Vigil (10 page)

“Hello Dr. Tredeger.”

It was as if they simpered in unison. Keene waved. Adin watched his

father’s face. It seemed safe to say he had no concept of their attraction to

him. Even at thirteen Adin knew when he saw the spark of sexual interest

in someone’s eyes. He’d learned a lot from the far worldlier Edward, whose

passion for the Romantic Movement in art was positively exacerbated by his

quicksilver moods and an early and fateful reading of the poetry of Walt

Whitman.

Gods.

Edward, in whose eyes he saw his own longings clearly and proudly

displayed; Edward, who seemed to be an advance scout, a forayer into the

hostile territory of adulthood, bringing back information and providing a

source of comfort for Adin, who seemed destined to advance at a slower pace.

Edward had already informed his family of what he knew to be his

truth, and even though Adin was well aware he’d have to make the same

declarations someday, he worried that his wouldn’t be met with the same

sangfroid Edward’s parents and grandmother—who had known before he

did—had displayed.

In one of those remarkably perceptive moments that Adin never expected

from his otherwise oblivious father, Keene asked him, “Is there anything you

think I should know?”

Adin’s eyes rose to meet his father’s. He hid behind his coffee cup and let

the steam from the still hot brew rise between them.

“Did you see those girls run by?” Keene murmured.

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63

Adin grinned. “You know they have a crush on you. They probably don’t

even jog as far as Pier 39.”

“I know,” Keene admitted. “But it pays to play the absent-minded

professor in these instances. Do you know what? I am a far more keen—no

pun intended—observer of human nature than you think. And I think I

know when a person is engaged romantically. Although you will never, ever

see me look that way at anyone but your mother.”

Adin felt uncomfortable with the subject and burned under his father’s

close scrutiny.

“My brother,” his father went on, “died in the early days of the AIDS

crisis, right here in this city. He was attending a funeral every week and then

finally, had one of his own.”

Adin’s heart hammered in his chest as his father let out a lengthy sigh.

“I’ve never told anyone that. Normally when we talked about his illness,

or his death after the fact, my family talked about the diseases that were

incidental to his diagnosis of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. The

cancer, the toxoplasmosis, the PML, the pneumonia. The reason for his

illness became a deep, dark family secret because it was my parents’s wish

that no one know he was gay or that he was ill with what was then still

referred to by the ignorant as the ‘homosexual disease’. So we hid it.”

Adin could see the regret on his father’s face. He swallowed hard. “Why

are you telling me this?”

“For two reasons, Adin.” Keene looked him directly in the eye. “First,

and most important. I loved my brother so much. He was such a wonderful

man. Full of life and love, even at the end. A vibrant, beautiful soul. You

were barely preschool age when he died, and we hadn’t been in the country

except to visit briefly, for years. That makes me tremendously sad. He would

have adored you. You’re very much alike.”

Adin remained silent, he turned to the rippling water of the bay. The fog

was burning off, barely obscuring the horizon. In only moments the Balclutha

would be visible, maybe even perfectly lit by the sun that was beginning to

peek through the clouds.

“Second, I want to tell you how terribly disappointed I was in the way

my parents handled my brother’s death, as if by shrouding his final year in

mystery they were preserving his dignity, when in fact, they were robbing him

64 Z.A. Maxfield

of it with their failure to celebrate his life. Whatever happened, whatever

choices he made, even though tragedy struck, I still celebrate his life. I wish

my parents had. I would have.”

“Dad.” Adin, filled with a kind of rising panic, ducked behind the

camera and looked through the viewfinder.

“I feel sure that I would love my children no matter what. No matter

what, Adin.”

“Dad, pay attention.” Adin watched the Balclutha through the camera

lens with blurry eyes, even as the mist began to move until the masts were

exposed, and in only moments, it went from nearly invisible to patchily

outlined, to visible, and kissed by the sun. Adin snapped several pictures in

a row, ignoring the weighty feel of his father’s eyes on him. Finally he stopped.

“I think I got what we came for.”

“Me too, son.” His father wrapped an arm around him.

Moments later, in the way of dreams, Adin was transported to San

Francisco Bay on another day, only ten years later, when it became necessary

to hire a small fishing boat to take him and Deana out past the bridge and

into the ocean to lay his parents to rest in that same glistening water. Deana

held his left hand, squeezing hard as Adin allowed a handful of ashes to sift

through the fingers of his right…

Adin’s hand hurt. It seemed Deana was crushing it as she clutched it

harder than he’d ever felt her hold it before…

Adin swallowed around the stinging in his throat as he opened

his eyes. His chest felt all heavy inside, as if suddenly it were filled

with wet sand, and dragging enough air into it to breathe was

painful. When he could focus he saw Bran sitting next to him on

the bed, squeezing his hand.

“
Adin
.” Bran leaned over, crawling toward him. Tears fell

freely down his cheeks, and Adin discovered that they were the

perfect antidote for his own. He itched to wipe them away from

Bran’s face but didn’t do it. Bran ignored his restraint and clumsily

threw his arms around Adin. “I’m so sorry.”

Adin pushed at him. “Bran—”

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65

“Your family loved you so much. Your father and mother

were wonderful and then you lost them, just like I lost mine...”

“Bran, get off me.”

If anything the boy squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry Adin.

I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have gone looking around if I’d known

it was going to be so awful to watch…”

“
Bran
, I said,
let go
.”

Adin heard the door close with a bang, and the atmosphere

in the room changed dramatically. The whispering voice sounds

that let Adin know when Donte was near buzzed angrily in Adin’s

head. The noise vibrated, emanating from Donte’s whole body

and outward into the room like a warning. Adin had only a second

to think before Bran was growling as well. Bran responded with

an unnaturally feral and uncanny sound, like the roar of a tiger,

and he leaped off the bed, crouching by the side of it as if getting

ready to defend it.

“Stop.” Neither of them paid Adin any attention.

“
Step away from my human
.” Donte’s voice rolled into the room

like pyroclastic flow.

Bran rippled with indignation. “Adin deserves better than to

be someone’s
human
.”

“
Bran
.” Adin rose, despite his nakedness and held his hands

out to both of them. Tension crackled through the air. Adin

sensed that neither of them would move until they were certain

to win. He stepped between them. “Stand
DOWN
.”

“Back away Adin,” Donte commanded.

Bran radiated fury. “He’s a vampire. How can you love a

vampire?”

“Bran?” Adin said through gritted teeth. “Stay the fuck out

of my head.”

Donte’s brows drew together. “What is he talking about?”

“Adin may seem like nothing more to you than a sack of cells

and a ready supply of fresh blood—”

“Hey!” snapped Adin.

“But he deserves to be more to someone than just food and

a convenient—”

Donte almost smiled.
Almost
. “You’re about to be killed by

the man you’re defending, boy.” Adin noticed he had at the very

least dropped his battle stance, and the air no longer rang with

his violent intentions.

“I’m not a
boy
,” Bran spit, still ready to fight.

Donte shook out his raincoat and hung it up on a stand by

the door. He looked tired to Adin. As if he’d been walking a long

distance and hadn’t fed. “He isn’t simply my
human
. He’s my life,

for lack of a better word. If you can’t understand that one, I’ve

got about a hundred terms that are equally inadequate.”

Adin’s heart did a little flip behind his ribs. “
Donte
.”

“Boaz has filled me in.” Donte glared at Adin. “You are not

68 Z.A. Maxfield

my favorite person right now. Please dress.”

“I’m sorry.” Adin grabbed his pilot case off the floor and

headed for the bathroom. He washed up and dressed quickly,

apprehensive that Bran might do something impulsive to get

himself into trouble. When he returned to the room wearing a

pair of jeans and a button down shirt in Donte’s favorite rich

shade of blue, Bran and Donte occupied opposite corners of the

small room like prizefighters.

“What am I missing, Adin?” Donte ran a hand through his

wet hair. “What can Harwiche want with me?”

“Nothing. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. He just

wanted the boy and didn’t have the balls to deal with Bran’s

captors.” Adin went to Donte and helped him take off his suit

jacket, hanging it for him in the closet, almost on autopilot.

“And Santos took advantage of the situation. He knew I’d feel

protective toward Bran, and he knew you’d hand him over in a

heartbeat.”

Donte looked at Adin through his dark lashes and shrugged.

“Not my heartbeat.”

“The point, if you would please see reason in this one case, is

that if the three of us work together we might be able to find a

way out of this mess.”

“In this case?”

Bran sneered. “Yes, unlike the other case, where you left your

‘life’ to be eaten by bloodthirsty monsters.”

“You
told
him about that?”

“I did not.” Adin pulled the chair out and sat on it. “But

apparently my memories are accessible to him.”

Donte crossed to the wall where Bran stood in less than the

blink of an eye. He glared at Bran, but even at Donte’s most

intimidating, Bran refused to be cowed. Perhaps he’d attain

Donte’s height when he grew, or perhaps he’d be taller, but right

at the moment he came only to Donte’s shoulder. Still, he didn’t

back down.

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69

“If Adin says get out of his head,” Donte warned. “Then get

out of his head.”

“Or you’ll what?”

“Stop it!” Adin barked at them. “How do you know you

aren’t playing exactly into Santos’s hands? It’s time to act against

instinct, and think.”

Donte glared down at Bran until Bran’s stomach rumbled so

loudly even Adin could hear it across the room.

“It’s time,” Donte said drily, “for food. For something so

fierce, you can really be quite human, can’t you?”

“You wish!” Bran ignored the offered truce. Adin had had

quite enough.

“Bran, even coming from Donte that’s not the insult you

think it is.” He caught Bran by the hand and led the still wary

boy to the door where Adin picked up his heavier jacket. “We’ll

be back.”

“Wait!” Donte called out, flipping something small and square

at Adin, who caught it neatly.

“I have a phone.” Adin frowned at the new touch-screen cell

phone even though he experienced a moment of intense physical

longing.
Gadget envy.
“Although this one is much cooler.”

“It has been modified with a GPS tracker that allows Boaz to

monitor where you are. His number is programmed in at speed

dial number one. Even though I anticipate a terrible argument, I

must ask that you please take that with you and keep it on your

person at all times. Argue with me after I’ve had a chance to

think, caro.”

Bran leaned over and whispered in Adin’s ear. “Is Boaz like

Alfred from Batman or something?”

Adin wanted to bang his head on the door. “Donte—”

“Stop.” Donte cut him off. “
I
could find you in a city twice

this size with no need for such things, but I’m restricted to night

and if speed counts...”

70 Z.A. Maxfield

Adin said nothing as Donte moved toward him, noticing once

again how tired he looked. Adin reached up and brushed Donte’s