A surprise? The idea should have filled Ronan with joy, but instead he was filled with terror. A surprise from Edwige had the potential to be a disaster. When Ronan informed the others what Edwige was up to in the kitchen, his opinion was shared.
“Maybe she’s planning on poisoning us all,” Ciaran whispered.
Hysterical, Saoirse grabbed her two brothers by the hand and dragged them onto the sofa. “Before she makes us drink the Kool-Aid, let’s have some sibling bonding time.” Squashed in between Ronan and Ciaran, she called out, “You guys don’t mind, do you?”
From across the room Michael shook his head. “Not at all.” In fact it was perfect. He had been dying to talk to Phaedra privately all night. Since the evening started, he had been trying to figure out what was different about Phaedra, when she stood under the crystal chandelier that hung near the minibar and was illuminated by the harsh light, he thought he had his answer. “Riddle me this, efemera,” Michael whispered. “How’d you manage to get a tan in April in England?”
Glancing in the mirror, Phaedra touched her cheek. It was true, her usually pale complexion had a darker undertone, not quite brown, more reddish. “You’ve noticed too.”
Michael looked at Phaedra’s reflection, then at the girl herself examining her skin tone. “You’re not as fair, all right, even your arms,” Michael said. “Oh my God, do not tell me you found a tanning salon in Eden? I know those things are deadly, but I could use a jump start on my summer tan.” Phaedra tried to interject, but Michael kept rambling, “Wait a sec, what am I talking about? A few ultraviolet rays can’t hurt me now. I’m no longer human!”
“I think they could hurt me,” Phaedra said quietly.
It took Michael a few moments for Phaedra’s comment to penetrate his laughter. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
She had to tell someone. She couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. “I’m changing,” Phaedra replied, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one could overhear. “I think I’m turning human.”
Stunned, Michael wanted to say that was impossible, but he knew better. Double A had taught him many things, mainly that anything was possible and he was about to learn something new. “When an efemera falls in love, she has to make a choice,” Phaedra explained. “Return that love and become human or deny it and remain as God intended.”
Bypassing all the metaphysical implications, Michael cut to the crux of the situation. “So you are in love with Fritz.”
When Phaedra blushed, the color of her skin grew even darker. She thought of a line from an old Greek play she just read in class, the character with the same name as hers asks, What do people mean when they speak of love? She had no idea. “I must be,” she said. “Otherwise this wouldn’t be happening.”
Michael was excited for his friend. “Well, that should make your decision pretty simple, shouldn’t it?”
This is far from simple. “No matter what I feel for Fritz, I don’t think I can turn my back on my heritage, on you,” Phaedra admitted. “I was put on this earth to protect you; that’s all my race understands.”
Michael wanted to reach out and hug his friend, comfort her, but he didn’t want to draw attention, make the others think they were having as serious a conversation as they were, so he grabbed her hand tightly. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t need your protection any longer, I’m getting stronger every day,” Michael declared. “Plus I have Ronan.” Whispering into her ear he added, “He really gets off on being my protector.”
Looking into the eyes of the child whose mother had called her gave her purpose to rise from the fog, to carry out the will of her God, Phaedra wasn’t sure she could forsake her legacy, no matter how strong her feelings for Fritz were, especially since she sensed Michael’s good spirits were a cover-up. “I’m not the only one who looks different, you know,” she said. “There’s something wrong that you’re not telling me.”
Michael knew exactly what Phaedra was talking about. This morning he noticed there were dark circles under his eyes, thanks to a series of sleepless nights. Even vampires need a good night’s rest before it starts to show. “Well . . . let’s just say this immortality thing doesn’t mean all your problems disappear overnight,” Michael said, then decided to be candid. “I guess it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“That solves it,” Phaedra replied. “You still need me.”
How to make her understand? “Look, I can’t tell you what to do, Phaedra, but I know what I have to do,” Michael started. “Stand on my own two feet.” Suddenly, he felt very wise. “Hey! Maybe your destiny is to become mortal, just like mine was to become immortal.”
And suddenly Phaedra felt very calm. “I never thought of it that way.”
She wouldn’t be able to think about it at all because Ronan and Ciaran’s spirited debate over the merits of the upcoming Carnival for the Black Sun carried over to their side of the room. “Bollocks! It’s hardly a ruse to conceal some wicked plot,” Ciaran cried. “It’s a school outing.”
Could he actually be that mental? “Do you seriously believe that?” Ronan asked. “You know what David’s capable of.”
“Mate, the guy’s not all bad just because he’s one of Them.”
Jumping off the couch, Ronan turned to the rest of the party gobsmacked, arms widespread, hoping for support. “He’s not one of Them, he’s their bloody leader!”
Ciaran wasn’t about to bad-mouth the only adult who’d ever shown an interest in him, in his abilities, and treated him with respect. “Which doesn’t automatically make him evil.”
“Yes, it does!” Ronan cried. “And I’m telling you right now, he’s up to no good with this bloody carnival!”
Standing between her brothers like a very petite referee, Saoirse stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “This is supposed to be festive!”
Right on cue, Edwige entered the living room, her singing drowning out the arguing. By the time she finished the last line of her song—Happy birthday, dear Saoirse, happy birthday to you!—they were all dumbfounded, not because of Edwige’s poor singing ability, but because of her poor timing.
“My birthday isn’t until the end of next month!” Saoirse declared.
“Why wait until then when we’re all here now?” Edwige replied, placing the chocolate frosted cupcake in front of her daughter. “Now make a wish and blow out the candle.”
Never one to give up a chance to be the center of attention or to make a wish, Saoirse leaned over to extinguish the flame. “Now this is more like it, people,” she said. “Roney, take notes. A party should have singing, not shouting.” After both Ciaran and Phaedra declined a bite, she shoved half the cupcake into her mouth, but before she was finished chewing, she just had to share with everyone what she considered to be a brilliant idea. “Let’s make this a real family celebration!” she exclaimed. “Somebody get the daddy-in-the-box!”
Now who needs a class in party etiquette?! It took Ronan about a minute and a half of telepathic begging to convince Edwige not to slap Saoirse’s face and that she wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. She didn’t witness Saxon’s death, she didn’t live through the horror. All she believed was that her father was cremated and his ashes were kept in a beautiful mahogany box on a side table. “I think Dad prefers his place by the window,” Ronan said nervously. “He was never one for big social gatherings anyway. Isn’t that right, Mum?”
Looking at her eldest son, then her middle child, then her youngest, Edwige slumped into the chair next to the box that contained her husband’s ashes and nodded her head.
“Will you look at the way she’s sitting there?”
Brania was complaining about Nurse Radcliff. Standing next to her father in the anteroom to his office, she was looking in the mirror, watching the nurse sitting at her desk as Lochlan tottered in and out of the room. “She’s an absolute pig!” Brania cried out. “Slumped over, hair a mess, and I have no idea how she’s done it, but she’s actually gained weight since you had a lapse in ju
dgment and brought her into the fold.”
Crossing his arms, David’s black eyes narrowed. “I think she looks lovely, like the women immortalized by Raphael in his oil paintings.”
“Which is the sophisticate’s way of saying she’s fat,” Brania corrected. Unable to gaze into the mirror any longer, she turned away and started to pace around the room. She noticed a few marks on the walls where the green paint had chipped away, a few places where the plaster peeked through the dark brown crown molding. Her father was getting careless, his typically fastidious nature pushed to the side while he continued on with his plot to restore Double A to its former glory. Brania wasn’t sure if she was impressed or disappointed. When she looked back at the mirror, she was merely disgusted. “She is slovenly, Father! A fat slovenly hog!”
Nurse Radcliff, still a newly converted vampire incapable of controlling her cravings, was holding her finger over her head and squeezing it so her own blood dripped onto her tongue, thanks to the paper cut she had given herself moments earlier.
“It’s quite resourceful really,” David said. “It will keep her satiated until she can properly feed.”
She knew her father was trying to be stubborn, but his attitude still infuriated her. Why is he constantly taking someone else’s side? Why is he defending this heifer instead of agreeing with me, his own daughter? Why can’t he just leave here so things can return to normal?! When Brania realized how she had let her mind wander in her father’s presence, unguarded and without caution, she was surprised that he didn’t react to her silent tirade. Was he not listening? Did he no longer care? Could he actually find this abominable excuse for a woman more interesting than me? she thought. “I cannot believe you slept with that hausfrau,” Brania spat.
Chuckling at his daughter’s envy, David thought one unwarranted comment deserved another. “She’s an educated woman, dear,” he said. “Maybe if you had spent more time in school as a child, you would know the difference.”
Staring at her father’s profile, Brania thought she could lash out and rip the flesh off his cheeks, slash her nails against his throat and expose the muscle and veins underneath. Not caring if he heard or ignored her, she let her mind react with all the fury she felt in her heart. How dare you?! How could I go to school when I was constantly doing your dirty work?! When I was acting like your henchman instead of your little girl!
“No!!”
Too bad if you can’t accept the truth!
But David wasn’t responding to Brania’s accusations, he hadn’t even been listening, he was calling out to his fledgling creation. “No, Margaret, I have bigger plans for the good doctor; he’s to be the centerpiece of the carnival.”
Confused, Brania looked into the mirror and saw Nurse Radcliff, her back to Dr. MacCleery, her fangs beared, her fingers in her mouth, and a look of ecstasy consuming her face. What Brania didn’t witness was the nurse giving herself another paper cut, this one much more severe, so when the blood oozed out of her finger, it overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stop her fangs from descending, she couldn’t stop herself from sucking the red liquid from her own finger even as the doctor watched. When she saw his horrified face, she knew it was too late. She knew he had uncovered her secret, and like any creature who wants to remain hidden in the shadows, she prepared to attack. Until David’s command prevented her from taking action.
“Leave the room, Margaret,” David ordered. “Leave now and come here so we can feed together.”
Together!? Now he’s going to feed side by side with this, this . . . thing! Brania couldn’t remember the last time she fed alongside her father, and as a result, she couldn’t remember why she was wasting her time standing next to him now.
When Nurse Radcliff left the doctor’s office, and the mirror returned to its natural state, David wasn’t surprised to see only his reflection staring back at him, Brania no longer by his side. “Oh, Zachariel,” he said. “Why must our children always disappoint us?”
Someone not disappointed this evening was Lochlan. One eye pressed against the microscope, he didn’t know exactly what he was looking at, but he hadn’t expected to either. When he took the piece of paper Nurse Radcliff had left behind, the one on which she deliberately cut herself, and placed it underneath the microscope’s lens, he instinctively knew the bloodstain wouldn’t be human. “Could it be?” he mumbled, the very thought that was infecting his mind making his hand tremble, making the paper shake. “Could this be vampire’s blood?”
The second the words were spoken, the doctor felt very cold. If what he had just stumbled upon was true, if what he overheard Michael and Ronan talking about was fact and not just the product of uncensored teenage imagination, he was in danger. He ran toward the door and slowly opened it, just a crack, to see if anyone was lurking in the darkness. No one, at least no one he could see. Slamming the door shut, he locked it and then closed and locked both windows, his panic not allowing him to peek through the blinds to check one more time for inhuman loiters. This is insane! Standing in the middle of his office, he marveled, “Could my mind be playing tricks on me? Did I really see fangs? Could all the legends be true?”
No! No, Lochlan, you’re a doctor, you don’t believe in supernatural nonsense! Ripping his glasses off his face and wiping them furiously with his shirttail, he repeated. You don’t believe in myth, you don’t believe in fantasy. And yet somehow, somehow he knew this was the truth. Vampires existed and they were living right here beside him, among the sculpted archangels, stalking the innocent students. But not all the students were innocent. Some of them understood, some of them knew exactly what type of evil had taken up residence at their school. It was time they understood their secret was out.
Ronan was perplexed when he looked at his cell phone. Why was Dr. MacCleery texting him? The message was straightforward—I need to see you in my office—but before he could respond, Saoirse yanked the phone out of his hand, turned it off, and shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. “No texting at my birthday bash,” she informed.
“Fine,” Ronan said. “Just give me back my phone.”
Waving her pinky in his face, she said, “Do you vampire-swear that you won’t text or take a call?”
“Or make any more daft comments about our headmaster,” Ciaran added.
“That man is evil and you know it!” Ronan shot back.
Edwige knew her eldest son was right, but she didn’t have the strength or desire to support him. Just as David didn’t have the strength or desire to chase after Brania. History, being repetitive by nature, had taught them both that children, after a certain age, could no longer be controlled, so it was a waste of their time to try. While her children and their friends continued to shout and dispute the real purpose behind David’s brainchild, Edwige finally came to a decision. Her real purpose was not to be a mother, a guardian, a woman alone leading a brood. She didn’t know what her destiny was, but she knew it had nothing to do with her children, and so it was time to set them free. Starting with the most recent addition to her family.
The voices continuing to rise and fall around her, Edwige telepathically informed Imogene that she was being released from her power. She was now free to go wherever she wanted, do whatever she longed to do. But like an infant who cries for her favorite toy only to realize when she’s holding it that it wasn’t the reason she was crying in the first place, Imogene didn’t know what to do with her free will. Now that she had her freedom, she didn’t know where to go, so for the time being, until she could think of something else to do, some more exciting place to visit, she would simply sit in her coffin and sing.
Edwige got up and, unnoticed, retreated into her bedroom. Let them get used to being without her, she thought. It was only a matter of time before they would all find themselves completely on their own anyway.
chapter 20
One drop, two drops, three drops, four. Archangel Cathedral was quiet. Even though it was Sunday morning, everyone, including the priests in residence, were
preparing for the day’s carnival instead of attending mass. It wasn’t typical, but it’s what David wanted.
Initially, there had been reluctance, concern that such a celebration would disrupt tradition. Early morning Sunday mass was a Double A custom, not embraced by every student, but deemed a part of school culture. Those who took the tradition—and religious service itself—more seriously were especially worried. They thought the observance of the so-called Black Sun could be viewed as inappropriate, pagan. However, when the most senior priest and Sister Mary Elizabeth met with the headmaster, they realized their concerns were unjustified. Apologizing for questioning his judgment, they left David’s office wondering how they ever could have misinterpreted the integrity of an innocent school activity.
Since that meeting, the religious faculty worked alongside the teachers and students to transform St. Sebastian’s and the campus near The Forest into a mini fair complete with makeshift booths housing a gypsy fortuneteller, wheels of chance, and even a dunking chamber in which the professors would take turns sitting on a rickety board while eager students threw sandbags at an attached target in the hopes of dunking their favorite or not-so-favorite teacher into a pool of ice-cold water. Interspersed among the amusements were food stands serving cotton candy, popcorn, and Fritz’s contribution, apples dipped in dark chocolate to resemble the eclipsed sun. And built right on the edge of The Forest was an attraction that made David chuckle: a mazelike structure with walls adorned with fun-house mirrors that distorted everyone’s reflections, humans and vampires alike.
When the building process was complete, the adults couldn’t agree as to what was more shocking: the professionalism of the construction or the willingness of the students to participate. Not one student balked at having to help out, not one feigned an illness to get out of doing their share of hard labor. For the first time in years, the student body was in complete support of a headmaster’s wishes and worked as a unified team to see those wishes fulfilled. It was a wonderful surprise and yet, to some, disturbing. It just wasn’t right, just like it wasn’t right not to hold mass on Sunday morning.
Unwelcome Page 30
