Otis eyed the book Tomas was now covering with his forearm with some suspicion. “I cancelled at the last minute. I thought we could do some hunting together. What are you reading?”
“Poetry.” The lie left his lips easily, sickening Vlad.
Otis frowned and snatched the book from Tomas’s hands. “Theories of the Pravus Prophecy, Tomas? Why? You don’t have any interest in joining the Alumno, do you?”
Tomas shook his head adamantly. “Of course not. I’m just curious.”
“About what?”
“About whether or not it’s possible.”
The world swirled again and Vlad found himself back in the present, engaging his father. They were facing one another, Vlad with a stake in hand, Tomas with a familiar black tube grasped firmly in his palm. The Lucis.
Vlad stared at it in disbelief.
“Recognize this? I retrieved it from the council building months ago.” Dark shadows crossed his eyes. “You can’t fight it. I’ll serve in your place, Vlad. Your memory will be raised up to a near god-like status amongst my followers. You don’t want this fight. Trust me. You’d rather do as you’re told.” n
Vlad growled, “Don’t tell me what I want. You’re nobody to me. Nothing. Just a stranger. Just a bad dream.”
“Your partner in everything or your worst nightmare. You decide.” Tomas whipped forward with lightning speed, hitting Vlad in the side and knocking him over.
Vlad hit the ground with such force that his vision wavered. Jumping to his feet, Vlad moved after his father, throwing punches and missing, the stake held firmly in his hand. Tomas gnashed his teeth forward, biting into Vlad’s shoulder. Vlad cried out and backed away as fast as he was able.
Then Tomas grinned, his teeth red with Vlad’s blood, and glanced down at Otis. “Otis has been clouding your mind. So let’s just clear things up for you, shall we?”
He moved forward, heading straight for Otis, a hungry, evil look in his eyes. He held up the Lucis, pointing it straight at Otis’s heart.
Henry flew through the air and connected with the side of the building with a meaty smack. He fell into a Dumpster. From within the garbage, his voice croaked, “Oh, please. I’ve had harder smacks from my grandma.”
Joss stared up at Vikas, a seemingly immortal, unbeatable foe.
Without Joss’s stake, they were dead.
But at least they would die knowing that they helped a friend when he most needed them.
Vikas moved forward, a bloody, awful, evil grin on his face.
And Joss prepared to say goodbye to the world.
Time slowed.
Tomas’s footsteps echoed on the blacktop. Otis’s heart was beating in time with every step.
Vlad looked at the two of them, at the man who had brought him into this world and the man who had kept him safe within it, and realized that he had never been without a father—not since the day Otis walked into his life. He had a dad. One who loved him for who he was, not what he could offer.
Otis was his dad, despite what a DNA test might say.
Tomas laughed bitterly. “Your father? You’d actually think that about your uncle?”
Vlad glared and clamped down on his thoughts once again.
“Otis hasn’t earned that title, my son. I’ve been there every day of your life! You might not have seen me, but I was there. Even that day at my funeral pyre. I was listening, Vlad. I was there. You couldn’t say goodbye to me then, just as you cannot resist me now.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“Tomas!” Vlad shouted as he spun around, the stake held tightly in his fist. “Don’t touch him!”
Otis flung his arm forward, knocking the Lucis from Tomas’s grip. He shouted to Vlad, “Grab it!”
Time, still crawling, moved forward. Vlad stretched his arm in front of him, his fingers just brushing the end of the Lucis as it tumbled over the building’s edge. A brilliant white light shot from one end, turning over and over as it made its descent.
Light filled the street. Brilliant, white, hot light that illuminated Henry as he ran toward Vikas. It was beautiful, in its own way. And Joss couldn’t help but wonder if that was the light that people who’d lived through near-death experiences had claimed to see.
Joss was ready for the final blow. He released a deep breath and met Vikas’s eyes.
He would watch the vampire’s final attack. He would stand up and confront death with all that he had, all that he was.
But then the brilliant light tumbled to the ground, slashing through Vikas from the middle of his head all the way through his body.
Vikas fell to the ground in two distinct pieces.
Henry picked up the strange flashlight that the light had come from and turned it over in his hand. “No way! It’s that Lucis thing. The thing from Nelly’s attic!”
Joss had no idea what a Lucis was, but he was relieved that it had come to his rescue.
The Lucis was gone. With a furious howl, Tomas grabbed Otis by the throat.
He was going to kill him, kill Vlad’s uncle, steal from Vlad one of the very few people in this world who had ever loved him, who had ever cared about Vlad in any way.
Unless Vlad stopped him.
Vlad whipped his arm forward and buried the stake deep in Tomas’s chest before pulling it back again, leaving behind a large, bloody hole.
Time stopped.
Vlad’s heartbeat stopped.
Then time started again. But slowly. Oh, so slowly.
The stake left Vlad’s hand, parting from his fingertips and tumbling for what felt like an eternity through the air, before clattering on the floor below. The sound it made when it hit reverberated through the air, thundering in Vlad’s ears.
Just as slowly as the stake had fallen, so did Vlad, dropping through the thick air to his knees. It wasn’t until he made contact with the ground that he released the breath he’d been holding in-locked tight, safe, within his lungs, as if it might be his last. It came out sounding like a gasp.
A pool of crimson bloomed out from beneath his dad’s body. Several small trails of blood were drawing their way outward in a spiderweb. One of the webs drew closer to Vlad but stopped before it touched him.
Vlad forced his body to draw another breath. Slow. Even. The next one came easier, but shuddered.
He’d killed his dad.
His father, creator, the man who gave him life, taught him how to ride a bike, nursed his bumps and bruises, showed him what it was to be a man, to be a vampire, made Vlad want to be just like him.
Vlad killed him. And now nothing would be all right ever again.
Tomas was on his back, one arm stretching out toward where Vlad knelt, his face turned toward his son, eyes open. But there was no life in those eyes, just as there had been no love in them moments before.
He was dead. Nelly was dead too.
He’d lost his dad all over again. His mom too. It was Vlad’s worst nightmare, replayed all over again.
Tears welled in Vlad’s eyes and poured out onto his cheeks, just as slowly as everything else seemed to be moving.
Alone. Vlad was alone.
And he’d never get them back. Not ever.
Warm hands closed over Vlad’s shoulders. He didn’t need to look up to know that they belonged to Otis. His uncle didn’t speak—even without the use of telepathy, Otis seemed to understand that for some moments, there are no words.
Otis squeezed and the tears fell freely from Vlad’s eyes.
It was over. Both Nelly and his mom had been avenged, and Otis had been saved. Vlad had done it all with one fell swoop.
All it had cost him was everything.
42
SAYING GOODBYE
THE FLAMES LICKED UPWARD, TOWARD THE SKY, from Tomas’s pyre. The small crowd, all vampires, had been gathered in stoic silence for some time. Otis had told Vlad that it was tradition that he say something, but Vlad had no words left to speak. So Otis, ever the understanding mentor, had taken the rein
s and said some wonderful things about Tomas, Vlad’s father, Otis’s brother.
None of them, Vlad thought, had been lies. But Otis did leave out certain details. Details that were still burning like fire through Vlad’s insides. He felt guilty for thinking such things, for feeling so angry and betrayed, but mostly he felt guilty for feeling guilty. He was right to end Tomas’s life. He’d saved Otis—maybe even all of humankind—and avenged his mom and Nelly. He should’ve been relieved. He should’ve been even a bit proud, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. He just felt ... empty.
Vampires lined up at the pyre, saying their goodbyes. It was only after the crowd had filed out, that Otis broke the silence.
“You don’t have to speak, Vladimir. If you’ve nothing to say, you can leave him with your silence. It’s okay.” He gave Vlad’s shoulder a caring squeeze before stepping up to the pyre himself. He was up there for a long time, and when he stepped away, Vlad noticed with great surprise the tears streaking down his cheeks.
Despite everything, Otis still mourned the loss of his friend.
Vlad couldn’t help but think that Otis was a far better person than he.
Vlad watched the pyre for several minutes before approaching. The heat from the flames warmed Vlad’s face and, if Vlad had any tears moistening his cheeks, they would have dried immediately as he approached.
But there were none.
Vlad’s pain, at least for now, was trapped on the inside as he tried to rationalize just what had happened.
He tried to understand his father’s point of view. But couldn’t.
Standing there at the pyre, Vlad tried to think of the words he wanted to leave his father’s immortal soul with, the words that would say goodbye forever, that would sum up his final moments spent thinking about Tomas Tod. After a long, silent moment, Vlad said, “You were wrong about Otis. He is my father. In every way that counts.”
He dropped his voice to a whisper then, flicking his eyes from the pyre to the carefully wrapped body which lay to the side, awaiting burning. “Wherever we go after this life, I hope that you’re there, and I hope that Mom and Nelly forgive you in ways that I can’t
As Vlad turned, he saw Otis lift Tomas’s body and place it on the pyre. Vlad turned and walked slowly from his father’s funeral, feeling lighter somehow, feeling right. Feeling justified.
The sun crept over the horizon then and behind him, Tomas’s body burst into an explosion of heat and flames.
All Vlad could think was one word. A word he couldn’t bring himself to say until now.
“Goodbye.”
43
FLOWERS FOR NELLY
VLAD CLUTCHED THE BOUQUET OF DAISIES in his hand, trying hard not to crush the delicate stems and failing miserably. Nelly loved daisies. She’d tried numerous times to plant them in the flower beds around her home, but Amenti kept eating them. Vlad wondered if Amenti was adjusting to her new home at the McMillans, and if she was eating all Matilda’s daisies too. He missed Amenti.
He missed Nelly.
It was raining out, but only a little. Just enough to mist Vlad’s face and mask his tears. Believing in silly superstitions like rain on a wedding day bringing good luck, Nelly would’ve been oddly optimistic about rain on the day of her funeral.
Vlad dropped his eyes to his suit. He was supposed to be wearing it to her wedding. Not this.
People had already stood and shared their memories of his aunt, but not Vlad. His voice, like Nelly, was nowhere to be found. As the last of the crowd filed by her coffin, Vlad stood, his heart heavy, and approached. The coffin was closed, at Vlad’s request. He couldn’t bear looking at Nelly’s body couldn’t bear the thought of people thinking that this shell was really her, when the real Nelly was now wherever his mom was.
With a deep breath, Vlad laid the daisies on top of Nelly’s coffin and whispered, “I love you, Nelly. You were a good aunt, a good mom. I miss you.”
As he walked away, Otis caught him in a tight, sorrowful embrace. Vlad stood there, letting Otis hug him, letting Otis cry. But Vlad did neither.
He was numb.
44
THE RETRIAL
VLAD STRAIGHTENED HIS SHOULDERS and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. The air inside the small room located beneath V Bar was stuffy and felt thick, but that might just have been Vlad’s perception of it. He was, after all, here to face his retrial, and with it, the decision of the Council of Elders on whether or not he would live.
He was betting on dying. Everything about vampiric law, after all, insisted on it.
He just wished they’d get on with it already.
The nine council members had been whispering for some time now, but when the president turned toward Vlad, he found himself holding his breath.
Time held still.
Then the familiar face smiled, and Vlad heard words that he never dreamed that he would hear. “Vladimir Tod. This council deems that while you may not be innocent of all charges, we cannot prosecute you due to lack of information. As D’Ablo was the sole witness to your crimes and is now deceased ... he cannot attest to your guilt. You are free to go.”
Vlad searched his uncle’s eyes and found only truth.
Otis smiled.
It was strange to be put on trial by his only living relative and closest confidant, but once Vikas had died of what was now being referred to as a terrible accident, Otis had opted to take Vikas’s seat on the council. He was insistent, in fact, that it was time for Elysia to learn to be right and just and fair. Then, after Em had disappeared following the attempted—and failed—cleansing of Bathory, his fellow council members insisted that Otis lead them by taking her seat. To his right, in D’Ablo’s chair, was Cratus—a vampire Vlad had met briefly last year.
Things were different now. Em’s tyranny was no longer clouding the Council of Elders, and no one on the council—to Vlad’s knowledge—had anything to do with Tomas’s sordid plans to raise Vlad up as some evil being who would control vampirekind’s every move. Vlad was the Pravus, and the majority of Elysia had accepted that fact. But the definition of what that meant had changed. Vlad would do everything he could to define the Pravus as a peacemaker, as a bridge between worlds.
As the council filed out, chatting casually, Vlad approached the table, where his uncle was still sitting. “So does this mean you’re moving to New York, Otis?”
“Not at all. The Council of Elders only convenes a few times a year. I’d prefer to continue living in Bathory. Besides ... I’ve just accepted the position of principal at Bathory High.” Otis’s eyes twinkled—something they hadn’t done even once since the day they’d lost Nelly. It was good to see. Vlad shook his head, chuckling. “You like going there every day, don’t you? It’s like you feel some kind of connection with that school or something.”
“Absolutely. In fact ... I was a priest at that church many moons ago.” Something dark and strangely full of bemusement crossed Otis’s eyes then, and Vlad thought back to the stories that upperclassmen had passed down to freshmen, about the vampire priest in that church who’d drained his congregation dry years and years ago, before Bathory High was a school. He parted his lips to ask if the rumors were true, but Otis cut him off with a smirk. “But that’s a story for another time.”
Vlad shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. There was so much more to Otis than even he knew, and now they had ages to share things together. It was easy to let go of his curiosity for the time being. After all, something was happening that Vlad had been certain wouldn’t.
He’d survived his retrial.
He was going to live.
45
GRADUATION
VLAD LOOKED IN THE MIRROR AND PRACTICED his fake smile—the same fake smile he’d been practicing for months now. He’d need it today of all days. Besides, Nelly would have wanted him to smile at his high school graduation.
But there was no way he was putting on that stupid square hat until they got to
the school.
“All set?” Otis peeked his head into Vlad’s room. Boxes still lined the walls, but Vlad was relieved to be back in Nelly’s house, even if it was only temporary, only until he started classes at Stokerton University in the fall. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit his dad’s house ever since Tomas’s death, but neither had Otis, so Otis hired movers to gather their things and bring them back to Nelly’s house. It was Vlad’s house now, thanks to Nelly’s will, and he was happy to share it with Otis, who looked anxious to get going.
“Just about. It’s not like it takes much for a guy to get ready for this, Otis. You’re starting to sound like Nelly.” He smiled—a genuine smile—but it didn’t last. His joke had brought about that look again, that shadowy, sad look in Otis’s eyes. Instantly, Vlad felt ashamed. He should know better than to bring up Nelly. Her death had aged Otis, had hurt him in ways that Vlad could only imagine. Vlad opened his mouth to apologize, but Otis waved him off and hurried downstairs.
Vlad dropped his gaze to the black graduation gown he was wearing. Whose idea was it that forcing people to wear giant muumuus and cardboard squares on their heads and then parade in front of people was the way to celebrate surviving thirteen years of school anyway?
Shrugging, he picked up his cardboard hat and paused in front of his dresser. From atop the wooden surface, Vlad plucked the necklace that now held his parents’ wedding rings and clasped it around his neck, tucking it into his gown. From inside the top drawer, he withdrew his secret box, and from within that, he withdrew his father’s onyx ring. Slipping it onto his finger, Vlad made his way down the stairs.
He was ready. Ready to face Bathory High just one last time.
Otis was waiting for him outside, next to his crappy car. He was wearing a gray and black three-piece suit, and his infamous rumpled purple top hat, which had been recently repaired, removing all signs of Tomas’s handiwork.
“Why do you wear that thing, Otis? It’s not like it matches anything you own.”
Twelfth Grade Kills Page 22
