“Well, if you drive as well as you swim, you won't have any problems,” Blakeley announced. “And you bloody well better not because I'm your teacher.”
When Blakeley was out of earshot, Michael confessed to Ciaran that he couldn't believe he forgot about something so important. “I've wanted my license for as long as I can remember,” he mused. “I always imagined myself stealing my grandpa's truck and just driving west to California. Not that it would've made it past Nevada, it was so beat up.”
Ciaran shook his head, the look of disbelief on his face apparent. “Do I have to remind you that you don't need a license to travel anywhere in the world? You could be in California quicker than it'll take you to get to your next class if you wanted to.”
For a moment, Michael was truly surprised by that comment. “Wow, sometimes I actually forget that I am, you know, what I am.”
“Either that or you still want to think that you are what you were,” Ciaran corrected. “You can't have it both ways, mate.”
Michael wasn't sure if he was unable to concentrate on conducting the experiment correctly because of what Ciaran said or because he simply didn't have any interest in science. He listened to the lectures, he read the books, he followed the carefully laid out instructions, and yet the liquid in his test tube was still yellow and stagnant and not green and bubbling like the rest of the class's. “How can Ciaran possibly find this stuff exciting?” Michael complained. “I can't even make this stupid potion bubble!”
His lab partner agreed, but Fritz's approach to handling a difficult school lesson was to ignore it entirely and talk about personal matters instead. “I've made a decision,” Fritz declared. “The first book should be the introduction of The Double P, sort of like Penry's resurrection.” Looking a bit like a superhero himself in a gold laboratory smock and plastic goggles, Fritz had to prod Michael for a response. “Nebraska! Isn't that a great idea?”
“Yes, terrific. Penry would love it,” Michael said, his eyes glaring at him from behind his own superhero-inspired goggles. “But right now we have to get this liquid to do something or else Professor Chow is never going to pass us.”
“Who cares about him?!” Fritz huffed. “I'll just get Ciaran to do it for me later; the chump loves to show off his science skills.” Clearing his throat, Fritz decided it was time to segue into the most important subject of all. “Have you, um, noticed anything wrong with Phaedra?” he asked. “I get the feeling that she's been avoiding me.”
Probably because she's never been more confused in all her life, which, now that I think about it, has probably lasted for a really, really, really long time.
And since Michael was pretty certain that efemeras were as immortal as vampires, he knew that was quite a statement. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”
Fritz grabbed the bleaker out of Michael's hands so he wouldn't be distracted by unimportant lab work. “Don't give me that. You two are like kith and kin you're so close. Everybody knows it. So what gives?”
“I don't really have that much experience, you know, with girls.”
“Nebraska, cut it out,” Fritz demanded. “You might be gay, but you're a guy and we have to be loyal to one another. Does Phaedra want to break up with me?”
So many thoughts swirled inside Michael's head, he felt the way their lab experiment should look. The fact that Fritz was straight and he wasn't didn't make any difference to Fritz. He still considered Michael a friend. What a refreshing difference from what he was used to. On top of that, he had found out that not only were Fritz and Phaedra getting to know each other, they were officially dating. Phaedra never mentioned that to him. He would have to remember to yell at her for keeping such a big secret from him the next time he saw her, right after he gave her a congratulatory hug, of course. First, however, he had to deal with the object of Phaedra's affection. “I didn't even know you guys were dating.”
“Oh,” Fritz said, suddenly aware that he may have exposed a secret. “Well, we were trying to keep it quiet until we were sure about each other and, you know, we only had one date, which I guess was more like studying at St. Joshua's, but I thought it was a date, absolutely.”
“Sounds like you're very sure about her,” Michael said, smiling.
“First time for everything, I guess,” Fritz replied. “I'm just not so sure she feels the same way about me anymore.”
Michael knew that Phaedra really had no idea how she felt, but he didn't want to alarm Fritz any more than he already was. It was cute to see him so nervous about a girl, yet another unexpected side to his friend revealed. “I'm sure it's nothing, but I will talk to her.”
“Thanks, mate.”
As if on cue, the yellow liquid finally started to change color, to a not-so-flattering shade of green, like the face of a seasick sailor during a rough storm. Regardless of how unsightly it looked, their experiment seemed to be working and the boys stared at the test tube in amazement. Soon their amazement turned to cheers of joy as the ugly green liquid started to bubble over.
“I should alert the new headmaster,” Professor Chow pronounced. “Today is a national holiday, the first time you two ever made an experiment work.”
Triumphant, Fritz and Michael high-fived each other. He felt kind of silly, but more than that, Michael felt proud. What an incredible feeling to know that nothing is insurmountable. And what an incredible feeling to know that he had someone to share his achievements with.
Before he went home and told Ronan about his day, he wanted to do something special for him. No matter how many little arguments they might have, Michael still felt Ronan was the most wonderful person he'd ever met and he wanted to make sure that he knew just how special he was. Luckily, he knew the perfect way to get his point across.
He smelled the bouquet of white roses and it was like breathing in summer. It was so fragrant and sweet that he thought the icicles that had formed on the window ledges and the roof of St. Joshua's would melt away. Even though the existence of the roses was a miracle, unexplained and mysterious, they were still taken for granted by many of the students. The roses had grown outside the library for as long as anyone could remember; they had just become a normal part of the terrain regardless of how odd it was to see them flourishing in the winter. Not as odd as seeing Edwige strolling across campus, however.
“Michael, darling,” she called out as she approached him. “How lovely to see you.”
“Mrs. Glynn . . . I mean, Edwige, hi.” Michael was so startled to see Ronan's mother on school grounds that he almost called her by her full name, which was something she hated. As Ronan once explained, Edwige liked to think she's still a woman and not, shudder at the thought, someone's mum. Whatever she was, Michael thought she was intimidating. “What a surprise! What, um, are you doing here?”
“I was doing some business nearby and thought I'd visit Ronan, but he isn't home,” she explained. “Or he's hiding from me. Would you happen to know which it is?”
Michael blinked. He wasn't used to being examined so openly. Well, that wasn't entirely true; sometimes Ronan couldn't peel his eyes away from him, but that was different. That was welcome; this was his mother. And it didn't help that she had the same piercing blue eyes as her son. It was nice to see a connection, but it made him uncomfortable. Michael then wondered if Saoirse had the same blue eyes. He was about to ask Edwige about her, but she interrupted him.
“I asked you a question, dear.”
“Oh, sorry. He's probably at the gym,” he offered. “You know how he loves the water.”
Laughing heartily. “Don't we all.” As abruptly as it began, her laughing stopped. “What are those?”
“These? Just some roses I picked for Ronan.” Saying it out loud made him feel a little embarrassed. Or was it just the way Edwige was staring at the roses?
“They're beautiful,” Edwige said in a strained whisper. She really didn't think very much of the roses, they were flowers, nothing more, but she remembered where she had seen them before, in a vase in Vaughan's apartment, and for some reason that memory was disturbing. “Where did you get them?”
“Over by St. Joshua's,” Michael said. “You must know about them.”
Cute, but presumptuous. “Perhaps I must, but as it turns out, I don't.”
“Oh. Well, um, legend has it that they have some magical properties. They can erase the past and create a more appealing future,” Michael explained. “Probably just folklore, but I do think it's sweet. And so does Ronan.”
So that was it. Vaughan had used common voodoo to trick her, to conceal his vampire blood from her senses. Juvenile, yet effective. She was impressed by his actions, infuriated that she was duped, but grateful, after all, that she had not lost her intuition. She had known there was something peculiar about the man, and now she knew with more certainty than ever that he would have to pay for his duplicity. Even while imagining how she would make Vaughan suffer for making her doubt herself, for making a fool of her, she was still able to compliment his son. “It's a beautifully romantic gesture,” she said honestly. “I'm very happy that my son has found a wonderful and worthwhile partner.”
“Thank you,” Michael replied, his cheeks reddening.
“I think you must know from what Ronan has told you or from what you've already ascertained that I am not the motherly type,” Edwige confessed. “However, I would very much like to be your friend.”
What an unexpected proposition. He missed his own mother very much. More specifically, he missed the mother that he knew Grace had desperately wanted to become, the woman that she was for brief moments during her lifetime, but that she was never able to maintain. He missed being able to share his joys and doubts and the boring moments of his life with her, he wished he had the chance to tell her that he had found someone special, someone who loved him dearly. He knew Edwige could never take his mother's placeâno woman couldâbut it would be nice to have an older, sophisticated, female friend to confide in, someone who knew about the world and, of course, all about Ronan. “And I would very much like to be yours.”
When Michael shook Edwige's hand to cement their new relationship, a shiver ran down his spine. Regrettably, he assumed it was the result of a sudden wind instead of the warning that it was.
chapter 8
Ciaran thought he was alone. He didn't know he had a visitor because he didn't benefit from having a sixth sense, a preternatural ability to be aware of things he couldn't see. But his movements, his demeanor, were all being studied, analyzed, as if he were the specimen he was looking at through his microscope.
His long, slender fingers deftly adjusted the blood sample that was squashed in between the two thin pieces of glass so that it lined up in the center of the lens. With his right hand he scribbled down notes without looking at the yellow lined pad:
âhu
was part of his own made-up code and wouldn't make sense to anyone else, including the person watching him, but Ciaran knew it meant “not human.” He wasn't surprised. When he swiped the bloodstained towel from Ronan and Michael's bathroom sink, he expected this would be the result, no other outcome was possible. He was, however, hoping that it would be Michael's blood he extracted from the towel, not a sample that he quickly recognized, not a sample that he had already analyzed several times before. Peering at the red blob through his lens, his scowl apparent even though most of his face was hidden by the microscope, he wrote
R3
on the pad. Brania, with her extraordinary sight, was able to read it, but she didn't understand that it translated to mean the third sample of blood he had acquired from Ronan.
An unexpected wave of jealousy enveloped her and for a brief moment she feared she would drown. He's so studious, she thought. When she was a young girl, study was never considered necessary or appropriate for her sex, the female gender had other skills that had to be honed outside of the classroom. For a moment she wondered how different her life would be had she been allowed to become a student of science and mathematics instead of other subjects. Maybe she could officially enroll at St. Anne's, take on a full schedule of classes, learn all about chemistry, algebra, and all the other more traditional subjects that had eluded her in her expansive lifetime. She did find their uniform to have a certain girlish charm. But no, a detour wasn't realistic. How could she survive being confined to such a rigid schedule after centuries of freedom? And how could she even entertain a thought like this when her father needed her to help carry out his plan? Academics would have to wait. It was time for action.
“Ciaran,” Brania said softly from the front door, “do forgive me for interrupting your work.”
Startled, Ciaran looked up, his hand instinctively covering his cryptic notes. So she had finally come back. Took her long enough. At the end of last semester, Brania had waltzed into this very same lab with Nakano in tow and told him that her father wished to propose a business partnership. At the time, he had found the invitation enticing, dangerous but, ultimately, not legitimate. Until now. “Forgiveness is unnecessary,” Ciaran said, casually turning his pad facedown on the black granite countertop. “My lab is your lab.”
Of course, as long as I don't take a peek at your notes.
“That will make my father very happy,” Brania said. “You do remember Father's proposition, don't you?”
Ciaran felt his chest tighten, he knew it was an alert, his own body warning his mind, but he didn't want to listen to caution any longer. Just where had that gotten him? He had tried to be reckless before, tried to force others to change his life, turn him into something that he was not, but even that didn't work. He had to face the fact that alone he was weak; it was time to find a partner. “It's all I've been thinking about,” Ciaran replied. “But I had begun to think that he had forgotten about me.”
Leisurely, Brania walked toward Ciaran. She knew she should quicken her pace, speed up this part of their meeting, but she loved the way her heels sounded clicking against the harsh laboratory floor. And Ciaran did look like he was enjoying the view; most heterosexual men did. She didn't speak until she reached the opposite side of the lab from Ciaran. “How in the world could we forget someone as brilliant as you?” Placing her hands on the lab countertop, the white edges of her French-tipped manicure accenting perfectly against the black granite, Brania stared at Ciaran. The only things coming between them were the microscope and Ciaran's anxious breathing. She might not have had a formal education, but she could teach a master class in seduction. “Or someone as handsome.”
“A combination blessed by providence.”
The melodious voice was familiar, but Ciaran couldn't place it immediately. He saw an imposing figure standing in the doorway, but only when he stepped out of the shadows did he recognize who it was. “He-he-headmaster,” Ciaran stuttered. “What a surprise!”
“Why should it be a surprise?” Brania said, hoisting herself up so she could sit on the countertop, her bare legs dangling, swinging several feet from the floor. “Weren't we just talking about my father?”
David extended his right leg, his foot angled slightly, toe pointed outward, and bowed from the waist. His suit, his whole physical appearance, looked to be the epitome of modern-day style, but his gesture, his character, was definitely from an earlier century. “You spoke and I have come,” David said, rising, his eyes meeting Ciaran's perplexed gaze. “It's as if your words conjured my presence.”
Brania's father is the new headmaster? How could that be?
he thought. Why hadn't Ronan told him; why hadn't he told anybody? He had to know about this. He and their mother lived with this man while Ciaran had been banished to one boarding school after the other, banished from Edwige's sight. Obviously, Ronan was back to his old self, thinking that he was superior to everyone and that nobody needed to be privy to his secrets. “I knew there was something special about you, sir.”
How refreshing, David thought, to hear a comment spoken with honesty and not dripping in flattery. At his core, Ciaran was a logical boy, which suited David's plans perfectly. Logic was always much easier to control than emotion. “I had the same feeling about you, young man.”
Brania watched Ciaran's posture straighten just barely, but enough to realize that her father's words were having their usual, positive effect. If she hadn't so often been the recipient of David's kindness, she would have envied this latest object of his affection even more, but she knew what it felt like to be complimented by this man, to feel his admiration, unexpected but so very appreciated. Even now whenever he praised her, whenever she heard his words of approval, they pierced her heart like his loving fangs had once pierced her neck. What she wasn't used to, however, was being dismissed.
“You should leave us now,” David said.
His eyes still focused on Ciaran. It took Brania a moment to understand that her father was speaking to her. Still, unaccustomed to being told what to do, she didn't move. When David spoke again, his eyes, if not his face, turned to address his daughter. “Are your ears not working properly?”
“Yes, but I . . .” The words caught in Brania's throat, which was an entirely new sensation for her, far too unpleasant, far too human for her liking. “I thought it would serve us all best if I stayed to help answer any questions Ciaran may have in response to your request.”
“Well, my dear,” David said, his lips forming a tight smile, “you thought wrong.”
After a few moments of silence, it was clear that her father wasn't going to speak again, and from the tone he had used, the tone that Brania had heard him employ often over the past few centuries while speaking to subjects, victims, those who inhabited the inferior classes, she knew that nothing she could say would appease him, and most likely her rudeness would infuriate him. Or worse, disappoint him. He was giving her an order and regardless how slighted, how upset it made her feel, she had been taught to comply. “As you prefer, Father.”
No one spoke as Brania walked toward the front door, allowing the room to be filled, unencumbered, by the sound of her clicking heels, a sound that she now hated, a sound that now accented her defeat. Outside, alone, Brania acknowledged that she did not enjoy feeling like a pawn. It was some comfort, however, knowing that Ciaran would soon feel the same way.
“Women are always trying to belong,” David said. “They simply cannot accept that they are not man's equal. Don't you agree?”
Ciaran didn't agree actually. He always thought women were just as smart and as capable as men. And he knew firsthand from watching Edwige in action that women could also be physically stronger than men. But even though he believed in equality of the sexes, he was shocked to hear himself voice a contrasting opinion. “Yes,” Ciaran said firmly. “Women must accept their own subservience.”
“Well phrased,” David said. Leaning in closer to Ciaran, his blue eyes reflecting the silvery speckles within the granite: “Do you mind if I repeat that idiom in my own private conversation? It's such a clever expression; it just begs for a larger audience.”
The new headmaster, Brania's father, thinks I'm clever? “Well, sure, by all means.”
“Thank you, Ciaran, I appreciate that.”
Even if Ciaran had wanted to stop David's next movement, he wouldn't have been able to, so quickly did he grab the microscope, wheel it around, and peer into it to look at the sample of Ronan's blood. The odd thing was, Ciaran didn't want to stop him; he appreciated his interest. No one ever cared about his experiments, no one ever wanted to know more about what interested him, and here was this man, this really great man, taking notice of his work. The simple truth was it made him feel good.
“I must confess, Ciaran, I am not a man of science like you are,” David stated. “But I am fascinated by its principles. Whoever deciphers them holds the keys to the universe.”
He gets it! He understands why I'm so passionate about my work!
“That's my goal, sir,” Ciaran explained. “To unlock as many principles as I can, to learn as much about how the world works and about how we function in this world as I possibly can. It's all I think about most days and, well, I don't mean to sound arrogant, but it's what I'm quite good at. I only hope I'll get the opportunity to continue my research.”
Such obedience, such willingness. Some children make it so easy. “Objective assessment of one's own strength is hardly arrogance. On the contrary, it's humility.”
And all this time I was afraid to say what I honestly felt because I thought everyone would consider me conceited.
“Really? That's being humble?”
“Acceptance of the talent and skill God has awarded you is a most humbling act,” David replied. “Take me for example. I accept the fact that God has given me the talent to lead. Is that arrogance?” Without waiting for a response, David answered for his student. “I think not, I am merely acknowledging God's work.” David felt the spark of inspiration ignite inside his mind. “Come to think of it, isn't that all that science really is, God's work?”
Never have I thought of it that way, but he's right, he's absolutely right. My research, my studying, the hours I've spent in this lab, have all been for the sake of God.
“I've never been so proud to be a scientist.”
“And I've never been so proud to give a student the chance to fulfill his dreams,” David said. “But first I need you to promise me something.”
“Of course, anything.”
“For the time being, I would like the fact that I am also Brania's father to remain a secret to be shared by only a select few,” David explained. “I trust you will agree to be part of that special group?”
They both knew what the answer would be before Ciaran even spoke. “I would be honored.”
And if I were subject to God's will, I would be humbled.
“Now let me attempt to speak in the language you most readily understand,” David said. “Science.”
Captivated, Ciaran listened as David began to describe the help he needed, the help that only he could provide. “I am very interested in what separates species, the genetic differences that make one life-form unique from another.”
Ciaran understood and what's more, he shared the same fascination. “You're talking about the deviations in the genetic makeup between vampires and humans, right?”
Close.
“Absolutely!” David replied. “Not only are you intelligent but intuitive as well.”
He even gets more excited than my science professors,
Ciaran thought.
They just nod and mumble questions. David, I mean Headmaster Zachary, wants to get involved, wants to get involved with me.
“Thank you, sir,” Ciaran said. He then unlocked the drawer to his left and pulled out a notebook, page after page filled with scribbled notes in his handwritten code, diagrams, calculations, and complex algorithms, none of which were decipherable by anyone but him. “I've actually started doing a few experiments on my own.”
David was very pleased. He had known Ciaran would be willing to help; not many could resist his power of persuasion. But he never expected him to be armed with such vast material from the onset. This boy has been quite industrious. “Well, well, well, I see someone has been doing much more than schoolwork.” For the first time since David walked through the door, Ciaran was nervous. “Don't worry,” David said reassuringly. “I wholeheartedly approve of your extracurricular activities.”