Unafraid (16 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unafraid
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The crowd was split. Half of the guys grimaced loudly at the prospect of seeing Fritz naked, while the other half let out a collective “a www w” to make fun of Fritz and his obvious crush on the girl. He laughed along with them, taking the ribbing in stride, what did he care? Despite Ciaran's showing up at the last minute and literally crashing into their private outing, he was the one who got to hold her arm and waltz her around school like she was his girlfriend, which he hoped very soon she would be. It didn't even matter to him that she was blind. He had thought it would at first, but when he was around her, she never acted like she had a disability. She was almost more self-assured than he was.
“Did you know that she reads Braille?” he informed the group.
“Yes!” Ciaran cried. “I was the one who found the book for God's sake!”
Alexei's voice broke right through the laughter. “Looks like Ruby had a two-for-one sale!”
Ignoring him, Fritz went on to extol Ruby's achievements. “She told me personally that she learned it in a bloody month! Do you know how hard that is to do?”
Although none of them had given it much thought before, they all imagined that it was a major accomplishment, learning a completely new language based on raised bumps on a piece of paper. However, none of them offered nearly the same level of excitement as they had when they heard about where the swim team competition would be held. Michael and Ronan were subdued because they knew Ruby possessed skills that were beyond human definition, so her mastery of Braille was not as impressive as Fritz thought. Ciaran refused to add to Fritz's elation by praising Ruby's triumph in front of an audience. He would tell her how impressed he was when he was alone with her,
if
he was ever alone with her. No, he corrected himself, no more negative thoughts.
When
he was alone with her.
“Hey, Nebraska! I think I'm going to get her to help me write an issue of my comic book in Braille too!” Fritz declared. “How brilliant will that be?”
Michael could tell by Ciaran's grim expression that he didn't think that was brilliant at all and, in fact, that the last thing Ciaran wanted to hear was that Fritz was anything more to Ruby than a tour guide. Dammit! Michael realized that both his friends had feelings for whoever this girl was who was claiming to be Penry's sister and that worried him greatly. There was nothing he could do except keep tabs on them all and see how the relationships developed before either of them got in over his head. At this point, however, Fritz was so enthused about the possibility of having a girlfriend and Ciaran was so disappointed at possibly losing out at the chance that nothing Michael said would resonate with them. All he could do was smile and tell Fritz that a Braille edition was inspired.
“And I know Penry would think it was a corking idea too!” Fritz added.
That name again! Every time Nakano heard someone mention Penry's name it was like a knife to his stomach. He didn't know why it unnerved him so much. Penry was human, nothing more. He was part of a species that was put here on earth as rations for vampires. That's it, end of story. Well, if that was true, why was he getting so upset about taking Penry's life? He fed on his blood; he didn't murder him. Wasn't there a huge difference between the two?
But one look at Michael and Nakano knew exactly why he was feeling guilty; he was lying to himself. He hadn't attacked Penry for his blood the night of the Archangel Festival; he had attacked him because he thought Penry was Michael. He thought that he was doing what David had wanted him to do—rid the world of water vamps one hybrid at a time. He didn't even look to make sure that it was Michael before he bit into Penry's neck; he just ravaged his flesh, confident that he was draining blood from the correct host. He had been wrong.
He knew he had crossed a line, but there was nothing he could do about it. More than that, he didn't know how much longer he could stand these feelings that he was having every time someone mentioned the dead kid's name. He couldn't take it anymore, and he wished that Fritz would stop blathering on about how proud Penry would be that he and Ruby were carrying on his bloody comic book. Blakeley saw to it that Kano got his wish.
“Ulrich!” Blakeley shouted. “Since you were the last to arrive, you'll be the first one to get a physical from Dr. Sutton.”
Fritz was in such a good mood from spending time with Ruby, the news hardly fazed him. “Might as well start with the best physical specimen in the lot!” he shouted, giving his firm stomach a hard slap.
Watching him walk toward the locker room, Ciaran was plagued by an awful thought. For an instant he hoped Dr. Sutton would find some deadly virus running through Fritz's blood or discover that a major organ was about to fail, anything that would mean Fritz would be out of Ruby's life so Ciaran could finally make his entrance. Oh God! How could he think such a thing? Was any girl really worth spending even a moment wishing harm on a friend? Shocked that he could so easily consider such a notion, by how quickly his mind wandered into such evil territory, Ciaran said a quick prayer to try to counteract his thought. Sure, he wanted to get close to Ruby, but never at Fritz's expense. Hopefully it was just a momentary lapse and not an indication of his true nature.
Luckily, Blakeley wasn't concerned about anyone's psychological makeup at the moment; all he wanted to do was test their physical abilities. “Nakano, Alexei, Glynn-Rowley, and Eaves,” he shouted. “Take your places for the first practice meet of the season!”
As the guys who were called broke free from the crowd to stand on top of the starting blocks, Michael leaned in and whispered in Ronan's ear, “Don't be too hard on them.”
Responding in an even huskier whisper, Ronan let his lips brush softly against Michael's ear. “You know me, love. I only show off when it counts.”
Michael was so distracted by Ronan's flirtatious comment and by the feelings it aroused in the pit of his stomach that he didn't notice David enter the gym from the back entrance until he was standing at the opposite end of the pool. He looked so out of place, not only because he was formally dressed in his usual suit and tie, but because right behind him was a student that Michael had never seen before.
Based on his attire—he was wearing the official Double A swimsuit like every other kid in the gym—it was obvious that he wanted to try out for the team. Even though Michael didn't recognize the newcomer, it was obvious that he wasn't a stranger to everyone. Ronan, Ciaran, and Nakano looked like triplets; they were all wearing the same expression as they stared at the kid with the curly, blond hair: they looked as if they were staring at a corpse who had risen from the dead. It was only when David finally spoke that Michael understood why.
“I'd like to introduce Double A's latest student and the newest member of our swim team,” David announced. “Meet the former national champion of Sweden, Morgandy van der Poole.”
chapter 11
Ronan was lost in a memory. Sunlight poured down on the stranger like a sudden rainstorm. Ronan had to squint, and still he couldn't see him clearly. What he could see, however, made him feel different, better than he had ever felt before, like a man, an adult, even though he was hardly either. He knew the vision, as hazy as it was, would change his life forever.
The stranger was moving closer toward him, still a blur, still unidentifiable, still filling Ronan with excitement. The day, like so many others spent in the small village a few miles in from Inishtrahull Island, had been uneventful, so Ronan had figured it would pass without anything interesting or significant happening. When the stranger stood before him and the harsh sunlight was finally covered by a thick canopy of clouds, Ronan knew he had been wrong. It was like his mother always said, Ronan was special and greatness would come to him; he just had to be patient.
Sitting down on the ground next to him, the stranger asked, “What's your name?”
Dry mouthed, Ronan had to swallow hard in order to speak. “Ronan Glynn-Rowley.”
The stranger smiled as if the name meant something to him, something good. “I'm Morgandy van der Poole.”
Ronan didn't recognize the name, nor did he like it, too fancy, but the sound of Morgandy's deep voice intrigued him. Morgandy didn't possess the common accent, the Irish lilt he had been hearing since he was born. His voice was flatter, the words streaming out of his lips like a horizontal line and not rising up and down like sounds floating on top of a rough sea. His voice wasn't the only thing that was refreshing. The color of his hair was less blond than it was blinding sunshine, and the hair fell in a mass of curls across his forehead and past the nape of his neck, wild and reckless; it made Ronan dizzy. “I could use a pool on a day like today,” Morgandy said. “Bloody sweltering.”
Ronan felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face, but before he could wipe it away, Morgandy touched him right below his earlobe with his finger and followed the perspiration's route along his jawbone, underneath his chin, down the center of his throat, and into the soft pit in the middle of his collarbone. Never had Ronan been touched like this before, so simply, so purposefully. It felt both wrong and right at the same time, and Ronan was disappointed when Morgandy stopped; he wanted his finger to travel to more parts of his body. “Would you like to swim inside of me?” Morgandy asked.
Apparently Morgandy's assertive approach wasn't confined to just his touch. “What?” Ronan said, trying not to sound as shocked as he was.
Turning away, Morgandy stared at some trees that swayed in an unexpected breeze. He stared so intently, it appeared as if the trees, bowing to the wind, held more interest to him than the handsome boy he was sitting next to. When he spoke, the intensity of his words proved otherwise. “Wouldn't it feel supreme to get lost forever in the waves of my emotions? Hold on to me for dear life because you're afraid I might make you drown?”
This was another first. No one had ever spoken to Ronan like this before, so simply, so poetically. Ronan had no idea what Morgandy was talking about, but he knew right then that he would risk drowning to find out, to get closer to this boy, hear more of his words, feel more of his touch. He was just about to say that yes, yes, yes, it would be perfection to swim inside his emotions when he heard a noise that ruined everything: he heard Morgandy's laugh.
The sound was so deep and hearty it didn't seem to belong to the boy; his delicate features should produce a more refined sound, not the noise Ronan was hearing. “I'm just fooling with you,” Morgandy confessed, his hazel eyes blazing in the hot sun.
“I knew that,” Ronan lied, abruptly looking away toward the trees that were now hanging lifeless in the stagnant air.
Morgandy leaned forward until his face was practically in front of Ronan's, until Ronan had no choice but to look at him once again. “You can't lie to me,” Morgandy corrected. “You thought I was serious.”
Ronan wasn't sure if it was the steely look behind Morgandy's smile or his own desire not to conceal his emotions that prompted him to tell the truth. “Yes, I did.”
Satisfied, Morgandy sat back and pressed his palms into the dirt, extending his legs. He was wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts, and they rode up to the middle of his thigh. Ronan liked how Morgandy's blond hair looked almost white against his golden skin and how his muscles converged to create a curvy terrain that continued up and over his knee and down and under to his calves.
“You're beautiful.” Ronan forgot all about Morgandy's body and concentrated on his words; it was the first time anyone had ever told him that. “Now I'm being serious,” Morgandy added, just so there would be no confusion.
Speechless, Ronan didn't know how to respond. A few seconds ago he had been determined to speak honestly, and now he was about to change the rules to cover up the barrage of emotions and sensations that were being released inside of his brain and his body. Whoever this Morgandy was, he was whittling away at his confidence, altering the way he thought.
“You can tell me I'm beautiful too,” Morgandy said. “I've heard it many times before.”
The spell half-broken, Ronan wasn't sure if he should laugh or comply. Honesty was attractive; vanity less so.
“But never from someone who actually meant it,” Morgandy added.
The sadness in Morgandy's voice touched Ronan deeply. In one sweeping rush, he understood everything he needed to know. He knew that Morgandy's bravado was a cover-up to mask his loneliness; he knew that Morgandy ached to have a companion, a boyfriend, a soul mate, just as much as Ronan did and that despite his obvious beauty an even more beautiful spirit existed underneath his flesh. “You
are
beautiful,” Ronan replied.
Morgandy's eyes looked almost as sad as his voice sounded. “Thank you.” But then the sadness evaporated like sweat that burrowed deep into skin. A trace of its residue lingered, but it was unseen, transformed, and even though Morgandy still looked like he might cry, it was in response to overwhelming joy, not sorrow.
Thrown by the unsettling encounter, Ronan needed confirmation. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Sitting up, Morgandy shifted his legs so his bare knee rested upon Ronan's. “Because I've finally come face to face with my destiny.”
 
Ronan crumpled up the memory and buried it deep within his mind. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Morgandy, looking exactly the same as he had the last time Ronan had seen him, right here in St. Sebastian's. He never thought he would see him again, even when he was telling Michael about their relationship, divulging the details of their past; he didn't think the mere mention of his name would conjure up his appearance. He saw that Ciaran and Nakano were both equally stunned, so he knew that it wasn't a hallucination. Somehow—and definitely for some specific reason—Morgandy had returned.
“Mr. van der Poole has transferred here from Sigtuna, one of the best schools in Stockholm, because his parents found an even finer academic institution,” David announced.
Despite David's officious tone, Ronan knew he was lying; there was much more behind Morgandy's arrival. “Did you know about this?” Ronan whispered so both Nakano and Ciaran could hear him.
Slightly amused, Kano shook his head. “Not me.”
A bit more concerned, Ciaran replied, “I didn't think he was still alive after what happened.”
“Morgandy could not have joined us at a more propitious moment in Archangel Academy's history,” David continued. “Just in time to help us celebrate our Tri-Centennial
and
help us win the National Swim Team Competition!”
Once again the mention of the upcoming contest caused mild pandemonium. The students cheered, applauded, Diego went so far as to rush up to a startled Morgandy and shake his hand furiously. He, like a few others in the gym, seemed thrilled to have Morgandy as a teammate, taking David's endorsement as gospel. Michael wasn't one of them. He was finding it hard to ignore the pangs of jealousy that were hacking into his brain. Sure Ronan had told him about Morgandy, but he hadn't told him everything. He left out the part about how incredibly handsome he was. And how he kind of resembled Michael. Or was that the other way around?
Standing at the edge of the pool, the sunlight from the windows fanning out behind him like a golden, windblown cape, Morgandy looked like he could be Michael's older brother. They shared many of the same physical traits, except that on Morgandy they were more pronounced, grown up, manlier. His hair was same color but curlier. His eyes had a green hue to them, but other colors as well, making them more complex. His red lips were just as full, but in a mouth-watering shade that looked exactly like blood diluted with water. And then there was his body.
Standing next to a fully dressed David, Morgandy looked practically naked even though he was wearing the same attire as every other guy in the gym. What was disconcerting was how poised he stood, almost defiant despite the fact that he knew he was being scrutinized by an unfamiliar pack. He definitely didn't lack any confidence, and as Michael inspected him a bit further it was easy to see why. Morgandy was an inch or two taller than he was, more muscular, hairier (although the hair running along his forearms, legs, and stomach was gossamer thin and translucent), and his bathing suit barely concealed the rest of him. Despite his recent mini-growth spurt, Michael felt ganglier and less attractive than ever. Ronan's expression didn't help matters.
No, his boyfriend wasn't looking at
his
ex-boyfriend with lust or desire, but he also wasn't looking at him with disgust. What was he thinking? It took Michael a few seconds to remember that he could simply ask him without anyone else hearing his question.
“What the hell is going on?”
Ronan didn't look in Michael's direction; his eyes were transfixed on the ghost from his past.
“I have no idea, love,”
Ronan replied.
“But stay alert because this cannot be good.”
And it was about to get worse.
“Swedish champion, eh?” Blakeley said, his tone dripping skepticism. “Why don't we put those credentials to the test?”
Prickled by the insinuation that he had exaggerated Morgandy's talent, but never one to cower from a challenge, David walked toward Blakeley. He made sure his heels hit the gym floor harder than usual so each step sounded more like the approach of an enemy. “What exactly do you have in mind, Coach Blakeley?” David asked, the vein in his neck pulsating slightly despite his overall look of calm.
Perhaps it was because Blakeley was in his comfort zone or perhaps it was because, after MacCleery's death, fear and panic were no longer a luxury or perhaps it was simply because he disliked the headmaster. Whatever the reason, he didn't back down even when he had to raise his head to look David in the eye. “Let's see how brilliant he is against our best man,” he replied. “Two lap race, Morgandy versus Ronan.”
A low roar emerged from the crowd, starting softly, but erupting quickly into whoops of encouragement and support. Blakeley wasn't the most intelligent teacher at Archangel Academy, but he had the most street smarts. He knew his audience and how to rouse them, and he knew how to provoke a man, especially one as cocky and pompous as David, in a way that could only end with his agreeing to his terms. “A head-to-head race?” David asked rhetorically. “Your best man against mine so to speak?”
Although David punctuated his query with a smile, his intentions were obvious. He was making it clear to Blakeley, if not to the students who were eagerly awaiting their coach's response, that he understood he was being challenged. It was not something that Blakeley could take back, and no matter how this little exercise ended, David would remember who had been the first to throw down the gauntlet. Blakeley didn't flinch. He knew what he had done, and even though he knew the rules were changing, there was no way he was going to back down. Not to David, not to anyone. “Absa-bloody-lootely,” he said. “Sir.”
If Michael hadn't known Morgandy's history, he might have felt sorry for him. He stood on one end of the pool alone, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression stoic, while on the other end, Ronan was practically lost within the ecstatic crowd that surrounded him. No one had anything against Morgandy personally, but no one questioned their allegiance. Every kid in the gym wanted their team captain to beat this newcomer. Even Nakano.
“This should be another easy win for Ronan,” he said. Michael didn't detect a trace of sarcasm in his voice, and yet he wasn't convinced Kano was speaking the truth. There was something in the way Morgandy moved, with equal parts grace and swagger, that made him think Ronan might finally lose a race. Michael, in fact, had almost beaten him a few times, proving that his boyfriend was a powerful swimmer, but not invincible. Plus, Morgandy had been a water vampire for just as long as Ronan, so didn't that mean he was just as powerful?
“Shake hands,” Blakeley bellowed, interrupting Michael's train of thought.

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