Unafraid

running off in the opposite direction, away from Double A and further into the dense, rarely traveled portion of The Forest. The smell was making him hungry, so why not feed early. Who needs to wait until sundown? He could make his own rules and explore new territory at the same time. Take that, Imogene!

The delicious scent was getting more pungent with each step he took. He breathed in deeper, deeper, deeper as he ran until the bouquet of decay mixed with blood consumed his lungs. He had no idea what he was going to find to be the source of the aroma; he didn’t even waste the energy to speculate, because whatever it was, it was making him weak. So weak that when he reached Diego’s corpse, he fell to his knees.

Half of his classmate’s face was gone, eaten, devoured by the hordes of hungry animals that populated this area of The Forest, revealing bits of skull and mutilated muscle that were now a playground for maggots. The other half was eerily undamaged as if left there as a reminder of what the boy had once looked like. Nakano had never noticed that Diego had a birthmark below his right eye that looked very much like a six-pointed star. The rest of his body was twisted into odd, inhuman positions, and Nakano didn’t know if that was the result of the initial struggle that killed him or from being out here exposed to the elements and vulnerable to predators. Diego had last been seen in November, so he had been lying here for at least three months. Nakano hoped that he had spent most all of that time dead.

Instinctively, Kano looked at Diego’s neck for signs that he had been the victim of a vampire killing, but the portion of his neck that hadn’t been eaten away was unbruised. He thought there might be the possibility that Diego had been killed by less supernatural means until he saw his fingers.

What remained of his left arm was outstretched, and the two fingers that were still attached to his badly decomposed hand were lying in a pool of blood surrounded by dirt and snow. Leaning forward on his hands and knees, Nakano saw that within the concoction of natural elements was a word— the — that he imagined Diego had written as a message while he lay dying. But the what? What in the world could it mean? If he was going to try and communicate from beyond the grave, why would he choose such a common word? Why not write something specific, something that had meaning?

Nakano gasped out loud when the inspiration came to him. If the word didn’t hold any meaning, perhaps the blood that wrote the word did.

Lowering his body so his face was inches from Diego’s blood-encrypted message, Nakano opened his mouth and traced the letters with his long, slender tongue. By the time his tongue rounded the curve in the letter e, Nakano realized his inspiration had real consequence. He was no longer living in the present, but was hurtled back in time and was witnessing Diego’s death.

It was as if he were within Diego’s body, traveling as a passenger, as the boy ran wildly into the thick brush, tripping over unearthed rocks and running into low-hanging branches, his breath coming in quick, fearful gasps. When Diego turned around to look behind him, face whatever was running after him, hunting him down, Nakano understood what word Diego had been trying to convey. His message wasn’t complete; he died before he finished it. He didn’t want to use his blood to trace the word the. He was trying to spell out theology.

As if looking out from behind Diego’s panicked eyes, Nakano saw Professor Joubert and Jean-Paul racing after him, their faces transformed, fangs displayed, and gaining speed with every step. They had no intention of letting their prey get away. But why were they chasing after him in the first place?

What could Diego have possibly done to provoke such an attack?

When Diego’s body tumbled, Nakano felt as if his own bones hit the earth. He wasn’t certain if he was in the past or the present until he felt a hand turn him over violently and he was staring up at Jean-Paul’s face. “That weel teach you not to spy on your professors.”

“I ... I wa-wasn’t sp-spying,” Diego stuttered, fear making him incapable of speaking clearly. “I ... I

... j-just wa-wanted to sp-speak t-t-to Professor Jou-Jou-Joubert.”

Jean-Paul pressed his knees harder into Diego’s shoulders, and Nakano felt the pain. “Then thees eez your lucky day,” Jean-Paul declared. “Because Professor Jou-Jou-Joubert eez right ’ere.”

Nakano had to look hard to connect the face he was staring at with the face that he saw every day in Theology class. Very little was the same. But when he looked into the professor’s eyes, even though they were glassy and tinged with a yellow hue, they were filled with pity. Whatever he was about to do, he was going to do it reluctantly. “Diego, you shouldn’t have followed me,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come upon us when we were feeding.”

The vision started to blur when the tears escaped from Diego’s eyes. “P-p-please, sir,” was all Diego could say until he could catch his breath. And then he begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”

There was silence, not a sound was heard. It was as if the entire world were waiting to hear how Professor Joubert would respond. Even Nakano, who knew the outcome, knew how the scene inevitably played out, held his breath hoping that the past could be rewritten. It couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Diego,” Joubert replied, his voice filled with as much kindness as possible. “I can’t let you live after what you’ve seen.”

“You c-c-an make me l-l-like you,” Diego said.

In spite of what he knew, Nakano was filled with a ray of hope and even pride. Fuente wasn’t as dumb as he had always thought. Pinned to the ground, looking up into the face of a vampire, an extraordinary creature he had probably never imagined truly existed, Diego had the quick sense to bargain for his life. Joubert looked impressed as well and, yes, thankful that his student had given him an option to avoid outright murder. But Jean- Paul thought differently.

“Gwendal,” Jean-Paul said, pushing the professor aside. “Look at heem. We do not need a fat, ugly peeg to join our ranks.”

It was at that moment that Diego knew his life was over. Nakano’s body twisted as Diego tried to free himself from underneath the weight of the two men. He tried to form words, attempt another tactic, but each time he seemed to give up before he began. After a few seconds, Diego had given up all hope. His body stopped moving, and something died within Nakano’s heart. He couldn’t believe how palpable the fear was that was consuming Diego, and he couldn’t believe how evil the hatred was that flowed through Jean-Paul’s veins.

“Let’s use theese fat peeg for dessert,” Jean-Paul said, his voice erupting into a cruel laugh, which only ended when he buried his fangs into Diego’s neck and took every drop of blood his body could digest.

Somehow Diego clung onto life as he watched the two men walk away, Jean-Paul strutting off as if he had just bedded another conquest, Joubert’s tall frame hunched over, moving like a man who had given in to a vice he so desperately tried to resist. Nakano wanted the vision to stop; he had seen enough. But Diego was still alive, still trying to communicate with whoever would find his body.

Nakano thought he felt his own tears race down his cheeks when he realized Diego was acting the same way he always did in class, refusing to give up. Which is exactly what the boy had done until all life drifted from him.

Diego’s soul floated up and through Nakano’s body. It was like feeling goodness, but not being able to hold onto it. Nakano knew that sensation, and the vision would haunt him forever. Not only had he witnessed a senseless murder, not only had he seen how evil the man he had once loved could actually be, but he finally understood what he had done to Penry. And he knew because of that one horrific, misguided act, he would never be worthy of forgiveness.

chapter 21

Saoirse was bored. Ever since she had broken up with Morgandy her life just wasn’t as interesting.

There were no more secret dates, no more rendezvous in the middle of the day, no more chances to test herself, to find out just how far she was willing to let herself go when the two of them were alone in her dorm room. All of that was gone; all of that was ruined because Morgandy wasn’t just a secret boyfriend, he was also a lying boyfriend. On top of all that he had also been her brother’s boyfriend.

Like Saoirse said, it was “goppin’ disgusting.”

It didn’t matter that Morgandy couldn’t remember anything about Ronan, that he didn’t have a trace of memory of the time they had spent together as a couple, as soul mates. He was still a liar.

Morgandy might not remember the facts about that time of his life, all the little details and events that made