must our children always disappoint us?”
Someone not disappointed this evening was Lochlan. One eye pressed against the microscope, he didn’t know exactly what he was looking at, but he hadn’t expected to either. When he took the piece of paper Nurse Radcliff had left behind, the one on which she deliberately cut herself, and placed it underneath the microscope’s lens, he instinctively knew the bloodstain wouldn’t be human. “Could it be?” he mumbled, the very thought that was infecting his mind making his hand tremble, making the paper shake. “Could this be vampire’s blood?”
The second the words were spoken, the doctor felt very cold. If what he had just stumbled upon was true, if what he overheard Michael and Ronan talking about was fact and not just the product of uncensored teenage imagination, he was in danger. He ran toward the door and slowly opened it, just a crack, to see if anyone was lurking in the darkness. No one, at least no one he could see. Slamming the door shut, he locked it and then closed and locked both windows, his panic not allowing him to peek through the blinds to check one more time for inhuman loiters. This is insane! Standing in the middle of his office, he marveled, “Could my mind be playing tricks on me? Did I really see fangs? Could all the legends be true?”
No! No, Lochlan, you’re a doctor, you don’t believe in supernatural nonsense! Ripping his glasses off his face and wiping them furiously with his shirttail, he repeated. You don’t believe in myth, you don’t believe in fantasy. And yet somehow, somehow he knew this was the truth. Vampires existed and they were living right here beside him, among the sculpted archangels, stalking the innocent students. But not all the students were innocent. Some of them understood, some of them knew exactly what type of evil had taken up residence at their school. It was time they understood their secret was out.
Ronan was perplexed when he looked at his cell phone. Why was Dr. MacCleery texting him? The message was straightforward—I need to see you in my office—but before he could respond, Saoirse yanked the phone out of his hand, turned it off, and shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. “No texting at my birthday bash,” she informed.
“Fine,” Ronan said. “Just give me back my phone.”
Waving her pinky in his face, she said, “Do you vampire-swear that you won’t text or take a call?”
“Or make any more daft comments about our headmaster,” Ciaran added.
“That man is evil and you know it!” Ronan shot back.
Edwige knew her eldest son was right, but she didn’t have the strength or desire to support him. Just as David didn’t have the strength or desire to chase after Brania. History, being repetitive by nature, had taught them both that children, after a certain age, could no longer be controlled, so it was a waste of their time to try. While her children and their friends continued to shout and dispute the real purpose behind David’s brainchild, Edwige finally came to a decision. Her real purpose was not to be a mother, a guardian, a woman alone leading a brood. She didn’t know what her destiny was, but she knew it had nothing to do with her children, and so it was time to set them free. Starting with the most recent addition to her family.
The voices continuing to rise and fall around her, Edwige telepathically informed Imogene that she was being released from her power. She was now free to go wherever she wanted, do whatever she longed to do. But like an infant who cries for her favorite toy only to realize when she’s holding it that it wasn’t the reason she was crying in the first place, Imogene didn’t know what to do with her free will. Now that she had her freedom, she didn’t know where to go, so for the time being, until she could think of something else to do, some more exciting place to visit, she would simply sit in her coffin and sing.
Edwige got up and, unnoticed, retreated into her bedroom. Let them get used to being without her, she thought. It was only a matter of time before they would all find themselves completely on their own anyway.
chapter 20
One drop, two drops, three drops, four. Archangel Cathedral was quiet. Even though it was Sunday morning, everyone, including the priests in residence, were preparing for the day’s carnival instead of attending mass. It wasn’t typical, but it’s what David wanted.
Initially, there had been reluctance, concern that such a celebration would disrupt tradition. Early morning Sunday mass was a Double A custom, not embraced by every student, but deemed a part of school culture. Those who took the tradition—and religious service itself—more seriously were especially worried. They thought the observance of the so-called Black Sun could be viewed as inappropriate, pagan. However, when the most senior priest and Sister Mary Elizabeth met with the headmaster, they realized their concerns were unjustified. Apologizing for questioning his judgment, they left David’s office wondering how they ever could have misinterpreted the integrity of an innocent school activity.
Since that meeting, the religious faculty worked alongside the teachers and students to transform St. Sebastian’s and the campus near The Forest into a mini fair complete with makeshift booths housing a gypsy fortuneteller, wheels of chance, and even a dunking chamber in which the professors would take turns sitting on a rickety board while eager students threw sandbags at an attached target in the hopes of dunking their favorite or not-so-favorite teacher into a pool of ice-cold water. Interspersed among the amusements were food stands serving cotton candy, popcorn, and Fritz’s contribution, apples dipped in dark chocolate to resemble the eclipsed sun. And built right on the edge of The Forest was an attraction that made David chuckle: a mazelike structure with walls adorned with fun-house mirrors that distorted everyone’s reflections, humans and vampires alike.
When the building process was complete, the adults couldn’t agree as to what was more shocking: the professionalism of the construction or the willingness of the students to participate. Not one student balked at having to help out, not one feigned an illness to get out of doing their share of hard labor. For the first time in years, the student body was in complete support of a headmaster’s wishes and worked as a unified team to see those wishes fulfilled. It was a wonderful surprise and yet, to some, disturbing. It just wasn’t right, just like it wasn’t right not to hold mass on Sunday morning.
As a compromise, David suggested that a twilight service be held at midnight on Saturday so religious obligations could be met and everyone could have Sunday free to worship the Black Sun. When he first proposed the change to Sister Mary Elizabeth, she readily agreed, but as time went on, she realized it didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t they have both, church in the morning and the carnival in the afternoon? Why did she always give in so easily to David in his presence and then experience doubts later on when she was alone? Why didn’t she voice her opinions to him? She wasn’t confrontational, but she was hardly submissive, particularly when it came to her beliefs. If she knew what David had planned, what he had already set in motion, she would have done more than question herself. She would have begged God to intervene.
Water is mixed with blood once more. No one was in the church, so no one heard the sound. Plop, plop, plop. The holy water rippled within the insides of the font each time its smooth surface was broken, each time something fell from above to splice into the consecrated liquid. If anyone was in the church, all they had to do was look up to see what was creating the sound. The cross that was usually bare now held a body.
Mimicking the crucifixions from the Bible, the man was nailed to the cross, one piercing in each outstretched palm, one through both feet, which were placed one on top of the other. Unlike typical religious iconography, there were two more piercings in the body, these two created not with the aid of nails but with fangs. Two holes, more like gashes, were visible on the left side of Lochlan’s neck, both large enough so that whatever blood was left in the doctor’s body could spill out and contaminate the blessed water below. Sister Mary Elizabeth was right. Canceling mass had nothing to do with keeping the students’ schedule free. David merely wanted to put the church to better use.
And Ronan merely wanted to know what the hell happened to Dr. MacCleery. Standing in the middle of his office was like standing in the aftermath of an explosion. The desks were overturned, cabinets were leaning on their sides, their contents spilled out and strewn throughout the room. There were huge dents in the walls created by fists or thrown bodies, and splattered all over the floor in a random pattern was blood. It was not what Ronan expected to find when he raced over to the doctor’s office after seeing that he had sent him several texts last night
