date.”
On the wall in a flat, distressed frame the color of an acorn was an oil painting of two men swimming in the ocean at night. Their bodies, touching so they almost appeared to be conjoined, could be seen above and below a sea that was a beautiful blend of azure, cobalt, and cerulean, deep colors, thickly painted and rich in texture. It was obvious why his mother was attracted to the painting, Ronan thought, but he hadn’t come here to discuss art.
“Mother, that doesn’t mean Ciaran won’t look elsewhere to satisfy his craving. To someone like Brania or Nakano. Those people are immoral. They’ve killed Penry!”
“And if he does something so incredibly stupid, then he will prove what I have always known, that he is his father’s son!” Edwige replied, uncharacteristically losing her temper. “It will be his punishment!”
Stunned by his mother’s outburst, Ronan didn’t choose his next words very wisely. “Do you hate him so much because he reminds you of what happened to Saxon?”
Edwige slowly turned away from the painting to examine her son. “You are very lucky I just did my nails. Otherwise I would slap your face. And we both know that my appearance belies my strength.”
Suddenly exhausted, Ronan roughly brushed the tears from his eyes. Why did every conversation with her have to be a battle? Why couldn’t she be like a normal mother? Why couldn’t he and Michael just run away somewhere and never have to see her or anyone else again?
“Speaking of Michael,” Edwige said, reading her son’s thoughts, “you let an opportunity pass. Why?” Ronan tried to push the images of Michael from his mind so his mother wouldn’t become witness to their intimacy, but it was too late and she was too strong. “The Well wants this coupling, Ronan. It recognizes, as I do, that you and Michael are just like The First and The Other.”
Why must she always talk in riddles? “What are you saying?”
“You know exactly what I’m saying,” Edwige said, turning back to the painting. “You know the legend, you know our beginning.”
“Of course I know all about that! I just … I just want to wait for the right moment.”
“The right moment is now! You know that you are The First and Michael is The Other. If you would stop fighting it, you would see that it really is that simple.”
And Ronan had to admit that it was. He knew the history of his people and he knew that he and Michael were poised to become part of the next generation. He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if his ancestors were speaking about the two of them when they told the story of their genesis. Maybe it was just another romantic notion, but something had to explain why Ronan had felt so connected to Michael the moment he saw him.
He thought back to when he was a little boy, when he was still human and his father and grandfather told him how their race originated. Then like now, Ronan didn’t fully comprehend the words, but emotionally he was connected to them.
Centuries ago, hidden from mortal eyes, their race was created when a vampire fell in love with a stranger, a woman who was different, who lived beneath the ocean in the city of Atlantis. Sworn enemies, the two species never had any interaction that didn’t end in bloodshed, until The First met The Other and their love changed history.
The First’s vampiric race did everything in its power short of killing him to prevent him from consorting with The Other. At the same time, her people imprisoned her, tortured her, anything to separate her from this creature whom they considered vile and evil. But to no avail. They loved each other, no matter how unnatural everyone around them felt their connection to be. Their love, deep and never-ending, created The Well in the center of Atlantis, and from its waters a new race was born, a hybrid vampire who could walk from out of the darkness and break through the water’s surface, no longer having to fear the sun. A race that had webbed feet and hands that made swimming to the floor of the ocean possible, and lungs that could breathe underwater as easily as above. And a race that would only have to feed once a month as long as they drank from The Well. All they were required to do was create new vampires, not out of hunger or malice or rage, but out of love.
“You and Michael are from different worlds, you’re both perceived as unnatural by the majority of your people, and you’re both in love,” Edwige said. “There should be no hesitation.”
“I’m not hesitating. I know The Well approves, but I would like his permission first before changing him forever.”
Try to remain calm, Edwige, he is still young. “His love is his permission.”
Clenching his fists, Ronan started to pace his mother’s room. “I know you think our race is superior. I do too, but there are others who disagree. Not everyone admires us water vamps!”
Such a disgusting word. “Because they’re jealous.”
“Yes, I know that! And I know their jealousy is wrong, but right and wrong have nothing to do with it. The reality is that there are more of Them than us. How can I bring Michael into a world where he will be reviled by so many? Where so many will wish he would just burn up and die?!”
Edwige turned on her son viciously. “Because we have two choices! Either we increase our race or we allow Them to destroy us and all those whom we love. And I have seen too much destruction in my lifetime!” She turned away to look out the window. High, high above, a vulture was circling, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She knew the scavenger would wait two minutes or two centuries, but when the time was right, it would pounce to destroy what was left on the ground. “And I will tell you for the last time, if you don’t act on your love and bring Michael over to our side, someone else will act on their hatred and create him in their own image.”
Ronan sank into a chair and he felt his heart break at the thought of that happening. He stared up at the painting, at the two men who were captured in one moment of a lifetime, and he imagined how many glorious moments he and Michael could share over an immortal lifetime. The Well was right, his mother right. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer.
What Ronan didn’t know was that there were others who had also decided it was time to take action. “I’ve spoken to Him,” Brania said. “And He has given His consent for you to take Michael.”
It was as if a burst of energy flooded Nakano’s brain. The feeling was almost as fantastic as when Penry’s blood spilled down his throat. “Perfect! I can’t believe He’s going to let me do it!”
She wouldn’t admit it, but Brania shared his belief. “He finds poetry in having another student do the deed. You.”
“I know that He doesn’t have to explain Himself, but did He give any reason why He changed His mind?”
She would be so happy when she would never have to see this one again. She was forced to accept unintelligence, but she detested disrespect. “He didn’t change His mind,” Brania explained in as calm a voice as she was capable. “Now that Ronan and Michael have made love, the separation, the violation, will be that much more painful.”
“Of course,” Nakano said. “That makes total sense. Except …”
Her patience was gone. “What!?”
“Why is Michael so important?” Nakano asked. “He’s just a mortal, a kid from Nebraska, of all places.”
His arrogance was appalling, but so too was his insight, not that she would commend him for it. “You have exceeded your allotted number of questions for one day,” Brania said. “Now please get to work.”
As Nakano was about to enter the underground passageway that would lead him away from the center of Eden, he remembered something. “I just hope the fog doesn’t get in the way this time.”
Again with the fog. “You’re a vampire! How can a fog prevent you from fulfilling your duty?”
He really was so happy he was gay. No matter how hard they tried, girls just couldn’t help being stupid. “I’ve told you, Brania, it’s not an ordinary fog. It’s a protection, it’s as if someone is deliberately interfering so that no one can get to Michael except Ronan.”
That’s it. Who’s a born protector? Women, not men. And no one is more protective than a mother. “It’s Edwige,” Brania declared. “She’s the source of the fog.”
Maybe, Nakano thought. She is powerful, that one. “How do you know?”
“Because a boy’s mother will do anything to help her son.”
“Wow,” Nakano gushed. “I guess women aren’t that stupid after all.”
No, they’re not, Brania thought. They’re far more intelligent and resourceful than any man she had ever known. Except of course for Him. Because no matter how contradictory or indecipherable His actions might appear, she always knew He had a plan, and that’s why He was the only man she had ever respected. Yes, she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world to have Him as her father.
