Eleventh Grade Burns (7 page)

He wasn’t exactly sure what Vikas had meant by it being a celebration, so when he made it across the room to Otis, he said, “Vikas called this a celebration.”

“He’s right.”

“What exactly are we celebrating, Otis?”

Otis blanched, growing silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “We are celebrating my life, as it were.”

Vlad frowned, his heart suddenly very heavy. “Otis ... you still have a chance. The Council of Elders might—”

He was going to say “find you innocent,” but Otis shook his head and walked away, the threat of tears in his eyes, before Vlad could utter another word. Vlad stared after him, dumbfounded.

A heavy hand clasped his shoulder, and Vlad turned to see Vikas, who was watching after Otis with a troubled expression. “As I said, he is troubled, your uncle. It would do little good to attempt to cheer a dying man.”

Vlad’s heart felt heavy and shriveled. “But, Vikas, you’re on the Council of Elders. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Something you will soon learn about Elysia, Mahlyenki Dyavol, is that trials are but a formality.” Vikas squeezed his shoulder once, lowering his voice. What he said next broke Vlad’s heart in two. “You should enjoy your time with your uncle, Vladimir. It grows short despite my efforts to lengthen it.”

Another vampire said something in Elysian code to Vikas, and he laughed openly before leading the vampire to the kitchen. When Vlad turned around, Dorian was there, waiting, wearing that same kind, expectant smile on his lips, that same harmless demeanor. “You will offer your blood to me.”

At once, every eye in the room turned to Vlad. After a minuscule pause, several vampires, including Otis and Vikas, began to speak, to argue with Dorian over what he had just said to Vlad, or to plead with him not to do whatever it was that he was about to do. Vikas offered Dorian Tristian’s blood—AB negative, as much as he’d like—in exchange for what he wanted of Vlad. Bemused, but insistent, Dorian whispered, “Hush now.”

At his spoken words, the crowd fell utterly silent.

Vlad looked them over—none could move, none could speak, but by their blinks and the look in Otis’s eyes, they were well aware what was happening. Vlad, however, had no idea what was going on. He only knew that Dorian had stopped their every action, their every sound, with a whisper. It made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up in confused fear. He looked at Dorian but didn’t speak.

Dorian stepped closer, a dark, hungry look in his eye. “You will offer your blood to me now.”

Before Vlad realized what he was doing, he’d reached up with his hand and pulled the collar of his T-shirt back. He bent his head to the side, exposing his neck, and all the while, he had no control over his actions. It wasn’t mind control—this was something else, something worse, something more powerful than Vlad had ever dared imagine could exist.

And he couldn’t resist it.

Dorian looked at Otis and nodded. His demeanor was very apologetic. “Your pleading and absolute refusal makes this moment that much more enticing, I’m afraid. I really don’t understand what the fuss is about. Vlad will likely survive. And if he doesn’t ... well, then, I am deeply sorry. But I must have the boy, you understand.”

Vlad’s insides turned to mush. Dorian was going to drain him of blood. And there was nothing anybody could do about it.

Except Vlad.

Panicking, he struggled with all his might to move, to let go of his collar and straighten his head, but the more he attempted to struggle, the more cooperative his movements became. Against his will, he stepped forward, coaxing Dorian to drink.

Dorian’s eyes brimmed with apologies. “I am sorry, Vlad. But I must have your blood. It calls to me, and I shall heed that call no matter the cost.”

Dorian stepped closer, ready to bite. He was poised over Vlad’s neck when the answer came.

Otis couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but only because Dorian had stopped him—not because Dorian was controlling him. Quickly, Vlad slipped into Otis’s thoughts and, with an apology, took control over his uncle’s actions. With his control, Otis stepped forward, shoving Dorian from Vlad. Dorian stumbled back, blinking in confusion.

His spell over the crowd broke, and angry voices erupted.

Vlad’s heart raced, and he shot Otis an apologetic glance for having used mind control, but Otis shook it off in gratitude. Then Otis turned to Dorian. “You will leave my home and keep your distance from my nephew.”

Vikas placed a hand on Otis’s shoulder, but something about the way he looked told Vlad he was positioning himself to pull Otis back if a fight erupted.

Dorian’s fangs slowly shrank back into his gums. He kept his eyes on Vlad, a strange blend of curiosity and confusion filling them. After a moment, he nodded and moved through the kitchen and toward the back door.

Otis shook Vikas off and stepped away. He was calmer now that he’d had his say, but Vlad couldn’t help but wonder about the tension that seemed to ebb from his uncle in response to Dorian’s actions. He also couldn’t help but wonder why a vampire as powerful as Dorian would leave without even so much as an argument.

Otis turned back to Vikas. He looked worried, and equally as surprised as Dorian had. “I’ve never seen Dorian back down like that. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Vikas shook his head slowly, dropping his voice to just above a whisper. “The answer, my old friend, is simple. Dorian has never backed down before. Perhaps he is ... conflicted.”

As Dorian reached the back door, he called out to Otis, his tone shaken. “When you want my help—and you will, Otis—you know where to find me.”

He opened the door, pausing long enough to meet Vlad’s eyes. With a single nod, he stepped out into the night.

 

 

Two hours later, Vlad had tired of the vampire crowd and felt safe enough to be alone, but not quite safe enough to head home. He retired upstairs to his old room, where Tristian stood watch from the hall—but not before Otis stopped him to make certain he wouldn’t leave without an escort. “Just stay here until our guests depart. Then Vikas or I will walk you home, all right?”

Vlad moved into his old room and before he closed the door, he replied, “I don’t need a babysitter, Otis.”

And he didn’t. He was the Pravus, for crying out loud. But ... he was really glad he didn’t have to worry about Dorian, Joss, or anyone else who might be out for his blood on his walk home tonight. He didn’t need a babysitter. But he certainly appreciated the company.

The room was painted in the same soft blue as it had been in his childhood. He wagered Otis had wanted to preserve those younger years for him in some way. As if color could do such a thing.

Vlad lay back on the bed, his eyes quickly fluttering closed. Drifting in that place between wakefulness and sleep, he thought about his mother and how she would sometimes enter his room at night, just to press her lips to his forehead. She’d whisper, “I love you, Vlad.” And Vlad would pretend to sleep, cuddled all warm and snug and safe under his blue blankets, which matched the color of his walls.

Maybe there was something to this color thing after all.

He drifted off and was on the verge of deep sleep when he thought he felt a presence, warm and wonderful, in his room. But when he opened his eyes, his mother was nowhere to be found.

What a stupid thing to hope for. After all, just because he missed her, just because this was the first night he had slept in his house since that horrible day when he’d lost his parents ... that didn’t mean his mom would be here, watching over him from beyond death.

Did it?

Vlad looked around the room, at the shadowed blue walls, at the new carpeting, the new light fixture, at everything that wasn’t his past and was his present.

No. She was gone. Gone forever. To someplace much happier, much brighter, and full of goodness, full of light. She had to be.

He curled up on his side, and as he gave in to the call of sleep he thought of his mother and all the wonderful moments that they had shared. For the first time since her death, he didn’t think of smoke and ash and that horrible moment when he’d lost her forever. He thought only of happy times and the warmth of his mother’s embrace.

 

 

A hand—warm. gentle—brushed the hair from Vlad’s still-closed eyes. Following its light touch was Otis’s voice, equally as caring. “Vladimir, I hate to wake you, but our guests have gone. We should get you home.”

Vlad rolled over, content to sleep, and mumbled, “Five more minutes, Dad.”

After a pause, Otis’s only reply was to cover Vlad with a soft blanket. As his footsteps faded out the door and down the hall, Vlad snuggled into his blanket and slipped back into a deep and restful slumber.

V
LAD SAT UP, STARTLED OUT OF SLEEP by the realization that his first day of school was today—his backpack, the clothes he wanted to wear, even his schedule was back at Nelly’s house, and he was still at his house, resting peacefully, dreaming of his mother. Rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes, he dragged himself out of bed and through the still-dark room, stumbled down the hallway and stairs, and yawned several hundred times before checking the time (4:36 A.M.). He scribbled Otis a note that said he’d see him at school later and ducked out the back door.

It didn’t take long for him to wind his way back to Nelly’s place, and he’d just stepped up onto the porch when he realized that he hadn’t given Joss a single thought on his walk. That slowed his steps a bit. He’d better learn to be a bit more careful, what with a slayer on the loose ... one who knew his address, Vlad thought with a shiver. He made his way inside and upstairs, took a quick shower, ran through his morning routine, and dressed. By the time he sat down to breakfast, the clock on the wall said that it was 5:44 A.M. For once in his life, Vlad was on time and not rushing to get out the door.

Actually, he was early and not exactly sure what to do to kill time. He wasn’t hungry in the least. He thought about playing some video games or watching television, but neither sounded very appealing in the wee hours of morning. So instead, he pulled out his journal and began jotting down all of his feelings about the impending day. He was feeling conflicted about Joss, apprehensive about Meredith, but mostly ... he was feeling lost. His life had changed dramatically over the past few years, ever since Otis had revealed himself to be not only a fellow vampire, but his uncle. Every moment since then had been full of surprises—not all of them good. And Vlad wasn’t sure he could take much more.

The very thought of everything he’d faced in his life was enough to make even the strongest man weep. Vlad thought he’d handled his troubles with as much strength as he could, given the immense pain he’d experienced—both physical and emotional. Losing his parents at a young age, being picked on and bullied by his peers, suffering broken bones and bruises, getting terrified out of his mind, hunted by both a slayer and vampires, technically killed, betrayed more than once, and brokenhearted. His life had sucked. But it was his, and nobody who mattered would judge him for shedding a few tears.

Glancing at the clock again, Vlad slipped his backpack over his shoulder and headed out the front door. Like clockwork, Henry pulled up in his new car, and Vlad slid into the front seat with a groan of envy. “I thought you were driving Melissa to school.”

Henry snapped, “I don’t have to be with her every second of every day.”

Vlad took a breath and made sure that anything that could possibly fuel Henry’s temper was absent from his voice. “What happened?”

Henry sighed, and his anger seemed to ebb out of him. “Girls, man. Just ... girls.”

Vlad nodded, as if he had any idea what Henry was talking about. He didn’t, but he thought it was important for Henry to feel like he could relate. “Hey, why are we driving anyway? The school is like four blocks away.”

The corner of Henry’s mouth rose in a smirk. “Dude. When you’ve got a car like this, you don’t walk anywhere.”

 

 

“Ohmigod!”

Joss grinned. There was a blur of pink and then Meredith was hugging him, hugging him so tight and close and happily around the neck that Joss’s head, along with his heart, almost burst. If he’d known what her reaction would have been to seeing him again, he would have dropped by the night he and his parents had pulled into town. He squeezed her and spun her around a little, chuckling. When he sat her back down on the ground, he was sorry to let her go. “Miss me much?”

Meredith beamed. “Only tons!”

“Wanna walk together?”

She looked down the street for a moment, and Joss knew just who she was looking for, so he put on his best smile and said, “Or should I get outta here before your boyfriend shows up?”

She shook her head, her chocolate curls bouncing this way and that, and adjusted her backpack on her shoulders. There was a look in her eyes that Joss couldn’t place, but he knew it wasn’t a good one. “Trust me, that’s not gonna be a problem.”

They started down the sidewalk together, walking side by side, heading toward the high school on their first day of their junior year. After a minute or two, Joss cleared his throat. Nudging her playfully, he tried to keep his tone light. “So why’d you stop e-mailing me, anyway? The last I heard, you were going to Freedom Fest last year and then ... nothing.”

Meredith shrugged, her mood slightly somber. “I’m sorry, Joss. I’ve just been in a really weird place lately. Ever since Vlad dumped me, I just—”

“Vlad dumped you?” There was a hopeful, pleased tone in his voice, one he tried desperately to counter with a sympathetic glance. “That’s awful. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, you can tell me.”

Meredith sighed, slowing her steps. “No, that’s just it.
Nothing
happened. One minute we were laughing and holding hands, the next he was pushing me away and telling me it was over.”