Kneeling before the circular stone, Michael and Ronan each cut their palms with their fangs and lifted their hands above the center of The Well so their blood could spill into the silvery water below. Even though they had witnessed this miracle many times before, they still watched in awe as their blood swirled with the holy water to create something new, something that only their eyes could behold: the mixture of their blood, their souls, and the life force of The Well.
Their voices mimicked their clasped hands, and they became one as they recited the ancient 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.”
Immediately the transformation began. Their hands and feet lost their human appearance and became webbed; their bodies and their limbs grew even longer. Together, they dipped their webbed hands into The Well to scoop up its silver water, and then they drank the now-familiar brew. As the cold liquid filled their bodies, a translucent lightâlike the one that shone from the center of The Wellâemanated from their skin. They were being illuminated by their creator, in Its beloved image.
The cave was suddenly aglow with the combination of light that shone from Michael, Ronan, and The Well, and it looked as if the sun had fallen from the sky, submerged itself under the ocean, and decided to light up the sea. The rock walls of the cave twinkled as if they were covered with rows and rows of sparkling lights. The ground was hardly visible, and the boys looked like they were standing on a floor of white electricity. It was obvious: The Well was truly grateful for their offering, and in turn the boys felt truly blessed.
Ronan was already sitting on the shore of Inishtrahull Island when Michael emerged from the ocean. He watched his boyfriend walk toward him and did his best to control his anxiety. Michael sat down and allowed his bare, wet shoulder to graze against Ronan's, but kept his eyes transfixed on the undulating ocean. He knew Ronan was going to tell him his final secret. He knew he would listen to every word that Ronan had to say, but he didn't think he could watch him as he spoke. He just didn't think he was that brave.
Ronan, however, knew better. He touched Michael's hand softly and turned him so they could face each other. He was so beautiful. Aflame with The Well's power, Michael radiated strength, both physical and emotional. Yes, Michael was nervous. He was unsure of what Ronan was going to tell him, unsure that he even wanted to hear it. But just by looking at him, his face stoic, his eyes compassionate, Ronan was confident that Michael would hear his words with both an open mind and heart and that he would ultimately accept his words with grace and thankfulness. Once he heard Ronan's story, he would understand why it was so important that it had to be shared.
“I need to tell you about Morgandy,” Ronan said. “Morgandy van der Poole.”
Michael had never heard of the name before and yet he knew it was the name of his enemy. The reaction was primal, instinctive. Somehow, he also knew that it was the name of Ronan's first soul mate.
“He was the eldest son of a major Atlantian family. He was preordained to become a Guardian of The Well,” Ronan explained. “And I loved him.”
As unhappy as Michael was to hear that last bit of information, that news didn't come as a shock either. Michael had known there was someone who had come before him and Nakano, someone who Ronan had been in love with. Giving that love a name didn't change the past. It did, however, make it more permanent and make it more difficult for Michael to ignore the fact that he wasn't Ronan's only love.
“I can't lie and tell you that I didn't think I would spend all eternity with Morgandy when we asked The Well to join our souls,” Ronan admitted. “At the time it was what I wanted.” His next words caught in his throat, and Ronan paused. It had been a long time since he had said Morgandy's name out loud. He thought it would be easy; he didn't think it would conjure such a wellspring of emotion and make him feel as unstable as a wave caught in the tide, but he was wrong. He looked away from Michael and watched the waves roll closer, then recede. Michael knew Ronan had no interest in watching the ocean's dance; he was pausing to find the strength to continue. Michael would wait as long as it took.
“Until I learned the truth,” Ronan resumed, his voice stronger now. “Until I learned that Morgandy never loved me, he never wanted to be my soul mate. He merely wanted to betray our people and the sanctity of The Well.”
Breathing deeply, Michael felt the sun and salt water in the air. It almost made him feel as good as it did to hear the honesty in Ronan's voice. Ronan meant it when he said he didn't want there to be any more secrets between them. He was keeping his promise not because he felt a need to confess, or because he was scared that Michael would one day stumble upon his secret, but because he loved and trusted Michael and wanted to share every detail of his life with him, the good and the bad. “It wasn't until after we pledged our souls that I discovered he was secretly working for David.”
Michael had not expected that twist to Ronan's story, and the surprise revelation forced him to break his silence. “Morgandy was one of
Them?
”
“Physically he was still a water vampire,” Ronan explained. “But spiritually he was part of David's race.”
A gentle breeze blew past, cooling the fire that was beginning to consume them. Ronan accepted this intrusion as a reason to rest, calm his mind; Michael accepted it as a reminder that Ronan was his sole purpose now and that he needed to embrace every opportunity to let Ronan know that he would never leave his side. Michael held Ronan's hands tighter. He stared at his face until Ronan had no other choice but to return the gaze. When he did, Ronan saw nothing but love in his eyes.
“That must have really hurt,” Michael said.
Nodding slightly, Ronan answered. “Yes, it did.” Ronan caressed Michael's hands and noticed that they felt stronger than before. They were still incredibly smooth, but as if stone lived under the flesh. “He was my first love. He was handsome, charming, worldlier than I was.”
Michael couldn't help but smile. “I know exactly how that feels.”
Blushing, yet alarmed, Ronan hadn't realized those same words could have been used by Michael to describe Ronan in the early days of their relationship. He had to make him understand that beyond the superficial description, there was no comparison. “But Morgandy didn't love me like I love you,” Ronan said, his voice so earnest it almost broke Michael's heart.
“I know,” Michael said. “I didn't mean to suggest ...” He didn't want to keep talking, so Michael kissed Ronan, softly, but long enough to make Ronan understand he had not meant to compare him to Morgandy. Ronan was grateful, and one kiss turned into another and then several. It was splendid kissing Ronan on the beach, their bodies drenched in sunlight, but Michael wanted to know what had happened to Morgandy once his duplicity was revealed. Pulling away from Ronan, Michael asked, “So what happened once you found out his real agenda?”
“The Well intervened,” Ronan replied. “It showed Morgandy and every other Atlantian just how powerful It is.”
Michael tried to wait for Ronan to continue, but he couldn't; he was dying of curiosity. “So what exactly did The Well do?”
“The Well gave us back our souls, and our connection to each other was forever broken.”
Although Ronan spoke the words simply, Michael knew the emotions that surrounded them had to be complex. He must have been heartbroken, Michael realized, devastated that someone he loved could turn against not only him, but his entire race. That's how Michael would feel if Ronan ever betrayed him. The thought filled Michael up with such despair and fear, he shook his head to unleash it from his mind.
Unfortunately, Michael knew there was more to the story. “So what happened to Morgandy?” he asked. “After, you know, The Well separated the two of you.”
“I don't know,” Ronan said, shrugging his shoulders, the anxiety finally released from his face. “He was cast out and banished from ever living among water vampires again. Truth is, I don't even know if he's still alive.”
Contemplating it for a moment, Michael didn't think Morgandy's survival was possible. “How could a water vampire live without being connected to The Well?”
Ronan wanted to feel Michael's warm embrace, and so he turned him so his back leaned into his chest and wrapped his arms around him. “I don't think it's possible, love,” Ronan said. “Along with human blood, it's the life force that keeps us alive.”
Just when Michael was getting comfortable with the silence and the feeling of Ronan's heart beating into his own skin, Ronan resumed his story. “Right after that my mum wanted me and Ciaran to go to Archangel Academy together,” he said. “She blamed herself because she was living in France near Saoirse's school and wasn't keeping her eye on me. Not that she could've seen anything coming. Everyone thought that my future was set.”
His eyes closed, it looked as if Michael was sleeping in Ronan's arms, but he had heard every word. “Because Morgandy was supposed to be this Guardian and you were going to be like the Guardian's husband?”
He really finds humor in the most impossible situations
, Ronan thought. “Something like that,” he said, nuzzling his lips against Michael's warm neck.
Once again their kisses grew in number and passion, and soon Ronan was lying on top of Michael, their bodies moving as fluidly as the ocean. “I'm sorry Morgandy lied to you,” Michael said. “But at the same time I have to give him a big fat thank you wherever he is.”
Ronan understood. “Me too.”
“Otherwise, I might not find myself in this position,” Michael said, grinning widely. “Or this one.” Unexpectedly, Michael rolled over so Ronan was now pinned against the sand and Michael was lying on top of him.
Looking up, Ronan squinted at the image of Michael's angelic face, his blond hair almost white as it disappeared into the sun's glow, the same distinct color as Morgandy's. No! Ronan was thankful that the glare of the sun obscured his shock from Michael's view. How could he think that Michael bore any resemblance to Morgandy? They didn't share any of the same qualities, not in mind, spirit, not even in body. Ronan shut his eyes tight, and when he opened them he saw that Michael looked the same as always. “Forever beautiful, forever mine.”
Michael laid his body flat against Ronan, and they rose and fell in one breath. “Thank you,” Michael whispered. “Thank you for telling me about your past and especially about Morgandy.”
“You're welcome, love,” Ronan replied. “And I probably don't have to say this, but you have nothing to fret about. I don't have any feelings for Morgandy.”
Hmm. Michael needed to be sure Ronan was indeed telling the truth. “You may not love him, but don't you hate him now?”
Without hesitation, Ronan replied, “Not at all. All my feelings for him, good and bad, died a long time ago. That part of my life is over.”
Michael accepted Ronan's kisses, but not his words. He knew Ronan believed what he said was the truth, that Morgandy was part of his past, part of every water vampire's past. But somehow he also knew that was wrong.
chapter 5
Michael hated to admit it, but his father had excellent taste in cars.
The Mercedes Benz SUV was sleek and formidable, like a metal and chrome chariot that had been drenched in crimson blood. The color choice was hardly subtle, but picked to arouse Michael's senses. Despite his resistance, it was working. Michael imagined that sitting in the driver's seat would be like being in the center of a bloodstained cloud. He pictured himself perched high above the ground, gripping the steering wheel and leaning his body into the contours of the black leather seat as he drove into Eden waving to his classmates and strangers. He imagined the look of shock that would appear on R.J.'s face if he ever pulled into the gas station driving this instead of his grandfather's beat-up Bronco. That would be priceless. Everyone who saw him would be jealous of his luxurious car. Everyone who saw him would know he was special.
But if someone did see him drive the car, if someone saw him just sitting in it, wouldn't they really be admiring his father? The first question anyone would ask would be “Where'd you get such an awesome car?” And Michael would be forced to reply, “It was a birthday gift from my dad.”
As he stood in front of the Benz, his hands buried into the front pockets of his shorts so they wouldn't reach out and feel how insanely smooth and magical he knew the hood of the car had to feel, the rest of the imaginary conversation played out in Michael's head.
“Your father got you a Benz for your birthday?!” the stranger would say. “Dude, you must have the best dad in the world.”
“Not really,” Michael would tersely reply.
“Come off it,” the stranger would press on. “Do you know how expensive that thing is?”
“He's just trying to buy my love.”
“C'mon, cut the guy some slack.”
“Should I also cut him some slack for brutally murdering my mother and making everyone think she committed suicide?”
Michael waited for the stranger's response, but none came. But really, what could anyone say after a comment like that even if the conversation was only being played out in his mind?
No! This had to stop!
Michael told himself. He didn't want to think constantly about what his father had done; he didn't want to be reminded constantly that his father had destroyed his family so callously, so definitively. Michael shook his head to force the negative images to leave. But as he pushed the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, another filled the space, one that was much more disturbing than all the others combined. Even if his father had done nothing to his mother, Grace would still have killed herself that night; her note was proof. So his father's actions, while vile and deplorable, had only accelerated his mother's death; they weren't the primary cause.
Stunned by this revelation, Michael's body froze as his mind reeled. How could he think such a thing? It was horrible, shameful, and yet, sadly, it was true. Is this how a vampire thinks? Logically, coldly, without allowing human emotion to corrupt the basis of understanding? Ronan wasn't like that. No, not at all. Well, that wasn't completely true, Michael realized. Ronan wasn't inhuman with him, but he did have another side. His views about some people and situations were much more analytical than Michael's were. Sure, he got hotheaded about certain things, like when he talked about the complex relationship between water vamps and David's race, but he could also approach a topic quite impersonally and remove all sentiment from the solution. Maybe it was just because Ronan was older, raised much differently than he was. Or maybe it was just because vampires were coldhearted as well as cold-blooded.
Were he and Ronan destined to become like Vaughan and David? Or would their connection to The Well ensure that their humanity would remain intact as long as they walked the earth disguised as humans? Michael was more confused than ever.
How in the world did I get from thinking about my car to thinking about my morality?
All thoughtsâsimple and complexâwere forgotten when Michael saw a patch of fog raise from the ground. Phaedra! She hadn't abandoned him. She knew he needed to be rescued, and she had returned. He watched the fog spin like a baby cyclone, and anticipation swelled in his heart. But just like in his dream, the fog turned out to be nothing unnatural. In this instance, merely the dusty remnants of someone who had raced toward him with incredible speed. Someone he had never expected to see.
Thanks a lot, Phaedra!
Michael thought.
This has got to be some sort of cosmic joke.
“I heard Fritz blethering on about your fancy new car, so I thought I'd check it out for myself.”
Michael hadn't seen Nakano since the end of school. He didn't know if Nakano was spending the summer on campus, if he had moved in with Jean-Paul, or if he had returned home to be with his family, if he even had a family. Staring at the boy, Michael suddenly realized he didn't know very much about Nakano other than the basic facts: his motives were suspect, his hair was once again too long, and he hated Michael. The last item made it difficult for Michael to understand why Nakano was standing next to him. Not as difficult to understand, however, as why Michael didn't just leave. But why should he? After all, he was there first. Nope, he was staying put.
“Well, take a good look at it,” Michael said. “If that's what you came to see.”
Nakano stared straight ahead, his hands also tucked into the pockets of his shorts, which were jeans cut off just above the knee, and he lifted his chin to study the car. He looked like a surveyor inspecting a plot of land. “For once Fritz wasn't talking through the back of his neck,” Nakano declared. “Freakin' awesome car you got there.”
This made absolutely no sense.
Why was Nakano here? Why did he care about my car? And why am I talking to him?
“Thanks,” Michael said in a voice halfway between surprised and sincere.
“My bum dad doesn't even send me a card on my birthday,” Nakano admitted. “Not even sure he knows what day I was born.”
So that was it! Nakano wasn't paying Michael a compliment; he was praising Vaughan. And why not? They were more like family than Michael and his father were. “First gift I got from him in seventeen years,” Michael said.
“Kind of makes up for it if you ask me,” Nakano replied.
Well, I didn't ask you!
Michael thought.
I don't even know why you're here. We're not friends. It's not like I care what you have to say.
And yet Michael was listening to every word Nakano said. He hadn't asked him to leave, nor had he left Nakano alone to admire the car he so obviously coveted. For some reason despite all their previous differencesâand those differences were hugeâneither boy felt the urge to escape each other's presence. Maybe because they were tired of running in the opposite direction? Or maybe because they both knew that it was time to end their feud and accept the fact that they actually had more in common than they wanted to admit?
“So are you going to drive it?” Nakano asked. “Or just stare at it?”
“I haven't decided.”
Nodding as if he understood Michael's dilemma, Nakano continued. “Cars aren't allowed on campus you know, against the so-called rules and all.”
“Yeah, David informed me that I have to move it,” Michael replied.
Finally, Kano turned to face Michael and spoke to him directly for the first time. “So what's the problem? You got your license, didn't you?” he asked, knowing full well the answer. “Not that you needed anything so ... human.”
Why couldn't anybody understand the importance of having a driver's license? “Ever since I was a little kid I always thought being able to drive would give me freedom.”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.” Nakano crossed his arms in front of his chest, one thin, sinewy arm on top of the other, and tilted his head back and forth when he spoke. He looked and sounded like a child in a schoolyard mocking his playmate.
As odd as he looked, this was the Nakano Michael had come to know. “So you just came here to make fun of me?”
Abruptly, Kano stopped moving his body and stared at Michael as intently as he had previously been inspecting the car. “Let it go, Howard,” Kano said.
“Let
what
go?”
“Your license, this car, your relationship with your father even,” Nakano explained. “None of that really means anything, does it? Not sure why you're making them out to be so bleedin' special.”
It was weird enough to be standing next to Nakano having a semicivilized conversation, but it was completely insane to think that Nakano might have offered him a solution to his problem when no one else could. Nakano's comment offered him solace. “That actually makes sense.”
“Of course it does,” Kano replied, turning his attention back to the Benz. “You got your powers and your immortality and ... Ronan. This car and everything it represents means nothing to you.”
It was true, and suddenly Michael felt foolish for making the car seem much more important than it actually was.
“It can only have a hold over you if you let it,” Kano added. “No matter how sweet the car looks, it's still just a car.”
Michael turned to Nakano and said two words to him that he never, ever thought he'd say. “Thank you.”
In response, Nakano shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “Don't mention it.” It was an attempt to be cavalier, to try to act and sound as if Michael's words, his appreciation, weren't welcomed.
Looking at the car, Michael could finally see it for what it was, an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship, but not the ticket to his freedom or public admiration. “I really mean it, Nakano, thanks a lot.” Nakano stepped forward and pressed his face against the driver's side window. “If you really want to thank me,” he said, his breath fogging up the window. “Why don't you take me for a ride?”
Michael felt his forehead crinkle; it was just about the weirdest proposition he had ever been offered. But Michael had learned to embrace the weird. “Okay.”
Without a second thought, Michael took the keys out of his pocket and clicked the button that released the locks on the car doors. Nakano was already sitting in the passenger seat before Michael had a chance to open up the driver's side door. He turned the key in the ignition, and the Benz proved to be as beautiful inside as it was out; the car hardly made a sound when it started.
“Niiiiiiiiiiice,” Nakano said approvingly.
“Guess that's what they mean when they say an engine purrs,” Michael added. The hum was soft and smooth and not completely unlike the vibrations of The Well. Despite the odd choice of Nakano's being his very first passenger, Michael took the sound as an omen that he had made the right decision.
He drove to the parking lot slowly, not because he was scared or being careful, but because he wanted to savor the experience. It was the first time in his life that he was driving without an instructor. It was a milestone, and he wanted it to last as long as possible. When he saw Saoirse near the edge of campus, he also realized how much he really wanted to share it with everyone. Beeping, he waved his hand wildly out the window. “Saoirse!”
Startled, the girl turned her head, but instead of waving back or running toward the car to greet Michael, she ran in the other direction, into the woods. “What the hell?” Michael muttered. He beeped again, but she was already out of sight. “Why'd she do that?”
Holding his arm out the window to feel the soft breeze caress his hand, Nakano remarked, “Because girls are freakish.”
Michael turned back to see who Saoirse had been talking to. He could have sworn he had seen her lips moving as if she had been talking to someone who must have been standing just behind the large oak tree, but no one was visible. “Did you see anybody with her?” Michael asked.
“Nope,” Kano replied. “Just enjoying the ride.”
And what a smooth ride it was. Only a short distance, but Michael could tell the Benz handled the road a lot better than Blakeley's old Honda. Proudly, Michael parked the car in an empty spot in the small parking lot behind the headmaster's office. He turned to thank Nakano again for giving him the push he needed and making him realize what a fool he was being. But Nakano was already gone.
Girls weren't the only ones who could be freakish,
Michael thought. It didn't matter. He didn't need Saoirse or Nakano to acknowledge him or go crazy over his car to make him feel like the luckiest kid in the world. There was only one person he needed to do that.
When he got to St. Sebastian's Ronan was there as he had suspected. However, he hadn't expected to see him sitting on the side of the pool, his feet dangling in the water; he had thought he would find him swimming. Ronan didn't need to practice to maintain his form, but he enjoyed spending as much time in the water as possible. “You keep practicing like that,” Michael said, “and I'll have no problem beating you this year.”
Smiling, Ronan reached out his hand, and Michael took it. He kicked off his flip-flops and sat next to him, submerging his feet in the cold water. “Ooh that feels nice,” Michael remarked.