Unafraid (37 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unafraid
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David knew better than to ask what Brania's secret weapon was. His only chance of finding out was to let his daughter think she had the upper hand.
“Excellent,”
David replied tersely.
“Then the time has come for you to be appropriately rewarded.”
“I was hoping you'd say that,”
Brania replied, finally deigning to look at her father.
“I'd like my reward beforehand, and since I know you're such a busy man, I've taken the liberty of picking out the perfect gift.”
David hated giving in to anyone, especially a woman, but he had no choice. Brania, for the moment was in control.
“What would you like in return?”
David asked.
“Say the word, and your wish will be granted.”
“I think it's time that you made another sacrifice,”
Brania replied.
The word made David shudder. They both knew its significance. Somehow David understood that his daughter knew that he had sacrificed the life of his sister to ensure the fulfillment of his own desires. And Brania knew that David wouldn't want his secret to be learned by the masses. Even vampires have an ethical code, and the brutal murder of one's blind sister sort of crossed that line. Brania thought it was the perfect time to cross another.
“I want to be an only child again,”
she said, clutching the white rose that she had tucked inside her skirt pocket.
“I'd like you to kill Jean-Paul.”
“What!?” David cried.
The race culminated in a Double A victory so David's outburst went unnoticed by those around him. His shock, however, delighted his daughter.
“Please, Father,”
she said.
“Remember to use your inside voice.”
Brania's words kept repeating in his mind over and over again, like a record player whose needle had gotten caught in a groove.
Kill Jean-Paul. Kill Jean-Paul. Kill Jean-Paul. How could she be so cruel to expect me to kill my own son?
The answer came to him so quickly and with such brutal honesty that David had to grip his knees to stop his hands from shaking.
Because you taught her well.
Indeed he had. Just like he had sacrificed his sister for the good of his people, he now had to sacrifice his son. The end—destruction of The Well, end of water vamps—would surely justify the means. There was only one problem: David couldn't trust his daughter.
“How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?”
David asked her.
“You don't,”
she replied. Hardly the answer he was looking for.
“You'll just have to take my word for it.”
Damn her! There wasn't any other way! This Imogene girl was linked to Edwige; she was the only one who could lead them to The Well, and she was under Brania's control. There was a very good chance Brania would double cross him, but it was a chance that he had to take. Unfortunately, if he thought about it much longer, the chance would slip by.
“Remember, Edwige feeds tomorrow, so there's no time to lollygag,”
Brania had reminded him.
“I'll call for you at daybreak and expect to see Jean-Paul's burnt ashes.”
This was treason! Blackmail! So many years David had ignored his son, preferring to dote on his daughter instead, and now that he had reconnected with Jean-Paul he was going to have to sever their ties. How could he possibly kill him? The mere thought of it was unfathomable. No, there was no way he could do that. He could, however, order his execution. Yes, that he could do. That he could do very easily. But first he would have to find an assassin.
After the first set of races was completed there was a break in the competition, and the crowd began milling about the gym. David found the person he was looking for standing alone near the windows.
“Nakano,” David said. “I have an important assignment for you.”
And just like that Nakano's perfect day came to an end.
chapter 27
Nakano knew something was wrong, David was being way too friendly.
During their entire walk over from St. Sebastian's to his office, David had talked nonstop, complimenting Nakano on his acrobatic exhibition, admiring how clever he had been to illustrate his incredible skills in public without calling attention to his preternatural abilities, even congratulating him on making the difficult decision to quit the swim team so he could showcase his talents appropriately. “A wise man knows when he is beaten,” David had said. “But it is the courageous man who shakes off defeat to rise to victory.”
No matter what David said, no matter how impressed or interested he might seem in Nakano's recent achievement, there was no way that he had brought him here to philosophize about his cheerleading debut. This meeting was definitely about something else. But David was taking his sweet time revealing just what that was.
“This was given to me by a geisha I once knew,” David announced, admiring the ornate box that lived on the mantel of the fireplace. “She painted it herself.” He turned it around in his hand, gazing, searching at each side of the small, rectangular object that was decorated with a different scene—a cluster of butterflies, a waterfall, a bevy of cherry blossoms, a stony brook—all snippets of natural beauty, all delicately hand painted. “Each one of these panels reminds me of her,” he continued. “She too was an exquisite creature.” Lifting the lid, which was topped with a vibrant blue and black Wanderer butterfly, its wings opened, but frozen in flight, David took a deep breath. “And loyal.”
And just how is a stupid box loyal?
Nakano thought.
David didn't hear Kano's question—he was peering underneath the lid, but he answered it anyway. “She filled this container with her blood as an offering,” David said.
Well, yes, that could be considered an act of loyalty. Or stupidity, depending upon how you looked at it.
“I can still remember how she tasted. I can still smell her scent,” he recalled. “As fragrant and alive as a Japanese garden.”
Returning the piece to its rightful place, David motioned for Nakano to sit in front of the fireplace in one of the two side chairs that were made of distressed brown leather. The fabric was creased and the color faded due to age and frequent use, and as Kano sat he was struck by how the texture reminded him of David's face. The headmaster's typically smooth, age-defying complexion looked tired, strained as if tension and stress were lying just on the other side of his flesh. Maybe that's why he wanted to speak with him, to get something off his chest, ask him to share his burden? Or maybe he just wanted to tell him stories about a former concubine, thinking Nakano would get all nostalgic and want to hear more anecdotes about his home country's past.
The leather moaned slightly when David gripped the back of the chair opposite Nakano. David looked like he was going to make the same sound. “I hope you will prove yourself to be equally as loyal.”
“Haven't I already proven my allegiance to you and our race?” Nakano sniped. “There's no reason for my loyalty to be questioned.”
The time had come, however, for it to be tested.
Finally David relaxed a bit, as if a burden had been lifted, slightly, from his shoulders, and he smiled. “Good,” he said. “Because I want you to kill Jean-Paul Germaine.”
Something must be wrong with his hearing. There was no way Nakano had heard David correctly. “I'm sorry,” Kano said. “You want me to do
what
?”
Despite the ache that was growing all throughout David's body, he made sure his smile didn't fade, in fact he willed it to grow even wider. “I believe you heard me the first time,” he said. “It was, if I may point out, a very concise and uncomplicated request.”
Uncomplicated?! This had to be some colossal joke. “Why would you want me to kill Jean-Paul?” Nakano cried in disbelief. “I thought the two of you were really close.”
David's will collapsed, and his smile faded. “Are you questioning me?”
The words tumbled out of Kano's mouth before he realized how foolish they were. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”
The movement was so reactive, so quick, Nakano didn't even know he was being pinned against the wall until he tried to touch the floor with his feet. It took him another second to realize that it was extremely difficult to breathe, which only made sense since David was holding him by the throat and squeezing so hard that his knuckles resembled chunks of ivory.
“I am your master!” David seethed, his foul breath stinging Nakano's eyes, his spit sprinkling onto Nakano's lips. “How dare you question me!”
Whenever Kano had been manhandled before, and the times had been many, he had always reacted in the same way, he would fight back, defend himself whether he was infuriated or frightened. This was different. He felt one of David's hands around his throat, the other pressing down hard onto his forehead. He saw David's vile, deformed face, and yet he felt nothing; he was numb. “I'm sorry,” he said, the words sounding as if they were spoken by a very intelligent robot.
“Jean-Paul's death is necessary for our people to reach a higher purpose,” David hissed. But the next words almost made him choke. “He needs to be killed!”
Images of Jean-Paul's beautiful face bombarded Nakano's brain. Bathed in moonlight, sheathed in passionate sweat, drenched in blood. No, not that, anything but that. Too many feelings were swarming inside Kano's mind; he loved Jean-Paul, he hated him, he was angry that their relationship was over, he was disappointed in his actions. He couldn't think straight, so he decided not to think at all.
“And I want you to do it,” David instructed. “Bring his ashes to me by daybreak.”
The ticking of the grandfather clock filled the room as David waited for a response that wasn't coming soon enough for his liking. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” David was so furious, so disgusted with Nakano, with Brania, with himself, that his cry resembled a madman's. His fangs were scraping against Nakano's skin, and all he wanted to do was tear the boy's flesh to shreds and savor every tender mouthful to satiate the pain that was enveloping him. But he couldn't, he couldn't destroy his servant. He needed Nakano to do his bidding.
And so Nakano agreed. “I understand.”
Dropping to the floor with a thud, Nakano stayed in a clump for almost a minute before finding the strength to get up. When he stood, he saw David was standing by the window, his eyes closed, sunlight pouring over him, calling attention to the lines and crevices that were now undeniable parts of his face. The headmaster suddenly looked old.
Nakano remained staring at his leader, and he was torn between the desire to embrace him or to push him through the window, hoping the glass would slice his face, further destroying the robust beauty he had once possessed. But he couldn't move to fulfill either thought. He was too confused, too blindsided. It was as if he were suspended in time and space and didn't know where to go, even though he had very specific orders to carry out. The grandfather clock ticked louder, each tick, tick, tick, more insistent than the last. Nakano wished he could turn back the hands of time to just an hour ago when people were applauding him, thanking him for doing something they had never even dreamed of doing. He almost laughed out loud. Now he was going to do something he had never dreamed of doing: kill his ex-boyfriend. It was absurd, it made no sense to him whatsoever, yet it was David's wish, and Nakano knew it was useless to try and defy his leader's mandate even though he might be showing signs of weakness. He might actually have an Achilles' heel, but he was still more powerful than any creature Nakano knew and, more than that, he was still in charge and he still expected his orders to be carried out without hesitation.
To prove that point, just as Nakano was leaving David's office he heard the headmaster mention that he would be greatly rewarded for his efforts. Sadly, Nakano already knew the kind of gift he'd receive in return for committing murder.
He took the long way to The Forest and walked around the back of St. Sebastian's, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone. The swimming competition and cheerleading seemed so far away now and so inconsequential; they seemed to have happened to someone else, not him. But it just wasn't his lucky day. A few yards away Michael and Ronan were stealing kisses behind a tree, wearing only their gym shorts, their bodies fused together as one. When they finally separated, Nakano saw that matching gold medals hung from their necks. Of course God would let them win gold since they didn't have enough already. They just had each other, the perfect relationship, the perfect bodies, the perfect lives, everything Nakano would never have. Running off into the bowels of The Forest, Nakano didn't hear Michael call out to him. He only heard the voice in his head telling him he was getting exactly what he deserved.
When the damp air poisoned his nostrils he cursed himself for returning to the cave, but what other choice did he have? Where else did he have to go? He had to talk to someone, and Brania was the only one he could confide in and the only one who might possibly be able to help. Kano knew she wasn't on the best terms with David, but she was still his daughter. Maybe she could intervene, get him to find someone else to carry out this horrendous deed. Or better yet, get him to reverse his decision and realize it was a mistake. He could talk to Saoirse; she had become a friend. But no, despite being surrounded by the supernatural she was still an innocent, and Nakano couldn't take that away from her. No, Brania was his only hope.
As usual Ghost Girl was lurking about, sulking because she was lonely or bored, and Brania was acting as if she actually enjoyed being in this hellhole. How could anyone enjoy living here? And how could anyone think killing Jean-Paul was a smart idea?
“Because it'll mean my father will forever be in your debt,” Brania reasoned.
That would have made sense if Nakano had wanted a connection. The real problem was he didn't want to be tied to David; he wasn't sure he wanted to be tied to any of his race any longer. “But why me?” Nakano replied. “Your father's got an army of henchmen, bloodthirsty killers who love this sort of thing.”
Brania wasn't surprised that her father was too much of a coward to kill Jean-Paul himself, but she was surprised that he had sealed his fate so quickly. He was obviously a desperate man. Desperate, yes, but also cunning, duplicitous, and quite possibly the most resourceful man she had ever known. “Because Jean-Paul would never suspect you to be his assassin,” Brania replied. “It's quite a brilliant plan actually.”
That was not what Nakano wanted to hear. Bowing his head, he tossed a few tiny rocks against the side of the coffin. “Stop that!” Imogene shouted. “I don't come to your home and throw rocks.”
“This isn't a home. It's a cave!” Nakano shouted.
Staring at Imogene, Nakano thought he found the answer: The entire world had gone insane. A vampire's life was not supposed to be like this; it was supposed to be too good to be true! It wasn't supposed to be filled with questions and repercussions and guilt.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Brania said, reading Kano's mind. “You're only following your master's orders.”
“Then why do I feel sick?” Nakano asked.
The question gave Brania pause. She wanted to tell Kano that he'd get used to the feeling just as she had, but there was no need to admit the things that crowded her own heart; those things were not meant to be shared. “My father must have a very good reason for asking you to do this,” she said, trying to sound as if she didn't know exactly what that reason was. “Jean-Paul must have done something terrible. Perhaps he committed treason or betrayed our race. He must have done something unspeakable to have the mark of death placed on his head.”
That could be true. Nakano had witnessed Jean-Paul's evil side firsthand when he saw the vision of him killing Diego without mercy, compassion, or necessity. It was very possible that he had done something even worse that David had found out about, something that deserved the ultimate punishment. The more he thought about it, however, the more he realized his ambivalence had nothing to do with killing Jean-Paul and everything to do with saving himself. “It's just that ... I've tried hard ... really, bloody hard ... to turn my life around,” Kano cried. “I don't know if I can do this.”
“Kano, you've already killed once before,” Brania said gently. “Will it really make that much difference if you kill again?”
That's why he had come here, so he could hear someone speak the truth out loud, a truth he was too afraid to acknowledge. He was already damned. It wouldn't matter if he were damned twice.
Counting the pebbles he still held in his hand, Nakano replied, “I guess you're right.”
His voice was so resigned, so defeated, Brania almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “I have something that will help you,” she said.
She walked over to the coffin and pulled out the white rose that Rhoswen had given her. It was even more full-bodied than it had been before. “Put this in your pocket and keep it with you at all times,” she instructed, handing Nakano the rose. “And you'll succeed in carrying out our leader's wishes.”

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