Unafraid Read online

  A low roar emerged from the crowd, starting softly, but erupting quickly into whoops of encouragement and support. Blakeley wasn’t the most intelligent teacher at Archangel Academy, but he had the most street smarts. He knew his audience and how to rouse them, and he knew how to provoke a man, especially one as cocky and pompous as David, in a way that could only end with his agreeing to his terms. “A head-to-head race?” David asked rhetorically. “Your best man against mine so to speak?”

  Although David punctuated his query with a smile, his intentions were obvious. He was making it clear to Blakeley, if not to the students who were eagerly awaiting their coach’s response, that he understood he was being challenged. It was not something that Blakeley could take back, and no matter how this little exercise ended, David would remember who had been the first to throw down the gauntlet. Blakeley didn’t flinch. He knew what he had done, and even though he knew the rules were changing, there was no way he was going to back down. Not to David, not to anyone. “Absa-bloody-lootely,” he said. “Sir.”

  If Michael hadn’t known Morgandy’s history, he might have felt sorry for him. He stood on one end of the pool alone, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression stoic, while on the other end, Ronan was practically lost within the ecstatic crowd that surrounded him. No one had anything against Morgandy personally, but no one questioned their allegiance. Every kid in the gym wanted their team captain to beat this newcomer. Even Nakano.

  “This should be another easy win for Ronan,” he said. Michael didn’t detect a trace of sarcasm in his voice, and yet he wasn’t convinced Kano was speaking the truth. There was something in the way Morgandy moved, with equal parts grace and swagger, that made him think Ronan might finally lose a race. Michael, in fact, had almost beaten him a few times, proving that his boyfriend was a powerful swimmer, but not invincible. Plus, Morgandy had been a water vampire for just as long as Ronan, so didn’t that mean he was just as powerful?

  “Shake hands,” Blakeley bellowed, interrupting Michael’s train of thought.

  Watching Ronan walk toward Morgandy, Michael could tell he was moving reluctantly. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to confront his past in this way, and he definitely didn’t want to shake Morgandy’s hand. But he had no choice, and after a slight hesitation, Ronan felt the flesh he never thought he would feel again. And then he had another flash of memory.

  “I’m special you know,” Morgandy informed him. “I’m The Guardian of The Well.”

  Humbled, Ronan resisted the urge to kneel. He remembered his parents telling him stories about such children when he was very young, how special they were, how some were born into the position and how others were called to the honor. But Ronan had never met one. And now the boy who he had spent the last several months kissing, falling in love with, was telling him he was part of that elite group. Or maybe not. “Is this another one of your fool jokes, Morgandy?”

  Smiling, Morgandy held Ronan’s hands in his. Soft and smooth and hard and rough all at the same time. “No, this is the truth,” Morgandy said, his eyes just as serious as when he had first told Ronan he loved him. “I’m the last of the original Atlantians here on earth, and my place as The Keeper of The Well has been foretold.”

  Ronan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe Morgandy had never told him this before. But then he realized Morgandy had probably wanted Ronan to fall in love with him without knowledge of his credentials. Not that it would have mattered; Ronan would have fallen in love with him even if he were the child of penniless peasants. “I can’t believe I’ve been snogging with The Guardian of The Well this whole time,” Ronan whispered.

  Morgandy bent his head, and a few of his curls fell onto Ronan’s forehead. “I was sworn to secrecy until I knew for certain that you would be my soul mate,” he said. “And now you take your place alongside me. Together we will protect The Well and our people for all eternity.”

  Pride surged through Ronan’s body. When he woke up this morning he didn’t think anything could make him happier than the thought of combining his soul with Morgandy’s and offering the new mixture to The Well. But now he was being told that he would be more than just another water vampire; he would be a protector, a guardian. It was almost too much to bear, and he had to hold onto Morgandy’s hands with all his strength so he didn’t faint.

  “Hey, are you trying to break my hand?”

  When Ronan’s eyes focused he saw that he was standing in the present, and he was indeed squeezing Morgandy’s hand with all his might. “Sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly.

  This was surreal. Ronan was trying to keep his expression blank, not indicate to Blakeley, David, or the rest of his teammates that he was not being introduced to Morgandy for the first time, that they shared a past, intimate, painful, and clearly one that wouldn’t stay buried. He looked deep into Morgandy’s eyes to see if he was having the same struggle, but didn’t notice anything peculiar, which actually made sense. Morgandy had known he would be meeting Ronan today; he had had time to prepare, and he wasn’t taken by surprise.

  “Men,” Blakeley said. “Take your marks.”

  Standing on top of the starting block, Ronan adjusted his goggles, and then his body instinctively took position. He bent forward, crouched his knees, stretched his arms behind him; he looked like he did at the start of every race. But this was no ordinary race. He glanced over at Michael, Ciaran, and Nakano, all huddled together in one group looking befuddled and tense, and he could tell that they knew it as well. The time for thinking, however, was over when he heard the splash and saw Morgandy descend under the water.

  Diving in, Ronan had to play catch up and quickly. Already a body length behind Morgandy, Ronan felt the water pushing against him instead of how he typically felt, as if he was one with the current, the water almost separating in front of him to give him an uncluttered path. He could hear the shouting and rooting from above, but now it was a distraction. It didn’t motivate him to swim even faster as it usually did; it reminded him that he was expected to beat the person swimming in the lane next to him, the person he had never thought he would see again, the person he had once loved.

  He saw Morgandy a few strokes from the end of the pool and couldn’t believe he was swimming so quickly, so easily, as if this was indeed nothing more than a race. How could that be possible? How could he be so focused with Ronan swimming right next to him? How could he already be flipping and pushing off the side of the pool to start the second lap?

  As Morgandy swam in his direction in the other lane, their eyes locked. Ronan’s body froze, and he felt suspended in space and time. He wasn’t present; he was once again lost in the past.

  “How could you do this to me?!” Ronan shrieked, clutching the edge of The Well for support. “How could you betray me like this?”

  Rolling his eyes, Morgandy leaned against the side of the cave. The webbing in between his fingers still intact, he swirled a rock in his hand, making it spin in circles like a game of roulette. “Me, me, me, me, me,” he said mockingly. “Don’t you ever think of anyone other than yourself?”

  Ronan felt his body buckle, and he fell to his knees, his webbed hand sliding down the cold, hard stone of The Well. This could not be happening. Their souls had been united right here in this very place, on this sacred ground, only a month ago, and already his dream had turned into a nightmare. This person he thought he would share eternity with had revealed himself to be a fraud, a charlatan whose sole purpose was to uncover the location of The Well and bring about the end of their race, the race that Morgandy had been born to protect.

  “Morgandy, please, I don’t understand,” Ronan pleaded. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  Tossing the rock aside, barely missing the belly of The Well, Morgandy walked toward Ronan and squatted down next to him. He stared at him like a parent would look at an inconsolable child or a hunter at a defenseless animal, moments before slaughter. “Sweet, innocent Ronan,” Morgand
y said. “Don’t you remember what I told you about destiny?”

  And like an animal who was about to be killed, Ronan found courage he didn’t know he had. Springing up, he grabbed Morgandy by the neck and ran until the stone wall prevented him from running any further. He pressed Morgandy’s body into the wall so hard he heard the stones shift, and a light spray of rock dust fell all around them. “Yes!” Ronan cried. “I remember everything you told me about our destiny! You were born to protect The Well, and I was born to live by your side!”

  Morgandy’s limp body suddenly came to life. He thrust his arms upward and at the same time kicked his feet into Ronan’s stomach, sending him hurtling across the harsh ground and into the wall on the other side of the cave. Winded, Ronan scrambled to his feet and turned just in time to see Morgandy standing in front of him. But it wasn’t the Morgandy he remembered; this was something new and ugly.

  His face twisted and transformed right in front of Ronan’s eyes. His beautiful curls disappeared to reveal shorn locks that looked like a madman had pulled them out of his scalp. His eyes were black, surrounded by jaundiced irises. Only his teeth remained recognizable, pure white with two exquisitely chiseled fangs on either side of his mouth. The rest of his body looked deformed, burnt, and raw. Morgandy showed no signs of feeling any pain, but Ronan felt his heart break with pity and fear just looking at him. “Morgandy,” Ronan said, his voice barely a whimper. “What’s happened to you?”

  His full lips now just a thin vertical, sliver of red, Morgandy smiled and opened his mouth to speak. Even before any words were uttered, a rancid smell rushed out to invade and claim the air, making Ronan wince. “That might have been your destiny, Ronan,” the creature hissed. “But it wasn’t mine.”

  Confused and frightened, Ronan watched this thing that Morgandy had turned into run out of the cave, leaving him alone, broken, and lost. Watching Morgandy swim past him, Ronan refused to let those feelings take control of him again.

  Surging forward, he somersaulted and pushed off the side of the pool with every ounce of strength in his legs. It was enough to catapult him through the water so he was now a mere shoulder length behind Morgandy. Above him he could hear the crowd respond to the sudden shift in action, and using his preternatural hearing he could hear Michael cheering him on loudest of all. He also heard David mumbling something about an angel’s wings, but he didn’t have time to decipher the headmaster’s cryptic meditation. It didn’t matter; Michael could do it for him.

  Keeping his eyes focused on the match in the pool and not on David who was now standing in between two of the starting blocks, Michael blocked out all other sound so he could listen to what the headmaster was saying. Michael was startled when he realized he was eavesdropping on a prayer.

  “O Zachariel, lord and master,” David said so softly it couldn’t be heard by a human ear, “give this child an angel’s wings so he can fly in the water like you can fly through the clouds.”

  Abruptly the prayer stopped, not because David was finished, but because he noticed Michael staring in his direction. Involuntarily, Michael had been drawn to the odd words and failed at trying to act in secret, but he didn’t care. Let David know that he had been caught; let him know that he couldn’t always dupe everyone; let him know that he couldn’t always emerge the victor. And neither could Morgandy.

  After slamming one hand down onto the edge of the pool first, Ronan pumped a fist into the air. A roar went up in the crowd, and one by one the kids jumped into the pool and surrounded their team captain, who proved once again that he was undefeatable.

  Michael, Ciaran, and Nakano held back and watched Morgandy reach up to grab David’s waiting hand. With one easy pull the boy was lifted out of the water and onto the gym floor. David threw a towel around Morgandy’s shoulders and whispered something in his ear. “Did you catch that?” Ciaran asked.

  “Well, I saw it, but I didn’t hear anything,” Michael replied. “What do you think that means?”

  Both he and Ciaran looked at Nakano thinking that he must know what David’s motives were since he was part of his race, but they were wrong. “Don’t look at me,” he growled. “I’m in the dark, just like the two of you.”

  A few weeks ago Michael wouldn’t have believed Nakano; he would have assumed he was concealing information. But having witnessed firsthand the subtle changes in his character, Michael knew Nakano was telling the truth. Even though it meant that Morgandy’s presence was that much more of a mystery, it made Michael feel better. At least he could start to trust Nakano again, as weird as that sounded to him. He just wished he knew what Morgandy was doing here and why David seemed to be so interested in his arrival. Once again Blakeley put an end to such speculation and brought everyone back to reality. Well, him and his whistle.

  Before the shrill sound stopped blaring through the gym, Blakeley raised Ronan’s arm in the universal sign of the victor. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to announce that Ronan had won and therefore maintained Double A’s bragging rights. The kids got it, and they responded loudly.

  “I guess our illustrious coach doesn’t realize that it’s a moot point,” Ciaran said to Michael. “Morgandy’s a student now, not a member of the Swedish team, so even if he won, Double A wouldn’t have lost.”

  Thankfully the crowd was still cheering, so Michael just had to shrug his shoulders and smile. He didn’t need to offer his suspicions that having Morgandy as their newest student meant just the opposite: their school was in more trouble than ever, and it wasn’t something that should be celebrated. Blakeley had other ideas.

  Still holding Ronan’s arm up in the air, he grabbed Morgandy with his free hand and raised his arm as well. “And welcome the newest member of the A team!”

  This time Blakeley’s announcement was met with silence. “C’mon, you dumb gits!” he shouted. “He may be new, but with van der Poole on the bloody team, we’re sure to take top prize at Nationals!”

  That got the crowd going once again. Michael clapped along with the others, but as if he was at some old man’s golf outing. He felt as uncomfortable as he knew Ronan must, having to stand a few feet away from the person who had practically destroyed his life. Finally, Blakeley let go of both boys and announced that along with Ronan and Morgandy, he and Fritz would be on the A team. Michael felt a crest of heat pulse up his neck as he realized Nakano was now relegated to the B team. Much to Michael’s surprise, Kano took the news that he would join the B ream of Ciaran, Alexei, and Ralphie Torino, the Italian kid who did the backstroke faster than anyone, in silence.

  Nakano didn’t speak, even in the locker room, even when everyone was talking about how great Nationals was going to be, even when he overheard some other kids expressing their shock that Fritz got put on the starting team over him. He only broke his silence once, when Ronan asked him why he thought Morgandy was acting as if he had never seen him before.

  “Guess time does heal everything, mate,” was all Nakano said.

  One by one the kids left the locker room, patting Ronan on the shoulder or giving him a high five. Michael didn’t understand why Ronan was moving so slowly; he was usually the first one dressed and ready to leave. When he saw Ronan look over at Morgandy, who was slipping out the side door, he knew why.

  “Follow me,” Ronan said to Michael telepathically.

  In the first shadows of dusk, they saw Morgandy sprint into The Forest, and, without speaking to each other, Michael and Ronan chased after him, careful not to step on a twig or make any noise to give themselves away. At some point, Michael reached forward as Ronan reached back and their hands met; they traveled as one until they came to a small clearing. Hovering over the ground for a few seconds they landed gently and silently on the grass, positioning themselves behind a cluster of oak trees to watch Morgandy feed on a man, who, by his dirty appearance and the state of his tattered clothing, appeared to be homeless.

  Morgandy held the man tightly, his mouth fastened to his neck, until all color
and expression left the man’s face. The body dropped to the ground with a thud, and Morgandy leaned back on his haunches, twisting his neck from side to side so his head moved like that of a cobra. Then, slowly, his long, black tongue flicked the stray drops of blood off of his chin and lips until his face was clean.

  Expecting Morgandy to rise and travel to The Well to complete his feeding, Ronan tapped Michael on the knee, and they stood up together. To their surprise Morgandy didn’t move. They heard a rustling and saw some of the treetops flutter even though there was no wind, and finally Morgandy moved, but only to turn toward the trees and wait. When they saw David, wearing only his dress pants and carrying his shirt in his hand, emerge from the thicket on the other side of the clearing, they realized he had been expecting company. Taking cover once again, they also realized David and Morgandy were more than headmaster and student.

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” David asked, his massive chest slowly rising up, then down.

  “He was surprisingly tasty,” Morgandy replied, “for a vagrant.”

  Laughing grotesquely, David ran his fingers through the thick mass of red hair on his chest and replied, “Every man does have a purpose.”

  Peeking around the side of the trees, Michael and Ronan saw David circle Morgandy and carelessly step onto the dead man’s leg, the bone snapping in two underneath his weight. It was when he turned around, however, that they were really shocked. He had two deep gouges in his back, vertical in shape and on top of his shoulder blades. They weren’t bloodied, but congealed, like scar tissue, and must have been old wounds, because the rest of him was unscathed. Plus, when he put his shirt on they saw that there were no rips or tears in the cloth. They didn’t want to ponder the many reasons why David would be wandering through the woods without his shirt on, so luckily he interrupted their thoughts.