Unafraid

Michael did. MacCleery wasn’t killed for food; he was killed for sport, as a warning. What Michael hadn’t known until this very moment was that Brania didn’t support her father’s actions. He had assumed she had fallen in line behind him, in theory and in practice, and approved of the vicious murder. He never imagined that she not only disagreed with her father, but that she would admit her condemnation, especially to him. Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Michael started, “but he’s still your father.”

Her laughter startled the priests in the front of the church, their robes swaying as if caught by a breeze as they turned to inspect the intrusion. “I guess it’s hard to let go of human optimism.”

It was Michael’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “And human truth,” he replied. “I’m learning that just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you can live without your family.”

Gazing up at the cross again, Brania almost glowed. If Michael hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was having some sort of holy revelation. The plaintive look on her face was really starting to freak him out, but of course it was so compelling he couldn’t turn away. “What if you have no other choice?” she asked. Michael wasn’t sure, however, if she was asking him or God. “What if you were forced to live out the rest of your life alone? Banished to an eternity of solitude and isolation?”

“Your father’s banished you?”

Brania rubbed her palms on her skirt, introducing the scent of leather into the air. It mingled with the incense, and Michael felt himself get light-headed, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the smells or the revelation that David had turned his back on his only child.

“My father is more clever than that,” Brania said. “He would never speak the words, but his actions don’t carry with them any hint of doubt.”

The thought came to Michael quickly, with such force that he almost forgot where he was; he was almost knocked unconscious. Despite how contentious his relationship was with his father, he still held onto the hope that the situation could be reversed, that it wasn’t final, that things could go back to the way he had always dreamed they would be and he could have the father of his dreams. The reason his hope was possible was because his father had made it known that he wanted Michael in his life and that everything he did, all his actions, were based on his love for his son. Obviously, Brania didn’t know that comfort. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael replied.

Smiling, but unable to look Michael in the eye, Brania mumbled, “Thank you.”

She leaned back in the pew and looked around the church. Michael imagined it had been quite some time since Brania had seen the inside of this or any cathedral, so he allowed her to spend some peaceful, undisturbed moments gazing at the elaborate stained glass windows, the lifelike sculptures of the various saints, the convergence of marble and wood in the dome that loomed over their heads.

These were all images that brought Michael comfort, and he hoped they did the same for Brania, since she clearly couldn’t find comfort anywhere else. She had a similar hope for him.

“I know you don’t really like your father,” she said. “But I think you know that down deep Vaughan is a good man.” Before Michael could agree with or argue the point she continued. “He’s imperfect, as most men are, but considering how evil he could be, I don’t think he’s all that bad.”

Michael thought he knew what Brania was getting at, but he waited for her to clarify her point.

“Before things become irreversible like they have for me,” Brania added, “you may want to pay him a visit and see if you can ... patch things up.”

He listened to her words as if they were a prayer. “I told Ronan the other night that I was thinking of doing just that,” Michael said, more convinced than ever that a reunion with his father was the right course of action. “I wasn’t sure why I was doing it, I thought ... Well, I had my reasons, but you’re right, I should do it to get our relationship back on track.”

“At the risk of sounding like a daft little girl instead of the all-powerful vampire I am,” Brania said, her eyes finally smiling, “family is all we have.”

Michael should have been confused, but he wasn’t. Despite the threat of danger that came directly from Brania’s people, Michael felt safer than ever before. He was on friendly terms with Nakano, he had just had an amazing conversation with Brania, and now he was going to make peace with his father. “You’re absolutely right, Brania,” Michael said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put those words into action.”

Exercising her newfound caution, Brania waited quite a while after Michael left to laugh so he wouldn’t hear her. But when she did she laughed so heartily and with such joyful abandon that the windowpanes shook and the priests crossed themselves thinking the ground was being assaulted by an earthquake. They had no idea they were merely witnessing a girl relishing the success of her plan.

Michael didn’t realize it, but he was going to do exactly what Brania wanted him to.

chapter 14

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, love?” Ronan silently asked.

Michael’s knuckles were an inch away from banging on the door to his father’s suite at the Eden Arms Hotel. He held them in midair and turned to face his boyfriend. “I thought you were all for this?”

“Well, yes, of course, I completely support you,” Ronan replied. “But ...”

“Why is there always a but?”

“Buuuut ... I just want to make sure you’re not doing this because I’ve been, you know, in a hump but because you really want to reconnect with your dad.”

Shaking his head, Michael realized that as wonderful and sweet as boyfriends could be, they could also be exasperating. “I’m sure,” Michael said. “And anyway it’s not like I can back out now.”

Ronan grabbed Michael’s fist and pulled it away from the door. “Nobody knows we’re here,” he reminded Michael. “We can be back at school in an instant and track Ciaran down to make him write that bio lab for me.”

“I didn’t think vampires got cold feet?”

“I don’t have cold feet!” Ronan protested.

“And you shouldn’t. It’s my wayward father we’ve come to surprise.”

“Fine then,” Ronan replied. “I’ll knock.”

“I don’t need you to knock for me,” Michael said. “I’m perfectly capable of knocking on a door all by myself.”

Ignoring each other, Michael and Ronan both knocked on the door at the same time. When the door opened, they almost wished that they hadn’t.

“Mum!” Ronan cried. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Michael wasn’t sure if he was more surprised to find Ronan’s mother standing in the doorway to his father’s apartment or to see that she was dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans. Every other time Michael had seen Edwige she was dressed impeccably; her clothes and accessories were all perfectly coordinated and perfectly expensive. Her hair, thanks to Marcel, was always expertly coiffed, whether it was blond or jet black as it was now. The color of her hair, however, was practically the only thing that was recognizable about her; she looked like a completely different person. And she sounded like one too.

“Please leave,” she said. Her voice was hardly audible and caught at the back of her throat as if it didn’t have the courage to create sound. Her eyes, usually clear and commanding, were glassy and lost. Michael was stunned by the transformation; it was that drastic. Ronan, however, had only noticed that he was finally looking at his mother once again.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Ronan asked. “Haven’t you heard me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months!”

Edwige tried to close the door, but Ronan’s hand went up and stopped it from moving any farther.

Michael thought she could have easily pushed back; he knew she was way more powerful than she looked, but she just stood there, eyes staring at the rug that surrounded her bare feet, her shoulders slightly hunched