chapter 6
“Welcome back home.”
Standing at the podium, David knew that every person in St. Sebastian'sâstudent and teacherâwas looking at him, listening to his voice, and he reveled in the attention. He only wished he could reveal his true self to them. How they would gasp when they saw his magnificent black wings and saw that he possessed powers beyond comprehension. But there would be time for that. Now, he had to welcome the students and faculty members back to Archangel Academy for yet another school year. This year, however, would be more special than ever.
“And welcome to our Tri-Centennial Celebration.” David waited for the applause to subside before continuing. “This year we will commemorate three hundred years of academic excellence here at Double A.” He paused again, knowing that the students would cheer at his use of the school's nickname. He personally disliked colloquialisms, but it made the students feel more comfortable in his presence, as if he were one of them. He laughed to himself and couldn't believe how incredibly easy it was to deceive people, even those who knew he was a vampire, with only a few choice words. What fools they all were.
When it was once again quiet, David explained that even though Archangel Cathedral and some of the main buildings were built in the fifteenth century, Double A had begun life as a monastery, a religious enclave where monks and those seeking sanctuary could worship without fear of persecution. Conveniently, David didn't mention that not every monk had spent his days praying to God, but rather to what he considered to be a superior deity. That wasn't a truth that needed to be disclosed just yet, but when the time was right, he would savor the opportunity to introduce them all to Zachariel's power. Until then he would stick to the more mundane facts. “It wasn't until three centuries later that the school itself was created,” David said, his voice soft yet commanding. “But since that time Archangel Academy has been one of the most prestigious educational institutions in the world, a school that I consider myself lucky to have attended and a school that I am proud to call my home.”
Ronan heard the cheering all around him, but he couldn't join in. Yes, he also loved Double A; yes, he also considered it home; but no, he couldn't uphold David's testimonial with applause. He knew David was lying and that to David the school was nothing more than a hideout. David didn't value education; he didn't care about the school's reputation or the students' prosperity. It was simply that Double A and the land that it was built upon, land that extended all the way into Eden, had been christened long ago as hallowed ground where his kind could walk in the sun as if they were worthy of its glory. Anger reddened Ronan's alabaster cheeks, because he knew David wasn't worthy of such a gift. The only light that should warm his skin should be created by the fires of hell.
“So much for maintaining the peace, Ro,”
Michael commented silently, obviously tapping into Ronan's far-from-peaceful thoughts.
Caught, Ronan smiled and tilted his head. “
Guess I should practice what I preach.”
“Nah, it's more fun to throw your words right back at ya.”
Ronan was delighted. Not only was Michael willing to hold a mirror up to him to expose his flaws, but he would tease him about them as well.
“That's my boy!”
Ronan said silently.
His laughter, however, was drowned out by David's booming voice. “And how do you honor three hundred years of being the best school in the world?” David asked rhetorically. “Prepare yourselves for a celebration that none of you will ever forget!”
The over-the-top pronouncement was met with a variety of responses. Michael and Ronan instantly felt uneasy, knowing that any festivity would most likely be camouflage to cover up another attempt by David to find The Well; Ciaran was hopeful that he would be able to uncover the true meaning of Atlantium before then so he and David could celebrate his breakthrough along with the school's anniversary; Fritz was scared that he would wind up attending his third school function in a row without a real girlfriend; and Nakano was surprised to find himself excited not only for the upcoming gala, but for the new school year.
On the other side of the bleachers, Saoirse sat next to a girl with flaming red hair and prayed the party would be a formal affair so she and her new best friend could go shopping for a special outfit. It was clear that everyone had a different priority. At the moment, David's was to steer the assembly away from talk of school festivities and to the introduction of the latest addition to Double A's staff.
“Now please help me welcome Dr. Oliver Sutton.”
A slight shuffling noise followed David's statement, which turned out to be the sound of shoes scuffing against the lacquered wood of the gym floor. From the locker room emerged a small man who possessed none of David's majesty nor his predecessor's disheveled appearance. The man who would replace Lochlan MacCleery as the school's doctor was impeccably dressed, but the accent was on neatness and not style.
His dull gray suit fit his slight frame perfectly, but had been bought at a discount. His tie, the same color, but faded with age, held no pattern, and his black loafers were made of industrial strength plastic. His physical appearance was just as unfortunate. His eyes were small, set too close together, and the pupils and irises melded as one to create the same shade of black. The end of his nose hooked slightly and presided over thin lips set against a backdrop of ashen, pockmarked skin. Topping everything off was a scalp that was largely bald except for some wiry strands of black-gray hair combed over from left to right that didn't completely conceal a cluster of brown age spots on the crown of his head. If he hadn't been standing in front of the podium, he would have still commanded attention. But only for being unattractive. When he spoke, however, his voice did not arouse much interest.
“Hello,” Oliver said.
Although amplified, he hardly made an impact. His sound wasn't enthralling like David's or as gruff as Lochlan's had been. It was nondescript.
“Thank you for letting me join your family,” he continued meekly. It was an unnecessary statement since no one presentâother than David presumablyâhad been asked to vote on or consider Oliver to fulfill the vacant position of school doctor. And when he took to the makeshift stage there had been no applause. Thanks did not have to be given. “It is a true honor to follow in Dr. MacCleery's footsteps as your new school physician.”
Ronan wanted to stand up and shout that there was no way that he could replace Lochlan; there was no way that this meek imposter could be as courageous and honorable as MacCleery had turned out to be. For most of the time that they had known each other, Ronan and Lochlan hadn't trusted each other. They thought they were enemies; they had been wrong. The doctor had taken an oath to protect mankind from all kinds of evil, and even when he discovered that he was surrounded by some who didn't fit that description, who existed outside the boundaries of what would be considered human, he still fought to keep them all safe. He was murdered for his bravery. Staring at Dr. Sutton, Ronan knew intuitively that he was an unfit replacement.
“I will do my utmost to uphold good Dr. MacCleery's memory,” Oliver droned. “And make him proud.”
Positioned behind the newest staff member, Coach Blakeley sat amid the other school personnel. He, like Ronan, didn't approve of the new doctor. His relationship with Lochlan had been outwardly antagonistic, but he had admired him greatly. Leaning to the left he whispered into Sister Mary Elizabeth's ear, “I know it isn't very Christian of me, but I don't like the bloke.” Although she remained silent, it was clear by her expression that she shared Blakeley's point of view. It was an endorsement that Professor Joubert, sitting on her opposite side, couldn't help but notice.
Bored, Michael felt his mind drift. Physically, he remained sitting in the bleachers; mentally he had journeyed somewhere far away, to a place where it was raining. One drop, two drops, three drops, four. One raindrop after another fell from the sky and plopped onto the ground, its sound echoing like a distant boom, loud, dissonant, but far enough away that it didn't present any immediate danger. Involuntarily, Michael turned his head and looked around as if he would be able to find the cause of the phantom sound in the gym. He did.
Dr. Sutton was still standing at the podium, but that was one of the only things that had remained the same. Every person in the gym besides Michael and Oliver was frozen, immobile, the victim of some time-stopping trick, and while Michael looked the same as he did moments before, Oliver had undergone a transformation, one that Michael was all too familiar with, but still found grotesque nonetheless.
It looked as if the doctor's body had shrunk and gotten thicker. His shoulders, no longer bony, curved forward, hunkered down by newly acquired muscle. His neck was like the trunk of a small tree, and the increased bulk threatened to pop open the top button of his shirt. The rest of his body strained at his suit's threadbare material, and Michael couldn't believe it wasn't ripping at the seams. Most horrific, however, was his skin.
Oliver's veins pulsated. They were filled with so much blood that they had grown almost an inch in height to create rippled lines all over his flesh. The excessive quantity of blood also discolored his skin, darkened it, so it looked like he was streaked in charcoal. As the fluid raced throughout his body, his veins trembled and spasmed, making it look as if leeches were crawling between flesh and bone. The man looked sinful.
As expected his eyes were now completely black, but his fangs were stained yellow and chipped. Michael assumed they were the jagged, tarnished remains of centuries of battle. A continuous stream of blood fell from one fang to the gym floor, creating the sound that had caught Michael's attention in the first place. The sound that he wished would stop reverberating in his ears. The sound that drew him into a private conversation with this vile creature.
“Michael.” Oliver's voice was now unrecognizable, almost unidentifiable; it was like a gravelly hiss, like nothing Michael had ever heard before. “Isn't it time that you forgave your father?”
The words seeped into Michael's brain, contaminated his blood as quickly and stealthily as if Oliver's fangs had pierced his flesh. The seed was planted, a command was given, and Michael shook as the words pulsed through his body. He wanted the connection to end; he wanted whatever power this thing had over him to recede; he wanted to be free. And in an instant he was.
The applause was tepid and perfunctory, but at least it signaled the end of Dr. Sutton's turn as public speaker. Michael couldn't believe that the frail-looking doctor's true image was something so intimidating, so formidable. But Michael was just as formidable. He knew Sutton had tried to control his mind, brainwash him into making peace with his father. It wouldn't work. Whatever mind-bending powers Sutton had, they weren't going to force Michael to act against his will. Michael was so proud of himself he laughed out loud and he hoped the doctor understood he was laughing right at him.
“What's so funny?” Ronan asked.
“The new doc's a vamp,”
Michael told Ronan silently.
“Ugliest one yet! Looks more like a demon if you ask me.”
“Brilliant!” Ronan cried.
“I see somebody's trying for an A in vampire skills 101.”
Michael pressed his knee into the side of Ronan's thigh and replied, “I expect to collect my gold star later on tonight.”
Before the flirting could escalate any further, Fritz and Ciaran surrounded Michael and Ronan on either side, and they descended the rest of the bleachers like a four-person barricade with Nakano taking up the rear. When they got to the bottom, Fritz pointed at something across the gym. “Check out the ginger bird.”
Michael did a quick translation in his head of British to American slang. Ginger equaled red and bird meant girl. He looked over and saw Saoirse approaching them, walking arm-in-arm with a very pretty, red-haired girl.
“That's Penry's twin sister Ruby,” Ciaran announced, unable to take his eyes off of the girl.
The mere mention of Penry's name made them all become silent for a moment as they remembered their friend. He was dead barely a year. Sometimes it seemed like the tragedy had just happened; other times it was as if he had been gone for years. For Nakano, however, it was an event that replayed in his mind at least once a day.
Question after question invaded his mind. Why was Penry's sister here? Had she come for him? Did she know that he was responsible for her brother's death?
She has to know that I lost control!
Nakano wanted to scream, he wanted to tell Ruby that he was sorry. But what good would that do? It would be a waste of time. Just like it was a waste of time to feel anything for a lowly human, but he did. He knew his actions had been wrong; he knew he should ask for forgiveness, but ask whom? Who in the world would listen to him and who could ever make him feel like anything more than a murderer?
I'm a vampire!
Nakano reminded himself as he did every day.
I'm above humans! They mean nothing to me!