Ninth Grade Slays (17 page)

Vlad's shoulders sank some. “That sucks.”

“You're so like Tomas. Impatient with what skills you've been given and constantly longing for more.” Otis chuckled, then patted Vlad on the back before turning and making his way down the hill. “Not necessarily a bad way to be.”

Vlad hurried to keep up. “Is there anything else I'm missing out on? I mean, besides learning about telepathy and memory sharing.”

Otis was quiet for several steps before sighing and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “The truth is that I don't know what lies ahead for you, Vlad. As I told you before, you're one of a kind. No one but you has ever been born a vampire. We were all made, bitten by our creators, and given the essence of Elysia. The future for each of us is fairly certain. The future for you is not yet written. I could give you a list of skills that you may develop, but it would be senseless to speculate.”

Vlad wanted to say that it wasn't senseless, that he had no idea what was coming for him, and he was pretty sure that a vampire going through puberty was a lot scarier than a human going through it. But Otis was already many steps in front of him, and he had the feeling his reasons would come out sounding like a whine, and that wasn't at all how he wanted to portray himself.

When he caught up to Otis outside the training room, he shoved his hands in his pockets, mimicking his uncle. “When we go back to Bathory, will you stay with me and Nelly?”

Otis sighed, and Vlad had his answer. His heart sank into his stomach and curled into a shriveled little ball. "I can't. Not yet. First I must convince Elysia that I am not a criminal, that my actions were necessary, and that will take time. If I could get three of the councils on my side, I might be able to make my case. But until I convince them of my good intentions, I'm afraid moving to Bathory is out of the question. I cannot risk your and Nelly's lives.”

"But I have the Lucis. I could protect you.” Vlad reached into his jeans pocket to withdraw the weapon, but Otis grabbed him by the wrist and shook his head carefully.

"Not here, Vlad. Keep it hidden.”

Vlad nodded slowly, and Otis relaxed his grip.

"The Lucis may be what protects you from the so-called justice of Elysia, Vlad. But I am well known ... as are the details of my supposed crimes. It would not be enough to keep them from tearing that town apart to find me. Bathory is just too close to Stokerton to risk moving to—even with the aid of a Tego charm, I'm not nearly as brave as your father was to try hiding there.”

Vlad shoved the Lucis deeper into his pocket. "Tego charm?”

"A charm used to block telepathy. You'll learn more about this later on, as well as how to utilize your mark.” Otis's serious pursed lips relaxed into a smile then. “The most wonderful things await you. A lifetime of learning, experiences unlike any other, and worlds that you have not yet dared to dream. Just wait until you feed from the source. . . .”

“I'll never do that.” Vlad met Otis's eyes. “I won't.”

Otis shrugged, as if to say “maybe you will, maybe you won't,” and opened the door to the training room. His uncle's passivity irritated Vlad, though he wasn't sure why, exactly.

He stepped inside and had time enough to notice Vikas before the door closed behind him, sealing them in the darkness once again.

15

WHERE THE HEART IS

VLAD SAT UP IN bed and stretched. He was in no hurry to place his feet on the chilly floor, but it was his last day in Siberia, in Elysia, and if he stayed in bed, he'd never go home. He and Vikas had spent several long days inside the darkened, silent room, and Vlad had opened up to the possibilities that mind control, when used with honorable purpose, could be a handy skill to possess. In the room, he was great at it. Vlad once made Tristian take a break from his duties and, much to Vikas's bemusement, he made one of the vampires burst into song. But it was hard work, not to mention exhausting. Plus, it was almost impossible for him to control anyone's mind once outside of the training room. When he told Vikas about having made Henry pick his nose once, Vikas explained that a drudge is the easiest person for a vampire to control. After he stopped laughing, of course.

His telepathy was coming along fabulously as well. He and Otis engaged in long conversations at night near the hearth, where Otis recounted tales of Vlad's father. Vlad was learning so much about a man that he really hadn't known that well. And through those stories, he was learning more about Otis as well.

Cringing at the cold floor, Vlad stood and dressed quickly. You'd think that after a week in one of the coldest places on Earth, he'd adjust, but apparently not. He shivered once and reached for his hoodie.

He opened the door to the main room, and Tristian met him with a goblet of bloodwine. Vlad nodded his thanks and sighed into the cup. He was really tired of spiced blood. What he really wanted was a nice warm mug of O positive and a side of fresh chocolate chip cookies.

Otis stood by the front door, brushing snow from his coat. “We should leave soon, Vlad. A storm is blowing in, and Vikas said that if it gets to us before we make it down the mountain, we'll have a long winter season in Siberia ahead of us.”

Vlad yawned. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

Otis nodded.

Vlad looked to the fireplace. The logs had grown cold. The room was empty, except for him, Otis, and Tristian.

After a silent moment, Otis cleared his throat. “Most of them have gone to bed. Vikas is out running with the wolves, he said he'd be back in time to see us off.”

Vlad drained his goblet and sat on the nearby table. “He's running with the wolves?”

Otis waved his hand in the air, as if it were obvious what Vikas was up to. “One of the intricacies of animorphing is spending so much time with an animal that you understand their desires, their thought processes.” Then he smirked and handed Vlad his coat. “Besides, he likes to chase foxes.”

Vlad slipped his coat on, zipped it, and stomped into his boots. Animorphing. That was something the book hadn't mentioned. In fact, the book had only really covered history and laws, leaving out all the cool stuff, as if any vampire should be aware of those things automatically. Of course, Vlad mused, he wasn't just any vampire.

Just outside the door, Vikas greeted them breathlessly. His eyes sparkled sadly at Otis. “Too bad about that storm. It's been an eternity since I saw you last.”

Otis pursed his lips. “I can't stay. But I do hope you'll at least reconsider my request. We are old friends, Vikas. If I can't count on you, who can I count on?”

Vikas held Otis's gaze, then nodded and patted him roughly on the shoulder. He turned to Vlad. “You are one of my finest students. Keep practicing, and stay with your studies. Be safe, Mahlyenki Dyavol. We will meet again someday, I am sure of it.”

Otis stepped onto the sled.

Vlad watched Vikas walk away into the blowing snow. “I've decided I like that nickname.”

Otis cleared his throat and pulled goggles down over his eyes, but it was too late—Vlad had already spotted his tears. “It suits you. Vikas's pet name for Tomas was Dyavol . . . Devil. So, I suppose, it's his way of saying that you're a smaller version of your father.”

Vlad took his seat on the sled, but he didn't pull the blanket up to his nose. The wind was blowing all around. The temperature had dropped to a chill rivaling last night's. But Vlad was warm with the memory of his father and the fact that a Russian stranger had seen Tomas within him.

The sled raced down the mountain, past trees, wildlife, and snow. By the time they'd turned the dogs over to Dmitri, took a cab to the airport, and boarded the plane, Vlad was exhausted, and Otis was tense, the relaxation of being in Elysia washing away from him with every passing moment.

Vlad flashed him a smile. “Thanks for taking me to meet Vikas. He was pretty cool.”

“He cares a great deal for you already, Vlad. I'm glad you enjoyed his company.”

Vlad ran the tip of his tongue slowly over his chapped lips and said, “He told me about the Pravus.”

Otis's entire body went rigid with tension. “Did he?”

Despite Otis's tone, it wasn't a question.

Vlad unbuckled and turned to face his uncle. “Yeah. It's crazy. I mean, me? Some evil conqueror? I don't think so. But I was wondering . . . well . . .” Vlad fidgeted. He wanted to know what Otis thought, but at the same time, he didn't.

Otis met his eyes. “You're wondering if I think you're the Pravus.”

Vlad nodded and held Otis's gaze.

Otis shook his head, his expression gravely serious. “No, I do not believe you are the Pravus, Vladimir. You have too much of your father in you. And Tomas was a good man.”

Vlad searched his uncle's eyes and found nothing but truth within them.

“The question is . . . do
you
think you're the Pravus?”

Otis's voice was calm and questioning inside Vlad's mind. Vlad took a moment to mull over his opinion and then spoke to Otis with his thoughts.
“No. I don't. But if I was
,
would it matter?”

A pretty flight attendant leaned over Vlad and handed Otis a cup of coffee. Otis smiled at her and took a polite sip.
“Of course not. Besides
,
it's just a silly superstition.”

Vlad tried to meet Otis's eyes, but Otis focused on his coffee, and the conversation was over.

After hours of planes, baggage, crowds, rushing, and Otis losing his keys, they were finally in Otis's hunk-of-junk car and barreling toward Bathory. At last, Otis turned the wheel and pulled into Nelly's driveway. He met Vlad's eyes with a smile. “Happy to be home?”

“Kind of. Tired. Hungry, more than anything.”

Otis opened his car door and stepped out. Vlad followed. He was about to ask Otis if he planned on sticking around for a few days, when he noticed a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye.

Meredith was walking up the driveway with his jacket draped over her arm. She smiled brightly and said, “Hi, Vlad. Oh, hello, Mr. Otis!”

Otis removed the heavier suitcase from the trunk and smiled. “Hello, Meredith. How are you doing?”

Meredith shrugged. “Can't complain. Miss having you as a teacher, though.”

Vlad's cheek grew very warm at the memory of Meredith's kiss. When he thought about how he'd blurted out that he liked her, and how warm her lips had been in the freezing cold, he couldn't speak. His heart had returned to his throat, intent on choking him into silence.

“I assure you, there are better teachers than I at Bathory High.” To Vlad, Otis looked like a lifeguard to a drowning man as Otis took Vlad's coat from Meredith's outstretched hand. “Thank you so much for returning Vladimir's jacket. I imagine he appreciates it greatly.”

Vlad managed a nod. His entire face felt like it had been engulfed in flames.

Meredith and Otis exchanged pleasantries before Meredith turned and walked away. After she did, Otis handed Vlad the jacket with a smirk. “Charm, Vladimir, requires a voice.”

Nelly stepped out onto the porch, wrapped snugly in her coat. “I was wondering when you boys would get here. Staying for dinner, Otis?”

Otis handed Vlad one of the bags and smiled warmly up at Nelly. All traces of tension vanished. “I wouldn't dream of missing it, Nelly.”

With a blush, Nelly went back inside.

Vlad shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. “You like her, don't you, Otis?”

Otis looked jarred for a moment. He kept his attention on the front door, as if weighing how much he should reveal to Vlad. It was a pitiful sight, as Vlad already knew the answer. Otis sighed and ran a hand through his hair in defeat. “Yes.”

Vlad lugged a bag toward the porch, still smiling. He cast a hopeful glance over his shoulder at Otis. “So does that mean you'll be around more?”

Otis sat the bag he was carrying on the porch and offered Vlad a somber look. “No, it does not.”

Vlad's smile slipped in disappointment.

“A romance with Nelly is forbidden for me. You know that. It's unfortunate”—he glanced up at the house and back to Vlad—“but unavoidable. Besides, Elysia has enough reasons to place a price on my head.”

“Is that why you stay away?” Vlad dropped his bag on the porch and turned to Otis, an accusing look in his eyes.

“I only stay away in order to seek assistance for my— our—predicament, Vlad. I would do anything to protect you from harm.”

Vlad shrugged. “Couldn't you protect me better if you were closer?”

The crease in Otis's forehead deepened. He looked angry, but Vlad wasn't sure why. “Suffice it to say that I have bled for your well-being, Vladimir. And I will gladly do so again.”

Vlad nodded, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. “Will we ever be able to be together, like a family?”

“Perhaps, one day.” Otis sighed. “Once the council elects a new president, things could change. But as the death of a president is so unlikely, it is also something that the council isn't well prepared for. It may be a year. It may be ten. It may be a hundred years. With any luck, the new president will be sympathetic to our plight.”

“And until then?”

“I run from them. And keep my distance from you.” Otis offered a troubled frown. “I'm sorry, Vladimir. It's just the way things are. For now.”

Vlad sighed. “So, I'm on my own.”

“Not entirely. We'll still have letters and, if you're able to reach the distance, we can continue to communicate with our thoughts.”