he preferred. He thought it best to make up for his vulnerable appearance with a more insolent tone. “You couldn’t have called me tomorrow like a normal person?”
“You know I can be impatient,” Edwige replied, waving away his impertinence. “And that I prefer to speak to my son in person.” You mean you prefer to control the situation and you have nothing else better to do but to meddle in my life. “Such angry, negative thoughts really are unbecoming,” Edwige said, reading her son’s mind. “You should choose your words and thoughts more carefully, especially when in the center of such serenity.”
Ronan wasn’t sure if his mother was referring to herself or their surroundings, but either way he could find nothing serene about his current situation or, for that matter, the earlier events of the night. “Michael’s father canceled on him.”
Was that disappointment that washed over Edwige’s face? Why does she even care about Vaughan? “After trying so hard to reestablish a connection with his son?”
“That was my thought exactly,” Ronan said. “There’s something not right about him. Something’s off.”
“That’s because the man is a vampire.”
“What?!”
Edwige looked at her son as if he had just committed the worst social faux pas of the season. “Will you keep your voice down? Do you want to wake up the entire school?”
Walking toward his mother, his bare feet stomped on the ground so hard, little volcanoes of snow erupted with each step. “What the hell do you mean he’s a bloody vampire?”
“Vaughan is one of Them, hand-picked by Brania to be one of her disciples.” Edwige watched a snowy white owl perched high in an oak tree, camouflaged from the human eye, crane its neck to look at something, prey perhaps, that had made a noise behind it. “She’ll lie down with anything, that one.”
Still in shock, Ronan was trying to comprehend what his mother had just told him, but the more he thought about it, the more questions he had. “Why couldn’t I see it? How did he hide himself from me?”
Walking closer to the tree, Edwige seemed more concerned with getting a better look at the majestic creature than answering her son’s questions. “There are ways of concealing oneself,” she replied slowly. “Brania may look like a schoolgirl, but she’s an ancient hag with more than one trick up her old-woman sleeves.”
Even though her back was to him, she could hear Ronan talking to her, saying that it now all made sense. He understood why Vaughan had backed out at the last minute: He was afraid to be in his son’s presence since he thought Michael was still human. Then again, maybe he knew that Michael was a water vamp, that could be it too. Edwige watched the owl noiselessly creep along the branch, his eyes sharp with determination and focus, obviously on his way to feed. She knew from experience watching wild animals that nothing was going to get in its way until its craving was satisfied, its need relinquished. She strived for that same focus in her own life, but unfortunately, she could sometimes become so easily distracted. “What did you say?”
“Vaughan is working with David!” Ronan exclaimed. “Howard Industries makes those contacts they wear. That’s where Michael’s father had to go, to his factory in Tokyo.”
The owl spotted a field mouse, alone, unable to burrow through an ice patch, and it swooped down, disappearing out of view. Before the mouse could prepare itself, it felt talons pierce its skin and just before it lost consciousness, it felt like it was floating, completely free. Sometimes being the victim had its benefits; it brought with it freedom.
Edwige had spent quite some time questioning herself, wondering why she had let herself become interested in Vaughan and how she could have allowed Brania to take away any opportunity she might have had to find peace within his arms. Now she realized she had been tricked, the playing field had been tilted and she had entered the competition at an unfair disadvantage. Brania and Vaughan weren’t playing alone or even together, they were part of a much larger team led by David, and no matter what she felt about her former lover, no matter how much she despised him, she had to acknowledge that he was extremely powerful and a formidable opponent. As powerful as she herself was. Against the three of them Edwige really never stood a chance.
So she shouldn’t blame herself for losing, for not emerging victorious as she typically did. The only way she should cast blame on herself was if she didn’t attempt to seek revenge. And, oh yes, warn her son. “Tell Michael to stay away from his father.”
The finality in Edwige’s voice made Ronan nervous, “You think he’d hurt him?”
Would a parent ever willingly hurt his own child? Edwige sighed, knowing full well the answer to that question, but she thought it best to keep that to herself. “Vaughan, like most men, cannot be trusted.”
Once again Ronan was struck with how similar he and his mother were; their thoughts about men were almost identical.
When he slipped into bed next to Michael a few minutes later, Ronan wondered if he should trust him with the truth. But when he felt Michael stir underneath his touch, he was overcome with the desire to protect him. He just wanted everything to stay the same, endless nights of sleeping next to the most beautiful boy in the world. He knew in his heart, however, that Michael was no longer a boy. He was changing and it had nothing to do with becoming a vampire. He was taking the first steps to becoming a man, and Ronan was delighted to bear witness to the transformation and proud that he had played a role in starting Michael on his journey. Ronan felt just like his father, which filled him equally with pride and with sadness, and he chose to smile in the darkness the same way his father had chosen to smile through the flames. Ronan wrapped his arm around Michael, holding his hand close to his chest, and was comforted, even as his mind searched for peace, by the steady, unwavering beat of his boyfriend’s heart.
He spent most of the night praying that the changes occurring around him, the information that he was acquiring, would not damage his relationship with Michael or end the journey they were just beginning. While Ronan spent the night struggling to grasp abstract issues, come morning, Michael had more practical matters to deal with.
Walking out of the locker room at St. Sebastian’s, Michael and Ciaran were stopped by the loud blow of Blakeley’s whistle. “You two have to miss a couple swim practices next week,” he bellowed, almost as loudly.
His ears still ringing, Michael asked, “Why? Isn’t our first meet coming up?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Blakeley replied. “I’ve scheduled you for some early morning practices.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, sir,” Ciaran remarked a bit sarcastically, unable to stop himself.
“That’s because I’m a very thoughtful bloke!” Blakeley shouted, believing every word he said.
“Of course, but, um, you still haven’t told us why we have to miss practice,” Michael reminded him.
“Don’t you two pay attention to anything other than your schoolwork?” Blakeley asked. “You forgot to sign up for driver’s lessons after school. I put your names on the list.”
Michael and Ciaran looked at each other with surprise. Between swim practice, studying, and reconnecting with their friends after the semester break, they had forgotten that they had to take driver’s education lessons before they could apply for their licenses this summer. They would both turn seventeen in June, Ciaran on the fifteenth and Michael on the twenty-second, and getting their own license was just one more step toward adulthood. “Of course,” Michael said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“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
