David Zachary’s presence.
“He is, like, way hotter than Hawksbry ever was,” Michael sighed. He couldn’t believe he’d just admitted that to Phaedra, but it felt good to express such thoughts, the kind that he usually kept to himself and, anyway, it was the truth. The new headmaster looked like the pictures of those Norse gods he saw in books about classical mythology, fiery and imposing, with close-cropped red hair and a thin beard that didn’t soften but accentuated his sharp cheekbones and square jaw. Phaedra didn’t respond to Michael’s comment, not because she didn’t agree with him, but because she couldn’t take her eyes off the man who now stood in front of the microphone, his two large hands placed on either side of the podium as if resting on the arms of a throne. Gazing out at the crowd, at his subjects, David didn’t say a word, he merely smiled and nodded his head, only slightly, welcoming the students into his world instead of the other way around.
Amir was the first to applaud, loudly and without embarrassment, he didn’t care if he was alone in his zeal. But he wasn’t. Nakano, sitting next to him, quickly followed his lead, a bit miffed that he hadn’t thought to start applauding first, so he made sure he was the first one to stand. Then one student after the other, followed by members of the faculty, all joined in until everyone in the gym was standing and cheering the appearance of the man who would signal a new era at Archangel Academy. Everyone except Dr. MacCleery and Ronan. MacCleery could not believe the reception this stranger was receiving, and Ronan couldn’t believe he was staring at a face from his past.
David basked in the applause until he was certain that it would continue for as long as he would allow it. He raised his hand, and the cheering halted; a few seconds later he bent his arm until his palm was once again resting on the side of the podium, and everyone sat down, waiting, waiting, waiting, for him to speak. “Welcome to the family.” The words landed on each student’s ears as if they were a private message, hushed and secret, and each student leaned in to hear more. “These are the words my headmaster spoke to me when I was a student here many years ago and these are the words I speak to you now. Archangel Academy is more than a school, it is more than a place to learn, to grow, to be challenged. It is home.” David smiled as he saw his words caress each face, wrap around each throat, burrow into each heart. “And now it is once again my home and I am thrilled and proud to return here, this time not as a student but as your headmaster.” And then he noticed that his words had failed to penetrate one student, Ronan, who did not stare at him in admiration or awe. Ah well, that was what he had expected. What he didn’t expect to see, out of the corner of his eye, was that MacCleery noticed it as well. But that was all right; the doctor could be handled. “With your support I will lead our home into the future and make it stronger than ever before. But the future can only be prosperous, it can only conquer, if there is a strong foundation and an unbreakable connection to the past.”
Softly, David began to sing. The students recognized the words, but it was as if they were hearing them for the first time. O feathered wings that soar above this land that we call home. The school’s alma mater never sounded so honest, so heartfelt, so perfectly fitting. Immortal creatures filled with love protect us as we roam. First Amir and Nakano and then a handful of others began to mouth the words along with David, eager to proclaim their unity, their solidarity with their school and their school’s new leader. Throughout this earth and back again over land and sea, guide us so we may return where we were born to be. And now most of the students began to sing along, sincere and sober, without a trace of ridicule in their voices, without a hint that the words they were singing were not words that they completely believed in. MacCleery was stunned. The kids hated this song; they wrote parody lyrics to it, they mocked it the way kids are supposed to mock an ancient, outdated verse. What the hell was going on? This hallowed ground, our resting place, Archangel Academy.
When the singing stopped and the kids began to clap and cheer, Lochlan looked around at the faculty members, trying to gauge from their expressions if they were as alarmed as he was. Most of them were applauding along with the students, visibly impressed by David’s ability to command authority, tame an otherwise unruly crowd. But not all of them. Blakeley looked skeptical, or was he just jealous that David had accomplished with a soft voice and well-chosen words what he could achieve only with shouting and threats? He glanced over at Sister Mary Elizabeth, her lips moving frantically. Was she praying? Did she too see through to this man’s soul?
“Archangel Academy,” David said, his voice breaking through the clamor. “May she live strong and may she live forever.”
The pride that Michael had felt when he first walked through the iron entrance gate and stepped foot on Double A soil came rushing back to him, flooding him with an almost overwhelming sense of joy. But unlike before, when he wasn’t sure why he was experiencing such euphoria, the thrill was accompanied with the knowledge that he was someplace special, somewhere that he belonged. He couldn’t be happier or more grateful. And Ronan couldn’t be more distressed. He’s buying this, Ronan thought, like every other gullible prat in the room.
All around him, kids were shouting their approval, the memory of Hawksbry forgotten, ravaged with calculated ease, and replaced with something new, something better, something that Ronan knew couldn’t be trusted. Perplexed, he turned to scour the crowd to find someone, anyone, who shared his concern, but it was useless. And then his concern grew to fear when he saw Brania sitting in the bleachers, dressed in a St. Anne’s uniform.
She waved at Ronan like the schoolgirl she wasn’t, wide-eyed and openmouthed, and shrugged her shoulders at the chanting that was taking place around her. She shook her head and spoke so that only Ronan could hear her, “Can you believe all the commotion?” Actually, Ronan couldn’t. He turned to look at David, who was once again holding up his hand as both recognition of the glory bestowed upon him and reprimand that such glory was inappropriate, and when Ronan turned back to look at Brania, she was gone. His eyes flitted about the bleachers, but she was nowhere to be found, she was just someone else playing a game.
“Thank you,” David said, his audience immediately quieting so as not to miss any of his words. “On behalf of Archangel Academy, it will be my pleasure to serve each and every one of you. And I know you, in kind, will welcome each and every opportunity to serve her.” You mean to serve you, Ronan thought. When he saw Michael applauding with the rest of the students, he felt cold. He needed to speak with him, tell him that he was being manipulated, but he knew that nothing he said now would register, nothing would breach the bond David had so successfully and so quickly created. For now, Ronan stood alone, just like Dr. MacCleery.
All around Lochlan, teachers, visiting priests, even his own nurse, were swarming David, trying to shake his hand, have a brief yet personal audience with the man, while the doctor stood back, his right hand once again shoved into his jacket pocket, clutching Alistair’s note. “Bloody amazing, don’t ya think?” Blakeley asked. Lochlan didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged his shoulders. “I hate to admit it, doc, but I think we can learn something from this bloke.”
“I already have,” the doctor muttered.
As the students started filing out of the gym, the sun seemed to take back some control. Shadows were replaced with streaks of sunlight that brushed at the darkness, pushing it to the side, not completely disposing of it but making it less apparent, less compelling. Ronan fell into the crowd behind Michael and Phaedra, giving his boyfriend time to talk to his friend while he looked around to see if he could catch another glimpse of Brania. Usually, he went out of his way to ignore the girl, but today he thought she could provide him with some answers, make him understand what was going on here. However, he figured any conversation he had with Brania would only create more questions, because the problem with girls, as Ronan had come to realize, was that you never really knew what they were talking about.
“I’m glad you decided to stick around,” Michael said. Phaedra tugged at a curl that had escaped the hair clip she was wearing in an attempt to smooth out her otherwise wavy hair. “My work here isn’t done yet.”
Really, Michael thought, what else could you possibly do for me? Phaedra had come to Double A at the request of Michael’s dying mother, to protect him, to make sure that he became what he was born to be. Phaedra had seen to that, she had done her job, Michael was now like Ronan, an immortal hybrid, a member of a rare species. What reason could she have to stay? Not that Michael wanted her to leave. Phaedra had become a good friend, one of the few people who knew him utterly, and one of the few people around with whom he could be himself, without any pretense. But didn’t she already grant his mother’s wish? Didn’t she already prevent anyone from standing in the way of his destiny? Then he saw Fritz and it all made sense.
“Oh, now I get it,” Michael remarked. “But I didn’t think efemeras cared about guys.”
Blotches of pink began to form on Phaedra’s cheeks and she tilted her head so it almost touched Michael’s. “Neither did I.”
