Eleventh Grade Burns (13 page)

As they passed Eddie, Vlad noticed that he had paled in terror. He also noticed that there was a new scent on the air. Eddie had wet himself.

For some reason that made Vlad smile.

V
LAD FLEW ACROSS THE BASEMENT AND TURNED, his vampire speed making him a blur in the dim light. He threw a roundhouse kick to knock the stake from Vikas’s hand. Vikas stepped back, just as fast, and Vlad missed. Vikas smiled, allowing Vlad a moment to catch his breath. “Much better today, Mahlyenki Dyavol. You’re no longer holding back.”

Vlad slipped his sweat-drenched T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the basement stairs. “Let’s go again.”

Vikas shook his head. “That is enough training for today. Now tell me what clouds your mind; what has brought this fury to your attacks?”

Vlad didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew Vikas wasn’t about to drop the subject. He sat on the steps and ran a frustrated hand through his slick hair. “You were right, okay? Joss isn’t going to walk away from Bathory without killing me.”

Vikas sighed and dropped the makeshift stake to the floor. He walked over to where Vlad sat, squeezed his shoulder, and took a seat beside him. “Do you recall our conversation in the hospital after you were staked?”

Vlad nodded. “You said you’d been betrayed by a friend too.”

Vikas was quiet for a while, then, in a gruff voice, he said, “I believe the time has come that I share with you my story of friendship and betrayal.”

He stood and moved up the steps. A heartbeat later, Vlad followed.

Vikas barked at Tristian, who was standing quietly in the kitchen. “Blood, Tristian. Warm. Then leave us.”

Tristian hurried to the freezer and collected bloodbags, and as he was pouring them into mugs, Vikas looked at Vlad, who stood there watching Vikas order his drudge around as though he was nothing. Vlad frowned and a glimpse of guilt crossed Vikas’s eyes. As Tristian sat the now-steaming mugs in front of them, Vikas spoke again, his voice much softer.
“Bol’shoe spasibo,
Tristian.”

Vlad took his seat across from Vikas and blew the steam from his mug before taking a sip. Vikas didn’t touch his, but the moment Tristian was out of the room, he said, “I have held many friendships over the centuries that I have lived, Mahlyenki Dyavol, and I have been betrayed by those friends more times than I can count. But few truly ripped at my soul. In truth, only one instance pained me in that way. I did not believe that I would ever forgive my friend. I did not believe I would let my friend live should I see him again. But time, as they say, heals all wounds, and my wounds mended long ago.”

Vikas took a deep breath and released it slowly. He met Vlad’s eyes, his irises a cool ice blue, and after a long, silent moment, said, “It was Otis, your uncle, that betrayed me in the worst way possible.”

Vlad almost choked on a mouthful of blood. He coughed, trying to keep it contained. Vikas handed him a towel and nodded. “Shocking, I know, to think that Otis, my dearest living friend, would be the cause of great pain. I almost killed him. I would have, but . . .”

Vlad dried his mouth and said, “But?”

He almost couldn’t believe that Otis had betrayed Vikas at one point. Vikas was the one man Otis knew he could count on. Their friendship seemed unbreakable.

Vikas looked away, staring into the contents of his mug. “But I didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“Your father was not the first vampire to love a human. Roughly two centuries ago, in Paris of all places, I met and fell deeply in love with a woman named Nadya. She was a good, Russian woman. Fair hair, hazel eyes. She was lovely, striking for a human, with a figure that—” Vikas’s lips spread into a smile and Vikas shook his head, realizing he was getting into the TMI area. “We shared an instant attraction for each other and, despite the laws, planned to marry the spring after she came into my life. But Otis discovered our love affair and reported my treachery to the nearest council president. It was decided that either Nadya would die and I would be punished, or she would have to be turned, reborn as a vampire. I wanted neither for her, as Nadya had made it clear that while she loved me with all my vampiric charms, she did not wish to undergo the change herself. So I refused to change her.”

Vikas paused to take a drink of his blood. His eyes found a window, and they lingered there for several moments.

Vlad’s voice finally broke the silence. “And?”

“With barely a breath, thinking that he was saving my life, Otis volunteered to turn Nadya. The council guards held me back as I screamed my protests. He left the room, returning only moments later with her blood on his lips to proclaim the deed had been done.”

Vlad gasped. Otis had the best interest of his friend in mind, but he never even considered his feelings.

“I demanded to see my Nadya, to beg her forgiveness. Otis led me to her—her wounds had not yet healed, so new to the vampire world was she. When I saw her, I fell to my knees and begged her to forgive me, promising that she would have a life unlike any other, one that I would give everything to fill with love, laughter, and joy.” Vikas’s eyes shined with the threat of tears at the memory. “But Nadya ... she was furious and thought that I had betrayed her. She threw bitter words at me like daggers and ran from the room. Dawn was too close. I chased after her, but she ran into the light as it spilled over the city. I reached the end of the building, reaching out to pull her back, but my arm caught fire. Tomas and Otis pulled me from the sun, saving my life, though I was determined to extinguish it. Once we were inside, safe among the shadows, I turned on Otis, but Tomas stopped me from taking his life. Your father saved Otis’s life that day, and I did not speak to Otis for fifty-three years.”

“That’s ... horrible. What made you forgive him?”

“Two words. Two words that it took him fifty-three years to say and me fifty-three years to hear.” He stood and collected the empty cups from the table. “He said ‘I’m sorry.’”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. It couldn’t be that simple. “That’s it?”

“No.” Vikas swallowed hard and met Vlad’s eyes. “He meant it.”

Vikas moved across the kitchen and rinsed the mugs in the sink. Vlad was quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Vikas had cleaned the mugs, dried them, put them away in the cupboard, and returned to the table before Vlad spoke, his voice hushed, his thoughts troubled. “Joss is so different now. It’s like he’s not even the same person I was friends with two years ago.”

“That does not surprise me, Mahlyenki Dyavol. Your friend has undergone purification by the Slayer Society.”

That gave Vlad pause. “Purification?”

Vikas nodded. “In order to remind Joss what it is that he is fighting against, to recondition him, the Society has purified your friend with a month’s long barrage of their customs and laws ... and pain.”

Vlad winced. He could only imagine what twisted things Joss had undergone. Of course, that explained the shift in his personality.

Vikas went on, as if to make sure that Vlad understood. “Intense and frequent pain so the things he is told will not easily be forgotten. It’s a practice that they learned from early vampires, though we found it to be far too barbaric and abandoned the practice several centuries ago.”

So that was it. Joss had been brainwashed by the Society, and their friendship was likely gone forever. Vlad wouldn’t apologize for being what he was; that was ridiculous. He was good enough to be Joss’s friend when Joss thought he was human; it shouldn’t matter that he was a vampire. If anyone owed anyone an apology it was Joss, and Vlad was starting to think that it would be at least fifty-three years before that would happen.

If it ever did.

But ... if Joss had been brainwashed, there was always the chance he could be
un
brainwashed.

Vlad just had to figure out how.

T
HE WHITE FEDEX TRUCK BACKED OUT of the driveway and turned onto the road, then shifted gears and sped off down the street. Joss stood in the doorway, clutching a plain white shipping envelope. It was here, at long last. No more waiting. No more reconnaissance. He could move forward with his assigned plan of action.

“Is that the new calendar I ordered?”

He turned his head to his mom, who was peering over his shoulder at the envelope. She was smiting—something she hadn’t done on a regular basis in a long time, not since Cecile was murdered. The move to Bathory had been good for her; being around family had really lifted her spirits. If he could rid the town of vampires, it could be good for all of them. “Nope. Just something from Uncle Abraham. I asked him for help with that research paper in history. Guess he sent some stuff to help me out.”

She nodded, so trusting, at his lie. Joss was good at lying. He had to be. His parents knew nothing about the Slayer Society. His dad’s job was a clever cover set up by the Society, but they really had no clue that Joss was the one doing the real work ... the necessary, honorable work. “Well, Abraham would be the one to ask, wouldn’t he? College professor, world traveler. I’m glad to see you taking your education seriously and working so hard on your grades, Joss. School is important.”

Joss offered her a reassuring smile. Clutching the envelope to his chest, he slipped by her and headed down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He pulled the tab, tearing open the envelope, and slid his hand inside. When his fingers brushed against the familiar feeling of parchment, he closed his hand over the letter and pulled it out, dropping the shipping envelope to the floor. In his hands he held a small parchment envelope, held closed by a red wax seal which bore the Society’s crest. He ran his fingertip over the seal and turned back to the door, locking it. Then, sitting on the edge of his bed, Joss turned the envelope over in his hand and pulled the back flap, breaking the seal. He withdrew the letter, unfolded it, and read over the words with eager eyes.

His growing smile dropped. The Society wanted more information about the vampires he’d come here to kill.

So much reconnaissance for such a minor infestation. But it was the oldest one, the one called Vikas, that they needed to know more about, and the youngest ... Vlad. Once Joss had his answers, once he’d satisfied the Society’s curiosity, he’d be free to rid the world of each and every one of them.

The photograph on his dresser, enclosed in a small silver frame, caught his attention. A pretty girl, only five years old when the photo was taken. Her blonde curls framing her cherubic face, her green eyes huge, her smile dazzling. Joss had loved her from the moment he’d touched his mother’s stomach and the baby had kicked at his hand. His little sister, his reason for fighting so hard against the bloodthirsty creatures of the night. Cecile. Every vampire he’d killed, every pain he’d had to endure ... it was all for her. It was all worth it. Just to know that he was, in some small way, avenging her wrongful death. He’d do anything for her.

Even if it meant killing the boy he’d once called friend.

V
LAD BUTTONED HIS JACKET and braced himself against the chilly autumn breeze as he moved down the sidewalk toward home. He’d just spent the last two hours in the belfry reading everything he could find about the Pravus in the Compendium, but discovered nothing that really pointed to anything definite on what the prophecy really said. It all seemed like a bunch of hearsay, with quotes from one vampire’s theories and quotes from another vampire agreeing with those theories. Sadly, even though Otis removed the glyph that had prevented Vlad from reading the Pravus passages, Vlad was left just about where he’d begun—having no idea exactly what the prophecy said and even less of an idea of where he might find it.

“I know where the prophecy is
.
”

Vlad’s steps came to an immediate halt. His thoughts had been closed to anyone who might try to read them—some thing Otis had urged him to practice—but the intruder on his nightly trek had seemingly read them without any effort at all. He turned slowly and looked into Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian shrugged slightly. A small smile touched his lips. Bemusement, or something sinister, Vlad couldn’t tell. “Call it a talent, one of many. I can read anyone’s thoughts, no matter how they might resist.”

The center of Vlad’s chest tightened as he tried to force all of his secrets from his mind in a blind panic.

The smile slipped from Dorian’s lips and he shook his head, almost apologetically “But I’m a man of principle, Vlad. I never share the secrets I collect.”

Vlad shook his head defensively, wondering just what Dorian was doing in Bathory. He didn’t have to wonder for long, though. The answer was obvious: he wanted Vlad’s blood at any cost. “Not everyone has secrets.”

“I assure you, everyone has at least one thing that they would like to hide from the world. Even me.”

Vlad wet his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dorian was bluffing. After all, there were people in the world who were trained to profile people, to guess what it was that made them tick. Maybe Dorian was just a good guesser. “What about me?”

“Where to start?” His smile returned as he seemed to tick through a list of Vlad’s greatest secrets. He tapped his lips with his pointer finger as he thought. Then finally, he seemed to settle on one. “Ah, yes ... you feed on a human girl named Snow and lie to everyone—including your uncle—about it. What’s more, you think you might have strong feelings for the girl, but can’t bear to fathom loving anyone but Meredith. Of course, she’s with Joss now. The slayer boy. That does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

Vlad’s jaw hit the ground. He sputtered and stumbled over his words, but all that managed to leave his lips was something that sounded vaguely like a choking noise.