The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills (3 page)

Vlad was about to warn Henry that if he valued his life at all, he’d zip his lips. But it was too late. Em shot across the room until she was almost nose to nose with Vlad’s drudge. She scraped a long, purple fingernail down his cheek, drawing blood, but Henry didn’t wince. Vlad thought he might have gone into shock. Either that, or despite everything Vlad had told his best friend about Em, Henry hadn’t quite put two and two together, that the ancient, evil being known as Em was also the cute girl standing in front of him, her eyes like daggers. Poor Henry. Poor stupid, stupid Henry.

Her voice was almost a purr. “Human, you have no idea the pain that I can bring you. I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself, lest I give in to the overwhelming urge to skin you alive.”

Vlad glanced at his uncle, who was watching the scene with some interest, but still not speaking. Then he turned back to Em. “So what are you implying, exactly? That I killed D’Ablo? Or that I had someone kill him?”

Otis spoke, his voice quiet, somber. “Neither is true.”

Em stepped back and turned on her heel to face Otis. After silently gauging him for a moment, she flicked her eyes back to Vlad. Before she could speak, Henry whispered, “Dude, the evil chick is kinda hot.”

Vlad rolled his eyes, but stopped once Em had returned her attention to him. She didn’t even glance at Henry again. “One charge still remains against you, little one. The charge that your father entered into a romantic relationship with a human.”

Henry shot Vlad a telling glance, but Vlad was already on the case. “I’m only standing trial for that because my dad is dead, right?”

She nodded once, suspicion and doubt lurking in her eyes.

Vlad took a deep breath. “What would you say if I told you that I saw my dad tonight, alive and well?”

Otis spoke, but inside Vlad’s head, away from the prying ears of the company they kept.
“This is not a game
,
Vladimir. You cannot fool Em in order to gain more time.”

Otis fell silent for a moment, then nodded to his nephew and stepped back, looking deeply disturbed. “
We will discuss this at length once Em is gone, yes?”

Em seemed to mull this over for a moment before replying. “Are you willing to testify to that fact, little one?”

Vlad set his jaw and nodded once.

“Then it seems a trial is coming, after all. A trial for Tomas, if you can produce him by the final day of December. We’ll hold it right here in the quaint little town of Bathory. However, if you cannot produce your father, alive and well, then you will stand trial for his crimes. And you will die for them. Slowly. And as painfully as possible. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that his romance with a human falls on your head if he has perished.” She met Vlad’s gaze, and though her voice sounded kind, there was no kindness to be found in the depths of her eyes. “It is only because of my fondness for Tomas, and our history, that I am giving you or your father any time at all to say goodbye to the world. Consider it a kindness, and respect my decision by not running. If you run, if you attempt to hide, I will make it much worse for you ... and for your father, if he really is alive.”

Otis’s voice was low and wondering. “And what of D’Ablo’s murder? Have you any leads?”

She turned to face him, and something unspoken passed between them. Vlad didn’t know what it was, but it was unsettling, to say the least.

Vlad said, “What history? How did you and my dad know one another?”

Em clucked her tongue. “Tomas and I were well acquainted. You see, I am his grandmother. Mother to Ignatius.”

She paused a moment, waiting for her words to sink in. When they didn’t, she said, “I’m your great-grandmother, Vladimir.”

Vlad’s chest felt oddly hollow. Like someone had dug an enormous hole through his rib cage without him being aware.

Great-grandmother. The girlish monster whose eyes reflected a hunger to witness his demise was his great-grandmother?

No.

She couldn’t be.

He shook his head, refusing to believe Em, and trailed his eyes from her to his uncle, who looked both nauseated and disturbed. “My great-grandmother?”

After a moment of silence, perhaps to gather his words carefully, Otis said, “It’s true. Em is my grandmother, your father’s grandmother, and Ignatius’s mother.”

Then Otis stepped closer. “And it’s absolutely no reflection on you, Vladimir. We can’t choose our parentage. Or our grandparentage.”

Em smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes. She stood, brushing the cookie crumbs from her clothes. “We can, however, choose our children. Though sometimes we choose poorly.”

Her eyes fell on Vlad then, burning with hatred that she couldn’t hide. “Our great-grandchildren, on the other hand ... well ... I suppose sometimes our children and their children choose poorly as well.”

An awkward silence fell over the not-so-happy family then. No one spoke or moved until Em turned toward the door. As she stepped outside, she said, “You have until December thirty-first to collect your father and deliver him to the Council of Elders. And so help me if you are lying about his still living, which I suspect you are. But know that you’ve only prolonged your life by a few short months, as death is the only punishment for the charges that remain against you.”

Vlad released the breath his lungs had been clinging to for what seemed like an eternity.

He’d just saved his own life. At least for a little while.

The problem was that now he had to do the impossible.

He had to find his father.

T
HE EMERGENCY ROOM WAS CROWDED and loud and, though he waited for what seemed like forever, no one stopped moving to give him some answers, to tell Vlad whether his friend was going to live or die.

Henry had driven them as fast as he could once Em had left Nelly’s house, but only after they’d stopped back at the clearing, to look for Joss’s backpack—or more importantly, Vlad’s father’s journal. The book meant something to Vlad, and now with the possible miraculous return of his father to life, he wondered if the journal would offer him answers that he hadn’t seen in its pages before, or if the journal might lead him to his dad. But all they found was a patch of grass, stained with Dorian’s blood, nothing more. Confusion enveloped Vlad—where was Dorian? But as hope that Dorian had somehow survived began to fill him, Vlad recalled Dorian’s last moments and knew that he was dead. Where his body went was another question. Vlad tried not to look at the spot where Dorian had perished, tried hard not to think about his final moments. Then he cursed himself for not thinking to grab the journal earlier. But it would be at the hospital, with Joss. It had to be.

Otis had insisted that he had some important business to take care of first, but that he’d grab Nelly and meet them in the emergency room.

Finally, after way too long, a man in a white lab coat approached, his muscles tense, his mouth pursed. He knew. Somehow he knew that Vlad was responsible. “You came to see the boy who was beaten?”

Vlad nodded, swallowing his guilt like a bitter pill. “Joss McMillan.”

The man in the white coat—Vlad couldn’t get a good look at the name on his badge—flipped through some papers on the chart he was holding and made a note in handwriting that reminded Vlad of Otis’s chicken scratchings. Then he met Vlad’s gaze, his eyes hooded, his expression guarded. “He’s awake now, but just barely. The pain medication we administered is keeping him fairly groggy. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I ...” Immense and immediate guilt seeped into Vlad’s muscles, into his bones, into every organ—mostly his heart. Following it was the realization that revealing anything to anyone at this point would likely land him in a lot of trouble, maybe even jail. It was this thought that had just entered his mind when he laid eyes on two uniformed police officers who were crossing the room, their eyes fixed on him. Vlad’s next words came out muttered, distant, lost. “No. I can’t.”

Henry stepped forward. “Look, Joss is my cousin and Vlad’s friend. We just want to know if he’s okay.”

The taller cop, the grumpy-looking one, said, “Vladimir Tod?”

Vlad looked from one cop to the other as if he didn’t know that they were here to arrest him for putting Joss in the hospital. Vlad would’ve bet his life on that.

His life. That thing that Joss had tried to take twice now.

But no one would focus on that. Mostly because Vlad couldn’t tell them without revealing the fact that he was a vampire.

Well, half vampire, if they wanted to get technical.

The shorter cop, the one with a friendly smile, said, “We’d like to have a word with you, please.”

Vlad gulped, the lump in his throat the size of a grapefruit, and managed a nod. They coaxed him away from Henry, who was looking more than a little tense.

The friendly cop didn’t miss a beat. “How well do you know Joss McMillan?”

“Pretty well. We’re friends.” Vlad shrugged, his heart breaking over what he’d done to Joss. For the life of him, he’d never seen it coming. Not after they’d patched things up, not after their long, nightly sessions where they’d mock-fight. Tonight it had been self-defense. But admittedly, it was also a bit of vengeance on Vlad’s part—something that now sat in the pit of his stomach, fermenting. “Or, were, I guess.”

Friendly cop smiled warmly. Vlad was glad he was the one doing the talking. Grumpy cop just looked ... well ... grumpy. “Not so friendly anymore, eh?”

“We had a fight.”

“About a girl?”

“No. Just ... I’m not sure what it was about. Joss has been acting really different lately.” Vlad’s thoughts whirled inside his brain like a tornado. Why would they think a girl was involved? Did they know about Meredith? Is that why they thought Vlad beat Joss so badly? He raked his bangs back from his eyes with a trembling hand. “Look, am I in trouble?”

Friendly cop leaned in closer, lowering his voice as though they shared a deep, dark secret. “Has Joss ever mentioned his uncle to you? Abraham McMillan? Said anything at all about him?”

Vlad blinked. What did this have to do with him putting Joss in the hospital? “No. Not that I can remember. Why?”

The two officers exchanged looks and Friendly gave Vlad’s shoulder a light squeeze. “That’s all we needed to know, Vlad. Thanks for your cooperation. We hope your friend recovers quickly. An accident, was it, that put him here?”

Vlad looked him dead in the eye, and before he could stop himself, complete honesty spilled out over his tongue. “No, sir.”

Friendly paused then, his eyebrows furrowing, understanding lighting up his eyes.

This was it. This was the part where the cop slapped cuffs on him and dragged him off to prison. Vlad knew it. He could feel it. The cop understood he was admitting to committing a violent crime and was seconds away from reaching for his handcuffs.

Friendly frowned, then gave Vlad’s shoulder another squeeze. “Even so.”

As the officers walked away, Vlad stared after them, stunned and not at all certain why he hadn’t been arrested.

Vlad saw Nelly rushing down the corridor, looking both frightened and concerned. Otis was at her side. Nelly said, “Are you okay? What happened between you boys? Is Joss okay?”

Vlad lowered his voice, and even though the words he chose were the right ones, he couldn’t help but feel terrible about uttering them. Terrible, because while they were true, they didn’t change the fact that he’d come too close to killing the one person on the planet he really counted as a friend on the same level as Henry. Even after what Joss had done. “Joss tried to stake me. I had to defend myself.”

Otis’s eyes narrowed as if to say
I told you so
. At the same time, Nelly’s widened.

The door to Joss’s room opened and his mother stepped outside, followed by his father. Vlad hadn’t even seen them go in. But then, he’d been a little distracted by that whole possible arrest thing. “Mrs. McMillan, are you okay? Is Joss?”

Joss’s mom sniffled into a wrecked tissue and glared at Vlad. “Don’t talk to me. And stay away from my son.”

Vlad searched his mind, but couldn’t think of anything that was appropriate to say. So instead, he did as instructed and closed his mouth.

Joss’s dad looked at Otis, an almost apologetic gleam in his eye—one that Vlad couldn’t understand. Vlad couldn’t help but notice that Joss’s dad didn’t look at him even once. “He’ll be okay. It’s just that we’ve been dealing with Joss in and out of hospitals and in and out of fights for a few years now. It’s ... it’s a lot to take.”

Nelly parted her lips to say something, but Otis shot her a look that begged her not to. Otis followed the McMillans into the family waiting room, where Matilda and Big Mike were now waiting with Henry. Vlad thought he should say something to them, but wasn’t sure what to say. He thought of pulling Henry to the side to explain what had happened between him and the cops, but that would mean walking by Joss’s parents again—something he was certain would be a really bad idea.

After several minutes, Otis returned and said, “They’re taking Joss to a special medical facility to recover, but won’t say where. His parents, especially his mother, blame you, Vlad. Joss told them you got in a fight and he lost, but he didn’t mention what really happened, that you’re a vampire and he’s a Slayer. At least we can be thankful for that.”

Vlad met his uncle’s eyes and spoke with his thoughts.
“Otis. There’s something I forgot to tell you earlier
.
Dorian is dead.”

Otis looked troubled, but strangely relieved, as if he were free now. “
I know. I smelled his blood and hurried to investigate. I’ve hidden the body a bit better. Later, Vikas and I will dispose of it. What happened exactly?”