“Well phrased,” David said. Leaning in closer to Ciaran, his blue eyes reflecting the silvery speckles within the granite: “Do you mind if I repeat that idiom in my own private conversation? It’s such a clever expression; it just begs for a larger audience.”
The new headmaster, Brania’s father, thinks I’m clever? “Well, sure, by all means.”
“Thank you, Ciaran, I appreciate that.”
Even if Ciaran had wanted to stop David’s next movement, he wouldn’t have been able to, so quickly did he grab the microscope, wheel it around, and peer into it to look at the sample of Ronan’s blood. The odd thing was, Ciaran didn’t want to stop him; he appreciated his interest. No one ever cared about his experiments, no one ever wanted to know more about what interested him, and here was this man, this really great man, taking notice of his work. The simple truth was it made him feel good.
“I must confess, Ciaran, I am not a man of science like you are,” David stated. “But I am fascinated by its principles. Whoever deciphers them holds the keys to the universe.”
He gets it! He understands why I’m so passionate about my work! “That’s my goal, sir,” Ciaran explained. “To unlock as many principles as I can, to learn as much about how the world works and about how we function in this world as I possibly can. It’s all I think about most days and, well, I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but it’s what I’m quite good at. I only hope I’ll get the opportunity to continue my research.”
Such obedience, such willingness. Some children make it so easy. “Objective assessment of one’s own strength is hardly arrogance. On the contrary, it’s humility.”
And all this time I was afraid to say what I honestly felt because I thought everyone would consider me conceited. “Really? That’s being humble?”
“Acceptance of the talent and skill God has awarded you is a most humbling act,” David replied. “Take me for example. I accept the fact that God has given me the talent to lead. Is that arrogance?” Without waiting for a response, David answered for his student. “I think not, I am merely acknowledging God’s work.” David felt the spark of inspiration ignite inside his mind. “Come to think of it, isn’t that all that science really is, God’s work?”
Never have I thought of it that way, but he’s right, he’s absolutely right. My research, my studying, the hours I’ve spent in this lab, have all been for the sake of God. “I’ve never been so proud to be a scientist.”
“And I’ve never been so proud to give a student the chance to fulfill his dreams,” David said. “But first I need you to promise me something.”
“Of course, anything.”
“For the time being, I would like the fact that I am also Brania’s father to remain a secret to be shared by only a select few,” David explained. “I trust you will agree to be part of that special group?”
They both knew what the answer would be before Ciaran even spoke. “I would be honored.”
And if I were subject to God’s will, I would be humbled. “Now let me attempt to speak in the language you most readily understand,” David said. “Science.”
Captivated, Ciaran listened as David began to describe the help he needed, the help that only he could provide. “I am very interested in what separates species, the genetic differences that make one life-form unique from another.”
Ciaran understood and what’s more, he shared the same fascination. “You’re talking about the deviations in the genetic makeup between vampires and humans, right?”
Close. “Absolutely!” David replied. “Not only are you intelligent but intuitive as well.”
He even gets more excited than my science professors, Ciaran thought. They just nod and mumble questions. David, I mean Headmaster Zachary, wants to get involved, wants to get involved with me. “Thank you, sir,” Ciaran said. He then unlocked the drawer to his left and pulled out a notebook, page after page filled with scribbled notes in his handwritten code, diagrams, calculations, and complex algorithms, none of which were decipherable by anyone but him. “I’ve actually started doing a few experiments on my own.”
David was very pleased. He had known Ciaran would be willing to help; not many could resist his power of persuasion. But he never expected him to be armed with such vast material from the onset. This boy has been quite industrious. “Well, well, well, I see someone has been doing much more than schoolwork.” For the first time since David walked through the door, Ciaran was nervous. “Don’t worry,” David said reassuringly. “I wholeheartedly approve of your extracurricular activities.”
Relieved, Ciaran went on to explain that the sample of blood in his microscope was actually Ronan’s. “Does your half brother know that you’re examining his DNA?”
“Well, not exactly,” Ciaran confessed. “I was really hoping to get some of Michael’s blood, but once I saw it, I knew it was Ronan’s. I have some older samples of his blood, and this one is the same as those.”
David was very surprised. Usually he lost interest in someone much sooner than this, but the more Ciaran spoke, the more intrigued he was becoming. “Is there any reason why Michael’s blood would prove to be more . . . interesting?”
“Since Michael’s been a vampire for a much shorter period of time, I thought he might still have some human genetic composition in his blood. Ideally I’d like to track his blood over the course of several months to see if it changes in any way.”
“I see,” David replied. “Ciaran, I am more convinced than ever that you are the right man for this job. And furthermore, we will make a magnificent team.”
Despite the elation Ciaran was feeling, he was starting to get a headache. If he didn’t know any better, he would think it was the beginning of a migraine. But he had never had one of those in his life. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Zachary, I mean Headmaster.”
Laughing, David clutched Ciaran’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. He wasn’t afraid of this man; it was just that his touch was so cold, like the ice that covered the windows. “You have my permission, in private only of course, to call me simply by my first name.”
“Thank you, David,” Ciaran said proudly.
Without another word, David turned and started to walk toward the door, stopping only when he knew Ciaran was doing nothing more than staring at his back, waiting for him to speak. “Continue with your experiments and report to no one but me,” David ordered.
“I’m not sure if I can do that . . . Da . . . sir.”
David’s eyes turned black, only for a second, not long enough for Ciaran to notice, but long enough to remind David how much he detested insolence. “Whatever do you mean?”
“In order to conduct more experiments, I need Michael’s blood, and I don’t know if I can get that without his knowledge.”
He wasn’t being insolent, just practical, just being a good little scientist, a good little scientist who had nothing to worry about. “You leave the acquisition of Michael’s blood to me,” David said. “I’ll make sure you have more than you need.”
The moment David was gone, so too was Ciaran’s headache. What lingered, however, for quite some time afterward, was the feeling that he had just had one of the most significant conversations of his young life.
Although his life could hardly be considered young, David felt the same way. This student, this young scientist, would prove immensely helpful in finding out what made those infernal water vamps walk in the sun outside of the hallowed grounds of Eden and why they only needed to feed once a month. It would bring David one step closer to uncovering the origins of The Well, their pagan god, so he could destroy it once and for all. The beauty of his plan, what made him admire it so much even if he alone created it, is that Ciaran would be doing all the work for him and would never know that he was betraying his own family. Pausing for a moment, David had an incredible thought: Maybe this child was fully aware of what he was doing. Born unto that disgraceful Edwige and saddled with that pompous Ronan for a brother, Ciaran would not surprise him at all if he had begun his research in the hopes of destroying his own family.
“If that turns out to be the case, I promise I will reward him properly.”
He wasn’t speaking to himself but to his namesake, the archangel Zachariel. David looked up to the unsmiling face carved from ancient oak, silhouetted by the sun, and forever etched into the side of the doorway of Archangel Cathedral, and he was filled with a conflicting combination of love and hatred. Every time he passed by the cathedral, he was disgusted to find Zachariel’s image not gracing the apex of the archway, where it should be, but relegated to the side, under the lesser angels. One day he would rectify that imperfection, when his full power was restored, when the academy was cleansed of all its impurities. Until then he would close his eyes and imagine
