Twelfth Grade Kills

by Heather Brewer

  Vlad blinked. His chest felt heavy and tight and not at all like it was supposed to. “You ... what?”

  Eddie’s smile was confident and calm. He knew he’d surprised Vlad. Eddie, it seemed, knew too much about him these days. “A vampire, Vlad. And if you don’t make me a vampire, I’m going to expose you.”

  A vampire. Vlad had never seen it coming. After everything that Eddie had done to expose him, after all of the evidence he had, he was willing to forego his chance at popularity for the act of transforming into a bloodthirsty creature of the night. Vlad shook his head in utter disbelief. “Why would you want to be a vampire, Eddie? Trust me, it won’t make your life any easier. Now, do me—do both of us—a favor and forget about all of this. And stay away from Snow.”

  Eddie shook his head. “Not on your life, sport. Snow is my key to becoming a vampire. After all, I know how to get to her. So you’ll do as I say, or Snow will have an unfortunate accident.”

  Who did this guy think he was—the Godfather?

  Vlad growled, “What makes you think I won’t just kill you?”

  A smirk touched Eddie’s lips. He met Vlad’s gaze and said, “Frankly . . . I don’t think you have it in you.”

  Anger and indignation welled up in Vlad. Here he sat—a vampire, for crying out loud—and even a little weasel like Eddie couldn’t respect that, couldn’t fear the possibility that Vlad was capable of killing him.

  Carefully looking around to make sure no one was watching, Vlad let his fangs elongate. He snapped at Eddie, “I could kill you right now.”

  Eddie leaned forward, a serious, dark dare in his eyes. “So do it.”

  A long silence passed, and slowly, Vlad’s fangs shrank back inside his gums. Because the truth of it all was something that Eddie had no way of really knowing: Vlad couldn’t kill Eddie, because he knew it was wrong.

  Eddie popped a fry into his mouth and chewed. He didn’t bother to swallow before he started talking again. “I’ll give you five months. That gives me time to put my affairs in order, say goodbye to this life, and it gives you time to decide. Come Valentine’s Day, you’re going to decide what you want least—to create a fellow creature of the night, or to expose yourself and all of Elysia.”

  Elysia? Vlad started. Eddie really did know what he was talking about. But how?

  “Besides,” Eddie continued, “I’ve never had a good Valentine’s Day. Not once. It’s about time I did, and this one will totally take the cake.”

  Vlad sat in silence as Eddie finished his meal, so relieved that all of this wasn’t an issue, that he had the solution right there in his mouth, hiding inside his gums. One bite. That’s all it would take.

  The bill came and Eddie slapped some money down on the table. As they stood, Eddie threw Vlad another smile. “Oh, and if you’re thinking of making me your human slave—like Henry—you can forget it. I’ve been taking garlic supplements every day for over a year now. I’m willing to bet my blood would make you pretty sick, maybe even kill you. So I wouldn’t try it if I were you. But don’t worry ... by Valentine’s Day, I’ll be all sorts of tasty again. And don’t even think about making me your drudge then, either. I have a friend on the lookout for any signs that you made me your slave, and I’ve instructed him to move forward with the exposure plan if that should happen.”

  Vlad doubted very much that Eddie had any friends at all, but it did give him pause.

  Eddie walked out the door and Vlad swore loudly, attracting the eyes of everyone in the small diner. He slid quickly from the booth and followed Eddie out the door, stopping him on the sidewalk with his words, words that left his mouth in angry tones. “Eddie, you don’t want this. I know it sounds glamorous and amazing, but being a vampire isn’t anything like Hollywood paints it. It’s gruesome and lonely and at times, pretty horrible. It’s like being a regular teenager, only worse. It’s the last thing I’d wish on anybody.”

  Eddie sighed, turning back to face him. “You can float, Vlad. And you can move inhumanly fast. You’re incredibly strong and can outlive any human. Why wouldn’t I want it? Drinking blood I can deal with, and being alone I’m used to. Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll have my maker to keep me company.”

  Vlad’s fangs slid from his gums, as if coaxing him to take the risk, to bite Eddie and drain him dry, and deal with the possible consequences of ingesting garlic. His heart thumped steadily against his ribs in anticipation.

  But Vlad remained still.

  He had five months to either change Eddie’s mind or come up with a plan. Five months.

  Of course, if the Slayers or Em had their way, none of this would even matter.

  “Eddie,” he growled.

  Eddie raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  Vlad nodded at him. “Watch yourself. I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you.”

  Eddie chuckled before turning to leave. “You’re full of crap, Vlad. I like that about you.”

  As Vlad watched him disappear down the sidewalk, the center of his chest ached, like it was full of poison. In a way, it was. It was filled to the brim with hatred.

  Hatred for a boy that Vlad had once felt sorry for.

  15

  KRISTOFF’S REVENGE

  VLAD WAS HALFWAY ACROSS THE PARKING LOT when Henry said something that made Vlad’s eyes roll back in his head.

  “You’re acting so bizarre lately.”

  Vlad turned back to his friend with disbelieving eyes. “Are you serious? You’re the one acting weird. You’re actually willingly walking into The Crypt with me. Not to mention that this whole thing was your idea. So what’s up with that?”

  Henry shrugged. “I just meant that you’ve been oddly mellow lately. I expected more from you, what with your dad still being alive, your life being threatened at every turn, Eddie getting more aggressive, and Snow now going to Bathory High.”

  Vlad shook his head, determined not to let Henry change the subject. “Why did you bring me here, Henry? Why are we at The Crypt?”

  Henry grew quiet, then shrugged again. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to bring this CD I burned to October. I forgot to give it to her at lunch.”

  As Henry moved forward, toward the club’s front door, Vlad’s footfalls slowed, his jaw dropping open just as slowly as his feet were moving. Then, as Henry opened the door, Vlad picked up the pace again. “A mix tape?! You made her a mix tape?!”

  The door closed and Vlad shook his head in utter shock. Something told him there was more to Henry and October now than he’d realized.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea that maybe his very different friends were into one another. On one hand, he cared deeply about both of them and wanted them to be happy. On the other hand, Henry McMillan didn’t exactly have a great history with girls. This was the guy who used to make it his goal to kiss a different girl every week. Then he started dating Melissa and went completely the opposite way, becoming totally and completely, almost scarily, devoted to one girl. If Henry had any kind of balance at all, he’d wish them luck. But he worried about Henry. And he worried about October. He’d never known her to have a boyfriend, and he couldn’t imagine her hanging out with a guy who shopped at stores in the mall that she sneered at as she walked by.

  The whole thing was very, very weird.

  But ... it was only a CD. Maybe it meant nothing.

  Or maybe it meant everything.

  Either way, there was really nothing he could do about it.

  Vlad released a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  He descended the sloped ramp into the club, and was greeted by the familiar thump of music that made him feel alive and a crowd of people he felt truly at home with. The lights were low, as usual, and the place was packed. On the dance floor, Henry was handing October her new CD. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Vlad sighed and leaned back against the wall, thumping his head against the drywall in frustration and closing his eyes, waiting for a solution to present itself.

 
; It didn’t.

  But something else did.

  Immense and immediate pain ripped through Vlad’s face. His nose made a crunching sound as someone’s fist pounded into it—one hit, but hard enough to count as four. Blood sprayed from his nose and hot white pain shot through his entire skull. He ducked, crouching, shaken and worried that his attacker would punch again. Daring a glance up at whoever had hit him, Vlad was actually surprised to see a very furious Kristoff standing over him, Vlad’s blood in his hair, Vlad’s blood on his fist. Kristoff’s eyes were cold and calculating, and Vlad bet that if he didn’t get out of this fast, Kristoff was going to do his best to hospitalize him.

  And without exposing himself as a vampire, Vlad was definitely in danger of that.

  Of course, he’d heal fast. But getting beaten up didn’t feel good in the least.

  Kristoff’s bloody fist was held at the ready as he growled at Vlad, who’d slid to the floor, his head and face pounding, his nose feeling like a big balloon. “You hurt Snow, so I hurt you. She doesn’t come here anymore, all because of you. And now October is hanging out with Henry McMillan. Henry McMillan, of all people! And you brought him here. You’ve ruined everything about The Crypt. You’ve ruined everything I love.”

  He raised his fist again, murderous intent in his eyes. “And now I’m gonna ruin you.”

  Behind closed lips, Vlad’s fangs shot from his gums. He wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to the smell of blood—his own blood, even—or a defensive maneuver. He only knew that the smell was too much for him to bear. He was hungry, so hungry, and surrounded by the very thing his body had been screaming for.

  Sustenance.

  Humans.

  Vlad’s world spun, swirling before him like water down a drain. Then he was captured by a vision. A vision of Kristoff running across the football field of Bathory High.

  It was insane. Kristoff—once David—running on a football field? Vlad had never known him to enjoy sports before, but yet there he was, his silver hair blowing in the wind, his eyes wide and alive. His feet falling solidly in a sprint.

  Right on his heels was Eddie Poe. Little Eddie Poe.

  Eddie was grinning, and Vlad gasped at what he saw in that grin.

  Fangs.

  Vampire fangs.

  Vlad pulled from the vision with a shocked gasp to see Henry grabbing Kristoff’s arm, his voice a low growl. “You do, you die.”

  The two eyeballed one another for a moment, before Kristoff finally yanked his arm away and crossed the room to the velvet couches there. The crowd that had gathered to witness the exchange dispersed and Henry helped Vlad to his feet.

  Vlad’s eyes were locked on Kristoff. He grabbed Henry by the sleeve, his breaths coming quick and shallow. “We have to help him, Henry. We have to protect him.”

  “Who?” Henry looked around, completely lost.

  Vlad nodded toward the velvet couches, where Kristoff was being pampered by several goth girls. “Kristoff. We have to save him.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the guy who had just punched his best friend in the face. He did, however, seem a little surprised at Vlad’s concern. “From who? Or what?”

  Vlad’s headache subsided as his nose healed, but it was replaced by another pain—the pain of knowing what was to come. “From Eddie Poe. Eddie’s going to become a vampire and go after Kristoff.”

  Henry’s eyes grew wide. He darted glances between Vlad and Kristoff. “How can you know that?”

  “Because . . .” Vlad’s voice dropped to a horrified whisper. The knowledge of what he was about to say was crushing him from the inside. “I’m going to make him one.”

  16

  STRENGTH

  VLAD SLUNG HIS BACKPACK OVER HIS SHOULDER and had just opened the door when his dad stopped him. “Vladimir . . . a word, if you will.”

  He already knew what his dad was going to ask. It was the same thing he’d asked every day since he’d been home, and recently, his tone had changed to one of desperation. Vlad got how important it was that they find the journal. He’d been looking everywhere, short of shaking it from Joss’s person.

  “I haven’t found it yet, Dad. Any luck?”

  Tomas shook his head. “I fear we may have to search the Slayer’s home.”

  Vlad winced, the idea not sitting right with him at all. He hadn’t asked Joss for the journal yet. Mostly because he still wasn’t certain he could trust Joss a hundred percent. Plus, he was hoping he’d find it elsewhere, hoping like hell that he’d imagined it sticking out of Joss’s backpack that night in the clearing. He’d even asked Henry to poke around a bit, to see if he could find it at Joss’s house. But Henry’s search had turned up nothing.

  “You do realize how important it is that we find my journal, yes? It could save us both, Vlad.”

  Vlad sighed. “I know. Just ... just let me try a few more spots before we go raiding Joss’s bedroom, okay?”

  After a long moment, Tomas nodded, and Vlad headed toward the door. When his fingers brushed the knob, Vlad turned back to his father. “I’m still not entirely sure why we’re looking for the journal. Exactly how will it help us stop Em and the trial?”

  His dad lowered his voice, as if he was sharing a great secret with Vlad. “The journal was written on pages of very old text—text that can only be revealed by being exposed to blood or fire.”

  Vlad thought back to Diablo and his ritual. He’d smeared the backs of some pages with blood and words had been revealed.

  “I believe the details of a special ritual are contained within the pages. If we apply fire to those pages, I believe we will uncover exactly how to stop Em and all who might oppose us.” Tomas folded his arms in front of him, raising a stark eyebrow. “But first we must find the journal.”

  Vlad nodded and made his way out the door. If what his dad said was right, it could mean the end to all of their problems. He and his dad could live out their days a happy family once more. They could stop Em, even stop the Slayer Society, and all would be well. They just needed that journal.

  The entire walk to school was a fog, his thoughts focused on the journal and where it might be. He knew it was likely in Joss’s possession. After all, the last he’d seen of it, it had been in his backpack. But Vlad still didn’t feel right about breaking into Joss’s home. It felt dirty. It felt wrong.

  As Vlad reached the school, his eyes were drawn to the sight of two very familiar girls, arguing at the top of the steps of Bathory High.

  One in pink. The other in black.

  Meredith and Snow.

  Meredith had her nose scrunched, as if something didn’t smell very good. Behind her stood Melissa Hart and a handful of other semipopular girls whose names had slipped Vlad’s memory. “Oh please. Just look at what you’re wearing!”

  Snow shook her head, calm, cool, collected. “I refuse to accept fashion advice from someone whose closet looks like Pepto-Bismol”.

  “I’m just saying that Vlad’s behavior is pretty unpredictable. Maybe you should leave him alone. I mean, you don’t even know him.”

  “I know him better than anyone at this school.” Snow glanced across the parking lot at Henry’s car, which was just pulling in. Vlad was suddenly glad he hadn’t bothered to wait for his best friend. This exchange was far more entertaining than anything on the radio. “Except for Henry, I mean.”

  Neither girl had noticed Vlad. And Vlad liked it that way.

  Meredith tossed her chocolate curls over her shoulder, her tone superior. “Face it. He’ll never go out with you, Snow.”

  Snow stepped toward her then, and Meredith stepped back. Snow’s words were a hiss. “You face it, princess. I don’t need a boy crushing on me in order to feel good about myself. If Vlad doesn’t date me, that’s fine. If he does, great. But I’m not going to base my entire sense of self-esteem on whether or not I have a date to the prom.”

  Meredith snorted. “I honestly don’t know what he sees in you
.”

  “Maybe it’s my charming sense of humor and ability to put up with crap from his ex-girlfriend.” With that, Snow opened the door and slipped inside.

  And Vlad was left with something he’d never realized before.

  Meredith didn’t know him at all. If she couldn’t see why he liked Snow, she had no idea who he even was.

  Slowly, he made his way up the steps, toward her. When he stopped in front of Meredith, Melissa and the other girls flashed her knowing smiles before disappearing inside. Meredith brightened at the sight of him. “Morning, Vlad. How are you?”

  “Strength.”

  She blinked, the smile slipping from her face. “What?”

  “Strength, Meredith. That’s what I see in Snow. Her amazing strength.” He held her gaze, his lips pursed.

  Meredith shook her head. “I just want you to be happy.”

  Vlad turned and opened the door. As he looked back at Meredith—at the girl he thought he loved before he knew what love was, he shook his head. “I am happy ... with Snow.”

  17

  THE HUNGER

  VLAD ROLLED OVER IN BED, trying to ignore his aching stomach and failing miserably. He���d already downed three blood bags on his way up to his room, and then later snuck downstairs and downed three more. But his appetite wasn’t satiated by the donated blood. It tasted still, stagnant, lifeless on his tongue. He wanted more.

  Needed more.

  He slipped from his bed and down the stairs, still dressed, as if he knew he’d be taking a walk later, and put his shoes on in the dark. As he descended the stairs, he heard his dad snoring quietly on the couch.

  He moved down the steps and out the front door without making a sound, then headed up the street toward the park. What Vlad needed was a good, long walk, and then, once he’d exhausted himself, he’d fall back in bed, too tired to even think about how hungry he was.