The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills (2 page)

Here. Now.

Vlad closed his eyes briefly, haunted by the memory of the fire that took his parents, wondering if it was to be his punishment to see visions of his father now. Growing more and more certain that feeding from Dorian had poisoned his mind, Vlad sighed and opened his eyes again.

The man that looked like his father, his crazy vision, whatever it was ... was gone.

Only he and Joss and Dorian’s corpse remained in the clearing.

Vlad spun around, searching the surrounding area, but saw no one. Not even so much as a broken twig, indicating movement. His heart sank. Crazy or not, it had been nice to see his father’s smiling face again.

Then there was a noise. Vlad whipped around to see Henry racing into the clearing, his face ghostly pale. “Vlad! Are you okay? I had this horrible feeling. Like ... like you needed me.”

And Vlad did need him. He’d just beaten Joss within an inch of his life, and had just witnessed the impossible. He may have just made the biggest mistake ever—drinking from a madman—and right now, the only person in the world he felt he could count on was his drudge. His best friend. “Henry ... everything is so messed up.”

Henry’s eyes went wide as they dropped to Vlad’s mouth. “Dude, is that blood? Who have you been feeding on?”

Vlad’s eyes moved to Dorian’s corpse. Henry’s followed. He shook his head. “You fed on the creepy vampire stalker guy? No offense, Vlad, but I imagine there are tastier options out there.”

“I had to. He ... he told me I had to. And Joss ... oh man, Joss!” Vlad took a deep breath before rushing to where the Slayer lay, the memory of his father still burning on the edge of his thoughts. But he couldn’t tell Henry. Not yet. It was too fresh, like an exposed wound.

Joss was lying on his back, his forehead smooth, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, pained breaths. Breaths that rapidly slowed until it seemed there were no breaths at all. Vlad knelt beside him, trepidation taking hold of every cell in his body. “Joss?”

But Joss couldn’t answer. He was unconscious. Or worse. Had Vlad killed him? It was possible. Hell, with Vlad’s vampire strength, not to mention his unleashed fury, it was likely.

Henry swore under his breath and knelt beside his cousin, his heartbeat racing. Vlad listened to the steady thumps pounding in his ears, drowning out any sign that Joss was still alive. “What happened, Vlad? What happened between you two? What did you do?”

Vlad put two shaking, terrified fingers to Joss’s neck and sighed in relief at the steady beating of a pulse.

He hadn’t killed Joss. And felt strangely both relieved and disappointed by that fact.

Henry went into action. Without meeting Vlad’s eyes, he pulled Joss’s cell phone from his pocket and said, “We have to get him to the hospital. I’m calling an ambulance. You head back to Nelly’s. I’ll meet you there.”

“No, Henry.” Vlad shook his head slowly. “I’m staying here with him until the ambulance comes. It’s the least I can do.”

Henry set his jaw. “The least you can do is get out of here so we don’t have too many questions from the cops. I got this, Vlad. Let me handle it.”

“No.” Vlad’s tone became darker and gravelly, full of determination. He couldn’t leave Joss. Not now. Not after almost killing him. “I need to stay.”

Henry sighed heavily. “Fine. But once the ambulance takes him away, you’re going to tell me everything that happened here tonight.”

Time flew in a series of moments and emotions, but Vlad didn’t feel present in it. He was there, but not really there at all. He was the cause of this. Just as Joss had been the cause of Vlad’s near death just a few short years before.

He waited by Joss’s side, whispering apologies. Apologies that he wouldn’t have meant only moments ago. Apologies that he never would have dreamed he would utter to the boy who had betrayed him in so many ways.

He was sorry. Even if Joss had deserved every blow. He was sorry.

Henry was at his side, quiet and aloof.

Then, before the cops came, Vlad and Henry retreated into the woods, hiding, so that no one could see them. It seemed like only moments—mere breaths—before they saw the lights flashing as the ambulance approached. Lights so similar to those that he’d seen in his feverish memories after Joss had stabbed that damn stake of his through Vlad’s back, through his heart. Lights that had convinced him he was dying. He wondered if Joss was convinced of that now, or if the pain had dragged him under already.

Vlad’s eyes locked on Dorian’s corpse. The EMTs approached Joss, and Vlad knew they’d see Dorian. He knew there would be questions. Then, as if Dorian wasn’t even there, the two men stepped over his corpse and headed straight for Joss.

Once the lights from the ambulance had faded into the distance, Vlad turned away, leaving the scene of his crime behind. Leaving the man who looked like his father behind. Leaving his anger toward Joss behind. Leaving everything, perhaps even a bit of himself, behind for good. Nothing mattered now. Only his friend, the boy he put into the hands of doctors and nurses. Only Joss mattered.

Because Joss was his friend. Because after everything they’d been through, he knew that fact more than anything. If Joss had mistakenly killed Dorian when trying to kill him, there had to be a reason for it.

Because they were friends.

And all that mattered right now was making sure Joss was okay. Nothing else. Not even Vlad’s dad. If it was his dad. It might have been a ghost, or something weird cooked up by Vlad’s imagination. It was something, for sure.

Something. Something not real.

Something Dorian’s blood had put inside his brain.

A
WARM SUMMER BREEZE brushed Vlad’s black bangs from his eyes as he and Henry made their way back to Nelly’s house. As soon as the ambulance had pulled away, Henry had demanded answers from Vlad, and, after covering Dorian’s body with some fallen, leaf-covered branches, Vlad had given them.

Even though they were hard to say. Even though the truth of it all wasn’t very pretty.

Vlad had been walking away, away from everything. He was going to clean out his parents’ room and then leave Bathory behind forever. He was going to run from Elysia’s brand of justice like a coward. But something had stopped him, and that something was Joss. Or, more accurately, Joss’s stake.

He had no idea what had made Joss attack him. In fact, he’d thought they’d come to a sort of understanding in their unusual friendship. But Joss had attacked, and if it hadn’t been for Dorian stepping in the way, Joss would have killed Vlad.

Then Dorian had told Vlad to do the impossible: drink from him. He’d said it was the only way for Vlad to know the prophecy of the Pravus. So, moments before Dorian’s death, he drank. And then he’d turned his fury on Joss, but was stopped.

And now ... now everything was messed up and nothing would ever be the same again.

“What made you stop?”

Vlad blinked, slowing his steps some. “What do you mean?”

Henry was still right beside him, keeping his pace, his eyes occasionally finding Vlad in the darkness. “What made you stop beating Joss? What made you not kill him?”

Vlad chewed his bottom lip for a moment, mulling over Henry’s possible reaction to the news that Tomas Tod was alive and well. At least in Vlad’s fevered imagination, anyway. “If I told you, you’d think I was nuts.”

“I already think that, so come on. Out with it, Vlad.” It was the same tone he’d used to get Vlad to do ... well, anything, ever since day one of their friendship. Vlad knew he couldn’t resist. He also knew he needed to confide in someone before he lost it completely.

“A voice stopped me.”

“Ominous, creepy, and weird rolled into one, dude.” Henry slowed his steps and stopped Vlad by grabbing his sleeve, tugging him to a stop. “Whose voice was it? The tooth fairy? Principal Snelgrove? Was it the voice of Glob? These details make a difference, man.”

Vlad swallowed hard, and then forced the words from his lips, his eyes on Henry the entire time. “It was my dad, Henry. I saw him. He was standing right there in the clearing. And then he was gone. Just ... gone.”

Henry’s eyes had gone wide, but he nodded. “Okay. So. You saw your dad.”

Vlad shrugged and wished very much that he could sink into the ground and disappear.

Henry gulped. “Alive?”

Vlad readied a glare to show Henry exactly how stupid that question was, but he stopped himself. After all, it wasn’t stupid. But Vlad didn’t know how to answer exactly, because his dad may or may not be alive. He wasn’t sure.

Henry was doing his best to be supportive, even if he was looking at Vlad as if he’d lost his mind completely. He slapped Vlad on the shoulder and said, “Run that whole story by me again, would ya? I just wanna make sure I’m hearing it right.”

In the few minutes they had left before they reached Nelly’s house, Vlad went over every detail again, this time explaining more about why he drank from Dorian, and every bit of detail that he could remember about seeing his dad. By the time they stepped onto Nelly’s porch, Henry looked frazzled. “Whoa. That is messed up.”

Vlad nodded as he opened the door. It
was
messed up. And the worst part was that Vlad had no idea if the person standing just inside the door was really there, or just a nightmare coaxed into his reality by Dorian’s tainted blood.

“Vladimir Tod. It’s so good to see you again.” Em smiled and held up a cookie that she’d clearly helped herself to in the kitchen. “Would you like a cookie?”

Vlad glanced at Henry and then looked back to Em, shaking his head in shock. She was early. Way early. Vlad wasn’t ready for his trial yet. Not by a long shot.

Her presence filled him with disgust, but it was countered by his utter relief that Nelly was working double shifts at the hospital all week. She, fortunately, would miss out on the pleasure of Em’s company.

Em was dressed in a black corset and black baggy Tripp pants, with purple stitching. On her feet were Converse, not unlike the ones Vlad was wearing. She smiled a superior smile and perched on the arm of the couch, breaking the cookie in half. She held out the other half to Vlad, who shook his head in refusal. Frowning, almost pouting, she forced the cookie into his hand.

Vlad grimaced at her touch, but after a near-glare from Em, took a bite. The chocolate chips tasted bitter.

Em finished her half of the cookie and licked her fingertips clean. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

Beside her stood Enrico, who looked ashamed to be her escort. Vlad nodded to him, ignoring Em for the moment. “Enrico, it’s good to see you again.”

Enrico—the owner of V Bar and Dorian’s father—moved forward, shaking Vlad’s hand and smiling warmly, though something dark lurked in his eyes. “A pleasure, as always, Vladimir.”

Vlad didn’t have the heart to inform Enrico of Dorian’s passing. Not yet, anyway.

The steps creaked as Otis made his way downstairs. He was shirtless, his hair still dripping from a recent shower, a white, damp towel draped around his neck. “I thought I heard voices down here. Enrico? To what do I owe the honor of your company?”

As Otis’s eyes found Em, his shoulders slumped some, his demeanor darkened.

Vlad wondered if anyone was ever happy to see her.

Enrico glanced at Em, who nodded. Then he looked back to Otis. “I’m afraid there’s been a tragedy. It seems a member of Elysia, an important vampire figure, has been assassinated.”

No one spoke.

Vlad’s heart thumped twice, hard, then returned to its quiet race. Dorian. They knew about Dorian after all.

The air thickened. But still, no one spoke.

Finally, as if unable to handle the silence, it was Henry who broke it. “Some of us don’t have telepathy, y’know. Who died?”

Em glared at him, as if seeing him for the first time and hating him on sight. Vlad winced. Henry didn’t even blink. Vlad was beginning to think that nothing could scare a McMillan.

Through clenched teeth, Em spoke, but not to Henry. She would only speak to the vampires in the room. “It would seem that D’Ablo has been murdered.”

Vlad whipped his eyes back to Em in shock. D’Ablo? Dead? The vampire who had been a thorn in Vlad’s side for four years, the vampire who Vlad was certain would never cease trying to kill him, the vampire who Vlad counted on to be the big bad evil in his life ... was dead? By someone else’s hand? It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have happened. There was no way D’Ablo could be dead. The guy had survived having a giant hole shot through him with the Lucis, for crying out loud.

Vlad looked at Enrico. “You’re ... sure?”

Enrico nodded. “Two piles of ash were found. When we tested them for DNA, both matched D’Ablo, which meant that his head had likely been removed before burning.”

“It could be a trick.” Henry’s voice sounded so foreign in a room filled with vampires. But he was right.

“It’s no trick,
human.”
Em’s tone was biting. Which was probably what she was about to do to Henry if he didn’t shut up. “We’re well versed in how many ounces of ashes a burned vampire leaves behind. D’Ablo is dead. Do not doubt that for a second.”

Vlad felt oddly hollow. It was almost as if a friend had been stolen from him before he’d had the chance to say goodbye.

A horrible, evil, maniacal friend who wanted nothing more than to see Vlad suffer.

Otis stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression blank.

Em stood and Vlad had to fight the immediate urge to step back. Folding her arms in front of her, she said, “Needless to say, your trial’s been compromised, as a portion of the charges against you have been dropped due to D’Ablo’s convenient passing.”

“Convenient?” Henry snorted, drawing Em’s hate-filled eyes. “What are you saying? That Vlad killed D’Ablo? Fat chance. He hasn’t been very successful at that in the past.”