Unafraid (38 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unafraid
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Whatever powers this flower possessed, they were pretty remarkable. All Nakano had to do was think
Lead me to Jean-Paul,
and it was as if his legs were walking on their own. Until they picked up speed and began to run, then glide over the land until he wound up at the hideout in Eden.
The last time he had been here he had snuck away from school so he and Jean-Paul could make love. Turns out there really had been no love involved, not from Jean-Paul's point of view anyway. Today, Nakano would be the one with the cold heart. At least he was trying to keep it cold, and he had been doing a good job of it until he heard that unmistakable French accent.
Standing outside, he overheard Jean-Paul's breathy voice and remembered how mesmerized he had been by the sound, how important it had made him feel to know Jean-Paul was talking to him. When he got inside, however, Nakano understood that Jean-Paul's words were now meant for someone else.
“Alexei,” Nakano said, startling the half-dressed couple. “Don't you have a race to swim?”
The Russian picked up his T-shirt from the floor and used it to wipe away some sweat bubbles that had formed above his upper lip. “I medaled already,” he snickered. “Not due back until the team competition in a few hours.”
“Gold?” Nakano asked.
After a pause, Alexei replied, “Bronze.”
Before Kano could make a wisecrack, Jean-Paul spoke. “I 'ear zee only medal you can ween eez for shaking your pom-poms.”
Nakano heard their laughter, but didn't respond to it. He didn't ignore it; he simply used it as fuel, motivation to push him closer toward his goal. “Hello, Jean-Paul,” he said. “You blokes do remember there's a bedroom right upstairs?”
Jean-Paul's lips sloped into an arrogant smile. “We were so 'ungry, we couldn't wait.”
“Well, don't let me stop you,” Kano said, then impressed himself by coming up with a solution to his problem. “Unless you fancy some company.”
What an interesting proposition. Jean-Paul turned to Alexei to see if the boy was just a boy and was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't. “Despite crossing over to Lady Academy, you showed some pretty smashing moves out there in the gym this morning,” Alexei marveled. “Could be fun.”
Nakano couldn't promise that. He couldn't promise anything except that it would be memorable. Fact was he didn't know what was going to happen next. He was no longer thinking, only saying the first thing that popped into his head, and he had no idea if he was in control or if the rose had taken over his mind as well as his body. “I can only promise that it'll be an afternoon you'll never forget.”
“Then what are we waiting for,” Jean-Paul said. “Let's go upstairs.”
Jeremiah's old room was the same, except that it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in over a year. It had always resembled a flophouse, but without any upkeep it had slipped into a further state of decay. Other than the accumulation of dust, there was very little else in the room besides the bed, which was all they really needed anyway. Watching Jean-Paul kiss Alexei, Nakano waited to be gripped by jealousy, hate, something, but nothing came. He watched the passion behind their kisses escalate, but felt no emotion whatsoever. As he had climbed the narrow stairs to the room he had thought he would go ballistic seeing the two of them become intimate with each other, but he had been wrong. Might be for the best—he wouldn't be distracted by his feelings and could focus on carrying out David's orders.
His heart remained steady when he felt Jean-Paul's hand on the back of his neck push him toward Alexei. His heart rate didn't increase when he felt their lips touch, when their tongues flicked against each other. It was as if it was all happening to someone else. But it wasn't; it was happening to him, and he had to grab hold of his mind and his feelings before they floated away completely and weren't retrievable. If he was going to do this, he had to take responsibility for his actions. He might be a soldier, carrying out a direct order, but he also had a choice.
He could feel Alexei's hands on his body. He just didn't think about them; he thought about his options. Maybe he could defy David's command and run far from Double A, become a fugitive. But how realistic was that? David could track him down wherever he ran to or instruct one of his minions to hunt him down and kill him for his disobedience. No, Nakano wasn't thrilled with his life, but he wasn't suicidal. He only had one choice, the one David had given to him. The one he had given to him without explanation.
How could anyone who was able to kiss this well do something that would warrant a death penalty? It was ludicrous. Jean-Paul's lips tasted the same, sweet and soft, in stark contrast to his rough beard, and his long tongue had its own lazy rhythm. All the incredible times they had spent together rushed back, and Nakano remembered why he had fallen in love with Jean-Paul in the first place. The only thing that seemed off was his laugh. That didn't make sense. Why was he laughing?
“I'm sorry, Kano,” Jean-Paul said as he clutched his stomach and rolled back onto the bed. His open shirt fell to the side and exposed his smooth, lean chest and the thin, vertical line of black hair that started just below his bellybutton. He looked beautiful, but his appearance was truly the only beautiful thing about him. “I can't do theese,” Jean-Paul said, howling with laughter. “You are, 'ow do you say? Yes, making me seeck.”
Nakano was the only one who didn't think it was a funny thing to say. Alexei cracked up and fell back onto the bed, his head resting next to Jean-Paul's. “You're like that leetle peeg,” Jean-Paul continued. “That fat peeg Diego.”
Finally the feelings that Nakano had been ignoring burst inside his heart like a balloon that was filled with too much air. He fell forward onto the bed, his head dangling, and heard something release from his lips, like a groan. There were no words, only sound. The mattress was dipping slightly from the sudden extra weight, and Nakano's forehead pressed against the sheets as he slowly started to punch the bed. Once, twice, so many times that he lost count. He had no idea how he looked, and he didn't care. Jean-Paul and Alexei, however, thought he was putting on one hilarious show.
Rolling onto his side, Alexei shouted, “Somebody toss the pig some pom-poms!”
Jean-Paul wailed and started banging the bed with his fist, mocking Nakano. When he caught his breath, he begged, “Now squeal for us, leetle peeg! We want to 'ear you squeal!”
“Sorry,” Nakano replied. “This little piggy would rather kill.”
Reaching inside his jacket Nakano whipped out a wooden stake that he had whittled from a thick branch he had found in The Forest. A second later, the laughter had stopped.
Kano's empty black eyes stared into Jean-Paul's frightened irises, and he watched them grow, aware that Jean-Paul believed his life was coming to an end. But Jean-Paul was not ready to give up. As Nakano raised his arm, Jean-Paul grabbed Alexei and used him as a human shield, and when Kano's arm slashed through the air he didn't have enough time to stop the movement. The stake that was meant for Jean-Paul rammed straight into Alexei's heart.
As the unlucky Russian burst into flames, Jean-Paul rolled to one side and Kano jumped to the other, both shielding their eyes from the sudden explosion. The only thing that separated the two were bright red, billowing wisps of flame, outlined in black, that crackled and licked the air. And then there was nothing but a pile of ash.
“Sacre bleu!” Jean-Paul screamed in his native tongue as he scrambled to his knees. “Murderer!”
“Now who's squealing like a leetle peeg?” Nakano asked.
Speechless, Jean-Paul reached for the edge of the bed so he could stand up, but only succeeded in grabbing the sheets. He lost his footing and fell backward as the sheets and Alexei's disintegrated body fell on top of him.
“Merde!”
Jean-Paul shrieked, brushing the ash off of him wildly. “You weel burn in 'ell for theese. David weel see to eet!”
“And who do you think ordered your death?”
A wave of shock washed over Jean-Paul's face. “That ees a lie!” Jean-Paul spat, finally standing and facing Nakano. “My father would never send you to keel 'is only son.”
His son? Jean-Paul is David's son! That can't be true.
Brania would've said something. She must know Jean-Paul was her brother. Nakano stumbled back as Jean-Paul moved toward him. As twisted as it sounded, Nakano knew Jean-Paul spoke the truth. But how could a father order his own son's execution? Nakano's own father despised him, but Nakano could never imagine he would place a price on his head. How could David do such a thing? And why had he been put in the middle of it all?
“You're David's son?” Nakano asked.
“Yes,” Jean-Paul replied. “And I weell see to eet that you suffer for what you 'ave done 'ere today!”
But Nakano wasn't finished. As Jean-Paul reached out to grab the stake from Kano's sweaty hand, the white rose vibrated in the boy's pocket. Before Kano could comprehend what was happening, Jean-Paul slipped on the fallen bedspread, his body lurching forward, and he clutched Kano's shoulders. They both looked down at the same time and saw that the stake had found a second target.
In an instant Jean-Paul's beautiful face was gone, replaced by a ball of fire. Then just black soot. As the ash smoldered at his feet, Nakano pulled the crumbled rose out from his pocket and watched it bloom to life. “Brania was right about you,” he remarked, before tucking it back for safe keeping. Who knew when he'd need that kind of luck again?
 
When Nakano walked into David's office a few minutes before midnight, he didn't acknowledge the headmaster, but went directly for the geisha's ornate box. It really would make the perfect urn. He opened up the brown paper bag he was carrying and emptied the contents inside of it. Closing the lid, he presented it to David.
Outside, the cheers continued, the students still reveling in Double A's gold medal victory in the Team of the Year competition. Inside, the celebration was much more subdued.
“You have done well,” he said, his voice thick, but too in shock to cry.
“I'll expect my reward shortly,” Kano replied.
As he left the room he couldn't help but smile. David had no idea his treasured souvenir actually contained Alexei's ashes. The bag that had been filled with Jean-Paul's remains was floating somewhere in the polluted water of the Eden sewer system. Nakano couldn't think of a more perfect resting place for the bastard.
chapter 28
O feathered wings that soar above this land that we call home.
Immortal creatures filled with love protect us as we roam.
Throughout this earth and back again over land and sea, guide us so we may return where we were born to be.
This hallowed ground, our resting place, Archangel Academy.
When David finished singing the school's anthem he felt his shoulder blades twitch. His own wings were eager to present themselves, eager to come out of hiding and show the assembled crowd indisputable proof that David was and would always be their unrivaled leader. Looking at the sea of faces staring at him, the blank expressions of those who had gathered in his office, David thought they could use a jolt, a reminder that they existed only to carry out his bidding, but now wasn't the time for exhibitionism, now was the time for action.
“By the end of today's Tri-Centennial Celebration, I will have destroyed The Well!” David announced.
Morgandy's whooping cheer would have sounded more raucous if it had had company.
“Haven't we stumbled down this road before, David?” Vaughan's question lingered in the air for several seconds before David corralled his instinct to kill and decided to respond.
“This time ...
Vaughan,
” he began, “I will use one of their own to help secure victory.”
Lips pursed, Vaughan felt the air slowly exhale from his nostrils as his fingers gripped the side of the leather armchair. He desperately wanted to ask David who he was using, which water vamp was going to act as his unwitting accomplice, but as Michael's father he knew it was a question David expected him to ask. As much as Vaughan wanted to know, he didn't want to give David the satisfaction. Luckily, Morgandy was as inquisitive as he was enthusiastic.
“Is it Ciaran?” Morgandy asked. “Did one of his stupid experiments finally work?”
“Ciaran is human, you bloody fool!” David howled. “And an utter disappointment. Like all humans, he has proven he is useless. His mother, however, is a different story.”
“Edwige?” Vaughan hoped his voice didn't sound as shocked as he thought it did.
“Do you disapprove Vaughan?” David asked.
Vaughan wasn't thrilled to know David was going to use his significant other, but at least David wasn't using his son. “It's an excellent choice,” he said.
Satisfied, David turned his attention to the rest of the group. He needed to rally them, make them understand how important today was, how their lives were about to change forever. “Once that exquisite milestone is achieved, I will give the command for you to kill as many water vamps as you can,” he said. “Spread out, seek, strike, and slay.” He loved how his words sounded, the deep, strong tenor of his voice. “Then we will scour the world and give every water vamp we capture a choice: convert or be killed.”
This time when Morgandy cheered, Oliver and several others joined him. David's fervor was starting to catch on like a restless flame, though there were still some less than enthusiastic dissenters in the room. “We seem to be missing an important member of our flock,” Joubert said, then asked, “Where's Jean-Paul?”
Finally, Nakano heard something interesting. He stared at the geisha's gift-turned-urn perched on the desk behind David and wondered what strategy the headmaster would employ. Would he reveal the truth and present Nakano with his reward in front of this group of fools? Or would he offer up some cryptic response?
“Jean-Paul,” David said, almost choking on his dead son's name, “is exactly where I need him to be.”
Score one for the cryptic response. But wait, maybe not so cryptic. David's eyes betrayed him, and he stole a guilty glance at the urn. It was quick, but obvious, and it was enough to convince Joubert that his friend wasn't missing, that Jean-Paul was dead. Furious, Joubert wanted someone to pay; he wanted revenge. Brania simply wanted a response.
“Should I interpret your tardiness to mean you were not successful, Father?”
No one heard Brania's silent query, but everyone saw the sneer form on David's face. His daughter wasn't even in the room, yet she was still controlling the situation. Speaking for the group, Oliver asked, “Is something wrong, Headmaster?”
Flustered by so many questions, David barked, “I have another matter to attend to!” But just as he reached the door, he realized he had been too hasty in his exit, and Jean-Paul was not exactly where he needed him to be. Walking back to his desk, he grabbed Jean-Paul's final resting place and, ignoring the puzzled looks of everyone in the room, he left.
Cradling the urn in his arms like an infant, David walked from his office and through The Forest, into areas he had never ventured into before as he followed Brania's voice. Now that she had decided to reconnect, the barriers were broken, and David was being given access to her secret lair. It enraged David that he had become a plaything to his daughter's whims. He should know where all of his subjects resided. No one should keep secrets from him. But he kept reminding himself that even kings had to suffer hardships to solidify their power. Entering the cave, he took in the prehistoric dwelling, the child sitting in the coffin as if it were a rowboat, and thought that if he had to stay here for more than a few minutes it might prove to be one hardship that even a compromised king like himself would be unable to bear. “I hope utilities are included, my dear,” David quipped. “There seems to be quite a draft in here.”
Brania gnashed the loose gravel with her heel as she fought the urge to walk toward her father. She might have allowed him entry to her home, but he was not a guest who needed to be greeted formally. He was a courier. “While your sophomoric observation
is
amusing,” she said, “I'd much prefer my gift.”
Reluctantly, David presented the box to her. His hands shook as he realized he was offering one of his children to the other, and he felt his anger build. He prayed that she would come forward and take her prize before he lost control of his fury and smashed it on the ground at her feet.
You wanted your brother's ashes, well here they are!
No! No, he couldn't do that to Jean-Paul. He had already taken his son's life; he couldn't take his dignity as well. David raised the urn even higher. “Your brother's remains,” he said solemnly. “Per your request.”
As expected Nakano proved to have more guts than her father. So much was going through Brania's head when she walked toward David, she was surprised she didn't topple over. She was livid and wanted to call David out for his cowardice, for once again making a child do the work of a parent; she was remorseful and wanted to tell Nakano she was sorry for convincing him to do her father's dirty work; there was even a part of her that was ashamed that she had allowed her jealousy of Jean-Paul to lead her to orchestrate his death. But when she took the lid off of the box and the intoxicating odor of death enveloped her, she was proud. She had gotten what she deserved: she was an only child once more. “Bravo, Daddy,” Brania cooed. “All is right with the world.”
“Not quite,” David snapped. “Not until you take me to The Well as you promised.”
“Well, you see, that's really not up to me,” Brania replied, placing the urn on a small flattened rock that jutted out from the wall. “It's up to Imogene.”
“Who!?”
“She's talking about me.”
Turning to face Imogene, who was lounging in the coffin, David could no longer conceal his fury. “I'm through playing games with you, Brania!” David spat, his fists clenched and shaking violently. “I held up my end of our bargain. It's time that you held up yours!!”
“You outsourced your chore!” Brania cried. “Proving once again that you are incapable of ruling our race!” Reveling in her father's flummoxed look, Brania slowly walked toward him again. This time her mind wasn't jumbled. Only one thought permeated her brain: how wonderful it was going to be to strip her father of every ounce of his power. “When our people realize you have failed
yet again
to destroy The Well and that this insane quest of yours for total supremacy is archaic and untenable, they will look for a new leader! They will look to me! They will expect and
beg
your only heir to take over and wear the crown that no longer fits your head!!”
It was an articulate speech and a persuasive argument, but Imogene wasn't listening. “Noooo!!!!”
Whipping around, Brania cried, “Not now!”
“It's Edwige,” Imogene gasped. “She's feeding!”
Rushing to Imogene's side, David growled, “If you treasure your pitiful life, you'll take me to her now!”
On Imogene's other side, Brania seethed. “No, Imogene! Our plans have changed!”
Defiantly, Imogene grabbed them both, and then together, they all disappeared.
 
One by one the kids started to appear, forming clusters all around campus. Some were still chattering on about yesterday's major swim team win, which happened even though Alexei never showed up for the final relay, while others were excited about the Tri-Centennial Celebration and were bowled over when they realized Double A had been in existence for three centuries. Michael and Ronan met up with Ciaran and Saoirse outside St. Martha's and were hoping to enjoy themselves, but experience had taught them that if David organized an event, fun would not be on the schedule. But it was clear that Rhoswen's arrival had unnerved David. Maybe it had distracted him enough to just let the event unfold properly, as the drama-free festivity it was supposed to be.
Taking one long sip of her iced mocha, Saoirse did a pirouette and scoured the grounds. “Has anyone seen Kanosan?”
“Is he your new GBFF?” Ciaran replied.
Stopping abruptly and immediately bending into second position, clearly in the throes of a caffeine rush, Saoirse said, “Spell it out, Ciaran my boyo.”
“Gay best friend forever,” he explained.
Jumping up and down in a way that would shame even a beginner ballerina, Saoirse cried, “That's brill! Somebody write that down and mail it to the people who make up new words. No, no, no! E-mail it, 'cause e-mail's faster.”
Ronan silenced his sister by grabbing her drink out of her hands. “Looks like someone needs to switch to decaf.”
“Give it back, Roney!” she yelled. “The barista forgot to add a shot of blood, so you're not going to like it.”
Shaking his head, Ronan handed Saoirse back her coffee. Maybe the day was just going to be filled with laughs and nonsense. The way Michael looked, it was clear he didn't share his boyfriend's opinion. “Try not to worry, love,” Ronan said, rubbing the warm center of Michael's neck. “Until, you know, there's something to worry about.” On cue, Vaughan emerged from behind the building. “Which,” Ronan finished, “would be right about now.”
“Dad!” Michael shouted. “What are you doing here?” Looking over his shoulder, Vaughan realized it wouldn't be wise to carry on a conversation with his son and his son's friends out in the open. “Come with me,” he said, leading the group to the Dumpsters behind St. Martha's.
“The smell is goppin'!” Saoirse said, getting a whiff of the odor of rotting food wafting from inside the metal containers. “All those in favor of reconvening elsewhere, raise your hand.”
Before she could raise her arm, Ronan grabbed it. “Cut it out, Seersh,” he ordered. “What's going on, Mr. Howard?”
“David is planning to destroy The Well,” Vaughn said. “You have to get there to stop him.”
“Oh, come on,” Ronan scoffed. “He's tried it before and failed.”
“That was my first thought too, but this time he's using one of your own,” Vaughan replied, his heart starting to race a bit faster. “He's using Edwige.”
Ronan didn't have to speak; Michael understood. Despite the fact that he was estranged from his mother, she was still his mother, and if David was using her to get to The Well, then she was in danger. They had no choice but to try and protect her. The only doubt Michael had was what role Vaughan was playing. “Why are you helping us?” he asked.
“Because I'm your father.” Vaughan's declaration surprised everyone, including Grace, who was never far from her son. His words, however, filled her with relief. Her ex-husband might be sinful and at best a complete jerk, but he still loved their son, and for that she was grateful. So grateful that she allowed Vaughan to see her smiling at him for a split second, just enough time so he knew she was watching him, time enough to make sure he kept his word. He understood.
“Hurry!” Vaughan ordered.
Michael didn't move. He remembered Phaedra's warning that wherever Rhoswen went, death would follow. He had no idea where Rhoswen was, but he could smell death as clearly as if its scent was floating on the wind. “You'll protect Ciaran and Saoirse,” he said. “In case anything goes wrong.”

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