Ninth Grade Slays

by Heather Brewer

  “So?” A pause, then a small gasp. “Excellent, Jasik. And the boy?”

  “Unharmed, as you instructed.”

  Vlad held his breath and peered around the corner. Jasik was sitting in a chair near the large, black desk. The other man was facing the window, clutching the vial of Vlad’s blood in his hand. Neither had noticed Vlad’s presence.

  The man by the window straightened his shoulders but didn’t tear his gaze from the view outside. “Good. I want to be there to witness his demise.”

  Jasik raised an eyebrow. “I thought you believed him to be the Pravus.”

  The man grew quiet before answering in a soft, almost tranquil tone. “I do. But I also must prove my belief to the world, remove all doubt. And to do so, I must take his life.”

  Jasik snorted. “And violate the highest law?”

  “Not at all. I’ve made other arrangements. You don’t expect them to give me back my presidency after I’ve killed one of our own kind, do you?”

  “Of course not.” Jasik’s tone said that he wasn’t exactly sure whether the man was a lawbreaker or not. “So what if you’re right, and he manages to survive death?”

  The man turned around slowly. His black gloves shimmered in the low light. His long coat billowed as he moved. Black leather pants clung to his legs, but his chest was bare beneath the coat. Vlad gasped at the large hole in the man’s stomach. He had to place his hand over his mouth to contain the scream that threatened to boil up from within him.

  D’Ablo smirked at Jasik and then held the vial of blood up to the light. “Then I want to be there to welcome him on bended knee.”

  Vlad ducked out of sight, hand still clamped over his mouth. D’Ablo was alive. How was this possible? He remembered everything. The dark alley. The terrifying uncertainty as he pointed the Lucis at D’Ablo and ran his thumb over the glyph. Even Otis had said that they should just let him die. And die he had, right before Vlad’s eyes.

  And yet the man in the next room was D’Ablo, with the same, though somewhat smaller, hole in his stomach.

  Vlad peeked around the corner again. D’Ablo had uncapped the vial of Vlad’s blood and was sniffing the air above it, as a human would a fine wine. He lifted it a bit in a toasting gesture and opened his mouth as he tilted the open vial. Liquid rubies spilled from the container to D’Ablo’s tongue.

  D’Ablo held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, apparently savoring the flavor. His head was tilted back slightly, his eyes closed. Vlad watched D’Ablo’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as his blood slipped down his throat.

  The office was completely silent, as if the very air feared to move. Vlad’s heart drummed out a quick rhythm, pumping blood through his limbs, but his body was numb. After what seemed like an eternity, the silence was broken.

  The sound was small at first, like an army of spiders moving in from far away. But it grew quickly, as if that army had started to run. Vlad watched, mesmerized, terrified, as the hole in D’Ablo’s center began to move, to flex around the edges. A strand of tissue shot across the diameter of the hole, followed by another. And another. Forming a strange web of flesh—accompanied by the now deafening spider sounds. The hole through D’Ablo was closing.

  Once it began, it moved very quickly. Strands gave way to muscle. Muscle joined to form organs. Organs were covered with skin. The spider sounds died down, and D’Ablo was whole again.

  With carefully quiet movements, Vlad stood and slinked back down the hallway, almost knocking over a planter on his way out. It wobbled, but he steadied it and continued down the hall.

  Things couldn’t get much worse. His uncle was missing in action, one of his best friends wanted to kill him, and that was just the beginning.

  D’Ablo was still alive.

  And he still wanted Vlad dead.

  Vlad took the elevator to the first floor and staggered out the front door. He opened the door to the car and slid in beside Henry.

  Henry wrinkled his brow. “Everything okay?”

  Vlad shook his head once and then turned to the window, hoping Henry would take a hint and lay off. There was only one person Vlad wanted to talk to about D’Ablo’s return— and he wasn’t answering Vlad’s letters.

  In the driver’s seat Greg chuckled. “Women. They’ll steer you wrong every time, Vlad.”

  The ride home was silent, and but for the occasional nudge and worried glance from Henry, Vlad was left alone with his thoughts.

  He had no idea how D’Ablo had survived having the Lucis shoot a giant hole through his stomach. Nor did he have any clue as to how Otis could have not known that D’Ablo survived. And what right did Vlad have to feel sickened by the sight of a vampire feeding on his blood, when he feasted on human blood every day? Sometimes he felt like such a hypocrite.

  Vlad slumped down in his seat and watched the lights of the city disappear. Soon there was nothing to see but twinkling stars and wide-open, dark places. When people had mentioned how difficult his freshman year would be, he had no idea how right they would be. Of course, they didn’t have a vindictive, evil monster coming back from the dead and chasing after them, or a slayer who just happened to be one of his best friends.

  Vlad sighed. What was he going to do about Joss? He couldn’t tell Joss the truth, couldn’t risk exposing himself— not if Joss was carrying a wooden stake and garlic around with him. And now, with D’Ablo making plans to watch Vlad die . . . Bathory was about to become an enormously uncomfortable place for Vlad to live.

  Maybe he’d luck out and Joss would stumble upon D’Ablo before D’Ablo had a chance to reach Vlad.

  Vlad smirked at the thought, and then furrowed his brow.

  That wasn’t such a bad idea.

  If Joss killed D’Ablo, it would fix everything. Joss would be satisfied in his hunt for the local vampire. D’Ablo wouldn’t be around to try to take Vlad’s life—presuming of course that D’Ablo stayed dead this time. And Vlad wouldn’t have to reveal his secret to Joss at all. All of his problems would be solved, without the intervention of Otis.

  Greg turned on the radio. The Killers were on, singing a slow tune about how everything would be all right. Vlad leaned against the door and stared up at the stars, wishing against all odds that they were right.

  21

  ET TU, JOSS?

  VLAD PANTED FOR AIR and cast Mr. Hunjo a pleading look of desperation, but the gym teacher had clearly lost his ability to pity a dying boy, if indeed he’d ever had it. He grunted, "Keep it moving, Tod. Pick those knees up.”

  Vlad rounded the corner but didn’t pick up his knees. Any farther up and he’d be kneeing himself in the jaw.

  Joss ran up beside him. He was barely breaking a sweat. “You okay, Vlad?”

  Vlad panted between words. “No . . . dying . . . Hunjo . . . jerk . . .” If stakes and garlic were the top two things that could kill a vampire, ninth grade gym was a close third.

  Joss kept stride with Vlad until they were getting ready to pass Mr. Hunjo again and then said, “No problem.” He took off at a sprint, and before Vlad could raise an exhausted eyebrow, Joss tumbled forward onto the track.

  Vlad hurried over to him and helped him up. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

  Joss winced as he put weight on his left leg. “My knee.” Mr. Hunjo bellowed, “Tod! Help McMillan to the nurse’s office.”

  Joss threw his arm around Vlad’s shoulder, and Vlad helped him limp out into the hallway. As soon as the gym door closed, Joss let go of Vlad and started walking normally. Vlad smirked. “You’re a quick healer.”

  Joss shrugged. “Hey, I was saving us both. You from death, me from boredom.”

  Vlad took a deep breath. He was ready. He’d gone over his plan for two solid weeks and could find no holes. It was going to work. “Listen, Joss, can I talk to you for a second?”

  Joss held the bathroom door open for Vlad. He looked very tired—probably due to late-night monster hunting in the two weeks since his confession. “Sure thing. Step i
nto my office.”

  Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Are we cool? I mean, after I ran off the other day, I thought I might have messed up the trust we’ve been building.”

  Joss smiled. "We’re cool, Vlad. It’s no big deal. I just didn’t want you thinking I was some nutcase, going around killing people.”

  "I don’t. Well, you know, what you told me a few weeks ago about vampires and slayers had me convinced you belonged in the loony bin. But after last night... I kind of believe you.”

  Joss’s eyes grew wide, his tone serious. "Why? What happened last night?”

  Vlad cleared his throat and darted his eyes purposely around. “I think I saw a vampire.”

  Joss leaned closer. "You think or you know? We have to be certain, Vlad.”

  "It was. He had fangs and was really pale.” Vlad nodded, feeling the weight of his heavy lunch in his stomach like a ball of lead.

  Joss nodded. “Sounds like a bloodsucker to me.”

  Vlad swallowed hard. "He attacked me and then jumped in a car and drove off toward Stokerton.”

  A terrible expression crossed Joss’s face—a weird mixture of curiosity, surprise, and shrewdness. Vlad was ready to experience the flight portion of the fight-or-flight response they’d just discussed in biology, when Joss said, "He attacked you and you got away?”

  Vlad nodded, hoping the glint in Joss’s eyes wasn’t suspicion.

  Joss smiled. "I’m impressed. You might have what it takes to be a slayer after all.”

  The bell rang. Vlad forced a smile and led Joss out the door and down the hall to the locker room to change. “So what are you going to do?”

  Joss thought for a second, then said, “Well, you said he drove toward Stokerton. I’ll get my aunt to drop us off tomorrow afternoon and we’ll go hunting.”

  Vlad looked at Joss. He wasn’t sure he could stomach seeing a fellow vampire murdered, even if it was D’Ablo. “We?”

  “Well, yeah, Vlad. I mean, you know what it looks like. Besides, I want to show you how it’s done. Not often do I get to show off my moves.” Joss winked at him, and Vlad felt immediately sick to his stomach. “I’ll come over after dinner tonight and we can go over the details.”

  Vlad nodded without speaking. As he opened the locker room door, Joss limped his way inside.

  Vlad pushed the thought of watching another vampire die out of his mind for the rest of the day. When he got home that afternoon, the house was quiet—Nelly was working overtime at the hospital again. Vlad left his backpack on the floor and went upstairs. He searched the shelves of the library but found next to nothing on vampire slayers. Apparently the only myths around them had been captured by Bram Stoker. Vlad snorted. Where was Buffy’s wisdom when you needed it?

  He stepped into his bedroom and sat on the bed. His limbs were full of nervous energy. In just twenty-four hours, he’d be confronting D’Ablo again.

  No, Vlad. Stop thinking that way.

  Joss would be confronting D’Ablo. Vlad would be cowering behind a Dumpster and hoping that D’Ablo didn’t see him.

  You’d think that having managed to blow a hole through an attacking vampire would make a guy more confident, but the fact of the matter was that last year’s events had scared the crap out of Vlad. He didn’t enjoy killing. He didn’t enjoy hurting anyone. Even if the person he was hurting was out for his blood.

  He went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of blood from the freezer. Tearing it open with his teeth, he poured the sticky sweet liquid into a coffee mug, and then sat it in the microwave and pressed the one-minute button. After it beeped, Vlad pulled the cup out and blew the steam away before taking a healthy gulp.

  Nelly wouldn’t be home for another few hours. He had no real idea of when Joss would show up, but Vlad bet that he’d be along shortly after Nelly. So with nothing to do but algebra, Vlad settled down in front of the television with controller in hand. He’d take out his recent frustrations on the menacing alien king.

  Several hours later, after having lost to the computer four times, Vlad tossed his controller on the floor and ran a stressed hand through his hair. Nelly walked through the door, carrying a bag of groceries. “Evening, dear. How was your day?”

  Vlad bit his bottom lip in contemplation. On the one hand, he wanted to spill everything about Joss and D’Ablo to someone who might be able to protect him in some small way. On the other hand, he didn’t want to get Nelly involved. D’Ablo was dangerous—too dangerous for Vlad’s guardian. “Pretty uneventful.”

  Out the front window, Vlad saw Joss step onto the porch. A moment later, he rang the bell. Vlad slipped his sneakers on.

  “Nelly, I’m going to hang out with Joss for a while. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Before she could answer, he was out the door, and he and Joss were walking down the street.

  Joss seemed distant, distracted. By the time the conversation rolled around to vampires, they were headed toward the edge of town.

  Vlad eyed Joss’s backpack warily. “So, where are we going?”

  “For a walk. I have an unexpected errand to run.” Joss pulled his shoulders back. Vlad was sure he saw Joss strut a little. “You’ll have to stay out of sight during my rendezvous, but afterward I’ll run through some maneuvers with you for tomorrow.”

  They walked past the Barker farm and into the woods on the very edge of what the map called Bathory. Up the hill some, the trees broke into a clearing. At the center of it stood a man dressed in black.

  D’Ablo.

  Vlad froze. His heart picked up its pace and thumped hard enough against his ribs to propel him forward a step. Gripping Joss by the arm, Vlad tugged him behind a nearby tree and tried hard to think of a quick way to escape without being noticed. They could slip back down the hill without a word, but that would require Joss’s total, unquestioning silence—something Vlad wasn’t sure he could get without mind control or a really, really good explanation. Unless, of course, he put plan Solve All Vlad’s Problems into effect a little early.

  Joss yanked his arm away. “What are you doing?”

  Vlad peeked around the tree at D’Ablo and back at Joss. A giant lump had formed in his throat, making it difficult to force out words. “You see that guy out there? He’s the vampire.”

  Joss rolled his eyes and stepped from behind the tree. To Vlad’s horror, Joss’s movement caught D’Ablo’s attention. Vlad yanked on Joss’s arm again, but Joss shook him off. “Vlad, no offense, but I’m a slayer. I think I know how to spot a vampire. Besides . . .”

  Joss waved to D’Ablo, who nodded in return.

  Vlad looked from Joss to D’Ablo and back. Something was very wrong.

  Joss offered a comforting smile to Vlad. “He’s the guy who hired me.”

  Vlad looked back at D’Ablo, who was smiling calmly. A slight snarl raised on D’Ablo’s lip, so subtly that Vlad was certain Joss hadn’t seen it. He glanced at Joss—poor, unsuspecting Joss—and knew that if he didn’t do something, Joss would be D’Ablo’s next meal. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the clearing, keeping his eyes on D’Ablo the whole time. “You hired a slayer?”

  D’Ablo’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “I had no choice. Believe me, boy, I would relish taking my revenge directly. But you see, our little brush last year left me scarred, which stole the council presidency from me. Last year, killing you would have been Elysian justice. This year, as the council now insists that if you are indeed a vampire, you are to be interviewed and then tried, a justified murder of you by my own hand without the council’s consent would be illegal. If I ever hope to regain my presidency—and I will; that force is already in motion—I can’t go breaking the highest law by killing my own kind. That would condemn me to death— assuming the council ever consents that you are one of us. And I rather enjoy living.”

  Vlad cast a glance at D’Ablo’s stomach, remembering the hole and the sound of a thousand spiders as he’d watched it heal closed. “So the Lucis . . .”

&nb
sp; “Yes. It’s the epitome of weapons against vampirekind. I was fortunate. Had you actually known what it was capable of last year, and had you aimed any higher, we might not be engaging in this conversation. Of course, if it weren’t for your Pravus blood, I’d be scarred and wounded for life. Un-whole.” D’Ablo’s eyes were haunted for a moment. Then his features lightened, and the corner of his mouth rose in bemusement. His eyes sparkled some in the moonlight. “It seems I owe you some gratitude. The blood of the Pravus has enormous healing capabilities.”

  “I’m not the Pravus.” Vlad’s voice wavered—even he didn’t believe his words anymore.

  D’Ablo clucked his tongue. “Oh, I believe that you are. Surely even you can’t deny the possibility.”

  Vlad’s heart sank. It was possible, no matter how much he wanted to deny that possibility.

  Vlad weighed his words carefully before wetting his lips and speaking. “If I am the Pravus, that means I’m a vampire. So, why aren’t you taking me in to be interviewed and tried for my crimes? Or do you plan to capture me and harvest my blood?”

  D’Ablo raised a sharp eyebrow. “No. I have no plans to capture you. I cannot kill you by my hand, but by a wayward slayer’s hand, I can. It’s really quite simple. I must prove that you are the Pravus, and the only way to do that is to do what I can to kill you. You have what I want, and trying you before the council won’t give it to me.”

  With a nervous shudder, Vlad met D’Ablo’s eyes. “What do you want?”

  Taking a step closer, a wicked smile crossed D’Ablo’s face. “Ultimately? To take your place as the Pravus. But for that, I require three specific items . . . and, of course, your life.”

  Vlad took a step back but didn’t speak. His heart had become eerily quiet, as if by not making any sudden movements, it could escape being ripped from his chest.

  D’Ablo chuckled, low and metallic. “If you are the Pravus, as I believe that you are, I will require your life to perform a very special ritual. First, of course, I must locate the precise instructions for performing the last part of the ritual. If you manage to survive tonight, I’ll be back to collect you. After all, I’m ill equipped to care for a prisoner until the time when I discover the passage I’m seeking. It may take years. Though I hope it will be much sooner.