Tenth Grade Bleeds (4 page)

Eddie forced a smile. “Just walking. What about you?”

Vlad knew he was lying—they both knew it. He shook his head, weary of Eddie's antics already. “Nothing. That's all I'm doing, Eddie. And that's all you'll ever catch me doing by following me. So why don't you get another hobby?”

He turned and crossed the street. As his foot touched pavement, he heard the click of a camera behind him. The sound made the corner of his mouth twitch in irritation.

By the time Vlad got back to the house, he was completely annoyed with Eddie, but overshadowing his annoyance was the fact that he dreaded the conversation that he knew was waiting for him there. He slipped through the front gate as quietly as he could, moved up the path to the front steps, made his way across the porch, and opened the door an inch. Then he paused, tilting his head to see if he could hear his uncle Otis moving around in the house.

Nothing. Not so much as a footstep. Maybe Otis had given up the argument in light of his coming departure.

With a relieved exhale, Vlad counted his blessings, stepped inside, and headed for the stairs.

“I believe an apology is in order, Vladimir.”

Vlad cursed himself for not using his vampire honing skills. What good were talents like these if he couldn't remember to use them? He stopped in his tracks and turned to face Otis, who'd been leaning against the wall to the left of the front door, waiting.

Apparently, he wasn't about to skip town without finishing his rant on Vlad's growing hunger.

Vlad's stomach grumbled its agreement, and he couldn't help but wonder whose side it was on. “I'm not apologizing, Otis. Not for disagreeing with you. I mean, okay, maybe I shouldn't have walked out like that, but I—”

Otis held up his hand, silencing Vlad. “I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm apologizing to you. No one knows better than you how in control of your hunger you are, and if you say that you can resist harming those around you, I have no choice but to trust you.”

Then Otis met his gaze and softened. “I'm just trying to give you as much good advice as I can before leaving tonight.”

The corners of Vlad's mouth rose in a knowing half smile. “I'll miss you too.”

A sadness overwhelmed Otis's eyes, and he reached out and gave Vlad's shoulder a squeeze. He didn't speak, and Vlad understood why. Because the argument over Vlad's growing appetite was much more about how hard it was for Otis to leave him once again than it was about the fear of Vlad snacking on his friends and family. Of course, Otis
was
still concerned about that, but not, Vlad surmised, as much as he was worried about leaving Vlad behind, with only an hour's drive between him and the Stokerton council.

Vlad dropped his backpack at the foot of the stairs and glanced at the suitcases that sat there. The sight of them sent a hairline fracture through his heart. “Did you pack already?”

Otis sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “Not yet. Truth be told, I've been avoiding it all day.”

Vlad turned over one of the luggage tags and smiled to see that his and Nelly's address had been scribbled on it in Otis's horrific handwriting—an unspoken acknowledgment that no matter where he traveled this was his home. “Y'know, Otis . . . maybe you should stay.”

“Vladimir, I—”

“No. Hear me out a second.” Vlad's heart thumped harder. He had to fight to retain a calm tone. Even so, his voice rose with insistent need. “You like it here, right? And so far, having you around has been a lot safer than having you anywhere else.”

Otis seemed on guard, which only made Vlad's words come out faster, spilling over his tongue in a desperate ramble. “You've been here for almost four months, and the Stokerton council hasn't bugged you once, even though this would be a pretty obvious place for you to hide out. I've never seen Nelly so happy . . .”

Vlad's voice caught in his throat. “. . . and I'm learning so much from you.”

Otis averted his eyes, but it was too late. Vlad had already seen the “no” lurking within them. Vlad bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay. “ Tell me why you can't stay. Because it's not making much sense to me that you should take off to Siberia when you've got it so good here.”

Otis sighed. “Vladimir . . .”

“Is it the Elysia thing? Needing to be among your own kind? Because you have that with me, Otis. I'm a vampire too. And I really feel better when you're around.”

“You are completely right on all counts.”

But something dark flickered in his eyes, crushing Vlad's hopes before they could even bloom. Vlad opened his mouth and closed it again, not daring to ask what that flicker meant.

Otis wet his lips, his expression troubled, sorrowful, but certain. “Even so, I cannot stay. Please, Vladimir, I need you to trust me on this. My staying here may endanger you and Nelly.”

A panicky feeling had wormed its way into Vlad's chest. He couldn't explain it, but the idea of Otis leaving him again—especially after all that he'd been through with Joss staking him last year and D'Ablo hinting that he wasn't finished with Vlad—made his stomach twist and turn. Frustrated, Vlad threw his hands in the air. “Can't someone else look for that ritual?”

Otis raised his voice suddenly. “Who? There is no one but me! And Vikas, of course. But his time is stretched.”

Vlad knew he was pushing his uncle, but it was all he had left to cling to. In but a few hours, Otis would be gone again. Vlad wasn't sure just how much more of this he could take. “Isn't there a glyph or something we can place to protect all of us, or to keep the council from finding you?”

Otis shook his head, his tone calm once again. “It's not as simple as that. I can hide from one, maybe two vampires utilizing glyphs, but hiding from all of Elysia is a fool's errand.”

Vlad's jaw tensed. He fell silent, and stood very still for a moment before speaking. “My dad managed well enough.”

Otis closed his eyes in defeat. “Well, we can't all be as crafty as your father, can we?”

Vlad winced. “I just wish—”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Otis turned away from him and gazed out the window near the front door, his shoulders slumped. In Vlad's mind, he heard Otis say,
“More than anything, I wish I could stay, too.”

Vlad's face dropped. He had expected defeat when he'd entered this battle, but the taste of it was still bitter. “Do you need help packing?”

“Why don't we save that for after dinner?” Otis smiled weakly over his shoulder at Vlad. “I want to try my hand at cooking. I believe Nelly would like that. I have no taste for human food anymore, but in my previous life, I was quite the chef.”

Vlad shook his head. “I'll just nuke some O positive, if you don't mind.”

“Actually I'd prefer it if you'd dine with us.” Otis turned to face him with a curious grin. “I'm making blood sausage.”

A half hour later, the kitchen was an enormous mess. Otis had several pans and a variety of bowls out on the counter, only a few of them in use. The smell of blood filled Vlad's nostrils, dizzying him with hunger pangs. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from lifting the big bowl of blood from the counter and slurping down every last drop.

Vlad picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the spiced crimson before turning to his uncle. “Y'know, I might as well have a bag or two of blood. As good as this might smell, animal blood doesn't do much for me in the way of vitamins and minerals.”

“Not surprising. Most vampires find animal blood less than enjoyable to the palate and not helpful in the least when it comes to nutrients. But you needn't worry. I'm making our blood sausages from human blood.”

Vlad shifted uncomfortably.

Otis hurried to add, “And with the argument we had this morning in mind, I'm using blood from the freezer. And with as much as I'm using, Nelly will need to stock up again.”

They exchanged smiles before Otis scooped up bits of diced onion and dropped them in the bowl. He rinsed his hands in the sink, and as he reached for the towel, he quipped, “Unless, of course, you're interested in trying fresh blood.”

Vlad knew his uncle was joking, but still he flinched. “Doesn't it bother you that you're hurting people when you feed from the source?”

Otis smiled. “About as much as it bothers you that you're hurting plastic bags, Vladimir,” he said, his tone teasing. “Don't think of them as people. Think of them as sustenance.”

“Is Nelly sustenance?” It was a low blow, but Vlad was still hurting from his uncle's plans to leave him . . . again.

Otis stiffened. He met Vlad's gaze, his eyes haunted. Seeing them gave Vlad a grim surge of satisfaction. “ That's not fair,” Otis said.

Vlad set the spoon on the counter and folded his arms in front of him. “It's perfectly fair. You're so concerned about my appetite and the safety of the people I'm around. What about you? Do you ever think you might forget that Nelly is anything more than food?”

Otis's jaw hung open. His throat emitted several stunned sounds before he shook his head sharply and said, “Vladimir, I would never harm anyone I care about.”

Vlad picked up the spoon again and stirred the onions into the herb-blood mixture, but he kept an eye on Otis. “I know. But it doesn't feel good to be accused, does it?”

The front door opened and Nelly called out, “Otis? Vlad? Are you home?”

Vlad rolled his eyes a little. After all, all of the downstairs lights were on and Otis's car was in the driveway. Unless they'd gone for a long walk and needed a beacon to find their way back, it was pretty obvious they were home. “We're in the kitchen.”

As Nelly stepped into the kitchen, the grocery sack she was holding slipped from her fingers. Otis caught it moments before it hit the floor. She stared wide-eyed at Vlad and then at Otis.

Otis placed the bag on the plank table and returned his attention to her, his brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, Nelly?”

Vlad's brow furrowed too. Nelly's face had gone completely white, and her eyes kept flitting from Vlad to Otis to the room around them.

Vlad turned to survey their surroundings for the first time since Otis had started preparing the meal. His uncle, as it turned out, was not a tidy cook, to say the least. Strewn about the kitchen were large, sharp knives, bits of ground meat and chopped vegetables, skins that the sausage would eventually find its way into, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Nelly's eyes finally stopped to focus on the large bowl of blood on the counter in front of Otis, then on his blood-soaked apron, moving up to meet the bewildered expression on his face. “What happened in here?”

Suddenly the realization fell on Otis that to a human, the scene around them made it look as though he and Vlad had been making a nice stew out of the neighborhood children. Laughter escaped his lips. “Nelly, this isn't what it looks like, I swear. I'm sure it seems we were gorging ourselves on the Johnsons down the street, but we are innocent.”

Nelly looked relieved. “I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting to come home to a scene straight out of
Psycho Slasher Chainsaw Guy from Hell.
”

Vlad coughed. He was almost certain Nelly had never seen that movie, though the previews had been enough to give her an idea of the plot. He wondered for a moment if she had any idea that he and Henry had seen it last year under the pretense of watching a nice, severely-lacking-blood-and-gore spy movie instead.

Vlad looked down at the front of his shirt, which was spattered with small red dots. Several had dried into a rusty brown color. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, troubled somewhat by Nelly's reaction. Even after all this time, Nelly still worried she'd come home to find him acting like some sort of animal. She'd never voiced it, but Vlad knew that was how she must feel. After all, it had to be hard for her to live with a vampire all these years. It would be like being a pizza living with Henry for an extended period of time. Say, ten minutes or so.

The thought made Vlad a little sick to his stomach.

Otis took Nelly's hands in his and said, “I would never bring the fruits of my hunts into your home, Nelly. You never have to worry about that. And your ward is rather like a vegetarian, so there's no cause for alarm there either. We were simply making blood sausage for dinner.”

Nelly's eyes lit up. “You're cooking?”

Otis's voice became softer, sweeter. “It's the least I could do.”

Vlad almost retched at their flirting. It was the only obnoxious thing about Otis staying with them. He slipped his soiled shirt over his head and headed for the stairs, muttering that he needed to change . . . not that he thought they'd hear him. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the obvious attraction between Nelly and Otis. On one hand, if they ended up married, he'd have the coolest family on the block. But on the other . . . the idea of them dating was kind of weird.

Plus, the thought of walking in on them making out was positively repulsive.

After slipping upstairs to his room and changing his shirt, Vlad took his time rejoining them for dinner. Otis cooked Nelly's blood sausages and served them with a side of spiced potatoes and buttered asparagus. Vlad's and Otis's—much to Vlad's delight—were served raw. Vlad lifted one up to his mouth and bit into it, his fangs popping through the fleshy casing. The feeling gave him an excited chill, but he said nothing to Otis about it. Even so, his uncle smiled at him as if to say, “See how pleasant it would be to suck the life out of people?”