Eleventh Grade Burns (15 page)

Always Meredith. She was haunting him in ways he’d never realized she would.

A strange battle was going on inside of him, between his vampire side and his human side. Part of him wanted to cease his prattle and sink his fangs deep into Snow’s vein. Part of him retched at the thought. She was a person, after all. She was his friend. And since when did the vampire side of him start making sense? He tore his gaze from her neck and took a deep breath, trying to block out the scent of her blood on the air. “Snow, you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. You’re funny, smart, and really cool to hang out with. But—”

“But?”

Vlad gulped. It was his turn to feel vulnerable. “There’s . . . this girl.”

“There usually is. What’s her name?” Her tone grew bitter, jealous. It kind of amused Vlad a little. A girl, as sweet and caring as Snow, jealous over a guy like Vlad? That was one for the record books.

He breathed out her name in a whisper, as if uttering its purity here in the place where he fed in secrecy were a sin. “Meredith.”

“Do you love her?”

Vlad barely let the question slip from her mouth before he answered. “Yes.”

Snow blinked, looking a little surprised at Vlad’s quick reply. “Does she love you?”

Vlad pictured Meredith in his mind and recalled the way her smile lifted his spirits, the way her very presence made his heart expand. He nodded slowly. “I think so. I mean, maybe. I think she did once, and there’s always the hope that she will again someday.”

Snow’s eyes dropped to the ground. Her shoulders sagged some. She looked defeated. All Vlad wanted to do was to make her eyes light up again. Her voice was calm, but hushed. “Does she know that you’re a vampire?”

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t told her. I just don’t know if she could handle it.”

They stood there, so close, for so long that it seemed that time had actually disappeared and the world had completely forgotten them.

“Maybe you need to find that out, Vlad. If you love her, you’ve got to give her a chance to know you. And if she loves you, she’ll love everything about you.” Snow’s voice was soft, but full of meaning. She took a breath and whispered, “The way I do.”

Then she leaned forward and her lips found Vlad’s. This time, he welcomed it. This time, he kissed back with abandon. Her kiss was sweet, her lips tasted like peppermint lip balm, and for the first time in a long while, Vlad didn’t once think about Meredith or Joss or Otis’s impending trial. He didn’t think about D’Ablo or Dorian or anything else.

He only thought of the pretty girl named Snow and her peppermint kisses.

V
LAD TURNED THE CORNER ONTO LUGOSI TRAIL with heavy steps. It wasn’t that he wasn’t looking forward to his training session with Vikas—in fact, he’d been enjoying them immensely over the past few weeks—but school had been particularly grueling today. All he was really in the mood to do was go home, camp out in front of the TV, and maybe kill a few dozen people on
Vampires Attack!,
the Xbox 360 game Henry had bought him for his birthday last year. But that, much to Vlad’s chagrin, wasn’t going to happen.

As he crossed the street, he took a glance around, wondering to himself what exactly it was that had sent Eddie off his trail recently. It was nice not being followed home every day, but Vlad didn’t trust why Eddie had stopped. Maybe Joss had warned him about the unpredictable temperament of vampires. Or maybe Eddie hadn’t really, truly believed that Vlad was a bloodsucking monster until Joss confirmed his theory. Or maybe he had just run out of clean pants. Either way, it was kind of nice to be alone again, though he couldn’t help but wonder if he truly was alone or if Joss was his new constant shadow.

But then, it was only a matter of time before Eddie would return to his old habits. After all, even for vampires, there was no stopping the media.

Stealing around to the back of the house, Vlad pulled open the door and stepped inside. Immediately, something felt very wrong.

“Vikas? You home?” He reached out with his blood, the way that Otis had taught him last year, and felt his teacher’s presence upstairs. Something felt ... wrong. Vikas’s blood felt off, somehow. Different. As he climbed the steps, his pace hurried, and with worry, he opened the door to the guest bedroom.

Vikas was lying on the bed. The dark circles under his eyes and his sunken cheeks made his face look like a skull. He was always pale, but now he looked like a sickening combination of gray and green. His eyes were closed, and if Vlad didn’t know any better he would have thought that Vikas might be dead.

Tristian was standing over him, dabbing his forehead with a cool, moist cloth. Vlad’s face darkened to see his actions. They only confirmed his fears that Vikas must be terribly ill. Vlad stepped inside the room, careful to keep his footfalls hushed. He exchanged glances with Tristian, who looked so worried that it made Vlad’s heart skip a beat. “What happened?”

Tristian parted his lips to speak, but Vikas opened his eyes and spoke in a gruff, stubborn voice. “I’m fine, Mahlyenki Dyavol. Just a bit under the weather.”

Ignoring Vikas’s grumblings, Vlad sat on the side of the bed and met Tristian’s gaze.

In a hushed, timid voice, Tristian said, “I brought him a glass of bloodwine from the open bottle on the counter, like I do every afternoon. He gets peckish around three, you know.” A worried crease had taken up permanent residence on Tristian’s forehead. He looked down at his master, whose eyes were closed again. “Even if he eats a late lunch, he’s always hungry around three. So I brought him a glass. He took a sip and just ... just crumbled to the ground.”

Worried tears filled Tristian’s eyes. “All I could think was that something was wrong with the wine. So I put my finger down his throat to make him throw it up. He vomited and retched up every drop of bloodwine, so I gave him as much of my blood as I could and put him in bed.” Tristian took the cloth from Vikas’s head and dropped it into a bowl of water on the bedside table. “I tried to call Otis, but he told me not to.”

“Stubborn old man.” Vlad shook his head. Vikas opened his eyes and gave Vlad the best ‘I heard that’ look that he could muster. It was like Vikas to be the strong one, even when his life was on the line. Vlad squeezed Tristian’s shoulder and offered him a comforting smile. “You did everything right, Tristian. I can see why Vikas values you so much as his drudge. Could you please go get me the bottle so I can take a look at it?”

After Tristian left the room, Vikas clutched Vlad’s arm and pulled him closer, his voice raspy. “He poisoned me.”

Vlad’s eyes widened and his heart thumped hard inside his chest. “Who? Tristian?”

“No. The boy. The slayer.” Vikas fell back on the bed, barely able to open his eyes. He looked so weak, and in so much pain. He swallowed hard, as if it were a challenge to call a slayer by his given name.

“Joss.” Vlad almost hissed the word. He should have known. But why use poison? Why not a stake? It seemed like a cowardly way to take down one of the oldest vampires known. One would think that such a task would give the slayer who accomplished it bragging rights among his psycho slayer friends. “How do you know it was Joss?”

“Who else would wish the death of me in this town and take such a cowardly approach to achieving that end but a slayer? I should have smelled it, but I never thought the bloodwine could be tainted. It seemed like one of the neighbors was cooking something foul. One of the downfalls of living among humans, it seems.” Vikas coughed and then caught his breath. “I took a sip. Just one sip. Luckily, I vomited it all up, or you and I might not be having this conversation. Tristian ... he saved my life.”

As if on cue, Tristian returned to the room, bottle in hand. Vikas moaned at the sight of it, and Vlad nearly gagged at the scent. Garlic juice. Probably so little that Tristian couldn’t pick up on its faint scent with his human senses. But to Vlad and Vikas, the nauseating stench was overwhelming. As if realizing this, Tristian ran the bottle back downstairs. Vlad heard the back door open, so it was likely he was throwing it in the trash. Smart guy.

Turning back to Vikas, Vlad said, “If Joss did this ...”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence, and really, there was no “if” about it. Vikas could be right. Joss could’ve somehow slipped inside unnoticed and poisoned Vikas’s drink. The very idea both enraged and sickened him.

Vikas chuckled. It sounded strange coming from someone who looked to be lying on his deathbed. “If this is all the boy has, if this is his best weapon against us, then let him have his moment, Mahlyenki Dyavol. In three days, I will be well and on my way to living forever. In just eighty years, he will be dead. If someone doesn’t kill him first.”

Vlad couldn’t be sure if that last sentence was meant as a suggestion or not, especially with the way Vikas raised a single eyebrow at him. In an effort to squash the same old conversation before it started, Vlad smiled. “So no training session today huh?”

Though it seemed to pain him to do so, Vikas laughed heartily. “No. Not today my friend.”

There were hurried steps on the stairs and, just as Vlad had begun to doubt they belonged to Tristian, Otis burst into the room. “You are a damned fool, old man! You should have allowed Tristian to contact me. What if the garlic had gotten into your system before you could throw it up, or had entered a cut in your mouth? You could have died.”

Vikas made a sound that sounded like “bah” and waved Otis away, but Otis wasn’t going anywhere. He checked Vikas’s pulse and frowned when he placed his palm against Vikas’s glistening forehead. “You’ll live. This time. But you’re rather lucky I don’t kill you myself for being so stubborn.”

Otis smiled at Vlad. “Tristian is a good drudge. Much like your Henry. If he hadn’t been here ... well, needless to say, I’d be on the hunt right now for whoever did this. Any thoughts to who that might be?”

Otis and Vikas exchanged looks that said they shared the opinion that it had been Joss. No reply to Otis’s question was required.

As much as the idea of Otis hunting Joss repulsed Vlad, he totally understood the urge at the moment. After all, Vikas was incredibly important to him. Not to mention how important he was to Otis and Tristian. Joss would have to be dealt with.

Vlad just wasn’t sure exactly how to deal with him.

Vikas looked at Vlad. “What is to be done about your friend, Vladimir? It’s only a matter of time before he turns his attention on you.”

“You’re worried about me? Vikas, he just tried to kill you.”

“Perhaps. But I think he was merely trying to distract us all. The question is ... from what?”

Vlad chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “What else is there that he could want here in Bathory? He just wants to get rid of the vampires.”

Otis watched them both for a moment before speaking. “If Joss were sent here to kill us, he wouldn’t be taking so long to try something. As I said before, I know reconnaissance when I see it. Joss is looking for something. Something that the slayers yearn for.”

Vlad furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”

In unison, Otis and Vikas replied. “Information.”

A spark lit in Vlad’s mind and his chest grew heavy. Picking up his backpack and throwing it over one shoulder, Vlad hurried out the door. Otis called after him, but Vlad didn’t answer. He had to hurry. He had to confirm that Joss hadn’t invaded the one place in town that nobody knew about but him.

As he rushed out the back door and around the house, Otis’s voice invaded his thoughts.
“What’s your hurry, Vladimir? Is something wrong?”

“I just have to check something.”
With that, he clamped down on his thoughts. Where he was going, he wanted to be completely alone.

It took him only minutes to cross town to the school and after a quick glance around, only seconds for him to float up to the ledge of the belfry and step inside. But then time slowed. Sound slowed as well, and what might have been his heart drumming in his ears in a panic sounded much more like the slow, steady beat of a bass drum. Heavy. Loud.

Someone had violated his sanctuary.

Someone had been here.

Someone knew about his secret place and had ransacked every inch of it.

Vlad would have bet that that somebody was either Eddie Poe or Joss McMillan. And his money was on Joss.

His father’s chair was sliced open, the off-white stuffing inside puffing out of the cut. Books were thrown from his book-cases, revealing bare shelves. Candleholders were tossed across the room. In the corner, something shimmered in the moonlight. Vlad didn’t have to move any closer to know that the picture of his father had been smashed.

He took it all in, trying to be angry but feeling more violated than anything. When he spoke, his whispered words were a gray, breathy puff in the chilly air. “What were you looking for, Joss?”

Only one thing in the room appeared untouched. Vlad carefully stepped over books and debris and opened the drawer of the small table that sat next to his dad’s chair.

It was empty.

Joss had stolen the most important thing to Vlad in the belfry. His father’s journal.

Slowly, Vlad slid the drawer shut. Then he picked up the table and threw it across the room with a scream. Furious, he stepped from the belfry and jumped to the nearest treetop, hopping between trees all the way home.

He slammed the front door closed behind him, and Nelly snapped her eyes to his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Nothing that kicking Joss’s butt couldn’t cure, that was.

The look in her eyes said she didn’t believe him in the least, but she wasn’t about to push the issue.

Vlad sighed, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “I’m just glad we have a long weekend. I could use a break from school and all the drama.”

And Joss, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.