town next to Eden. When Ronan arrived, the man, very tall and thin, was lying on top of an old, stained quilt, barely conscious and having difficulty breathing. Small puddles of sweat gathered in the folds of his neck, and his hands, wrinkled and speckled with liver spots, shook. He never opened his eyes, not even when he spoke. “Hurry up,” the old man groused. “Don’t have much time left.”
His final words were barely spoken before Ronan began draining the blood from the old man. Gulp after gulp of blood, slightly bitter, flooded Ronan’s throat, slid down to his stomach, and spread out to his limbs. His brain was throbbing with the infusion, his entire body starting to glow. Finally the old man’s hands stopped shaking and went limp at his sides, his suffering and his life mercifully ended. Ronan, however, felt incredibly alive. The blood that in the old man’s veins was diseased and no longer able to sustain life thrived in Ronan’s body. But his feeding wasn’t over.
Moving faster than the human eye could see, his feet hardly touching the ground, Ronan raced from the cottage to the beach at Inishtrahull Island. Stripped naked, fangs bared, eyes like two beacons of light, he took a moment to look out at the water. This is my world, he thought. Every last drop of it is mine. He took a deep breath of the fresh sea air and then plunged into the ocean.
At the same time, Michael took a deep breath of the chlorine-tinged air and plunged back into the pool. This is my world, he thought, my new world, and I’m going to make the most of it. He swam hard, lifting his head out of the water every third stroke to take a quick breath, and felt energy protrude from every pore. He didn’t feel tired—though even if he did, he was not about to give in. Michael stopped swimming only when he reached the end of the pool and heard Mr. Blakeley blow his whistle.
Ronan stopped swimming only when he reached the cave and heard the familiar hum. The sound emanated from The Well. It was ordinary-looking, made of thick blocks of curved stone that jutted out from the base of an underwater cave, and was surrounded by nothing except rough sand. From the center of The Well came a light, dull, not especially bright, but enough to bounce off the cave’s roof and illuminate the space. This place was a haven, dry and cool, right in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean about a mile northwest and below the shore off the island where Ronan was raised. But it was only a haven, in fact only visible, to those who could hear its call. This was where the ceremony would take place and where Ronan’s feeding would end.
This is where everything will begin, Michael thought. He stood next to one of the heated lamps drying himself off with a towel and tried not to put too much weight on what was about to take place—swim team tryouts—but today was important. This was another step in his emancipation from that other life, that life he left behind. He would feel much less nervous, much more confident, if Ronan were standing by his side, but unfortunately he was nowhere to be found.
Ronan knelt before The Well, placing both of his hands on the rim, and bowed his head. Immediately the humming grew louder, causing the stones to vibrate and pulse. The Well recognized Ronan as one of its own descendants. As the light shone with more intensity, the pulse of The Well invaded Ronan’s body to create the final transformation. Ronan gripped the stone rim even tighter, eyes closed, his fangs pressing down on his lips, and felt one continuous wave of energy travel through his body until he was filled entirely with The Well’s power. Then the final change began.
Slowly and a bit painfully, his fingers and toes elongated, and small, thin pieces of flesh rose out from between each digit to create webbed hands and feet. Eyes still closed, Ronan smiled despite the pain. Even though he was by himself in this secluded cave, he was connected to every other vampire like him, to every other vampire who belonged to his race, and he was reminded that no matter how lonely he might sometimes feel, he was hardly alone. The transformation complete, all vibrations stopped. Now The Well of Atlantis would allow Ronan to finish his feeding.
Ronan bent over The Well, which was half filled with a clear liquid that was so smooth, its surface appeared solid. It was the essence of his people, the life force that kept them whole and allowed them to exist in a manner that other vampires could only dream of and covet. He leaned over and dipped his hands into the cold liquid, scooping up a handful. He held his now-webbed hands up over his head, careful not to spill a drop, and recited the prayer: Unto The Well I give my life,
my body’s blood that makes me whole.
I vow to honor and protect
and ask The Well to house my soul.
When he was finished, he brought his webbed hands to his mouth and drank. At first, there was no taste, nothing, just a cold sensation until the elixir reached warm blood, then the two liquids, the two individual life forces, united and, as always, the result was intoxicating.
This time when Ronan gripped the side of The Well it was to steady himself. As the two liquids swirled together inside of Ronan to create an even more powerful mixture, he felt he would either faint or float upward. That’s how exhilarated he became after a feeding. He knew that his race was shunned by the majority of vampires and that they were considered impure, but he also knew that he couldn’t imagine living his life any other way. He also couldn’t imagine living his life without Michael. Now that his feeding was over, it was time to get back to that part of his life.
About thirty seconds before Mr. Blakeley was set to begin tryouts, Ronan bounded into the gym clad in his Speedo, a towel casually thrown over his shoulder, looking more muscular than Michael remembered. Even though Nakano recognized the look and understood that Ronan’s muscles had been given a boost since he had just fed, he, like Michael, had to look away to catch his breath. Fritz had no need to take such a pause. “Thought you were gonna chicken out, Captain!”
Ronan smiled and tossed his towel on the bleachers before shouting back, “Just giving the rest of you time to warm up, Fritzie.”
Michael noticed some dark black hairs growing in the cleft of Ronan’s chest and around the circumference of his deep brown nipples that he hadn’t noticed before. Were they new, he thought? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they made him even more striking.
“Sounding a bit cocky, mate,” Fritz said. “Remember we’ve got an Ameri-can who might show you up.”
Ronan winked at Michael. “I think the American will do just fine.”
Again Nakano had to look away, but this time it was so no one would see him sneer. Fritz just laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you do, Ronan!” He didn’t get Ronan’s attraction to Michael or to boys in general, but he admired Ronan’s athleticism and sportsmanship, so he long ago decided to accept how Ronan felt and not question it. Anyway, he didn’t have time to razz a teammate. Right now he had to concentrate on winning a starting spot on the team.
“The policy here at Double A is that any student who wants to join a sports team must be allowed to do so,” Mr. Blakeley explained. “A load of rubbish! If you bloody well stink, I don’t want you on my team. But I’m not the headmaster, I’m just a lowly gym teacher.”
Under his breath Fritz mumbled, “Lower than low.”
“I heard that, Ulrich,” Blakeley said. He didn’t have to turn to face Fritz to know that the boy’s dark complexion turned a few shades closer to white. “By academy rules, I am forced to give each and every one of you a place on my team regardless of your abilities. However, I do not have to make you a starter or even let you dip one mankie toe into my pool.”
Michael was completely surprised by this cantankerous speech. He had thought Blakeley, like his previous gym teacher, aimed to instill a sense of pride in his students with positive reinforcement and encouraging words, not intimidate them with threats. So much for thinking he could judge someone’s character. His fellow students were about to have the same revelation.
“Hey, where’s the Hawkman?” one of the boys shouted. “He’s always at tryouts.”
Blakeley tried to hide his contempt for his superior, but failed. “Our illustrious leader is M.I.A.”
“That’s two days in a row,” another boy said.
“Maybe he’s on a bender,” Fritz suggested.
“Hawksbry?” Penry replied. “Hardly. Steady like a hawk and all that.”
“Everybody’s got a secret,” Nakano added. “And all that.”
If Ronan weren’t so elated from his feeding, he would have understood there was cause for concern. The
