“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.
Vigil
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.
Vigil
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