forced to acknowledge that even he had limitations. “About being a vampire, yes, but Double A will teach you how to become educated.” Michael couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “And trust me,” Ronan whispered, his lips a breath away from Michael’s, “there is nothing sexier than an educated vampire.”
