Michael Griffo - Unafraid

“Possibly,” Ciaran said. From the tone of his voice, Ronan knew his brother was not convinced that their mother was frolicking on a beach in the south of France or shopping in an exclusive boutique in New York; he knew instinctively just like Ronan did that she was missing. The problem was that neither boy knew how to find her. “Guess we’ll just have to wait until she gets bored wherever she is and decides to come home,” Ciaran advised.

The idea of not being proactive, of just letting the events unfold around him, went against Ronan’s instinct, but reluctantly he had to agree. Edwige was far more powerful and cunning than anyone Ronan knew, so if she didn’t want to be found, if she wanted to take a leave of absence from their lives for a while, there was nothing he could do to change that. “Guess you’re right,” Ronan said.

Even though he accepted fate, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and fight it. There had to be something he could do to connect with his mother. She was often able to read his mind; it made total sense that he should be able to read hers. Maybe if he followed in his brother’s footsteps and conducted more experiments to strengthen his telepathic ability he would be able to destroy whatever intangible barrier Edwige had put up to separate herself from her children. Yes, that’s exactly what Ronan had to do, because the possibility still remained that Edwige had been taken by force, against her will, and the barrier that divided them could have been put up by someone else. Now that he had decided to take action, Ronan felt much better. Until Ciaran spoke.

“I haven’t seen much of Saoirse lately either,” he remarked. “Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”

“What are you talking about?” Ronan asked. “Saoirse’s missing?!”

Startled by his brother’s concern, Ciaran almost dropped the new specimen he was about to clip into place. “No, she isn’t missing. I saw her this morning,” he replied. “But it was the first time I have since Michael’s birthday.”

Relieved, Ronan forced himself to laugh so Ciaran wouldn’t think he was paranoid. “Oh good, ’cause you never know with that one.”

It looked like the tactic had worked, and Ciaran resumed his study. Once again his face was practically devoured by the microscope’s eyepiece as he inspected whatever germ or bacteria cell was on the glass lens. As inquisitive as Ronan could be, he couldn’t imagine anything that tiny igniting that much curiosity. He admired his brother for his interest and acumen in science, but didn’t understand it. “What are you looking at?” Ronan asked.

What wasn’t admirable was Ciaran’s lack of communication skills. “Nothing.”

“Well, nothing seems to have you over the moon,” Ronan said. “You can’t take your eyes off that thing.”

It was true. Despite the close proximity of his brother, despite the fact that they were having a conversation, Ciaran’s eyes hardly ever strayed from his experiment. Even when he jotted something down in his notebook he kept his eyes looking into the thin, metal tube.

“Just boring science stuff,” Ciaran mumbled.

It might be based in science, but it definitely wasn’t boring. Ronan realized that whatever Ciaran was examining through that contraption and whatever he was writing down in his notebook were infinitely more exciting and appealing to him than any talk of his family. “ ’Fess up,” Ronan demanded. “What scientific breakthrough have you discovered this week?”

Without waiting for a response, Ronan spun Ciaran’s notebook around so he could read it. But even with his vampire vision he couldn’t make out Ciaran’s handwriting—if that’s even what the scribbling could be called. The opened pages were filled with a jumble of enigmatic symbols, numeric formulas, clusters of letters that didn’t form words, but rather some sort of shorthand. The result was a notebook filled with spy-level code, indecipherable to anyone other than the person who created it. Ciaran, however, wasn’t taking any chances.

“Leave that alone!” he barked, slamming the notebook shut.

Ronan wasn’t entirely surprised by his brother’s actions. He might have willingly given Michael his notebooks from classes that were part of the Double A curriculum, but when it came to his private research, he was downright territorial. Even still, Ronan felt his reaction was a bit extreme. “You don’t have to get all brassed off about it!” Ronan yelled.

Stuffing the notebook into the drawer underneath the countertop, Ciaran apologized. “Sorry, you know how I get about my little projects.”

The way you’re reacting, it seems like this is a lot more important than one of your little projects, Ronan thought. He kept his suspicions to himself, however, knowing full well that if he accused Ciaran of doing anything more than conducting innocent experiments, his brother would respond with silence and a blank stare. “As long as you don’t blow us up to smithereens,” Ronan said, once again trying to make a joke despite his uneasy feeling.

“Impossible,” Ciaran responded, completely missing the bait. “This is biology, not chemistry.”

Shaking his head, Ronan realized he had overstayed his welcome and it was time to go. “And on that note, dear brother, I bid you adieu.”

After Ronan left the room, Ciaran took out his notebook and started writing in it furiously. Line after line of symbols and formulas that ended in one word—Atlantium. Ciaran smiled triumphantly, but when he saw who was standing in front of him his smile disappeared.

“David!” Ciaran cried. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your headmaster?” David asked, in a voice more smooth than severe. “And your friend?”

Ciaran took a deep breath, knowing that he had to choose his words wisely. “I’m sorry, it’s just that, um, you startled me,” Ciaran replied. “I was reviewing my work.”

David’s mouth smiled and he forced his piercing blue eyes to join in. “Then what an opportune time for a visit.”

Straddling the lab stool, David sat across from Ciaran. He folded his hands, and Ciaran couldn’t help noticing how strong they were, how thick and blunt his fingers looked, as if they could punch their way through concrete without tearing the skin, strangle a wild horse without effort. Bravely, Ciaran met David’s gaze and thought his features had changed a bit since the last time he had seen him. His brow seemed wider, his jaw, still square, still decorated in a thin layer of red bristle, seemed stronger somehow, more powerful than before.

His entire look was softened, however, by his suit. Seersucker, white with delicate blue stripes, slightly crinkled. Underneath he wore a white cotton shirt, the top button undone, but adorned with a tie crocheted from silk yarn a shade of pink that reminded Ciaran of peppermint cream. The color should have clashed with David’s red hair, but instead it complemented it beautifully. His overall appearance had been calculated to appear more casual than intimidating, and it was having its desired effect on Ciaran. Even when David spoke.

“I’m delighted to see that you haven’t forgotten about our agreement,” David said.

“Of course not,” Ciaran replied. How could he forget? It’s all he ever thought about, it’s why he spent so much time in his lab. He had promised David that he would work with him to try to unlock the key to the water vamp’s DNA, and in exhange he would be rewarded with prestige, honor, admiration, all the things he never received from his own family. But Ciaran hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to hold up his end of the bargain. For months he had been conducting experiments on Michael’s blood from samples David had given him. Ciaran never questioned how the specimens were obtained; he was merely a scientist conducting research. He didn’t know that the embroidered handkerchief dotted with drops of Michael’s blood was Nurse Radcliff’s and had been soiled during a vicious attack. He also had no idea that the bloodstained T-shirt had once belonged to Amir Bhattarcharjee and had been used to clean up Michael’s blood from the gym floor after Michael had a minor accident during swim practice. But even with Nurse Radcliff and Amir, now both destroyed, acting as unwitting assistants in Ciaran’s experiments, he was still very far from a breakthrough.