Unwelcome (18 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unwelcome
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“Yes, I have because somebody's got to protect the students!”
What? Ronan watched MacCleery's face even more closely. There was something else going on with him. He wasn't just suspicious of David, he was scared. If there was one emotion that Ronan could identify, it was fear. “Protect us from what, Dr. MacCleery?” Ronan quietly asked.
Getting up from his chair, the doctor waved away Ronan's query. “Nothing.” But he suddenly felt Alistair's spirit as if his old friend was in the room with him. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and felt Alistair's crumpled-up note, the note that he always carried with him, and the words wouldn't remain silent any longer; they could no longer remain his own personal property. They had to be shared. “Because there's evil here. Right in this school, there's evil, and it has something to do with Zachary! I know it, I can feel it, I just can't explain it, goddamit! But you can!” Now MacCleery was pacing the four corners of the room, without direction, only the need to keep moving. He clutched the note harder, his fist striking against his thigh inside his pocket. “I've always known there was something wrong with you, Ronan. I don't know what it is, but I know that you're connected to this man and that you're connected to whatever evil thing he's brought here!”
Fighting the impulse to show the doctor just how evil he could become, Ronan remained still, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh and foreboding. “You have no idea the danger you're putting yourself into, do you?”
The doctor jumped at him so quickly, with such satisfaction, Ronan flinched. “You do know something you're not telling me!”
There was no more room for pretense, even if the doctor didn't know the truth about who and what Ronan was, he was never going to change his opinion about him, he was never going to think that he was nothing more than trouble, someone who couldn't be trusted, so it didn't matter what he said to the man. However, with his hand on the doorknob, he was compelled to give him a warning before he left. “I suggest you forget all about your bloody investigation and concentrate on your cushy job,” Ronan said. “You can't help any of us if you're dead.”
“I'm trying to help Alistair!”
“Trust me, Lochlan,” a new voice said, “Alistair no longer needs anyone's help.”
Seeing Nurse Radcliff standing in the doorway—the snow gently falling behind her, her long hair pulled back in a bun, her little nurse's cap perched on top of her head—should have been a comforting sight, but instead it frightened Ronan.
This night has been out of control,
he thought to himself,
even for me.
“You'll keep an eye on Phaedra?” Ronan asked.
“I won't leave her side,” MacCleery declared.
Nodding to the nurse, Ronan left, eager to be out of their company. Now that it was just the two of them, the doctor thought he could relax, but something was wrong. Maybe he was still riled up from his argument with Ronan, or maybe he didn't like being spied on. “Were you listening from the other side of the door?”
Hanging her coat on the hook that jutted out from the wall, Nurse Radcliff sat behind her desk. “Why on earth would I do that?”
Lochlan shook his head and mumbled something. He was definitely tired, but he wasn't imagining things. He saw her there, when Ronan opened the door, just for an instant and she looked like she had been caught. And he heard her, he heard what she said. “What did you mean, Alistair doesn't need anybody's help?”
Turning on her computer, Radcliff sighed. Clearly she was more interested in getting her desk in order than she was answering the doctor's questions. “Obviously the man wasn't happy here and wanted a new life,” she said. “Doesn't take a detective to figure out that he doesn't need help, especially from anyone who reminds him of his past.”
Logical, yes, but also disturbing. In fact, so was her presence. “What are you doing here anyway? It's three in the morning.”
Glowering, Radcliff consciously softened her expression. “Another bout with insomnia,” she said. “I saw the lights on and figured you were having another emergency.”
A plausible explanation, but still it left the doctor unsettled. He explained that Ronan had brought in Phaedra and that she was resting comfortably now. “Then I'll stay overnight to watch the girl,” the nurse declared. “Sleep will be an elusive friend for me this evening, I'm afraid.”
Lochlan couldn't explain it, but he didn't want her here.
Oh, for God's sake,
he thought,
enough with these feelings, these emotions.
They were going to send him to the crazy farm. “I'm going to stay with the girl,” he declared. “Stay, go home, do whatever you want.” Just as he was about to enter the peace and quiet of the examination room, he thought of something else. “How are you doing any work without your glasses?”
Laughing, Nurse Radcliff tossed a file from one pile to another. “I was wondering when you'd notice. I had LASIK surgery last week. Remember I was out for a few days?”
The doctor didn't remember, but he no longer cared. Everywhere he looked, the whole world was changing. No, that really wasn't the problem, the problem was, he wasn't looking in the right places.
When he closed the door behind him, Nurse Radcliff pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, the marks were still there. She thought they would heal on their own by now, but she was wrong. She tried not to judge herself too harshly, she was new, she was bound to make mistakes, she was bound to not be perfect. She thought for a second and then remembered what David had taught her. David always knew best, that man knew everything. She held her arm closer to her mouth and let her tongue slither out over her lips, past her chin, until it touched her wounded flesh, the flesh that had been disfigured by that disgusting water vamp. She licked the gnarled skin with her long, narrow tongue and allowed her saliva—what did David call it? Yes, her
preternatural
saliva—to accumulate and soak into the gash.
When the whole wound was covered, she raised her head and heard a noise like someone squishing raw, moist meat between their hands. The sound grew louder and she was proud to see her unblemished flesh bubble slightly at its edge and grow, extend, conceal the wound until her arm was once again smooth and unscarred. She had been so eager to prove her worth to Father that she had been a little bit careless. She might be a new disciple, but she understood very clearly the need to rid Archangel Academy of all water vamps. She took out the handkerchief from her purse, the white one with the embroidered lilacs and several stains of Michael's blood. She didn't know why Father had wanted samples of the boy's blood, but it wasn't her place to question His motives. All she needed to do was carry out his requests.
chapter 11
The Ending
 
Outside, the earth was changing.
Speeding across campus, Michael looked down and saw that the ground was mostly green underneath his feet. The color was hardly vibrant, more like a mixture of moss and dirt, but at least the widespread patches of snow were gone. February had brought with it an unexpected flurry of springlike temperatures, enough to help Double A thaw out, temporarily, from winter's clutch. No one knew how long it would last, but until the next, inevitable ice storm struck, this reprieve was a welcome change.
As they ran past the Archangel Academy entrance gate, Ronan first, Michael a few strides behind, neither one of them felt the bursts of electricity that were designed to prohibit intruders from entering or willful students from leaving the school grounds. Such deterrents couldn't hold them back, not on a typical morning and especially not on a morning when they needed to feed.
Watching Ronan sprint across the countryside, his broad back becoming a blur, Michael wondered where they would wind up and who would be waiting for them. “I found the perfect location,” Ronan had said and so Michael was letting him lead the way, as he always did. Each month was the same: Ronan led and Michael followed; it simply seemed more natural that way. For now at least.
A mile or two outside of Double A the terrain started to become less smooth, more rugged, gone was the flat campus and in its place an untamed countryside. Where was Ronan taking them? They hadn't fed as a couple very often, but usually they went to a house in a poor neighborhood to feast on an elder who was brought home to die or to a hospital where they could choose from an array of patients, all of whom were within minutes, sometimes seconds, of dying. This was different. They seemed to be going away from civilization instead of into its heart. But, Michael reminded himself, Ronan had never let him down before when he was hungry, so there was no reason to suspect he would start now. And he was right.
When they reached a cluster of oak trees in an expanse of flat land, they stopped. Ronan positioned himself behind the immense trunk of one of the trees and silently beckoned for Michael to join him, but to do so quietly. Curious, Michael quickly ran next to Ronan without making a sound, anxious to find out why they had come to a place that didn't seem to contain any human life. Smiling proudly like a father on Christmas morning, Ronan turned Michael around so he was standing in front of him and placed an arm around his chest, his hand resting on his shoulder. Ronan's lips brushed against Michael's ear when he whispered, “Look.”
Straight ahead, all Michael could see was an old-fashioned extension bridge made of thick rope and a narrow row of rectangular slats of wood that seemed to levitate over an unexpected quarry. The bridge wasn't terribly long, but was necessary since the excavation ran the length of a mile in both directions and was at least five stories deep. Michael couldn't believe he had never seen it before, it was such an extraordinarily beautiful creation, breathtaking. It even made him forget about the hunger pains stabbing at the back of his throat.
The cliffs on both sides were smooth and seemed to angle inward. He imagined it was possible to climb down one side and then up the other but, on second thought, realized it would be challenging for even an expert rock climber. No, the bridge really was the only way to get from one side to the other, though it wasn't what could be called a desirable means of transportation. Even now in the stillness of the predawn air, it was swaying left to right. “Look closer,” Ronan said, reading Michael's thoughts. When he did, Michael saw that the bridge wasn't swaying because of the wind, it was swaying because someone was walking across it.
The woman was looking straight ahead, every one of her steps deliberate as she planted her foot squarely in the center of each wooden plank, holding on to the ropes tightly until she reached the center of the bridge and stopped. Squinting, Michael could see her shoulders rise and fall several times as if she were breathing deeply, perhaps to find the courage to walk the rest of the way or turn around and go back. Watching her intently, Michael never expected her to turn to the right, lift the ropes over her head, and stand on the edge of one of the planks with nothing separating her from the open air. It was clear that she had no intention of crossing the bridge. She was poised to jump off of it.
“I took a chance,” Ronan explained. “I've followed her three times this month, but she's never gotten this far before.” He threw his other arm around Michael's waist, fully embracing him from behind, and rubbed his cheek against Michael's forehead. “I had a feeling we'd get lucky this morning.”
Despite knowing that he was watching a woman on the verge of suicide, Michael felt his heart race, his breathing quicken. He knew he should feel sorry for her, empathize with her situation and the desperate state she must be in, but all he could think about was that his body was practically blood-empty and he needed to replenish.
“Get ready,” Ronan commanded.
The woman leaned forward, the bridge bending and dipping as her body extended as far as it could without her hands letting go of the rope. Her movement was met with silence, birds didn't chirp, the wind didn't stir. It was as if the world were giving this woman a few uninterrupted moments to conjure her strength to finally do what she had come here so many times to do. When she looked down, Michael watched her face intently, searching for fear, doubt to creep into her eyes, but none came. Whatever the woman saw, whatever she felt, didn't appear to provoke an expression. Until she looked up. Seeing the sun beginning to rise, a smile slowly grew on her face. Michael was relieved; he understood that she was happy.
Ronan telepathically instructed Michael not to hesitate but to follow him when he moved. Less than a second after the woman let go of the ropes and jumped into the waiting air, Ronan and Michael raced forward, appearing to be as airborne as she was. They were three people suspended, separated, until they were one.
Halfway between the bridge and the jagged rocks, the woman stopped falling.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen,
she thought. She was supposed to feel freedom and then nothing; she wasn't supposed to be interrupted by two angels. She looked from one face to the other and she couldn't decide which was more beautiful, the black-haired angel or the angel whose hair was the same shade as the rising sun. It didn't matter, they had come for her, just as she hoped they would; they had merely come earlier than expected.
As if in slow motion the three bodies, connected as one, began to descend. Ronan bit into her neck first. Her blood tasted sweet as it rushed past his lips, eager to escape its doomed host, her cry of ecstasy swallowed up by the imposing landscape that surrounded them. When Ronan released his fangs, Michael penetrated the other side of the woman's neck. Again she cried, again the sound was muffled by the stones and rock. As her glorious blood flowed through Michael's body, he felt weightless. He clamped his mouth down harder on her neck as he felt his legs rise behind him until they were almost over his head. He closed his eyes, images of the stranger's life bombarding his brain, and he knew he should stop drinking, but her blood was truly splendid. He stopped only when he felt Ronan's fingers intertwine with his.
Looking over at Ronan's face, Michael saw that the fresh blood was already beginning to have an effect on his boyfriend. Ronan's skin was glowing, his eyes were shining with more intensity than the sun. When Ronan's bloodstained lips smiled, no words formed, but Michael heard him clearly.
Yes, Ronan, let's both take the blood that this woman no longer wants.
Just as their feet were about to touch the ground, Michael and Ronan pierced the woman's flesh at the same time, causing her to writhe with such pleasure and joy that the three of them were lifted up, up, up into the air. The boys responded to the unexpected jolt by holding on to each other tighter, pressing themselves even closer into the woman, and jamming their fangs even deeper into her neck in order to drain every remaining drop of blood from her body until it went limp. Her role in their monthly ceremony complete, the boys gently placed her on the top of a large boulder, exactly where she had hoped to land.
His temples vibrating, his vision hazy, Michael kissed the woman's forehead and thanked her, not only for her blood but for helping him to understand his mother better. He would never fully comprehend why Grace chose to end her life, but now he knew that there was the possibility, the chance, that her choice was not made out of desperation, not as a means to escape some unimaginable horror, but as a way to find happiness. Until proven otherwise, he was going to believe that his mother's face had looked like this woman's when she gazed into the rising sun. He was going to believe she had, for one final moment, been happy.
Just as happy as he was, in fact, to once again kneel before The Well. Gripping the cool curved stone, Michael felt Ronan's hand cover his and a beam of warm energy flooded his naked body. The vibrations emanating from the stone intensified and soon their hands and feet widened as the webbing grew, their fangs sharpened and extended even further past their lips, their entire bodies seemed to lengthen, and they were no longer two teenagers, they were descendants of an ancient race.
Each boy dipped a webbed hand into the clear liquid within The Well of Atlantis and brought their hands together as one, raising them high over their heads. Speaking in unison, they recited the prayer:
Unto The Well I give our life
our bodies' blood that makes us whole.
We vow to honor and protect
and ask The Well to house our souls.
In response, The Well hummed louder, its vibrations intensifying, the sound embracing both boys until it grew so loud, there could be only silence. When there was no more sound, a light grew from beneath the liquid and propelled upward from the center of The Well, and for a moment Michael was frightened. He thought yet another one of his dreams was going to come true and a grotesque face would reveal itself in the sacred fluid, but he was wrong, The Well was simply communicating with them. Ronan had told him that while the ceremony never varied, The Well's response sometimes could, as it did now.
Sunlight glistened on the walls of the cave, and Michael was reminded of the first time he had stood before the stained-glass window of Archangel Cathedral and it had looked as if tiny rays of light were showering down upon him. That's how he felt now, bathed in heavenly light, only now was better because now he was standing next to Ronan.
Bowing their heads, they drank from their hands, drank The Well's offering and immediately felt it combine with the blood that was flowing through their bodies. Michael was amazed that the feeling was even more exquisite than the first time he'd experienced it. He had thought he would grow used to the sensation, but that was not the case. Each time he drank from The Well was like the first, like each time he looked into Ronan's eyes. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, Michael grabbed the back of Ronan's neck and pulled him down until his lips met his. He just needed to feel their warmth, their tenderness, and Ronan willingly obliged. Even with their eyes closed, they could feel the burst of yellow light that suddenly exploded throughout the cave, and it was definite: The Well truly approved of their union.
His eyes still closed, his lips still pressing against Michael's, Ronan spoke, his voice deep and honest. “I wish we could stay here all day, love, just like this.” Michael couldn't find the words to respond, so he simply kissed his boyfriend deeper, let his webbed hands caress the strong muscles of his lower back. He didn't want to waste any time talking before they had to get back to school. “But Volman's giving a Latin test first period,” Ronan said. “And after this feeding, I'm feeling right jammy.”
Michael smiled. Ronan and his Britishisms. “Well, I hope my luck holds out too. Father Fazio expects me to know something about a triangular theorem, and right now all I can think about is you.”
Ronan knew exactly how Michael felt, but he also knew that their new power required discipline. “Use The Well's energy to focus on whatever task he throws at you,” Ronan advised. “It will never fail you.” Michael knew that made logical sense, but why should he have to focus on stupid math problems when all he wanted to do was focus on how good Ronan felt and how delicious he tasted? When the light in the cave receded and the shadows started to cling to the sides of the walls, Michael knew it was time to leave, time to return to reality. When he opened the door to his dorm room, he knew reality had changed.
 
“Saoirse!” Ronan exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Propped up on their bed was one of the most beautiful girls Michael had ever seen. Young but ravishing, with light emanating from her just as it had from The Well. He was so startled by her alluring presence that it wasn't until she spoke that he realized who she was. “Oh, come on! Is that any way to greet your baby sister?”
“Saoirse!” Michael exclaimed. “You're Ronan's sister.”
Oh my God, he is so much cuter than Nakano!
“And you must be Michael,” she responded, jumping off the bed, “Roney's new boyfriend.” Stopping in mid-motion Saoirse readjusted her approach. She tossed back her head, which gave her long, straight blond hair a bounce, and a ray of light swept the room.
Wow, his eyes are even greener than mine,
she thought.
I wonder if he noticed too? Oh, stop it, stop staring and say something, do something so you don't come off like a two-year-old.
“It's so good to see you again, Roney!” she squealed. Then forgetting about her previous instructions, she practically leapt into Ronan's arms, surprising them both.

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