Ninth Grade Slays (21 page)

But she didn't open her door.

Vlad crept quietly down the stairs and out the front door. One of these days, Nelly would catch him sneaking out, and he'd be grounded for an eternity.

Outside, the moon had painted the ground blue and the trees an eerie, lifeless gray. It was warm enough for Vlad to forgo his jacket, but by the time he reached downtown, Vlad wished he'd brought it anyway. There was something oddly comforting about heavy denim against your skin. And comfort was one thing he wasn't finding on his walk to the cemetery.

He hadn't made this walk in an entire year, but he'd repeated this same trip three times now, once a year on the anniversary of the accident. He'd tried coming during the day, but there were always people about. So instead, Vlad chose to pay his respects just a few minutes after midnight, so that he and his parents could spend some time alone, reminiscing about better times, and so that no one would be there to see Vlad cry.

Casting glances over his shoulder every few seconds to be certain neither Eddie Poe nor Joss were following him, Vlad made his way to the edge of town and stopped just in front of the cemetery gates. Short brick walls sat at either side of the entrance, and twisted black wrought iron arched over the dirt path that led inside. At the top of the arch, bold letters identified what lay ahead as LONG ROAD CEMETERY. Vlad had no idea where the name had come from. There wasn't a Long Road in any part of Bathory. But, he thought with a gulp, it certainly was an honest, if not somewhat morbid, name for a place where people bury their dead.

Vlad took a deep breath, brushed his hair from his face with a shaking hand, and stepped forward into the cemetery with his eyes downcast.

Nothing was worse than this pain. Not facing D'Ablo last year. Not being attacked by Jasik. Not being away from Otis. Not running from Joss. Not hiding from Eddie. Nothing.

Halfway up the main path, Vlad paused to look around. The cemetery was overgrown with weeds, and dead ivy and moss hung from the tree trunks. To his left stood a large block-shaped tombstone. Atop it sat a stone woman. In her hand was a wreath of some sort. In the moonlight, she seemed alive, and with a shiver, Vlad waited for her to move.

To his immense relief, she didn't.

To his right was a gravestone that looked like a book, and beside it, one topped with a statue in the shape of a small lamb. Moss had grown over the lamb's tiny nose, and in the moonlit darkness it looked like some weird disease had befallen the animal. Vlad turned his head and saw the large, twisted oak tree that marked where his parents' graves lay. He stepped onto the grass, careful not to cross over the graves. Partly, because it seemed pretty rude to stomp all over someone's remains . . . particularly someone you hadn't even known. And partly, Vlad gulped, because he'd seen too many movies where the dead would come back to life.

They were just movies, and Vlad knew that. Pure fiction. But nevertheless, he couldn't bring himself to cross over the graves, for fear someone . . . or something . . . would rip through the earth and latch onto his ankle.

He took slow, tentative steps toward the tree, sweeping the stones with his eyes. At the base of the tree he saw it: his parents' tombstone.

It was a small stone, tasteful, simple. At each of the top corners ivy leaves were engraved, pointing down to the inscription: IN HONORED MEMORY OF TOMAS AND MELLINA TOD. Below that were their birthdates, the date they were married, and the date of their demise. At the very bottom was a simple inscription, one that Nelly was brave enough to choose for the stone when Vlad had not been: WE'LL MISS YOU
.

Vlad knelt before the stone, stretching his hand out to brush away the dead leaves and dirt that had accumulated over the past year. He dropped his gaze to the ground and tried hard not to think about the last time he saw them, or the fact that their bodies were lying several feet below in the cold, hallowed ground. When he looked back at the stone, he read the inscription again and cleared his throat. “People keep saying it'll get easier.”

Hot tears welled in Vlad's eyes. He brushed them away with the back of his hand and took a slow, deep breath. “People are stupid.”

Vlad bit his bottom lip gently and shook his head. “It never gets easier, missing you. And sometimes I wonder if it ever will.”

A small animal raced out of the nearby woods and paused to chew some freshly sprouted clover. Vlad watched it for a moment in deep thought. He sat that way, mulling over the memory of the day he'd found them dead, going over all of the details he could recall of that horrible moment and the days after, until his feet had finally tingled with numbness, forcing him to sit on the ground. After what seemed like forever, he stood and brushed the grass and dirt from his jeans. He ran a caring hand over the top of their stone and let the tears come. They rolled down his cheeks in streams. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I turned off your alarm. If there was any way I could take it back, I would.”

His shoulders shook as his silent tears gave way to painful sobs. After a while, he dried his face with his sleeve and took a few breaths, squelching his sadness for the moment. When he'd calmed himself down, he whispered, “But I can't. And I have to learn to live with that.”

Once he left the cemetery, he walked straight home, all the while trying not to think about his parents anymore. Instead he focused on Joss. Clearly Vlad had to do something about his slayer friend. And avoiding Joss or trusting him with his deepest secret was out of the question, so his options were pretty limited. It came down to two choices, and neither seemed very appealing.

He could either stand up to Joss, attacking first, gaining the upper hand—and, with luck, scaring Joss off for good, or he could manipulate Joss by assisting in his search for the vampire of Bathory. A few wrong turns initiated by Vlad might just be the trick to throw Joss off the trail. But the idea of betraying a friend left a terrible taste in Vlad's mouth. What was that quote about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? It didn't matter. It was good advice, all the same.

Still, when it came down to Vlad's life or his friendship with Joss, the choice was pretty easy to make.

Eddie . . . well, Eddie was another complication altogether.

Vlad moved between some houses and came out across the street from his old house—the one he'd lived in from the time he was a baby until he moved out to live with Nelly. He glanced back over his shoulder, completely baffled as to how he'd ended up here when he was sure he'd been heading straight home.

The house looked so hollow in the moonlight, alone, empty. Vlad wondered if he'd ever live there again. The house was legally his, the deed held by Nelly for him until he turned eighteen. Sometimes he daydreamed about fixing up the house and living there with a family of his own someday.

Sometimes he wished it would just shrivel up and disappear, folding in on itself until it was no more. But then he'd remember some small detail about his parents, and the guilty tears would come, washing away all of those dark wishes and reminding him that there was a reason the house still stood. It was a symbol of his family—and even death couldn't take them from him.

Across the street, a man was walking toward Vlad's old house. The man stopped and turned back, as if scanning the shadows for any sign he was being watched. Vlad ducked behind a tree, waited for a few seconds, and then dared a glance.

Vlad knew that man. It was Jasik—the vampire who'd bitten him.

Jasik stepped up to the porch, opened the door, and went inside. The door had only just latched before Vlad bolted across the street. His heart was hammering away at his ribs, but something deeper pushed him on, something darker. He had to see what Jasik was doing inside his old house, just had to.

Because he'd hoped that his last encounter with Jasik would be the extent of their encounters, and clearly, it wasn't.

Vlad crept around back and peeked through the dining room window. The house looked empty. Jasik must have gone upstairs.

With a trembling hand, Vlad opened the back door and closed it behind him. Every horror movie he'd ever seen said that this was a bad idea, but he crept forward anyway and ignored the pounding within his chest. The entire house smelled like ash and soot, even though the fire that had taken his parents from him had been confined to their bedroom alone. Vlad tried hard not to look at anything but his feet, but he failed miserably. His dad's briefcase was on the dining room table, netted down with a layer of cobwebs and dust. Inside, everything would be in pristine condition, untouched, despite the years. Like going back in time—the same way Vlad went back in time every time he entered his old house.

Vlad padded silently across the wood floors and up the stairs, where he listened closely for a hint of Jasik's movements. Down the hall, in his father's study, he could hear Jasik moving around. It sounded as if he was opening and closing the drawers of the desk. Vlad snuck into the hall for a closer look.

Jasik stepped abruptly out of the study and moved down the hall to the master bedroom.

Vlad lurched to a halt and got ready to bolt, certain he'd been spotted. To his amazement, Jasik entered the bedroom without as much as a glance at him. He let out a sigh and took a few careful steps down the hall, then hid in one of the darker corners, beside a large grandfather clock. The door to the bedroom was open, so Vlad watched Jasik dart about, dropping things that he must have brought with him into a leather satchel. Jasik cursed loudly, but it wasn't in English. The tone alone was enough to let Vlad know he was swearing. Vlad wondered if the language he spoke might be Elysian code. But it didn't matter. What mattered was
why
Jasik had sworn.

Jasik stomped about the room, still grumbling under his breath in that strange language. He ran his fingers along various sections of the wall, and then returned to throwing his belongings angrily into his bag. The sight might have been comical if a vial of blood weren't poking out from Jasik's shirt pocket—a vial he was pretty sure he'd seen Jasik spit his blood into after attacking him in front of Nelly's house three months before. Vlad thought of pushing into Jasik's thoughts, but he was almost certain that would clue Jasik in to his presence. If Vlad could tell when Otis was trying to read his mind, surely Jasik would know if Vlad dared to try.

Jasik slipped his jacket back on and picked up his bag. He paused for a moment, as if listening.

Vlad cupped his hand over his mouth and kept very, very still.

Jasik turned toward the hall, slowly.

Vlad stiffened. He'd been caught. There was no way Jasik would let him leave now, with the rest of his blood intact. Still, he didn't move, didn't breathe.

Jasik stepped into the hall and paused near the large clock. Notes from Beethoven's Fifth Symphony erupted from his pocket. He withdrew a cell phone and placed it to his ear. “Yes?”

A pause as he listened.

“I have the boy's blood, but not the Lucis. I'm headed back to Elysia now.” He turned away from Vlad and lowered his voice. “It hardly matters. From what I read in Tomas's notes, it's not even in Bathory.”

A pause, then a sigh. “I had thought Tomas's son might lead me to it, but clearly he has no knowledge of it, so there's no need to prolong his life any further.”

Jasik mumbled something that Vlad couldn't hear and then pushed a button and shoved the phone back into his pocket. With his bag in hand, he descended the stairs without a word. Vlad listened and heard the front door slam shut. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Only temporary relief, though. Because Jasik had been talking about killing him.

After a brief search in the study, Vlad paused just outside his parents' bedroom door. He hadn't been in there since the day they died. But if Jasik had left some sort of clue behind as to who he was and what he wanted with Vlad's blood, then now wasn't the time for painful memories. Vlad stepped inside and forced his eyes about the charred remains of the room.

Silvery moonlight was peeking through the boards on the room's only window. It provided just enough light for Vlad to have a decent view of his parents' room and the remains of the bed they'd once slept in.

He saw nothing at all that seemed out of place or unusual, but something was definitely going on with Jasik, and Vlad needed to know what it was.

Even if it meant taking a trip into the heart of Elysia without Otis there to guide or protect him.

20

AN ENEMY REVEALED

VLAD FOCUSED ON the center of his body and willed his feet to leave the ground. Within seconds, he was hovering in front of Henry's bedroom window.

Henry was on his bed, snoring loudly.

Vlad tapped the glass. “Henry.”

Henry snorted and rolled onto his side. His hand was dangling off the side of the bed.

Vlad knocked a knuckle hard against the window frame. “Henry, wake up!”

Henry sat up at once and rubbed his eyes. After a brief look around, he saw Vlad out the window and staggered over, stifling a yawn. “Hey . . . I've seen this movie. Vampire floats up to the window. Guy invites him in. Vampire sucks the guy's blood, and he turns into one of the vampire's minions.”

Henry opened the window and leaned on the window-sill, offering a weary but bemused smile to Vlad. “No way am I inviting you in.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “Dude, just move over so I can come inside.”

Henry stepped back and stretched his arms overhead, suppressing another yawn. “Ya know, some of us sleep when the sun goes down.”

Vlad climbed through the window. “Yeah, but some of us are out uncovering schemes that involve Elysia . . . and my blood.”