Unnatural aa-1 Page 26

  Nakano spoke the same words to Penry. They were the last words Penry heard before he fell to the ground and died.

  chapter 18

  The morning light exposed two sets of bodies, each entangled in an embrace.

  Michael’s eyes were closed, but he could feel the sunlight spread across his face like a warm hello. He snuggled closer into Ronan so his back was pressing against the boy’s chest, and brought his arm around him tighter, making their connection even more secure. Though after last night, Michael had no doubts; their connection was unbreakable.

  Ronan stirred and nuzzled his cheek against Michael’s, his stubble rubbing against Michael’s smooth skin roughly, but so very pleasantly. Ronan moved his leg so his muscular thigh rested on top of Michael’s hip. The boy couldn’t move, but that was perfectly fine because there was nowhere else he wanted to go.

  Imogene’s arm was wrapped around Penry, her head lying on his chest. The sun’s warmth felt good, but when a breeze, sudden and cool, floated over her, she held Penry tighter, rubbing his arm with her hand. This is strange, she thought. I don’t remember falling asleep with Penry last night. Stranger still, her ear was pressed against his chest and yet she didn’t hear any beating.

  Unable to remain still, Michael rolled over, struggling a bit underneath Ronan’s weight, until he was face-to-face with his boyfriend. Ronan kept his eyes closed and tried to pretend to be asleep, relishing the fact that he was being admired by this boy whom he loved like no other, but he couldn’t resist; he had to see how beautiful he looked first thing in the morning. “I was right.”

  “About what?” Michael asked.

  “You’re cuter in the morning sun,” Ronan replied.

  Michael laughed and thought, Ronan must be in love; my hair’s a mess, little bits of crust are still in my eyes, and my breath, oh God. But he understood because he felt the same way. Ronan was still the muscular young man he had first seen bathed in moonlight in front of the cathedral, but here, brightened by the sun, he looked even more delectable. His hair falling every which way, his eyes half open, he looked like a little boy, impish and full of life, who needed to be watched at all times. Michael was more than willing to take on that duty.

  Softly, Ronan kissed Michael on the lips. “Thank you for last night.”

  “It was fun,” Michael said, blushing through his smile. “I loved every second of it.” He kissed Ronan back, then kissed his cheek, and his ear, before rolling on top of him and hugging him tightly. Ronan felt wonderful, not so much because of Michael’s kisses, but because he could see that his neck had no marks on it. He had resisted. He wanted their first night together to be only about making love and nothing more. His mother wouldn’t be happy, but right now her happiness was the furthest thing from his mind.

  Ronan brushed Michael’s hair back off his face. “Fancy taking a shower with me?”

  The water felt cool, very refreshing, and it helped revive Imogene, pull her out from her deep sleep. She pressed her ear against Penry’s chest and while she could hear the raindrops plop down onto the grass, she still couldn’t hear his heart beating. She felt his wrist, and nothing.

  “Penry … Penry, wake up,” she urged.

  Fighting the panic she felt gaining speed inside of her, she tugged at the tips of her gloves. Maybe she couldn’t feel his pulse because of the material? That had to be it. Yanking her right glove off, she threw it onto the ground and wrapped her fingers around Penry’s wrist. She waited for the familiar pulses, indication that blood was pumping through his veins and into his heart, but she felt nothing.

  She wiped the rainwater out of her eyes, smearing her mascara, the black ink mixing with the bloodstains on her glove. Bloodstains? Why are there bloodstains on my glove? She looked all around her and for the first time fully realized she was outside in The Forest. Why in the world am I here? She could see through the windows of St. Sebastian’s that the festival decorations were still hanging from the ceiling, but the ice sculpture was half melted; St. Michael was almost gone. Who would protect them? Who would heal Penry’s wounds? The rain had washed away the dried blood to reveal two gaping holes that Imogene knew shouldn’t be there. Her scream blared in her head before echoing through the air.

  Michael didn’t think about sighing; the sound just formed on its own. That’s what he loved so much about being with Ronan. He was feeling more than thinking; he was allowing his body to do what it naturally wanted to do without being prohibited by his fears or the world’s ignorance. He knew his actions last night had upset his father. He couldn’t imagine how upset he’d be if he knew what he was doing right now, if he knew that Ronan was behind him, his arms wrapped around him, the warm shower water drenching their bodies. But right now his father had no say and no place in his world. His world was made up of just two people, him and Ronan. And whoever was knocking on the bathroom door.

  Through the steam Michael could tell Ronan was not pleased. “Nakano!”

  “No … it’s me.”

  Agitated, Ronan fumed to Michael, “Now Ciaran wants to talk to me.”

  “Ronan, I need to see you,” Ciaran shouted. “It’s … it’s an emergency.”

  Leaning his head against the tiles, Ronan wished he and Michael could go some place far, far away where they wouldn’t be disturbed, but then Michael said something that made him realize that no such place truly existed. “Maybe it has something to do with your mother.”

  Dripping wet, a towel hugging his waist, Ronan opened the door with such force it startled Ciaran. He jumped back as Ronan closed the door behind him, but not before he saw Michael’s silhouette behind the sliding glass shower door. “I wouldn’t have interrupted the two of you if this wasn’t important.”

  Since he didn’t believe his brother, he ignored the comment. “What do you want? Last night you didn’t have the guts to tell me to sod off and this morning you’re banging down my door.”

  “I thought you’d want to know Penry’s been attacked.”

  A memory flashed through Ronan’s mind, a vision of Penry lying on the ground, two holes in his neck, Nakano watching in the distance. “Where’s Nakano?”

  “You think it’s him?”

  Ronan wiped some of the shower water off his face with his hand, a few drops falling to the floor. “Who else could it be?”

  “Nakano wasn’t the only vampire at the festival last night.”

  Furious, Ronan pushed Ciaran in the chest, making his brother stumble backward and fall onto the unmade bed. When he spoke, it sounded like a hiss. “You think I had something to do with this?”

  Refusing to back down, Ciaran fought back and kicked his brother as hard as he could. Not expecting any physical response from Ciaran, Ronan was caught unawares and staggered back from the impact, knocking into the bathroom door. “Why do you always think the worst of me?!” Ciaran didn’t wait for an answer because he knew none would come, so he just explained what he had meant. “I was thinking of Brania.”

  “What about Brania?” Michael asked, opening the bathroom door.

  Once again Ciaran lied to Michael’s face. “Penry and Imogene were attacked in The Forest last night and I was concerned for Brania’s safety. She left the festival by herself.” This time his lie sounded a lot more convincing because it consisted mainly of fact. The only untruth in the statement was Ciaran’s concern for Brania. He didn’t care what happened to the girl, but Michael needn’t know that.

  “Oh God, not again!” Michael shouted, unconsciously grabbing Ronan’s arm. “Are they all right?”

  It must be nice to take a morning shower with another person, Ciaran thought, forcing his eyes to look elsewhere other than at the two wet boys standing in front of him. “They’re both with MacCleery,” Ciaran said. “I think Imogene’s okay, but … I’m not sure about Penry.”

  “We have to go see him,” Michael said, rushing past Ciaran to put his clothes back on.

  “You may want to wear something else,” Ciaran suggested. “Y
ou’ll look a little obvious in your suit.”

  With only one pant leg on, Michael realized Ciaran was right. He wasn’t embarrassed, but there was no need to advertise to the entire academy that he spent the night with Ronan, especially under the circumstances. “I have some sweatpants that should fit you,” Ronan said. “Third drawer from the top.”

  “I’ll wait downstairs,” Ciaran announced. “But don’t take too long getting dressed.”

  The waiting room at St. Luke’s was unusually crowded. The last time Penry was attacked, only Ronan and Michael knew about it at first, but this time thanks to Imogene’s shrieks, which rang through the air like the morning church bells, half the academy was trying to get inside to find out what was going on. But since it was Sunday, all the students should have been walking over to the cathedral for mass, attendance at which was mandatory. “You have five minutes to make nine o’clock mass,” Mrs. Radcliff reminded everyone. “I don’t think Headmaster Hawksbry will tolerate your absence.”

  Collectively, the group griped. They knew she was right, but they also knew something was wrong with their friends. “Can’t you tell us what’s going on?” one student bellowed over the crowd.

  No, she thought, I cannot tell you what’s going on because I will not be able to handle the mass hysteria. “Imogene and Penry are being treated by Dr. MacCleery,” she stated. “By the time mass is over, we should have a better idea of their prognosis.” She hated lying, but she hated disobeying the doctor’s orders even more. She only hoped that her voice was calm and that it didn’t reveal how distraught she actually was.

  When nearly all the students had left the building, MacCleery emerged from his examining room. “Ronan,” he bellowed. “I want to talk to you.”

  The silence that followed the doctor’s statement was thick with blame and suspicion. Everyone could feel it. Typically, Ronan was wary in the doctor’s presence, but this time he had his nerves under control. He had nothing to do with the attack, and for once he had an alibi. “Yes, sir.”

  “Come with me.”

  Ronan hesitated, alibi or not. He wasn’t fond of confined spaces. “Anything you want to ask me, you can do in front of them.”

  MacCleery looked at the students who refused to leave—Ciaran, Fritz, Phaedra, and the American student, whatever his name was. Then he looked at Ronan. The boy wanted to make a scene, that was fine with him. “Imogene remembers being attacked from behind just as the festival ended. Where were you at that time?”

  What a brazen accusation, Ronan thought, but at least my instincts are on target. He really does believe I’m dangerous. Which Ronan did have to admit was true, but only when he was provoked. “I left the festival shortly before it ended. At the time of the attack, I would have been in my room. Sir.”

  “Can your dorm mate confirm that?”

  Ronan felt like he was on trial. Everyone in the room was looking at him, wondering how he was going to respond, and the most curious juror appeared to be Phaedra. “No, sir, he can’t.”

  For some reason, MacCleery felt sweat spread across his palms; he was nervous, his throat dry, but he didn’t understand why. Once again he was afraid to be in this boy’s presence, but it didn’t make sense. He was just a kid, nothing more. “So you, um, just want us to accept that what you’re telling us is the truth?”

  “It is, sir,” Michael said, his voice clear and firm. “I left the festival with Ronan and I was with him all night.”

  Well, well, well, boys will be boys, won’t they? “There’s no need to lie for your friend,” MacCleery advised.

  Anxious, but still amused by the situation, Fritz chuckled. “Ronan’s more than just his friend, sir.”

  That’s right, Michael thought, it’s time we all spoke the truth. “I’ve been with him since we left last night. If you want proof, ask Ciaran. He saw me there this morning when he told us what happened.”

  Dammit! Why do they always work in a pack? One always ready to take a bullet for the other. “Is that true, Ciaran?!”

  “Yes, sir, it is.”

  “What about Nakano?” Phaedra asked the question so quietly, it almost went unheard. But as its implications set in, MacCleery thought it made sense. He never noticed anything out of the ordinary with Nakano, not like with Ronan, but they were very close, dorm mates, so maybe, maybe there was some sort of connection.

  “Mrs. Radcliff,” MacCleery shouted. “Get Nakano in here. Now!”

  Before the nurse could make a move, Ciaran spoke. “That won’t be necessary, sir. Nakano was with me all night.”

  Ronan’s cry concealed the doctor’s “What?!”

  Calmly, Ciaran told another lie. “Since Michael was spending the night with Ronan, Nakano had no place to sleep. Michael’s empty bed seemed like the perfect solution.”

  The doctor ripped his glasses off his face and wiped them vigorously with his shirttail. He didn’t know who to believe anymore, but he knew that no matter how many more questions he asked, he wouldn’t be told the truth. Maybe he should just retire, live out the rest of his days away from youth and illness. Unfortunately, before he could make any life-changing decisions, there was a dead boy lying on a table in the other room, who had to be dealt with. “Tell Hawksbry to call Penry’s parents,” the doctor ordered. “Then call the morgue.” “No!” This time, Phaedra’s word shook the room.

  Worn out, the doctor retreated back to his office. “Imogene will be fine, but Penry was dead before he got here.”

  At the same time, Michael and Fritz rushed to Phaedra’s side, separating to sit on opposite sides of her to offer comfort. “I couldn’t protect them,” she cried, her words muffled by her sobs. “I should have, but I couldn’t.”

  “No one could have prevented this,” Michael said, moving his hand away so Fritz’s arm alone could ease her shaking body. When Fritz saw Michael’s own tears fall down his cheeks, the boy gave his shoulder a squeeze. A simple yet effective gesture from one friend to another.

  While Mrs. Radcliff was busy making her phone calls, Ronan grabbed Ciaran by the arm as he was about to leave. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you have to stop it.”

  Ciaran shook his arm free from his brother’s hold. He swallowed his anger so when he spoke, he merely sounded patronizing. “Please don’t worry about me, Ronan, not when you have a boyfriend to console.” After Ciaran left, that’s just what Ronan did. He sat next to Michael and put his arm around his shoulder. Michael and Ronan, Phaedra and Fritz, just two couples overcome with grief over the death of their friend. Ronan was thankful, however, no one was looking at him, because he was no longer able to hide his fear. He was just as scared as every mortal in the room.

  Within the hour, the whole campus was buzzing with the news that Penry was killed and Imogene, though she survived, had been left for dead. As a result, a mandatory curfew was placed on both Double A and St. Anne’s. No student was allowed outside without an adult after sundown. But since Hawksbry refused to make a formal statement—an act that made many students question his leadership skills—all that was left was rumor, and according to gossip, the couple had been attacked by an animal, maybe a bear, although no one could ever recall seeing a bear wandering through The Forest. Whatever it was, whatever committed this heinous act, it was bloodthirsty, because Penry had lost more than half his blood. And though Imogene for some reason hadn’t been severely injured, she had been taken to the trauma center in Carlisle to be examined more thoroughly and, of course, questioned by the police. Thanks to Ciaran’s alibi, Nakano wasn’t worried in the slightest.

  But Ronan was. He didn’t want to believe that Ciaran would willingly protect Nakano, but he had been right there, had heard his brother lie to protect him. Ciaran was hardly friendly with Kano, plus he knew that he was capable of committing such a vicious act. As frightening as it was to Ronan, it all made perfect sense. First begging Ronan to turn him into a vampire, then cozying up to Brania, and now protecting Nakano, Ciaran was not making intelligent choic
es unless … God, could that really be it? If he wouldn’t turn him into a vampire, Ciaran would find someone who would. But he couldn’t possibly be desperate enough to become one of Them, could he? As much as Ciaran infuriated Ronan at times, he was still his brother. And it was time he reminded his mother of that fact.

  A few minutes later, he was standing in the living room of her London flat, surrounded by a collection of shabby chic furnishings and accessories in every shade of white imaginable. Since she didn’t initiate the conversation, Edwige was trying her best to ignore Ronan, but he wouldn’t stand for it. The topic was far too important. “You didn’t even say two words to him at the festival!” Ronan shouted.

  “I nodded when he looked my way,” Edwige said, focusing all her concentration on applying her aubergine nail polish with a smooth, even brushstroke.

  “He will do anything to become a vampire! He practically forced me to transform him. Doesn’t that concern you?”

  Blowing a steady stream of air onto her nails, Edwige didn’t seem concerned at all. “No, dear, because if you remember, I told you that I would destroy you if you ever gave your brother the gift of immortality.” Ronan flinched at the memory, knowing that his mother meant what she had said. “He does not deserve to be given our life, not after what his father did.”

  “I know,” Ronan said quietly. “And that’s why I refused him.”

  Finally, Edwige smiled at her favorite child. “No, you refused him because you’re a loyal son. Loyal to your mother and loyal to The Well.” Edwige got up, not to walk toward her son but to stand in front of a large painting that covered most of her living room wall. “Do you like it?”

  Ronan’s eyes glossed over the artwork. “It’s fine.”

  “Fine!? I paid sixty thousand pounds for this painting,” Edwige declared. “It’s by a fledgling artist, someone who I predict will be the darling of the art scene one day. And this is, by far, his greatest achievement to date.”