Unafraid (21 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unafraid
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“Gwendal, how in ze world do you 'andle being surrounded by leetle children all day long?” Jean-Paul asked, his back leaning against the door. “I don't theenk anytheeng could be more annoying.”
 
Ronan could argue with that statement. He had spent the last hour sitting next to Morgandy in chemistry feeling as if he was sitting next to a stranger instead of next to one of the most influential people in his life. The actions of the guy sitting next to him had shaped Ronan, turned him into the person he was today. He couldn't believe that Morgandy was able to keep up this pretense that they didn't share any history. It was absolutely maddening. Just like his questions.
“What's your name again?” Morgandy asked.
“Are you bloody kidding me?!”
Morgandy reeled back on his lab stool as far as he could without tumbling over. “Sorry, I'm the new kid, way too many names to remember,” he replied. “You're Rowan, right?”
Ronan was holding the pencil so tightly in his hand it was about to break. “Wrong. I'm
Ronan.
”
Slapping his hand down on the countertop, his curls bouncing a bit, Morgandy apologized yet again. “That's right, really sorry, truth is I'm no good with names.” He turned his focus back to the microscope and took out the glass tray that was covered with a foul-looking brown and green substance. He held it gingerly so as not to spill the contents and placed it on the counter next to the others, which all held matter that looked equally gross. Turning back to his lab partner, he asked, “Do you have the next specimen ... Ronan?”
Hearing Morgandy speak his name again made Ronan cringe.
How can he say my name as if it doesn't mean anything? How can he act as if he doesn't know who I am? How can I let him get away with this?
“Stop playing games, Morgandy.”
Morgandy's brow furrowed. Confused, he shook his head and was finally able to respond, but his voice was way too casual for Ronan's liking. “Not playing games, just trying to finish up the assignment.”
A clean snap and the pencil in Ronan's hand broke in two. “Stop acting as if you don't know who I am,” he demanded, his voice quiet, but seething. “Like you don't remember me.”
Morgandy's confusion didn't completely lift, but it was slowly being erased by irritation. “Look, I don't know what your problem is,” Morgandy said. “But I don't remember you because we never met before.”
“Seriously?!”
“Is there a problem over there?” Professor Chow asked from across the room.
Looking around, Ronan saw that his outburst had not only caught the attention of his teacher, but the rest of the class as well. “No, sir,” he muttered. “Just really excited about this lab.”
Despite the chuckles from a few of his classmates, most of the students shared Chow's look of disbelief. Ronan wasn't a very good actor and definitely not nearly as good as he believed Morgandy to be. “This is seriously how you're going to play this.”
Morgandy looked around the room for support, for the right words to appease Ronan; he didn't find either. “I don't know what to tell you,” he said finally. “You got me mixed up with some other guy.”
“I think I'd remember the guy who shared my bed for almost a year,” Ronan seethed.
So that was it! It was all a come-on. Morgandy had heard through the school grapevine that Ronan was gay, but he also thought he had a boyfriend, the blond kid from the swim team. Morgandy, like most all the students at Double A, didn't care about someone's sexual preference as long as they weren't pressured to do anything against their will. Like Ronan was obviously trying to do. “I think I need to call a time-out,” Morgandy replied. “I don't care what you are or how you like to get off, but I don't swing that way.”
Infuriated by Morgandy's blatant refusal to acknowledge their history, Ronan banged his fist on the counter and jumped off his chair, knocking it backward. “You bloody liar, you most certainly do swing that way!”
Now Ronan was acting violent, and Morgandy no longer thought his flirtations were harmless; he was afraid. “I'd like a new lab partner please!”
From across the room, Chow made his authoritative presence known. “Ronan! What's going on over there?!”
Fury prevented Ronan from speaking, so Morgandy explained the situation, censoring it for a public audience. “Mild disagreement over procedure, sir,” he said. “But I think it's best if we switched partners.”
Again, Chow didn't believe a word of it. Like most teachers, however, he had learned that it's often better not to pry and just to accept a student's version of the truth at face value and act accordingly. Just as he was shuffling around partners, pairing Alexei up with Morgandy, and a quiet kid from the Netherlands with Ronan, the bell rang. Chow was grateful; he knew the crisis wasn't solved, but at least it was postponed for another day.
Unlike Chow, Ronan didn't have an academic's patience. He wanted to corner Morgandy. He wanted to know once and for all why his one-time soul mate was acting like they had never shared a connection, like their past had never existed. But Morgandy had other plans and refused to comply. By the time Ronan got outside, Morgandy had already disappeared into The Forest, swallowed up by the trees and the dusk, which was darker than usual for this time of day.
The clouds above were sliding back and forth in the sky restlessly like they couldn't decide in which direction to travel. They were gray, outlined in black, ripe and ominous. Obviously, a storm was brewing. Let it storm, let it rain, let the whole sky fall down for all Ronan cared, all he wanted was a bloody answer. He was about to try and follow Morgandy's footprints in the bits of snow that were still on the ground, but out of the corner of his eye he found a better strategy.
“Nakano!”
Tired of running, Kano ignored his instinct and stayed put. He had no desire to talk to Ronan, but he also didn't want to dwell on Jean-Paul any longer. Isn't this what grown-ups did all the time? Choose the lesser of two evils? When Ronan caught up with him he recognized his expression—super strong, almost silent, totally taking himself too seriously. Nakano thought he had the perfect antidote. “What can I do you for on this beautiful day, chum?” he asked in a tone that was wedged perfectly between sarcasm and a friendly teasing.
It was like throwing a feather at a brick. Ronan's expression didn't change. “Do you know why Morgandy's acting like he doesn't remember me?”
Nakano tried again. “No, and honestly, mate, it's a little long for a song title.”
Springing forward, Ronan made Nakano retreat further back into The Forest. Nakano wasn't scared; he just didn't feel like getting trampled. “I'm not bloody fooling around!” Ronan cried. “Ever since he got here it's like I'm a stranger to him.”
An ex-boyfriend acting indifferent, yeah, Nakano had no idea what that was like. “Maybe you weren't worth remembering,” he quipped. “I've blocked out most of the time that we spent together.”
This time when Ronan lunged forward he wrapped his hands around Nakano's throat and lifted him two feet off the ground. He kept moving until Kano's back was rammed into the side of a tree. “I'm trying very hard to control my temper,” Ronan growled.
Lodging several fingers in between Ronan's hands and his throat, Kano was able to breathe. “You could've fooled me,” he gasped, his legs swinging freely in the air.
Coming to his senses Ronan realized what he was doing, taking out his frustration on someone who might not be entirely innocent, but who definitely didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of his wrath. He let go, and after a split second Nakano fell to the ground easily, as if he had jumped off a curb. Even still Ronan didn't give him a moment to catch his breath before grilling him further. “What do you know about it?”
Wow, two ex-boyfriends in one day demanding answers from Nakano. He had never been so popular. “Why are you asking me? I hardly remember the guy.”
Exhibiting self-control, Ronan didn't grab Nakano. Instead he gripped a low-hanging branch and bent it until it almost broke in two. “Because I know he's working with David!” he explained. “Which means he's also working with you.”
The day was turning out to be one surprise after another. Nakano had had no idea that Morgandy was now one of Them, yet another secret David was keeping from his tribe, just like his real relationship with Jean-Paul. Whatever was going on with Ronan's ex was none of his business, and that's how Nakano wanted to keep it. “Then I suggest you ask David, because I don't bloody well care about Morgandy,” Nakano advised. “And we all know that David controls everything.”
Watching Kano disappear into The Forest, Ronan felt oddly relieved. It wasn't the response he had been looking for, but at least it was honest.
It was much more than what his sister was dealing with.
 
“What are you doing here?” Saoirse asked.
“Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”
Morgandy didn't wait for a reply; he just walked into her room, hesitating only slightly when he saw Ruby sitting at her desk, her fingers gliding over an open book. “Don't mind me,” she said. “I'm just reading about the medicinal properties of Northern European flora.”
“It's Braille,” Saoirse explained in response to Morgandy's quizzical look.
“Of course,” he said. “Sorry to just barge in.” Turning his back to Ruby, he took Saoirse in his arms. “But I just had to see you.”
A jumble of emotions fluttered in Saoirse's stomach. She was delighted to see Morgandy, surprised that he had showed up unannounced, and slightly embarrassed that he was kissing her in front of Ruby. “What was that for?” she asked, pulling away from Morgandy's kiss.
“Just a reminder that not everything is weird and complicated,” he said.
Pulling back even farther, Saoirse replied, “Well, I guess it's nice to know that I'm not weird or complicated.”
“You're anything but,” Morgandy confirmed, holding her closer to him.
Saoirse, however, wasn't in the mood to kiss or hug, not because Ruby was in the room, but because she was tired of being the phantom girlfriend. “No, I'm just anonymous,” she said, plopping on her bed.
Glancing over at Ruby, who was still in the same position she had been in since he showed up, Morgandy sat next to Saoirse and spoke in a quieter voice. “Can we talk about this some other time?”
She really didn't have to answer the question as her body language did it for her. She folded her arms and shook her head, but not one to be subtle she followed up with a verbal explanation. “No. I'm bored with this whole secret relationship thing,” she admitted. “I want to go public, you know, give the fans what they've been asking for, and I know the perfect venue for the reveal, at the Archangel Festival.”
“There isn't going to be one this year,” Morgandy said, relieved, but knowing full well that he hadn't dodged the bullet entirely.
“What do you mean there's not going to be a festival?!” Saoirse exclaimed. “I got a swanky new dress and everything!”
Morgandy tried to grab Saoirse's hand, but she slapped his hand away. “Sorry, but David cancelled it, said it would take away from the Tri-Centennial Celebration.”
Saoirse was so incensed by the stupid decree she didn't notice that Morgandy had called David by his first name instead of Headmaster or that Ruby's fingers had stopped moving. The girl turned her head slightly, suddenly more interested in her friend's conversation than her book. “Well, that's just bloody idiotic!” Saoirse cried.
Watching his girlfriend pace the room, Morgandy couldn't help but smile; she really was a spitfire. “Might be, but it's going to be announced by the end of the week,” he said. “I, um, heard it from some of the guys.”
Pouting, Saoirse plopped on the bed. “Isn't there any way we can make him change his mind?”
Brushing her hair away from her face, Morgandy was struck once again by Saoirse's beauty. He had nothing against being gay; he just had no idea why a guy wouldn't want to kiss something as delicate as a girl's lips, and so he did. “Sorry, Seersh,” he said quietly. “But from what I've heard, whatever David wants, David gets.”
And by the way that Ruby was leering at Morgandy and the very peculiar way that she was reacting to David's name, it appeared that she understood that as well.
chapter 16
Michael was definitely more handsome than an angel. Yes, even an archangel. At least that's what Ronan thought when he took a good look at the carving of the saint etched onto the mirror frame that hung in the anteroom to David's office. Sure the depiction of Michael the archangel was heroic looking, complete with strong features, billowing hair, and a muscular body, but it lacked something. Ronan almost laughed out loud when he realized that it lacked imperfection; the archangel was flawless. It was hilarious because he always said his boyfriend was perfect. Staring at the dark brown oak tribute to the iconic figure, Ronan realized his Michael was better than perfect—because he was real.
“And because he's yours.”
Ronan didn't know who spoke the words, but when he glanced at the sculpture he saw the archangel looking up at him from the bottom of the frame, still looking perfect and heroic, but now he was smiling. Luckily, he was so transfixed by the saint's changed expression that he didn't see Zachariel, in the right hand corner of the frame, staring at him, his face a portrait of evil, his eyes so cold and hateful they could have frozen the sun that framed his head. It was identical to the way Vaughan looked when he entered the anteroom from David's office.
“Ronan.”
“Fancy meeting you again, Mr. Howard,” Ronan replied, his voice as icy as the chill that clutched Vaughan's chest. “And so soon.”
Before Vaughan could answer or exit, David opened his door, holding a small, black leather box wrapped with a single red ribbon. Unlike Vaughan, when David saw Ronan his smile didn't fade; it actually widened. “My, my, my, the prodigal son returns.”
Unable to conceal his disgust, Ronan retorted, “Thankfully I was never your son in any sense of the word.”
If possible, David's smile grew even wider. “Perhaps if your lovely mother would have surrendered to her true feelings and married me,” David said, “you would have benefited from my fatherly tutelage.”
At that very moment Ronan was unable to decide which man he loathed more: the man Edwige had once lived with or the one she was living with now. Looking from one vile vampire to the other, he was about to consider it a draw until David finished his sentence. “Since poor, dear Saxon was taken from you so unexpectedly when you were such a young lad.” That comment clinched it. No one could be more heinous than David.
“Regardless of when my father was taken from me,” Ronan said, his voice practically a growl, “no one, not even you, could ever be the man that he was.”
David chuckled heartily as if he were once again at a lady's tea party in Victorian England. Ronan, like the women who had once attended those gatherings, amused him. But while this brief interlude was enjoyable, it wasn't the reason he had left his office. “Vaughan, my good fellow,” David said, “you ran off before I had a chance to give you a token of my appreciation.”
As he took the leather box from David awkwardly, it was clear that Vaughan was not expecting a gift. “Oh, why, thank you,” he stuttered. “You're ... you're too kind.”
Like a benevolent benefactor, David shook his head, unwilling to accept Vaughan's praise. “No thanks are necessary,” he replied. “The permanent contact lens implants you have supplied us with have been a great success. Think of this as a symbol of my gratitude.”
All three of them understood the significance of the gift. David never rewarded his subjects for their efforts; he expected all those beneath him to toil unceremoniously until he was satisfied with their actions. For him to bestow a gift, no matter how small, on one of his underlings meant that he or she had achieved something that even David was unable to. Ronan quickly surmised that Vaughan's factory and these implants made it possible for non-water vamps to walk in the sun on Archangel Academy grounds without having to take any precautions to protect their eyes. Vaughan offered David's people something David could not; he offered them independence.
Watching Vaughan bask in David's unprecedented warmth, Ronan wondered how quickly the temperature in the room would drop if he mentioned the name of Vaughan's live-in houseguest. Not only would David be furious that Vaughan was fraternizing with the enemy, but his enormous ego would be wounded to know that Vaughan had captured the woman he was unable to. Sensing that Ronan was contemplating revealing the secret of his living conditions, Vaughan decided it was time to make a quick exit. “I am humbled, David.”
It was now Vaughan's turn to act as if he had been spirited back to a bygone era. Holding the box in one hand, he extended the other to his side and slowly bowed. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor for a few seconds to allow David the thrill of witnessing, without question, his subservience. As Vaughan expected, the gesture delighted David, his chest puffing up like a peacock, but it was a flamboyant move that harbored an ulterior motive. Rising halfway, Vaughan nodded at David one final time and then grandly turned so he could face Ronan. Without stopping as he left the room, he whispered, “Tell Michael I hope he's well.”
Consumed with pride that one of his flock had displayed to a member of the lower species how to behave properly in the presence of their ruler, David didn't hear Vaughan's comment. He merely gloated and invited Ronan into his office. Ignoring the feeling that he was walking into a trap, Ronan entered and quickly scoured the room with three of his five senses. A few seconds later he was calmer, as he didn't see, hear, or smell anything that aroused his suspicion. He was confident when David closed the door behind him that they were the only creatures, human or otherwise, in his office. After David spoke his confidence was replaced by confusion. “I'm disappointed in you, Ronan.”
Ronan assumed he had disappointed David in many ways over the years, but couldn't figure out which specific disappointment he was referring to at the moment. “And why is that?”
Gazing out the window, David saw there was a small tear in the green velvet drapes. He would have to get that imperfection fixed, but there were so many other things to do, so many more important things that needed to be accomplished before mending window treatments. If he folded the material slightly perhaps no one would notice the flaw. “Oliver tells me that you and Michael missed your appointments for your school physicals,” he replied as he readjusted the position of the drapes. “You know they are mandatory for all students regardless of their unique physical composition.”
That's what he was talking about? Ronan would hardly call that a disappointment, more like a diversion, a tactic so David could have control of the conversation. Fine, let him think he's in control. “We didn't think there was any point,” Ronan replied, “since we all know what the final result would be.”
Satisfied that the drapery's flaw was sufficiently hidden, David turned around, his smile courteous, condescending. “Yes, Ronan, we all know what the examination would have uncovered,” he said. “But Oliver was so looking forward to studying the two of you ... What were the words that he used? Ah yes, up close and personal.”
Ronan was sure that David's smile had turned into a leer, and he was disgusted at the thought of Michael and himself being examined by the wizened, lecherous doctor. He chewed on his lip for a second to prevent himself from saying exactly what was on his mind: that the foul doctor was never going to get his hands on him or Michael unless it was in a fight to the death. Instead he replied, injecting his words with as little sarcasm as possible, “Tell Sutton we didn't mean to spoil his fun.”
“He'll be happy to hear that,” David said. “And you'll be happy to know that Oliver submitted your results to Coach Blakeley and told him that you and Michael passed your physicals with flying colors.”
Not wishing for the meeting to be filled any longer with unnecessary chatter, Ronan decided it was time to get to the reason he had come to enemy territory in the first place. “Why doesn't Morgandy remember me?” he asked.
One of the things David hated most was being blindsided. Another was ignoring his gut instinct. David knew Ronan hadn't dropped by for a friendly visit; he knew the boy had come armed with a purpose, but he had let himself get distracted by unimportant issues. Now he was paying for his stupidity, for his weakness; he was standing in front of this inferior creature and being forced to hide a look of shock, a look of surprise.
Enough of this acting like a child. Remember who you are,
David chastised himself
. Headmaster, leader, Zachariel's chosen!
When David spoke he allowed all the hatred he was feeling for himself to seep into his speech. “Because of that repulsive Well of yours.”
Yes, that felt better. Turning his back to Ronan, David lifted the top off of a sterling silver decanter that had a neck as long and slender as a swan's and filled up a matching goblet with blood. He didn't see Ronan's reaction, but he didn't need to; he knew such a blasphemous proclamation would elicit a powerful response. When he turned around he saw that he was right. Ronan's entire body was fighting the urge to defend the holy icon. David knew his silence would only infuriate Ronan even more, so instead of speaking, he drank.
Ronan felt his fangs tingle as he watched David's throat rise and fall. God, he's such a pig, Ronan thought, drinking blood like it was brandy and not the precious liquid it was. These people really are disgusting! “The Well has nothing to do with this.”
David ran his index finger along the inside of the goblet, and when he lifted it up it was covered in blood. Just as David was about to stick his finger in his mouth, lick it clean of every crimson drop, Ronan lurched forward and grabbed his wrist, sending the metal goblet crashing to the floor. It bounced several times before careening into the leg of a chair where it stopped. And then there was no sound in the room as they both called upon willpower to adjust their next moves. Ronan commanded his fangs to stay hidden, and David, feeling the tingle in his back, begged his wings not to unfurl. This was a time for confrontation, not showmanship. It was also a time for a reminder.
With a flick of his massive wrist, David threw Ronan's hand flying into the air, the momentum causing him to lose his balance and teeter backward. It was not that David didn't like to be touched; he just preferred to make the first move. “Touch me again, Ronan, and I will forget that you are not used to playing the role of the scorned lover,” David seethed. “Morgandy doesn't remember you, because when he chose to join the ranks of the more powerful, your vindictive Well wiped his memory clean.”
Could it be that simple? Ronan had never heard of that happening before, but it made sense. If Morgandy wanted to be one of Them, The Well wasn't going to allow him to cross over knowing all its secrets or maintaining all the benefits bestowed upon their race. If this was true, he was beginning to learn that The Well was more powerful than he had ever imagined.
“So not only did you abandon him, Ronan, but your Well erased all his memories. Swimming like a pack of oversized fish, waking up each morning wrapped in your glorious arms, all those memories were taken from him and he was cast out,” David continued. “Why, he was discarded as callously as if he were a crippled newborn.”
“I didn't abandon him!” Ronan cried. “He betrayed me!” Once again David turned his back on Ronan, not to pour himself another drink, but to resume his place behind his desk. Like the insipid ladies of the long-ago tea parties, this young man was starting to bore him, and he wanted their conversation to end. “That is your interpretation, not that it makes a difference,” David said. “Morgandy van der Poole is born anew, unto a far superior race.” Dipping his quill pen into an inkwell, David shifted his attention to the small pile of papers on his desk. “And even though you've lost him forever, dear boy, never fear, he may become part of your family after all.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
David loved when he piqued an adversary's curiosity with a simple turn of phrase. He relished the look of confusion on Ronan's face for several moments before speaking. “Your former paramour has been searching for his freedom,” he announced. “And I believe he may have finally found it.”
 
“I have to be free, Michael,” Saoirse declared. “That's what my name means, you know, it's Irish for freedom.”
Slinking deeper into the brown velvet couch in the front room of St. Joshua's, Michael sighed. “And in English does it mean stupid?”
“I am not stupid!” Shocked, Saoirse threw her notebook at Michael. He deflected it expertly with the tip of his finger, sending it flying a few feet up in the air, and waited until it started to descend before reaching out his hand to grab it before it fell to the floor. They might not be in the library proper, but there was still no need to cause a ruckus.
“Then why are you keeping secrets from your brother?” Michael asked. “Haven't you learned that around here that's really not the smartest thing to do?”
“This is different,” she said, jumping up from her chair and jumping onto the couch next to Michael. “This doesn't have anything to do with the V word.”
Michael tried to stop himself from laughing, but couldn't. “The V word?”

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