could they possibly have to talk about that wouldn’t end in disaster? The only thing that stopped him from racing into the lab and dealing with his brother’s duplicity head on was hearing Michael call his name.
“Ronan!” Michael cried out. “Where are you going?”
Stopping abruptly, Ronan turned around shocked to see Michael standing before him. His first instinct was to ask him why he was walking outside by himself, but he knew that would only serve to make Michael angry and was only a reaction to his just having seen David. Michael was capable of protecting himself; Ronan knew that. He also knew that Michael would understand what he had to do.
“I just saw David leave Ciaran’s lab,” Ronan explained. “I’ve got to make my brother understand he’d be insane to join his side.”
But Michael didn’t understand. “You’ll be wasting your time.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Ronan cried.
“Because it’s the truth,” Michael said, growing exasperated. “If Ciaran doesn’t get the severity of the situation by now, there’s nothing you can say or do that will change his mind.”
“So what are you saying?” Ronan shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “That I should do nothing?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Ronan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Frustrated, he kicked a rock with such force that it flew about twenty feet above the highest tree before disappearing out of sight. His thoughts ricocheted in his mind:
“Michael knows all of that, Ronan.”
Stunned that Michael could telepathically hear him even though he wasn’t consciously calling out to him, Ronan realized that his boyfriend was harnessing his vampire powers at an increasingly faster speed. He was impressed, but he was still concerned. “So does Michael know what Ronan should do?”
“Stay out of it,” Michael said. “Whatever Ciaran decides to do is his choice.”
That wasn’t advice, that was an observation. “Well, yes,” Ronan stuttered. “But ...”
Michael wrapped his arms around Ronan and drew him in close. “But what? You’ve done everything you can for him,” Michael continued. “You’ve been a good brother, not the best in the entire history of the world, but a lot better than when I first got here.”
Their lips were so close that Ronan was finding it hard to concentrate on what Michael was saying, but he knew the words were important so he forced himself to listen. “If Ciaran can’t see that and if he wants to work with Them like my father has chosen to do, well then as hard as it is to admit, you don’t have the power to stop him.”
Ronan had made the smart choice; it was what he needed to hear. Yes, he was a vampire and stronger than Ciaran in so many ways, but he was still his brother and because of that their relationship would always be complicated. It might serve them both best if Ronan stepped away and let Ciaran choose his own path. Ronan just prayed he didn’t choose the one that would destroy him.
Pushing thoughts of his brother out of his mind, Ronan exhaled, releasing a long, slow stream of air so he could focus on the handsome boy wrapped in his arms. “Well, love, only seventeen and already such a wise, old sage.”
Michael felt Ronan’s lips press into his, and he started to chuckle. “Maybe Saoirse’s right after all and I really am some special god.”
Without letting go of Michael, Ronan knelt and laid him down on the ground. Ignoring the rough earth under them, the boys kissed and laughed and caressed each other in the shadow of the trees. “I don’t know if you’re a god,” Ronan whispered. “But I do know that you’re the ideal husband for me.”
Abruptly, Michael pushed Ronan away and sat up. “Hey, wait a second.”
“What’s wrong?” Ronan asked, trying to get Michael to resume his horizontal position.
“You still haven’t told me your secret.”
Not now, now is not the time. “Tomorrow,” Ronan said. “After our feeding.”
Thankful that that was enough to satisfy Michael’s curiosity, Ronan lay on top of him and kissed him deeply so he could satisfy his own growing desire.
The boys were so connected to one another, so lost in each other’s embrace, they didn’t even hear Imogene start to sing.
Had they listened to something other than the sound of their own breathing, had they reminded themselves to be aware of the world around them, they would have heard the clear, dulcet sounds of Imogene’s tune. They could have followed the melody all the way to the cave where she had resided since her partial-death and uncovered her hiding place. But they were preoccupied, too engrossed in exploring each other’s bodies, and for the moment weren’t interested in exploring things that were just out of their reach. Imogene wouldn’t have any new visitors today; she would still only have one companion—Brania. Both, however, were starting to become more aware that their constant cohabitation was losing its novelty.
“Don’t stop!” Brania ordered when Imogene’s singing was replaced with silence.
“I’m tired,” Imogene replied, leaning her head against the soft, white satin on the inside of the coffin.
Brania understood the need for children to occasionally be disobedient, but her own child should know better and not behave like a savage human. “It’s my favorite aria,” Brania said, trying to find a tone that would appease Imogene.
“I don’t care!” Imogene yelled. “I told you I’m tired and I don’t want to sing.”
Walking slowly toward the coffin, Brania felt her face contort, her hands curl into two clenched fists. She wanted to be a good parent, she wanted her daughter to know that she was loved and cherished, but she also wanted to hear her music. When she reached the side of the coffin, Imogene turned her head away from her, and Brania had to resist the urge to grab Imogene by the scruff of the neck and force her to look at her, show her the respect that she deserved as her mother, her savior.
Instead, she bent her head and willed her voice to sound caring and doused with a mother’s love.
“Please, Imogene, do what you do best and make your mother happy.”
When Imogene resumed her singing, when the cave was once again filled with the girl’s sweet, lilting voice, Brania was horrified. She was no longer listening to Imogene sing; she was no longer in the cave. She had been transported back through time and was a young child, standing in a field with cornhusks almost taller than she was. In her hand was a rock, and crouched next to her was her father.
He whispered into her ear the words that would entice her to commit the evil act she didn’t want to perform, the words that would convince her to use the rock to strike the little boy who was running toward her, the little boy who thought she had called him over to play, not to die.
“Please, Brania, do what you do best and make your father happy.”
Repulsed, Brania realized she was indeed her father’s daughter.
chapter 4
For the first time in years, Michael was excited about the start of the new school year. In Weeping Water it had always filled him with contrasting emotions—he embraced his education and loved learning new things in most all of his subjects, he just hated feeling like an outsider among his classmates. It was how he had felt all through grammar school and junior high. He had thought his freshman year at Two W High School might have been a new beginning, but he had been wrong.
Everything changed when he transferred to Double A. Not only was the education superior, the social aspect was immensely improved as well.
But then last semester, his first after crossing over and being transformed into a vampire, the luster had faded. He had thought that as an immortal creature education was now beneath him. Thanks, in part, to Ronan’s guidance, he had quickly learned school was more important than ever before. If he were going to live forever, it would help to acquire as much knowledge as possible. Sitting on the bed together side by side, their legs casually
