Unnatural aa-1

by Michael Griffo

  There it was again, that pain. “Speaking of limitations,” Michael said, “how long does it take to get used to these contacts? They’re not the most comfortable things in the world, you know.”

  It was Nakano’s turn to laugh. “You can blame your father for that.”

  “My father? What’s he have to do with anything?”

  “They’re a product of Howard Industries,” Nakano blurted out, now fully focusing on the flight attendant whose outfit was obviously designed to show off his fantastic physique.

  “Nakano,” Michael said, raising his voice to gain his attention. “Why would my father’s company be making contacts for vampires?”

  Backpedal, Nakano. Don’t let this newbie screw up your last chance to impress Brania and her old man. “Did I say that? One of your father’s companies makes tinted contacts, a novelty item, that’s all. Our people were positively gobsmacked when they discovered the contacts could perfectly conceal our eyes without losing any of our enhanced vision.” Now, where did that hot attendant get to?

  Now my father’s company is involved? It’s just one complication after another, isn’t it? “They block out the sun’s rays too, right?” Michael asked. “That’s why you can walk outside during the day.”

  Don’t say too much, Kano, just keep it simple. “You catch on quick.” No need to tell him that we can only walk in the sun on Archangel ground. Best to reveal that bit of information after he decides to become part of our race. Nakano glanced at his watch. Local time was 5:25 A.M.; sunrise was in less than an hour. “Let’s go over some ground rules before we land,” Nakano said. “I don’t do funerals; never liked them before and now I find them extraneous.” As a member of the immortal world, Nakano considered death a means to an end, a necessity, not something that should be celebrated or honored in any way. But once again, he kept his thoughts to himself and merely smiled. “Extraneous. How’s that for a vocabulary word? Betcha McLaren would be impressed.”

  Michael understood Nakano’s aversion to funerals. This would be his third in the past six months and he still wasn’t getting used to them. “Not a problem; you can stay at my house all day.”

  With the windows shut and the shades completely drawn, Nakano added to himself. “Sounds like a plan, mate.”

  Michael never thought Nakano would consider him a mate. And he never thought he’d relish returning to the simplicity of Weeping Water, even if it was just for a few days. Even if it was just to see his grandmother buried.

  He remembered the last time he saw her, the night he left to fly to London. She didn’t say much, she never did, but he felt that when she said good-bye to him, she was saying good-bye to a piece of her life, a piece that she would never get back. Hopefully, she’s with his mother now and they’re saying the things to each other they never got to say while they were alive. He wondered what he would say to them when his time came. Would he rush into their arms as he hadn’t done since he was a young boy or would he just wave to them from the other side of a stream as they each went their separate ways? Or would he never get the chance to see them again because as a vampire he would not have an afterlife?

  Alarmed by such a disquieting question, Michael pressed his forehead against the window; the cold began to temper his fear. He closed his eyes and pushed such philosophical thoughts from his mind. He wanted to deal with something much more tangible. Like land. When he opened his eyes, he saw that land was getting closer. It looked like he could jump out and easily set foot on top of one of the buildings, and who knows, maybe he could. Nakano said he’d be amazed by how powerful and agile his body would become. Imperious and almost invulnerable. There they were, philosophical thoughts again, inconceivable notions just like the ones that filled his conversations with Ronan. Ronan. Why did you do this to me? And why aren’t you sitting by my side?

  Finally! Nakano smiled back at the flight attendant and unbuckled his seat belt. “ ’Scuse me, mate. Before the tires hit the runway, I’d like to become a member of the mile high club.” Standing in the aisle, he leaned over to Michael, not noticing his eyes were about to spill over with tears. “Always been a little fantasy of mine.”

  These days, Inishtrahull Island was like a fantasy land. Barren, unpopulated, windswept. Ronan remembered how different it was when he was a child growing up here with his family and, of course, the others. He knew they were different, undeniably special, and he knew that someday when someone loved him strongly enough, he would be altered so he could become just like them. Until that time, he had to be satisfied being human among the undying. And he was.

  He climbed the mountains, played on the beach, swam in the ocean, and waited for his chance to drink from The Well. When that time came nearly three years ago, he was overjoyed. His family had suffered such pain when his father was taken from them that he was thrilled he could give them, especially his mother, a reason for celebration. One hand placed on the rim of The Well, the other holding the hand of the man he thought would be his soul mate, was, up until that time, the happiest day of Ronan’s life. He had no idea that man would ultimately betray him and his people. And he had no idea he would be given a second chance at eternal happiness. Until he met Michael.

  “Michael.” Ronan closed his eyes and whispered, hoping the wind would carry his voice across the ocean to Michael’s ears. “Please come back to me.”

  “If it’s truly meant to be, he will.”

  Ronan heard the girl’s voice but didn’t recognize it. He did, however, recognize the face. “Phaedra?”

  “Hello, Ronan.”

  Involuntarily, he looked all around the beach, not really sure what he was expecting to see and in fact he saw nothing. They were the only two people on the island. What was she doing here? In his homeland. His bewilderment was evident. “You vampires think you’re the only nonhumans roaming this earth.”

  He knew it. He knew this young girl who fit in effortlessly with their crowd, the girl with the unblinking stare, wasn’t to be trusted. “What do you want?”

  She smiled as a cool breeze rustled through her curls, her toes digging into the sand. “Relax. I can’t hurt you. But I can help you.”

  For the first time Ronan noticed that her eyes were not quite blue, more blue-gray, like fog. “Like you’ve helped Michael?”

  Phaedra smiled at Ronan. Gay, straight, human, whatever, he really was an extraordinary-looking creature. Then she sighed. Human emotion, whether it be crying over Penry’s death or feeling pangs of desire over a handsome face, was something she never thought she’d experience. Life really was the way she was told it would be, filled with surprises. “I’ve done what I could.”

  A wave crashed, drops of salt water landing inches from their feet. “I knew there was something about you. Why have you been protecting him? Who are you?”

  Phaedra heard Ronan’s questions but seemed more interested in drawing curlicues in the sand with a sea reed. “That’s not your concern, Ronan.”

  “Michael’s my concern! I love him!”

  “I know you do,” Phaedra replied. “And that’s why I didn’t have to protect him from you.”

  “But you did!” Ronan shouted, his voice louder than the crash of the waves. “You prevented me from seeing him when he needed me the most, when he was devastated and confused!”

  Phaedra marveled at Ronan. Even these water vamps who breed out of love could still be aggressive when they became passionate. “Because at that moment, you would only have caused him greater devastation and greater confusion. He needed to be alone; he needed to be separated from you briefly to decide if he wants to return to you permanently.”

  “If? If he wants to return to me?” Ronan looked at the majestic ocean before him and breathed in its calm, but the familiar smell of sea salt, the strong line of the horizon, nothing helped. “I don’t know what I’ll do if … if he chooses not to come back to me.”

  Her hand felt so light on top of Ronan’s, like air. “Have faith, Ronan. The Well has never been w
rong yet.”

  Who is this girl? She knows about The Well, she knows everything about me and Michael. She definitely isn’t one of us, nor is she one of Them. “Who are you?” But she was gone. He looked all around him, scoured the beach, the mountains behind him, even the ocean, and nothing. It was as if she had disappeared into the water’s mist. At least she gave me hope, Ronan thought, hope that Michael would soon return and their life could begin.

  Edwige had the same thought as she sat and stared at her painting. She had put her life on hold since Saxon’s death, no, since his brutal murder, but perhaps it was time to test herself, see if her heart, once so loving and eager, could be reopened by another man. Edwige hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Can I actually do this? She started to dial Vaughan’s number but then set the phone back down onto its cradle.

  Why was she so unsure about him? He was handsome, wealthy, successful, but for some reason he gave her cause for concern. Maybe it was simply because he disapproved of Ronan and Michael’s relationship, though she thought she noticed a softening where that was concerned. Maybe if she were as honest with herself as she liked to be with other people, she would recognize that it was because, since losing her husband, she had only used men for her own physical needs and never once contemplated allowing them to touch her emotionally. She rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror, turning her back on it when she could no longer stand looking at how distorted her image had become since she was made a widow.

  Walking through a cloud of very fragrant and very expensive perfume, she said, “Edwige, it’s time to stop acting like a woman on the prowl and start acting like a woman on the verge of irreversible loneliness.” It was time to learn from her son, learn from his full heart and courageous spirit, and take action. As she left her flat, she made a silent plea to her dead husband. Forgive me, Saxon, for I really don’t know what the hell I’m about to do.

  Now that he was back in Weeping Water, Michael felt the same way: He had no idea what he was supposed to do. It wasn’t that the town had changed. It was exactly the same, not a road, not a store, not a branch out of place. It was he; he had changed, changed inextricably. Even if he hadn’t come back as a vampire, he still would have felt the difference and so would the people around him.

  “You’ve grown up, Mike.” R.J. was the last person Michael expected to see at his grandmother’s funeral, but here he was. It was like stumbling onto a lost photograph from the past. A flutter of nerves erupted in Michael’s stomach, joining the hunger pains that had yet to go away. But distance and time had changed R.J.’s appearance. Michael had never noticed the lines at the edges of his eyes—too many hours spent in the sun perhaps—the way his lips never spread out to create a full smile. “Looks like that school over there’s been good for ya.”

  “Kind of,” Michael said. “It’s changed my life in lots of ways.”

  R.J. looked around the cemetery grounds. “Your father didn’t come with you?”

  “No, just Nakano,” Michael said, then noticed R.J.’s quizzical stare. “A friend from school. But he, um, he stayed back at the house.”

  Wind whistled between the two of them, interrupting their shared silence. “Must be a really good friend to travel all this way with you.”

  This was nothing, Michael thought. You have no idea how far I’ve traveled since I left this town. “Kano’s always looking for an excuse to get out of school.” Just like I was always looking for an excuse to stare at you. Michael was amazed that he was talking to this boy, this guy he had spent so many nights dreaming about, but his mind was so restless, his body so anxious, he didn’t even realize R.J. was nervous himself in his presence, and, yes, even flirting a bit. Perhaps it was all for the best. The time for flirting with humans was probably a thing of his past. “It’s, um, nice that you came.”

  R.J. shrugged his shoulders. “Least I could do.” He glanced over to the quiet woman’s final resting place, a place Michael couldn’t bear to look at. “Your grandmother was … she was always good to me. Treated me nice, kindly, like you used to.”

  Michael couldn’t help but think how unkindly R.J. would treat him if he knew what he had become. He was so wrapped up in his own anguish, he didn’t even realize R.J. was still talking when he spoke. “Thanks for coming, but I should be getting back now.”

  Startled, R.J. swallowed the rest of his words. Michael probably didn’t want to hear how good he thought he looked anyway, how nice it was to see his face again, not at his grandmother’s funeral. So R.J. kept silent.

  Just like his grandfather. He didn’t think there was any need to talk on the drive home while the stench of death clung to his truck, while he sat next to this stranger. No need to fill the Bronco with unnecessary conversation; just wait until you get home, have a beer, unwind, then you can say what’s on your mind. “You’re different,” he announced. “You haven’t been gone that long and it’s like I don’t even know you. Not really sure that I like what I see, either.”

  Holding a coffee cup that his grandmother had washed hundreds, probably thousands of times before, Michael was instantly reminded of why he hated it here. The constant criticisms, the uncanny ability to point out flaws and never convey a kindness. Luckily, Michael wasn’t that scared, awkward boy he was when he grew up here. No, he hadn’t yet found his voice, not fully anyway, and yes, he was not at ease with his current state, but he knew that he no longer had to take crap from his grandfather. “It’s not like you ever took the time to know me when I was living under your roof,” Michael said. “I don’t really see what the problem is.”

  Across the table, Nakano smiled. This old man made his own father look downright cultured. Michael was lucky that this one was the only remaining relative he had left in this dumb cesspool of a town. If the rest of them were like him, growing up here must have been unbearable.

  “You watch your tone with me, young man!” his grandfather bellowed. “This is my roof you’re sittin’ under.”

  “And it was my mother’s money that paid off the mortgage,” Michael retorted, watching the coffee twirl as he swirled his cup, coffee that he would never be able to taste again.

  “Listen here! Just ’cause you’re goin’ to some fancy school don’t mean you can talk to me like you own me. I am your grandfather, you remember that!”

  The chair creaked loudly when Michael pushed it back to stand; louder still was the whir from the pipes when he turned on the hot water to wash his cup. Michael had no idea where his future was headed, but he knew that it would not contain parts of his past. “You forgot a long time ago that I was your grandson, so do not expect me to get all sentimental now that you’re alone.”

  His grandfather wanted to speak, he felt the need to, but he was dealing with so many unexpected emotions, he didn’t know which word to choose first, so he chose none. His wife of the past forty-two years was now in a coffin, buried in the ground next to his daughter. His grandson was here with some stranger, acting and talking like he had never seen him do before. He was alone for the first time in his life and he didn’t like it. He also didn’t like Michael’s defiant attitude or the smug look on the Oriental he brought into his house. Maybe if he cracked open another beer, he’d find the right words to say.

  “That’s it, have another beer. That’s your solution for everything,” Michael said. “C’mon, Nakano, I need some air.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Nakano said. “My fun stopped once the plane landed.”

  Throwing on a jacket, Michael announced, “Oh, and my father arranged for us to take an earlier flight and fly directly into Eden instead of London, so this is probably the last time you’ll ever see me again.” Standing in the archway of the front door, Michael turned to his grandfather. “Any final words?”

  His grandfather didn’t know what feeling was the strongest, fear, regret, anger. But how dare his grandson talk to him that way, like he was nothing? Waving his beer bottle at Michael, bubbles pouring out of the bottle, spilli
ng onto his shaking hand, he shouted, “You go to hell!”

  Michael smirked. “Oddly enough, that’s not going to happen.”

  Walking through the flat, deserted streets of Weeping Water, next to a silent Michael, Nakano kept wondering when something would happen. He was ready for anything, good or bad, just to replace the boredom he was feeling. He almost cursed himself for agreeing to Brania’s request, not that he really had much of a choice in the matter. Since he didn’t get to Michael before Ronan transformed him, Brania and her father were forced to come up with a Plan B. Nakano was to see to it that Michael remained Ronan’s spurned lover and use that to work against him. As Brania had pointed out while Nakano was still biting into her flesh, it might even turn out to be a better plan. If Michael joined forces with them willingly, Ronan wouldn’t be able to blame them for taking him away; he could only blame himself. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid after all. Still, how much longer was he going to have to walk the desolate streets of this dumbass town with Michael before he got to see some excitement? As they turned a corner that led into Michael’s old high school, he got his wish.

  “Howard! I figured you’d come back to say good-bye to your grandma, but I didn’t think you’d have balls enough to bring along your boyfriend.”

  Mauro looked pretty much the same, still overweight, his hair could still use a trim, he had a few more pimples around his mouth and on his forehead, but otherwise it was the same loudmouthed jerk Michael remembered. “What’s the problem? Gay cat got your tongue!”

  Doubling over with laughter, Mauro didn’t see Michael seethe. He had struggled so hard to make the taunting in his ears stop ringing, make his mind stop replaying the countless incidents he had suffered at the hands of this boy, this stupid, fat boy who stood before him laughing his head off, and with one quick comment, all Michael’s hard work was for naught. He felt it was the first day of third grade on the playground when Mauro decided to single him out from the crowd and degrade him for the next decade, abuse him until he couldn’t take it any longer. Michael thought he had put an end to his hatefulness before he left Two W, but clearly he hadn’t made enough of an impression. He’d have to try harder.