Wiping the tears from his eyes as new ones started to fall, Michael stood before Ronan and pledged, “I’ll try harder, I promise.”
Ronan held Michael’s hand, heartbroken that it was trembling, but also encouraged. Michael wasn’t like the others, the other boys he had loved. He was different and even though, years earlier, Ronan had thought he’d found his soul mate with someone else, he now knew that was a mistake, it turned out to be a relationship that didn’t last. The person he was meant to share his eternity with was standing before him. “You don’t have to try harder; just be yourself, Michael,” Ronan said quietly, kissing one cheek. “Forever beautiful.” Then he kissed the other cheek. “And forever mine.”
Overcome with guilt and love and confusion, Michael didn’t attempt to speak, he just stood there and let Ronan undress him.
“Now come on, love,” Ronan said. “Let’s go to bed.”
chapter 14
David jumped up and landed on the branch so gently the white-tailed eagle wasn’t disturbed. A foot away, he admired the creature’s harsh beauty, its yellow, sharply hooked beak; its talons, the same color and shape; and, of course, its feathers, long, interwoven, and various shades of brown. But what he loved most was the unexpected color of its chest and head—pure white, like a virgin snowfall—which gave the eagle a look of innocence. This, however, was no innocent animal, the eagle, like David, was a predator. That’s why, when it shifted its gaze, and its large, expressionless eyes took in David’s form, it didn’t immediately perceive that it had become prey.
David grabbed the eagle by the throat and their eyes met, one inhuman being facing another. Unused to being in a position of vulnerability, the eagle didn’t know to struggle. The only part of the bird that moved was its feet as they shuffled slightly in order to grab a more secure hold of the thick branch. The razor-sharp nails of its talons plucked pieces of bark free until it regained its balance and was once again as steady as David. Squeezing tighter, David didn’t sway in the slightest, he looked as if he were standing on the ground and not on a branch fifty feet above it. The eagle, confused, could not maintain its position and finally reacted as David had hoped, releasing its hold on the branch and unfurling its wings as if it were in mid-flight.
Outstretched, the eagle’s wings looked magnificent, almost eight feet in length from one tip to the other. Oh, to be graced with such beauty, David thought, such majesty, to have the tools to soar, float through the sky. As a centuries-old vampire, David possessed remarkable abilities, more so than most of his kind, but true flight was not one of them, and David longed to know the full scope of an eagle’s freedom. Sadly, freedom for this particular bird was about to come to an end.
Twisting his grip to hold the eagle by the back of the neck instead of his throat, David jumped off the branch and used the animal’s innate skill against him so together they could soar into the morning sky. With his free hand, David reached out, stretching, grasping toward a freedom that was not yet his, imagining he was the one allowing them to fly because of his power, his ability, his wings.
When he looked at his reflection in the mirror that hung in the anteroom to his office, the eagle in front of him, its wings fluttering, David knew Zachariel would welcome the sacrifice and understand the symbolism behind his gesture. If the eagle understood what David was about to do, it would have used every ounce of strength to fly from the room, not that an attempt to escape would have been successful. David was in complete control. And in no rush.
“Be patient, my friend, your time will come,” he said. “But first I must send a message to my children.”
The text was intriguing. It wasn’t the words that impressed Phaedra, but the power behind them. David was able to cast a spell even when his words were unspoken.
My students, The Carnival for the Black Sun is almost upon us! Come to St. Sebastian’s today so we can begin preparations for the festivities. Only together can we make this a memorable event in Archangel Academy’s history!
In only a few sentences, David called for unity among his students, pride in the legacy of their school, and service to the common good, and he did so using the students’ preferred method of communication. Phaedra would have been even more impressed by his skill had she known that David was born more than three hundred years before the digital age.
“Must be some fascinating text you got there.”
Phaedra looked over at the other side of the room, at Saoirse, who was lounging in bed. Michael had been right. Having company these past few weeks did help speed up her recovery. “Our new headmaster has sent us a command.”
Jumping off her bed, Saoirse ran over to Phaedra, grabbed the cell phone out of her hand, and collapsed onto the mattress. “Ooh, let’s see.” David Zachary: Headmaster, Vampire King, Text Meister. How many secret talents does that man have? “Cool, this is as good a reason as any to show my face in public,” she said. “I’m tired of hiding out.”
“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” Phaedra asked.
“I’m a fifteen-year-old runaway who escaped one boarding school to hide out in another,” Saoirse replied, tossing the cell phone back to Phaedra. “I’ve no idea what’s wise.”
As always, Phaedra couldn’t tell if Saoirse was being serious or sarcastic. She thought living as a teenage girl was difficult; living with one was even trickier. She wouldn’t change the arrangement. She enjoyed Saoirse’s company, her irreverence and good energy, but that same energy could be exhausting at times. And depressing. Saoirse’s presence made Phaedra realize how much she missed Imogene.
Poor Imogene. When her friend was taken from this world, Phaedra thought her learning would cease, but the opposite occurred; her knowledge grew. She understood the grief of losing a friend and now the joy of rediscovering a new one, one who was a bit more complicated than Imogene. “I think you’re a lot wiser than you let on,” Phaedra said.
I wonder how much she knows about me, Saoirse thought. As much as I know about her? “That’s ’cause you’re anti-human.”
More complicated, but just as sassy. “We told you about me in confidence, in case I suddenly got all, you know, foggy and stuff!” Phaedra screamed. “But it’s a secret!”
Straight-faced, Saoirse chastised her roommate. “Then why are you shouting so the neighbors can hear?”
Phaedra wasn’t an expert, but she thought Saoirse had the “little sister” act down pat. “I’m not shouting!” she replied, playfully flinging a pillow at Saoirse. “And besides I’m not anti-human.”
Welcoming the pillow fight challenge, Saoirse pelted Phaedra in her shoulder with the cushiony weapon. “You are too!”
Quickly the two girls were kneeling on Phaedra’s bed, hitting each other with pillows, shrieking with laughter, each one of Phaedra’s Am not’s met with an Are too from Saoirse until a deeper voice put an end to their shenanigans. “Blimey! I didn’t know the match already started!”
The sight of Phaedra bouncing on her bed, her smiling face the center of a mass of curls, gave Fritz some not-soinnocent ideas. She looked so light, so bouncy, like she could fly, like she wasn’t born to be attached to the ground or something. All Fritz wanted to do at the moment was take her by her hands and pull her back down onto the bed, show her that being grounded can be just as much fun as being airborne. Saoirse had other ideas. “Pillow fight!” she declared. “Boys against the girls.”
Michael saw the looks of terror. Neither Fritz nor Phaedra relished the fact of engaging in close, physical contact with each other while two other people were in the room. “Sorry, I was brought up not to hit girls,” Michael announced.
Adorable and a gentleman. “Even if the girl hits first?” Saoirse inquired, then threw Phaedra’s pillow at Michael’s face.
So much for trying to make things less awkward for my friends, Michael thought. A challenge is a challenge. “Prepare to be defeated, lassie!” Michael cried, whacking Saoirse’s legs with the pillow. Giggling, she returned fire
