Unafraid

still a dream of his to be behind the wheel of a car, and Ronan felt terrible that Michael was letting his contempt for his father stand in the way of fulfilling that dream. He had to say something that would allow Michael to see beyond his hatred. “Have to admit it’s beautiful, though,” Ronan said.

“Betcha it’s got a brilliant ride.”

In one quick, brusque movement, Michael stood up. Clearly, Ronan’s words had pushed him into action. Michael thrust his hand into the side pocket of his shorts and pulled out the car keys that he had been carrying with him ever since his birthday. He stared at them with such disdain it was as if he believed they would burn his flesh. Michael flicked his wrist, and the keys flew out of his hand and were caught by Ronan’s. “Then take it for a test drive,” Michael said. “I don’t want it.”

It was not exactly the action Ronan had been hoping for.

An hour later, sitting across from Ciaran in his lab, Ronan received yet another unwanted response.

“No, Ro,” Ciaran said, his right eye firmly pressed into the lens of a microscope, “I haven’t heard from Mum lately.”

Knowing Michael needed to be alone for a few hours to sort through his feelings, Ronan had wandered around campus until he decided to go to St. Albert’s lab where he knew he’d find his brother. Ciaran hadn’t changed that much. Just because it was a beautiful summer day didn’t mean he wouldn’t be hunched over his microscope conducting some complicated experiment. An experiment that he seemed to be more interested in than their mother.

“Don’t you find that a bit odd?” Ronan asked. “She used to always pop in from out of nowhere.”

The oldest, Ciaran thought, but definitely not the wisest. “Into your life maybe,” Ciaran stated. “But I’ve kind of grown accustomed to living mine without the constant appearance of our mother.”

Embarrassed, Ronan gazed at the red and white blob that was squashed in between the two small, glass plates clipped onto the microscope’s stage as if he knew what he was looking at, as if it held any interest. Although Edwige frequently visited Ronan and took an active part in his life, the same could not be said about how she treated Ciaran. Ronan had thought things would have gotten better after the family party he made her throw a few months ago, after she saw how all her children and even Michael needed her, but he was wrong. If anything, the party had the opposite effect, and lately, she was not only keeping her distance from Ronan’s siblings, but from him as well.

“I will admit to one thing, brother,” Ciaran said, tapping his notebook with the eraser end of his pencil. “It’s not like her not to meddle in your affairs.”

Ronan couldn’t agree more, and he also couldn’t push from his mind the disturbing thought that something terrible had happened to her, that wherever she was she needed her children’s help. Then again Edwige didn’t act like a typical mother so maybe she had just decided to spend a few months traveling and forgot to tell anyone where she was headed. “Do you think she went on holiday?” he asked.

“Possibly,” Ciaran said. From the tone of his voice, Ronan knew his brother was not convinced that their mother was frolicking on a beach in the south of France or shopping in an exclusive boutique in New York; he knew instinctively just like Ronan did that she was missing. The problem was that neither boy knew how to find her. “Guess we’ll just have to wait until she gets bored wherever she is and decides to come home,” Ciaran advised.

The idea of not being proactive, of just letting the events unfold around him, went against Ronan’s instinct, but reluctantly he had to agree. Edwige was far more powerful and cunning than anyone Ronan knew, so if she didn’t want to be found, if she wanted to take a leave of absence from their lives for a while, there was nothing he could do to change that. “Guess you’re right,” Ronan said.

Even though he accepted fate, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and fight it. There had to be something he could do to connect with his mother. She was often able to read his mind; it made total sense that he should be able to read hers. Maybe if he followed in his brother’s footsteps and conducted more experiments to strengthen his telepathic ability he would be able to destroy whatever intangible barrier Edwige had put up to separate herself from her children. Yes, that’s exactly what Ronan had to do, because the possibility still remained that Edwige had been taken by force, against her will, and the barrier that divided them could have been put up by someone else. Now that he had decided to take action, Ronan felt much better. Until Ciaran spoke.

“I haven’t seen much of Saoirse lately either,” he remarked. “Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”

“What are you talking about?” Ronan asked. “Saoirse’s missing?!”

Startled by his brother’s concern, Ciaran almost dropped the new specimen he was about to clip into place. “No, she isn’t missing. I saw her this morning,” he replied. “But it was the first time I have since Michael’s birthday.”

Relieved, Ronan forced himself to laugh so Ciaran wouldn’t think he was paranoid. “Oh good, ’cause you never know with that one.”

It looked like the tactic had worked, and Ciaran resumed his study. Once again his face was practically devoured by the microscope’s eyepiece as he inspected whatever germ or bacteria cell was on the glass lens. As inquisitive as Ronan could be, he couldn’t imagine anything that tiny igniting that much curiosity. He admired his brother for his interest and acumen in science, but didn’t understand it. “What are you looking at?” Ronan asked.

What wasn’t admirable was Ciaran’s lack of communication skills. “Nothing.”

“Well, nothing seems to have you over the moon,” Ronan said. “You can’t take your eyes off that thing.”

It was true. Despite the close proximity of his brother, despite the fact that they were having a conversation, Ciaran’s eyes hardly ever strayed from his experiment. Even when he jotted something down in his notebook he kept his eyes looking into the thin, metal tube.

“Just boring science stuff,” Ciaran mumbled.

It might be based in science, but it definitely wasn’t boring. Ronan realized that whatever Ciaran was examining through that contraption and whatever he was writing down in his notebook were infinitely more exciting and appealing to him than any talk of his family. “ ’Fess up,” Ronan demanded. “What scientific breakthrough have you discovered this week?”

Without waiting for a response, Ronan spun Ciaran’s notebook around so he could read it. But even with his vampire vision he couldn’t make out Ciaran’s handwriting—if that’s even what the scribbling could be called. The opened pages were filled with a jumble of enigmatic symbols, numeric formulas, clusters of letters that didn’t form words, but rather some sort of shorthand. The result was a notebook filled with spy-level code, indecipherable to anyone other than the person who created it. Ciaran, however, wasn’t taking any chances.

“Leave that alone!” he barked, slamming the notebook shut.

Ronan wasn’t entirely surprised by his brother’s actions. He might have willingly given Michael his notebooks from classes that were part of the Double A curriculum, but when it came to his private research, he was downright territorial. Even still, Ronan felt his reaction was a bit extreme. “You don’t have to get all brassed off about it!” Ronan yelled.

Stuffing the notebook into the drawer underneath the countertop, Ciaran apologized. “Sorry, you know how I get about my little projects.”

The way you’re reacting, it seems like this is a lot more important than one of your little projects, Ronan thought. He kept his suspicions to himself, however, knowing full well that if he accused Ciaran of doing anything more than conducting innocent experiments, his brother would respond with silence and a blank stare. “As long as you don’t blow us up to smithereens,” Ronan said, once again trying to make a joke despite his uneasy feeling.

“Impossible,” Ciaran responded, completely missing the bait. “This is biology, not chemistry.”

Shaking his head, Ronan realized he had overstayed his welcome and it was time to go. “And on that note, dear brother, I bid you adieu.”

After Ronan left the room, Ciaran took out his notebook and started writing in it furiously. Line after line of symbols and formulas that ended in one word—Atlantium. Ciaran smiled triumphantly, but when he saw who was standing in front of him his smile disappeared.

“David!” Ciaran cried. “What are you doing here?”