Unafraid

by Michael Griffo

  Tilting Morgandy’s head back to create an arch in his neck, David pinched the boy’s nose and lowered himself until their mouths almost touched. Then, unseen by everyone except Michael, David allowed his own face to transform and his own hideous countenance to slither out of hiding. Michael winced, but didn’t look away until he saw the headmaster’s blood slowly slide down his cracked tongue and spill into Morgandy’s open mouth. Disgusting! It was like a vampire blood transfusion.

  One drop, two drops, three drops, four, until the blood flow increased and the fluid began to race down David’s tongue and fill up Morgandy’s mouth. Finished, David pursed his parched lips together, cutting off the blood supply, and shut Morgandy’s mouth to allow the blood to funnel down his throat and traverse throughout his body, reinvigorate it. The tactic worked, and color returned to Morgandy’s face. His chest started to rise and fall, and when his eyes opened they were clear and alert. “What happened?”

  Helping Morgandy stand, David answered, “Minor accident, nothing more.” David turned to face Blakeley, making sure that his appearance wouldn’t put the coach into a further state of shock. “I’m taking him to the infirmary so Dr. Sutton can fully evaluate his condition.” Blakeley could merely nod in response. Turning to face Michael, all David could do was control his rage. Walking with his arm around a still-weak Morgandy, David grinned salaciously and whispered to Michael, “Clean up your mess or I’ll have to bring your beloved coach over to our side.”

  Not knowing how to diffuse the situation, Ronan and Ciaran individually decided to remain calm and allow Michael to act first. They would let him speak and then follow his lead. They didn’t get a chance. Michael took one step toward Blakeley, and the coach found his voice. “Stay away from me!” he screamed. “I don’t know what you are, but you ain’t bloody right!”

  “What are you talking about, Coach?” Ronan said, his face forming an odd-looking smile. “Michael and Morgandy just had a row, that’s all.”

  Sticking up his hands as if to push back the air, push back what he couldn’t comprehend, Blakeley’s voice quickly rose to a panic. “They might’ve had a row, but that ... thing that I saw come out of the pool, that wasn’t Michael!”

  “Of course it was Michael,” Ciaran added. “You know, I think the stress of the whole swim competition thing has gotten to you.”

  “That must be it. You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Ronan joined in. “Stress is one powerful demon.”

  “Yes! That’s what he is! Some kind of demon!” Blakeley cried.

  “Coach, I’m sorry if I scared you,” Michael said, trying to remember what innocence sounded like. “But look at me, I’m no demon.”

  He was right; he didn’t look like a demon or the devil; he just looked like a kid. But Blakeley knew what he had seen come out of that pool, at least he thought he did. Ignoring reason, ignoring his own sanity, Blakeley began to ramble, and for the first time the events that had taken place at the school over the past year started to make sense. “That’s it! It’s all because of you! Ever since you showed up things have been crazy around here!” Blakeley shouted, his finger jabbing the air viciously. “Ever since you came to Double A people have started to go missing or die. First Penry, then his girlfriend, Alistair, Lochlan, his nurse, that Amir kid, the girl with the really frizzy hair, and now Diego!” Panting, Blakeley stopped, almost too scared to finish. “Tell me, Michael, where the bloody hell is Diego?!”

  Such a long list. Could Michael really be responsible? No. No, it was just coincidence, it had nothing to do with him. It just couldn’t. “I have no idea, Coach,” Michael answered softly.

  Blakeley couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t explain it, he was in no way capable of rationalizing it, but he couldn’t stay in the same room as Michael. If he stayed in the gym for another second he thought he was going to faint. “Oh really?” Blakeley said, running out of the gym. “We’ll see about that!”

  When Ciaran ran to the other side of the pool, they all thought he was chasing after Blakeley until he bent down and grabbed the pink towel adorned with a huge letter S. “Saoirse!” Quickly glancing at the stopwatch, Ciaran saw that Saoirse had been underwater for over five minutes. Way too long. Tossing the timer aside, he dove into the pool fully dressed. Underwater his eyes, wide and fearful, darted all over. Left, right, nothing, just water. Saoirse was nowhere to be found. Breaking the surface, he looked around the gym, but still not a trace of her. How had she left without being seen? Confused, Ciaran placed his hands flat on the edge of the pool and started to hoist himself up, but quickly got some help with his exit.

  Ronan clutched the wet collar of Ciaran’s shirt, and the way his eyes were flaring, Ciaran realized blue was the new color of anger. “What was Saoirse doing in the pool?” Ronan demanded.

  Unable to come up with a lie quickly enough, Ciaran told a version of the truth. “We were testing her breathing,” he said quietly so no one else could hear him. “You know how interested she is in her origin. I figured she’s got to be connected to Atlantis somehow, so I thought I’d see how long she could stay underwater.”

  “And how long were you going to wait to share your results with David?” Ronan demanded.

  “I ... I wasn’t,” Ciaran stammered. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Ciaran!” Ronan shouted. “I saw David come out of your lab. I know you’re still working with him!”

  “Was! I’m done with all that!” Ciaran cried. “I swear it!”

  There was something in the tone of Ciaran’s voice that Ronan had never heard before when they discussed David: fear.

  “Well, it’s about bloody time,” Ronan said. He wasn’t happy to hear that his brother was afraid, but Ronan was thrilled to hear that Ciaran had come to his senses. He wanted to ask Ciaran what had happened that made him finally accept the fact that David was no good, but at the moment he had to deal with his other sibling. “So where the hell is Saoirse?” Ronan asked.

  “She must’ve made a run for it when things got wonky,” Ciaran replied.

  “I don’t think wonky is the best way to describe the situation,” Michael said, joining them. “More like fiasco, shambles. How about catastrophe?”

  Rubbing Michael’s shoulder, Ronan tried his best to cheer his boyfriend up. “Don’t fret, love, it’s not like Blakeley saw you feeding,” Ronan said. “He saw a glimpse of your true self, that’s all.”

  That’s all! “Isn’t that enough?!”

  Twisting his shirttail to drain some water from it, Ciaran agreed. “Ro’s right. He can’t prove anything. You just have to be more careful from here on out.”

  Although surprised by the positive spin they were putting on the disaster, Michael was grateful he had their support. Or did he?

  “Um, Ronan,” Michael started. “Any reason you left me on my own to do battle with the Morgue?”

  “The Well told me not to interfere,” he replied.

  “So let me get this straight, brother,” Ciaran started. “Your Well is now speaking to you?”

  Ronan shrugged his shoulders and looked unintentionally impish. “It’s not like He rings me daily,” he replied. “But, yeah, I’ve heard from Him.” Was that accurate? “Or Her, or is it It?” For all the times Ronan had pledged his love, support, and devotion to The Well, he really didn’t know what pronoun to use to describe it. “Whatever it is, it told me to stay put.”

  “That’s why there was a whirlpool!” Michael announced.

  “A whirlpool?” the brothers replied in unison.

  “Yeah, just like the one that sucked up Amir last year,” Michael explained.

  Ronan had never been prouder to be a water vamp. “That’s why The Well told me not to get involved,” he said. “Everything was under control, thanks to Him.”

  “Or Her, or It,” Michael added.

  “Whatever,” they said, laughing as one.

  Ciaran, however, failed to see the humor. Not because he wasn’t a water va
mp, but because he was a scientist. A scientist whose experiment had just exceeded his wildest expectations. “Boys, I hate to strip the gilding from your lilies,” he interjected. “But this isn’t about either of you. It’s about Saoirse.”

  After a moment of silence, Ronan was the first to follow Ciaran’s train of thought. “Blimey! You think the whirlpool meant that The Well was somehow protecting Saoirse?”

  “Yes!” Ciaran cried.

  “That would be borderline amazing,” Michael shared. “Without, you know, the borderline part.”

  “Let me guess, Michael. Just before the whirlpool started, Morgandy was about to attack Saoirse,” Ciaran hypothesized correctly. “Is that right?”

  “Exactly!” Michael confirmed.

  “I was right all along!” Ciaran shouted. “Saoirse is connected to The Well, but the relationship is even stronger than I ever imagined!”

  “What do you mean?” Ronan asked.

  “Saoirse didn’t sneak out of here without anyone seeing her,” Ciaran explained. “She was taken to a safe place. And there’s no safer place than that Well of yours.”

  As Michael and Ronan ran out of the gym on their way to Inishtrahull Island to visit a particular spot buried deep within the Atlantic Ocean, Saoirse was sitting with her back against the cold, stone wall of The Well. Arms wrapped around her knees, Saoirse sighed, half-scared, half-bored, and wondered how in the world she had ever gotten there. And, more important, if she was ever going to be able to get back home.

  chapter 25

  In three different locations, three different revelations were beginning to unfold.

  “What are you two doing here?” Saoirse asked.

  “We should really be asking you that question,” Ronan replied. And then, suddenly, he felt incredibly awkward.

  Because they weren’t visiting The Well after a feeding he and Michael remained clothed, wearing their Double A track pants over their swim team Speedos, all now soaking wet. They looked like they had gotten pushed into a pool and had only had enough time to rip their shirts off, a look that Ronan, especially, found to be a bit too casual in the presence of The Well. But it was more than that. Whenever they had made the journey to this sacred place it had been ceremonial and just the two of them; they never ventured here merely to visit, nor did they ever have company. Seeing Saoirse sitting on the ground and leaning against the base of The Well like she was resting against a tree trunk in The Forest in between classes was just a little too weird. “How did this happen?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

  Reaching overhead, Saoirse gripped the top of The Well and stood up. “You’re asking me?” she snapped. “Aren’t you the authority on all things water vampire-esque?”

  Michael couldn’t help but smile. Even here, standing in the shadow of The Well, the God-like entity that was worshipped by an entire race, Saoirse wasn’t intimidated, not the least bit awestruck. Standing in her bikini, she rubbed her hands together to wipe away the sea grime and noticed some pieces of dirt still clinging to her skin. She dragged the palm of her right hand down the edge of The Well’s rim and upon inspection wasn’t completely satisfied with the result. “Guess the maid forgot to come in this week,” she mumbled to herself.

  This time Michael did laugh. Ronan, however, grew even more tense. Watching his sister act so informally in a place that commanded reverence and respect made Ronan uncomfortable. He knew The Well was protecting Saoirse, he knew that the two were indeed connected in some strange way, but he also knew The Well demanded obedience and decorum and could dispense punishment with the same ease as it bestowed mercy. Then again, maybe Ronan didn’t know The Well at all.

  He looked around the cave and saw that the rocks near the ceiling were shimmering with a golden light; he had never noticed that before. The ceiling itself was sprinkled with a silvery dust that sparkled and twinkled, making the entire cave glow. Ronan didn’t know if he had never taken in these details before or if The Well was somehow changing the physical shape of its home, redecorating to welcome its latest guest. Was Saoirse really that special? When he heard the water within The Well ripple, sounding as if someone was plucking the strings of a harp, he was convinced The Well was laughing at him. Now doesn’t that just take the biscuit, Ronan thought. The Well’s just like Michael. It finds humor in everything.

  Folding his arms across his bare chest, Ronan smirked. “My guess is that when The Well sensed you were in danger of being attacked by Morgandy, the pool turned into a portal and whisked you to safety,” he explained. “Bringing you right here to home base.”

  If that were true, then they weren’t kidding. This Well really did have super duper magical powers. Mimicking her brother’s stance, Saoirse folded her arms. “Plausible, rabbit, very plausible, given, you know, the implausibility of our circumstances,” she agreed. “Even though Michael was doing a jolly good job of rescuing me without any outside help.” Saoirse felt the warmth of her flesh seep into her arms and was overcome with shyness, suddenly all too aware that she had never completely gotten over her crush on Michael and that her bathing suit was quite revealing. That was the last time she would ever be manipulated into trying to impress a boy. “This is all Ciaran’s fault, you know?” she declared. “Him and his bleedin’ experiments.”

  Glancing sideways at Michael, Ronan had to give their brother his due. “C’mon, Seersh,” he said. “You have to admit, this one turned out to be pretty successful.”

  “We’re like miles and miles below water, right?” she asked.

  Marveling at the truth of the situation, Ronan finally unleashed his enthusiasm and grabbed his sister by her shoulders. Decorum be damned! “We’re in uncharted territory, Saoirse!” he exclaimed. “Besides that, do you realize that you are the only non-water vampire to ever ... ever! ... cast your eyes on all of this?”

  Unable to move her body, Saoirse twisted her head as much as she could, but all she could see was rock and stone. “You realize it’s just a cave, right?”

  Laughing hysterically, Ronan let Saoirse go, but held onto his excitement. Needing some sort of physical contact he hugged Michael tightly, twirling him around a few times as Saoirse watched with a stunned expression. “She thinks this is just a cave!”

  Equally bemused, Michael was laughing just as hard as Ronan. However, he also understood Saoirse’s indifference. Even though the bulk of her family was comprised of water vamps, she was an outsider, excluded from this miraculous part of their lives. “It might look like just a cave, but it’s sacred ground,” Michael said, his voice more gentle than preaching. “I don’t really know how it works or all of its mysteries, but trust me, Saoirse, your being here is nothing short of a miracle.”

  Saoirse did trust Michael, and she got what he was saying. She understood that she was standing amid majesty, touching blessed dirt. She just didn’t feel anything. This place meant nothing to her. And for one of the first times in her life she understood that she should keep those feelings to herself. Ronan and Michael didn’t want to hear that she would rather be back in St. Sebastian’s or in her dorm hanging out with Ruby, so she self-edited and joined in with the merriment. “Well then, three cheers for Ciaran!”

  “Professor Chow would probably give him full marks and an engraved plaque,” Michael declared. “Heck he’d probably petition to have the Einstein Wing be renamed The Ciaran Eaves Research Laboratory For Things That Defy Explanation!”

  “Brilliant idea!” Ronan beamed. “I second it!”

  Rubbing the back of Michael’s neck, Ronan held out his hand to Saoirse. Unsure of what her brother was staging, she held his hand and could feel the blood pumping through his veins. “This is an unprecedented event in our history,” Ronan announced. “And I’m so bloody happy that I got to witness it.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “Thank you, Saoirse.”

  “I should be thanking you guys,” she stated. “This is all really beautiful in its own way and peaceful and everything, but I thought I was going to be stuck her
e forever, so, um, thanks for showing up.”

  Michael grabbed Saoirse’s free hand so the three of them were joined as one. “Why don’t we go home and share the good news with the man of the hour?” he suggested. “Ciaran’s gotta be dying to know what’s going on.”

  “Good!” Saoirse declared. “Because I’ve got a pep rally to get to, and if we don’t leave right now I’m going to be late.”

  Once again the water rippled, more intensely this time, and the cave was filled with a harp’s flourish that indeed sounded like laughter. Clearly, The Well was amused by Saoirse’s priorities. “Then let’s go,” Ronan said. The words were barely out of his mouth and he realized they might have a very serious problem. “Saoirse, I don’t know exactly how you got here, but are you going to be able to hold your breath until we reach the water’s surface?” he asked.

  Saoirse didn’t know exactly how she had gotten here either, but thinking back to how easily she had breathed underwater in the pool, she wasn’t worried. “No need to fret, Roney,” she assured. “Me and The Well here have got it all under control.”

  Standing in Sister Mary Elizabeth’s office, Blakeley couldn’t control his emotions. He was nervous, scared, and more than a little embarrassed. The first two feelings he was familiar with; the third, not so much. It wasn’t because his trophy-filled office looked like it was a narcissist’s retreat compared to the austerity of the nun’s quarters. It was simply that it had been years since he had sought religious guidance. He didn’t know how to begin.

  Sitting behind her desk, Sister Mary recognized when someone was floundering. She placed her pencil next to her notepad and smiled. “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what brings you here?”