chapter 19
The Beginning of an End
Outside, the earth was dying.
Patches of dry, brown grass blotted the area outside Archangel Cathedral as if Penry’s sudden death had taken life from the land. Trees stood leafless, stark, their branches like jagged edges, lonely, dangerous. But even on the cusp of tragedy, beauty could still be found.
The interior of the cathedral was even more breathtaking than its facade. How a group of monks in the fifteenth century could ever have built such a structure, Michael had no idea, but he was grateful. The combination of elaborate religious imagery and simple man-made woodworking was comforting, especially at this time of mourning.
Penry’s coffin had already been carried out, loaded onto a hearse, and was on its way to his family’s cemetery in Sheffield. Gone were his parents, weary with sorrow; his twin sister, Ruby, whose hair was an even brighter shade of red than Penry’s, his grandparents, weathered but sturdy. They were all gone and they took Penry’s body with them. They left behind students who were deeply saddened and also deeply worried because even though very few knew exactly how Penry had died, everyone knew that what had happened to him could just as easily happen to them. Sitting in a pew in the back of the church, Michael clutched Ronan’s hand tighter, closed his eyes, and prayed, “Please, God, keep us safe; our lives are just beginning.”
When he opened his eyes the cathedral was bursting with light. It was as if God had responded to his plea. The huge circle of yellow stained glass acted like a portal through which the sun’s light could enter, and when it hit, as it did now, a perfect cylinder of golden sunshine beamed through the glass and illuminated the altar. Michael knew that the effect was nothing more than the result of clouds moving past the face of the sun, but he didn’t want a logical explanation; he wanted something more miraculous. So that’s what he believed. To him it looked like a pathway bringing a little bit of heaven to earth. He wanted to reach out and touch it, feel heavenly splendor, but as Ronan’s hand moved underneath his, he realized he already was.
He hated feeling so joyful at such a terrible time, but he couldn’t berate himself; he wouldn’t. Too many years spent loathing life in Weeping Water, too many years wishing it would just be over; now that his life was beginning, he refused to ignore his happiness, even though someone he considered a friend was no longer with them. He looked up at the huge wooden crucifix suspended from an arch and hanging over the altar—different in that Jesus’s body wasn’t nailed to the cross, but only drops of blood, crimson and thick, were painted where his hands and feet would be—and he hoped that Penry was at peace. That whatever horror he witnessed just before his death was now a distant memory, its image replaced with the mercy and serenity of eternal peace. It was his wish for his friend and he hoped it would be fulfilled.
Michael’s eyes moved from the crucifix to the large group assembled near the altar. Classes were canceled today and the front of the cathedral was filled with students, most of them talking to Father Fazio and a few other priests who were counseling them, helping them cope with the grief they were experiencing from this unexpected tragedy. The back of the church, however, was nearly empty. Other than an elderly priest lighting a candle at a statue of St. John the Baptist, it was just the two of them. “I can’t believe Penry’s really gone,” Michael whispered to Ronan.
“It didn’t have to happen,” Ronan said.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Michael corrected. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s death, Michael. As much as we don’t want to accept it, it makes perfect sense.”
The clouds must have returned; the ray of light was gone, the altar and tabernacle once again drenched in shadow. “But so soon? Penry’s life is over before it’s even begun.”
Ronan was searching for the right words. He needed to hear what was in Michael’s mind, what lay in his heart, but he didn’t want to frighten him or make Michael think he was losing his grip with reality. He was given a reprieve, some time to collect his thoughts when Fritz, followed by Phaedra, somber and subdued, approached their pew.
As he genuflected hastily, Fritz’s hand was a blur as it made the sign of the cross, his knees never bending. He didn’t enter the pew to join the boys but remained standing in the aisle, Phaedra beside him, head down, her hands dug deep into the pockets of her sweater. Michael thought she looked older, tired, which made sense since she had most likely spent the night crying. Penry’s death and the attack on Imogene had affected her deeply. Surprisingly, it had a similar effect on Fritz as well.
“He was a right fine mate,” Fritz said with quiet respect.
“Yeah, he was,” Michael agreed. “I wish I knew him longer.”
Fritz nodded in understanding. Phaedra’s eyes remained focused on the hard wood of the floor. During the ensuing silence, Michael didn’t notice Phaedra shift her gaze to Ronan. However, Fritz did. He didn’t know what to make of it; he really didn’t know what to make of this girl except that she was different from all the other girls he knew. She was high-spirited, then quiet, aloof, then interested. She sparked new feelings in him, adult and unexpected, but she always seemed to be looking at another boy and not at him.
“Do you guys want to sit with us?” Michael asked.
“No,” Fritz answered for them both. “I’m going to walk Phaedra back to St. Anne’s. Light of day or not, there’s a bloody killer out there.”
Phaedra’s stare didn’t waver. Ronan felt her looking at him, but he pretended to be very interested in watching the elderly priest who was now lovingly dusting off the statue of St. John with a very tattered cloth. Even when he heard her ask Michael if he would be all right, he didn’t turn, he didn’t flinch although he knew exactly why she was asking. She, like Dr. MacCleery, didn’t trust him and suspected he had something to do with Penry’s death. Luckily, Michael knew otherwise.
“Of course I’ll be fine,” he replied, squeezing Ronan’s hand gently. “I’m not alone.”
“Neither are you, Phaedra,” Fritz mumbled, but his words got lost among the notes of the soft organ music that began playing in the cathedral’s choir space. For a few moments, all that mattered was the music, the rich melody, filled with vibrations. Achingly hopeful, it commanded their attention, swirled around and between them and then floated above, ascending to the cathedral’s huge space overhead. The music ended as abruptly as it began, just a few moments, just a brief passage of time, just like Penry’s life.
Tentatively, Fritz took hold of Phaedra’s elbow. “See you later, mates.” As she was led toward the front door, Phaedra moved so fluidly with him that Fritz had no idea she wanted to stay, that she wanted to curl up on one of the pews and fall asleep under the crucifix, and awake bathed in beams of sunshine. But that wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t think about her own needs, not now when she was needed elsewhere, at Fritz’s side, even if that wasn’t the place she wanted to be.
When they were once again alone, Ronan couldn’t wait any longer. He didn’t have the patience to be subtle; he had to know Michael’s answer. “If you had the choice, would you choose to be immortal?”
Someone was finding it difficult to let go of Penry’s death, Michael guessed. “Like Dorian?”
“I’m serious, Michael,” Ronan said. “If the choice were presented to you, what would you do?”
Michael studied Ronan’s face. He is serious; he isn’t asking hypothetically or in terms of fantasy. Oh, don’t be ridiculous; of course he is; he has to be. And yet there was something in his eyes, something that made Michael believe Ronan really was asking a serious question. That is one of the reasons I love him, Michael thought. He’s so completely different, so unpredictable. Filled with romantic notions and unusual concepts, his mind is just as attractive as the rest of him.
“Would you accept such a gift?” Ronan asked, pressing him further.
For many reasons, some understood, some unknown, Michael was compelled to give an honest answer. He took a moment, not that he needed one. He knew the answer before he was even asked the question. “If it meant I could spend every day with you,” Michael replied, “then yes.” The idea, the absolutely incredible idea, filled Michael with unspeakable joy. “Yes, Ronan, I would embrace immortality with my heart and soul.”
Once again the cathedral was flooded with sunshine, glorious sunshine that announced a new day, a new beginning. Ronan had the answer he was looking for. “Then so be it.”
His face, awash with the glow of the sun and his own happiness, looked from one statue to another of saint
