Unafraid

Brania gnashed the loose gravel with her heel as she fought the urge to walk toward her father. She might have allowed him entry to her home, but he was not a guest who needed to be greeted formally.

He was a courier. “While your sophomoric observation is amusing,” she said, “I’d much prefer my gift.”

Reluctantly, David presented the box to her. His hands shook as he realized he was offering one of his children to the other, and he felt his anger build. He prayed that she would come forward and take her prize before he lost control of his fury and smashed it on the ground at her feet. You wanted your brother’s ashes, well here they are! No! No, he couldn’t do that to Jean-Paul. He had already taken his son’s life; he couldn’t take his dignity as well. David raised the urn even higher. “Your brother’s remains,” he said solemnly. “Per your request.”

As expected Nakano proved to have more guts than her father. So much was going through Brania’s head when she walked toward David, she was surprised she didn’t topple over. She was livid and wanted to call David out for his cowardice, for once again making a child do the work of a parent; she was remorseful and wanted to tell Nakano she was sorry for convincing him to do her father’s dirty work; there was even a part of her that was ashamed that she had allowed her jealousy of Jean-Paul to lead her to orchestrate his death. But when she took the lid off of the box and the intoxicating odor of death enveloped her, she was proud. She had gotten what she deserved: she was an only child once more. “Bravo, Daddy,” Brania cooed. “All is right with the world.”

“Not quite,” David snapped. “Not until you take me to The Well as you promised.”

“Well, you see, that’s really not up to me,” Brania replied, placing the urn on a small flattened rock that jutted out from the wall. “It’s up to Imogene.”

“Who!?”

“She’s talking about me.”

Turning to face Imogene, who was lounging in the coffin, David could no longer conceal his fury.

“I’m through playing games with you, Brania!” David spat, his fists clenched and shaking violently. “I held up my end of our bargain. It’s time that you held up yours!!”

“You outsourced your chore!” Brania cried. “Proving once again that you are incapable of ruling our race!” Reveling in her father’s flummoxed look, Brania slowly walked toward him again. This time her mind wasn’t jumbled. Only one thought permeated her brain: how wonderful it was going to be to strip her father of every ounce of his power. “When our people realize you have failed yet again to destroy The Well and that this insane quest of yours for total supremacy is archaic and untenable, they will look for a new leader! They will look to me! They will expect and beg your only heir to take over and wear the crown that no longer fits your head!!”

It was an articulate speech and a persuasive argument, but Imogene wasn’t listening. “Noooo!!!!”

Whipping around, Brania cried, “Not now!”

“It’s Edwige,” Imogene gasped. “She’s feeding!”

Rushing to Imogene’s side, David growled, “If you treasure your pitiful life, you’ll take me to her now!”

On Imogene’s other side, Brania seethed. “No, Imogene! Our plans have changed!”

Defiantly, Imogene grabbed them both, and then together, they all disappeared.

One by one the kids started to appear, forming clusters all around campus. Some were still chattering on about yesterday’s major swim team win, which happened even though Alexei never showed up for the final relay, while others were excited about the Tri-Centennial Celebration and were bowled over when they realized Double A had been in existence for three centuries. Michael and Ronan met up with Ciaran and Saoirse outside St. Martha’s and were hoping to enjoy themselves, but experience had taught them that if David organized an event, fun would not be on the schedule. But it was clear that Rhoswen’s arrival had unnerved David. Maybe it had distracted him enough to just let the event unfold properly, as the drama-free festivity it was supposed to be.

Taking one long sip of her iced mocha, Saoirse did a pirouette and scoured the grounds. “Has anyone seen Kanosan?”

“Is he your new GBFF?” Ciaran replied.

Stopping abruptly and immediately bending into second position, clearly in the throes of a caffeine rush, Saoirse said, “Spell it out, Ciaran my boyo.”

“Gay best friend forever,” he explained.

Jumping up and down in a way that would shame even a beginner ballerina, Saoirse cried, “That’s brill! Somebody write that down and mail it to the people who make up new words. No, no, no! E-mail it, ’cause e- mail’s faster.”

Ronan silenced his sister by grabbing her drink out of her hands. “Looks like someone needs to switch to decaf.”

“Give it back, Roney!” she yelled. “The barista forgot to add a shot of blood, so you’re not going to like it.”

Shaking his head, Ronan handed Saoirse back her coffee. Maybe the day was just going to be filled with laughs and nonsense. The way Michael looked, it was clear he didn’t share his boyfriend’s opinion. “Try not to worry, love,” Ronan said, rubbing the warm center of Michael’s neck. “Until, you know, there’s something to worry about.” On cue, Vaughan emerged from behind the building.

“Which,” Ronan finished, “would be right about now.”

“Dad!” Michael shouted. “What are you doing here?” Looking over his shoulder, Vaughan realized it wouldn’t be wise to carry on a conversation with his son and his son’s friends out in the open.

“Come with me,” he said, leading the group to the Dumpsters behind St. Martha’s.

“The smell is goppin’!” Saoirse said, getting a whiff of the odor of rotting food wafting from inside the metal containers. “All those in favor of reconvening elsewhere, raise your hand.”

Before she could raise her arm, Ronan grabbed it. “Cut it out, Seersh,” he ordered. “What’s going on, Mr. Howard?”

“David is planning to destroy The Well,” Vaughn said. “You have to get there to stop him.”

“Oh, come on,” Ronan scoffed. “He’s tried it before and failed.”

“That was my first thought too, but this time he’s using one of your own,” Vaughan replied, his heart starting to race a bit faster. “He’s using Edwige.”

Ronan didn’t have to speak; Michael understood. Despite the fact that he was estranged from his mother, she was still his mother, and if David was using her to get to The Well, then she was in danger. They had no choice but to try and protect her. The only doubt Michael had was what role Vaughan was playing. “Why are you helping us?” he asked.

“Because I’m your father.” Vaughan’s declaration surprised everyone, including Grace, who was never far from her son. His words, however, filled her with relief. Her ex-husband might be sinful and at best a complete jerk, but he still loved their son, and for that she was grateful. So grateful that she allowed Vaughan to see her smiling at him for a split second, just enough time so he knew she was watching him, time enough to make sure he kept his word. He understood.

“Hurry!” Vaughan ordered.

Michael didn’t move. He remembered Phaedra’s warning that wherever Rhoswen went, death would follow. He had no idea where Rhoswen was, but he could smell death as clearly as if its scent was floating on the wind. “You’ll protect Ciaran and Saoirse,” he said. “In case anything goes wrong.”

Vaughan’s renewed commitment to his son didn’t waiver. “I promise.”

The second after Michael and Ronan ran off to The Well, Saoirse informed Vaughan that she didn’t need his help. “If things get all shambolic again, take care of Ciaran,” she instructed. “I’ve got this Atlantium gene running through my veins that makes me sort of indestructible.”

“Care to put that theory to the test?” Morgandy asked.

“Blimey!” Saoirse shouted. “Were you hiding in the bushes?”

“On the other side of the Dumpsters,” he replied.

“Of course,” Ciaran said. “With the rest of the rubbish.”

Not used to bickering teenagers, Vaughan immediately regretted his promise, but true to his word, he positioned himself in front of Ciaran and Saoirse, making them back up against the metal bins.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “David hasn’t called us to action.”