Unwelcome (27 page)

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Authors: Michael Griffo

BOOK: Unwelcome
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God, how long has it been since we've just sat together and laughed,
Ronan thought. “I'd have given them three days before they ditched the books and went on a shopping spree.”
“Do you know my stepmum homeschools her brats?” Ciaran asked. Ronan shook his head, he didn't know that. He knew very little about Ciaran's other family, except that they were even crazier than most of the adults he knew. “And to them a shopping spree is going into the sewing room to make their own clothes!”
Ciaran fell back onto the bed hysterical. His laughter was infectious, but Ronan didn't just find the statement funny, he found it unusual too. Ciaran never talked about those people; the subject was typically taboo. “I'm, um, surprised to hear you say that.”
Sitting up, Ciaran shrugged his shoulders. “It's just the two of us, Rone, why lie? Why make things seem better than they are?” Honest communication between the two half brothers, suddenly Ronan was all for that. “My stepfamily is just as bloody mental as this one, maybe more so,” Ciaran professed. “Did you know that when my father took my stepmother and fled London to settle in Devil's Bridge, he thought that name was ironic, not symbolic?”
Mouth open, Ronan didn't know how to respond, but for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel the need to apologize, nor did he think Ciaran was bringing up the subject to make him feel guilty. It was just a fact that the two boys shared. “Maybe it's parenthood,” Ronan mused. “Once you have a kid, you lose a wee bit of your mind.”
“C'mon, mate, you know it's more than that,” Ciaran said flatly. “I was born because my father raped our mother and then he made things worse by murdering your dad. It's no coincidence he wound up in a place called Devil's Bridge.”
And that could explain why Ronan rarely hung out with Ciaran, the conversation often stumbled into a dark, unpleasant, and brutally honest place. Forcing himself not to accept the ugly images that were forming in his mind or lash out at his brother for the crimes of his father, Ronan chose to keep his tone light. “That's a right bleak proclamation, mate.”
Yes, it was, but Ciaran didn't want to backtrack; he didn't want to cover up the past with an empty platitude. “It's our truth, Ronan,” he said. “Might not be proper to say in mixed company, but between the two of us, there shouldn't be any secrets.”
Now, that was an interesting proposition and one that Ronan immediately accepted, but for purely selfish reasons—if he could learn to be completely honest with his brother, perhaps he could learn to be completely honest with his boyfriend. “No, there shouldn't,” Ronan agreed. And then he decided to put their new agreement to a test. “Shouldn't you be in your lab right now performing some incredibly difficult, yet boring, experiments?”
“Yes,” Ciaran replied. “But trust me, my lab work is hardly boring.” Ciaran knew that Ronan wasn't interested in science so there was no chance he would ask what his experiments were about. If he did, he would tell him he was trying to find out why Saoirse was so unique and if Michael's blood contained any information that could help David. He meant what he said, he didn't want there to be any secrets between them. However, he believed that some secrets should be kept hidden for as long as possible. Ignoring the fact that he was splitting hairs with a sharp and very hypocritical knife, Ciaran changed the subject. “So you want to skip class and hang out for a while?”
Why not? Ronan thought. Ciaran was proving to be a lot more interesting and unpredictable than any of his professors. So as two family members grew closer, two others prepared to widen the gap between them.
 
Edwige appreciated minimalism, but sitting in Sister Mary Elizabeth's office, she felt the nun had taken the esthetic to the extreme. The four walls, painted a dull gray, the color of an overcast sky, were bare except for a small holy water font near the door and one thin, gold cross that hung over the sister's plain, wooden desk. Facing the nun's work space, Edwige and Saoirse sat in two wooden chairs, not decorative or comfortable, and to their right was the only window, unadorned, no curtains, no shutters, no cosmetic treatment whatsoever. Of course cleanliness could be next to godliness, Edwige thought, when there was absolutely nothing to clean.
“Your daughter's academic record is quite good,” Sister Mary Elizabeth remarked. “Some disconcerting questions, however, are raised in her personal file.”
Before Edwige could put a spin on Saoirse's colorful past, her daughter raised her sleeve to reveal the cuts on her arm. “You mean these, Sister?”
Suddenly, Edwige and the nun had something in common, they were both shocked. “Well, yes, dear,” Sister Mary Elizabeth said. “Why would you do such a thing to yourself?”
Saoirse didn't want to lie to the nun; she wasn't that disrespectful, but if she told her the truth, she figured Edwige would kill them both. In this instance, lying was definitely the more honorable route. “Sister, I know it looks bad, but it really was a harmless prank.”
“Self-mutilation can hardly be considered harmless or a prank,” the nun replied. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Would you consent to counseling?”
If it means not having to be homeschooled by my mum, sign me up.
“Yes,” Saoirse said. “Not that I need counseling, but, you know, so you can all see that I'm perfectly normal and this was just a dumb joke that got out of hand.”
Doubtful that Saoirse was telling the truth, Sister Mary Elizabeth was at least grateful she would accept counseling. The way her mother was sitting, the disinterested aura she was putting forth, it was clear the girl would not be getting any help from her. “Then I see no reason why you shouldn't become the newest student at St. Anne's,” the nun declared.
“And may I be the first to welcome you.”
The three of them were startled when they heard the voice, but once they realized the voice belonged to David, their surprise waned. They all knew the man differently, but they all knew him to be mysterious and with a penchant for showing up places unannounced.
“David,” Edwige purred. “How unexpected.”
Looking down at the woman who once shared his bed, David thought she hadn't aged so well for a woman who wasn't supposed to age. “No,” he replied. “How opportune.”
“David!” Saoirse squealed. “Do you remember me?”
Smiling impishly, David bent down to give the girl a hug. “Of course I do, Saoirse. How could I ever forget you?” Noticing the nun's befuddled expression, David realized an explanation was in order and, to Edwige's relief, he, like Ciaran, understood the importance of keeping some secrets secret. “Ms. Glynn-Rowley and her family are old friends of mine,” David confessed. “I've known Saoirse since she was a little girl.”
Looking into David's eyes, Saoirse relived one of her earliest memories. Barely five years old, she climbed up David's leg, reached out to grab his arm, and hoisted herself so she could sit on his shoulder. Once secure, she leaned over and let her long, blond hair dangle. It was a game they would play constantly while she was living with him. “Your hair is getting longer every day, Rapunzel,” David said.
“Thank you, David the Giant,” Saoirse would reply. “Will you let me escape today?”
Despite his benevolent smile, David would never agree. “The outside world is no place for an enchanted princess.”
Pouting, Saoirse obstinately pressed on. “But, David the Giant, when will I be able to see the world?”
His eyes twinkled more than the girl's. “When the world discovers why you're so enchanted?”
Folding her hands on her desk, the Sister straightened her back and released the tension in her shoulders. She didn't understand why, but whenever she was near David, she became tense, on guard; this tête-à-tête only made the feeling stronger. “How did you know I was interviewing an applicant, Headmaster?”
Because my god is more powerful than yours.
“I know everything that concerns the children,” David said. “And may I say, Saoirse, you've picked quite an exciting time to join us.”
Saoirse knew why but decided it best to play dumb. “Why?”
As duplicitous as her mother.
“We're preparing to celebrate the upcoming solar eclipse.”
“An odd reason for a celebration,” Edwige stated.
Only for those who are frightened by the dark.
“I can't think of a better reason to be festive,” David replied, “than in honor of the enigmatic nature of
Nature
.”
He's as dull and uninspiring as always
. The revelation reminded Edwige that she was bored beyond belief. “Are we done here, Sister?”
“No,” she said opening her desk drawer and pulling out a navy blue vest and a small metal box. “Saoirse has one final task to complete before she can officially become a St. Anne's student.”
“Ah, yes, your little ritual,” David said haughtily. “Which is my cue to exit.” At the door he turned, knowing all three would be watching him. “Ladies, it has been my pleasure.”
After David left, calm was not entirely restored. Saoirse was a bit nervous that her induction into her new school, and therefore her separation from her mother, was not yet complete. “Exactly what kind of task is it?” Saoirse asked.
Sister Mary Elizabeth explained that each new student was required to hand-sew a patch of the Blessed Mother onto her vest, alone and in silence, as a symbolic gesture to their patron saint. “Do I get a few tries if I mess it up?” Saoirse asked.
Laughing at the girl's honesty, the nun reassured her that the Blessed Mother didn't judge any of her children by how well they sewed, she loved them all equally and unconditionally simply because of their effort. Acceptance? Being loved unconditionally? No wonder Edwige was hurrying out of the room. “Thanks, Mum, this is going to work out for the best,” Saoirse said, grabbing the vest and sewing kit from the desk. “For all of us.”
Edwige wished she could believe her daughter's prediction, but when she glanced at the font of holy water and noticed that the liquid had frozen over in an attempt to protect itself from David's spirit, she knew better. She also knew better than to confront the man, but she needed him to understand a few things.
 
Standing in the anteroom to his office, the ornate décor already a significant improvement over the nun's quarters, Edwige hated to admit it, but she felt more in her element. She ignored the fact that she was closer to evil than to good and took solace instead that she felt welcomed in the presence of the angels. Well, almost all of them.
Entering David's office without knocking, she caught him on the phone, by the sounds of it on a business call that had nothing to do with academia. Waving Edwige to come closer and sit, David continued his conversation until he noticed she was restless. “Sorry,” he said, hanging up the phone. “Even in the more civilized world of education, business never seems to end.”
Holding the sides of the armchair firmly, Edwige kept her gaze on David firm. “Is that the only reason you've come here, to conduct business?”
She's nervous,
David thought.
That's unusual for her.
“One of the reasons,” he replied. “The other is to be closer to your flesh and blood.”
He's lying,
Edwige realized.
How typical of him.
“David, old friend, you're as welcome to my flesh as you ever were, but my blood is off-limits.”
Laughing like the untrusting ex-lovers they were, David and Edwige parried and sparred, tossed a few double entendres into the air, reminisced about the old times they had shared, ignored the veiled and not-so-veiled barbs they threw at one another, until Edwige could no longer make small talk. “I hope your newfound focus on Archangel Academy doesn't mean you've forgotten our truce.”
Remembrance does not equal obligation.
“Of course I do,” David said. “I have a wonderful memory.”
“Our species, while separate, were joined in peace,” Edwige stated. “I trust you'll honor that memory.”
Examining Edwige closer, David changed his earlier opinion, she didn't look that bad, not for a water vamp anyway, and they had shared some truly passionate moments. It was a shame to have to look into her eyes and lie. Luckily he didn't have to. When the phone rang, David automatically pressed the speaker button so he wouldn't have to answer Edwige's question, they were both surprised when Vaughan's voice filled the office. “David, I have the factory on the line; we may have a problem.”
Startled, David ripped the phone from its cradle and noticed the way Edwige's body stiffened; she recognized Vaughan's voice. That's all right, just two men conducting business. “If you'll excuse me, darling,” David said. “Duty calls.”
Walking as slowly as she could, Edwige froze when she heard David speaking Japanese. Her worst fear was confirmed. Vaughan's factory, their special contact lenses, David's arrival, all part of a plot against her people. They were more than business colleagues; they were two vampires who were working together in order to attack her race. Willing herself forward, she finally made it into the anteroom and shut the door behind her. Disgusted by her reflection, she could hardly look at herself.
Such a stupid woman you've become, such a stupid, pitiful woman! Trusting men, allowing them to lie to you, conceal their despicable motives and turn you into a fool! What in bloody hell have I become? What have I allowed these men, these fiends, to turn me into?! Their actions are unacceptable, unforgiveable!
Edwige didn't need to fully understand the connection between David and Vaughan to want revenge. She needed only to know how to make it happen. Sneering at her image, she decided Vaughan would be the first to pay. Leaving the anteroom, she sped like a missile, like a white-hot burst of furious light until she reached her destination, a secluded cave nestled within the bowels of The Forest of No Return.

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