Ninth Grade Slays (23 page)

Vlad nodded, hoping the glint in Joss's eyes wasn't suspicion.

Joss smiled. "I'm impressed. You might have what it takes to be a slayer after all.”

The bell rang. Vlad forced a smile and led Joss out the door and down the hall to the locker room to change. “So what are you going to do?”

Joss thought for a second, then said, “Well, you said he drove toward Stokerton. I'll get my aunt to drop us off tomorrow afternoon and we'll go hunting.”

Vlad looked at Joss. He wasn't sure he could stomach seeing a fellow vampire murdered, even if it was D'Ablo. “We?”

“Well, yeah, Vlad. I mean, you know what it looks like. Besides, I want to show you how it's done. Not often do I get to show off my moves.” Joss winked at him, and Vlad felt immediately sick to his stomach. “I'll come over after dinner tonight and we can go over the details.”

Vlad nodded without speaking. As he opened the locker room door, Joss limped his way inside.

Vlad pushed the thought of watching another vampire die out of his mind for the rest of the day. When he got home that afternoon, the house was quiet—Nelly was working overtime at the hospital again. Vlad left his backpack on the floor and went upstairs. He searched the shelves of the library but found next to nothing on vampire slayers. Apparently the only myths around them had been captured by Bram Stoker. Vlad snorted. Where was Buffy's wisdom when you needed it?

He stepped into his bedroom and sat on the bed. His limbs were full of nervous energy. In just twenty-four hours, he'd be confronting D'Ablo again.

No
,
Vlad. Stop thinking that way.

Joss would be confronting D'Ablo. Vlad would be cowering behind a Dumpster and hoping that D'Ablo didn't see him.

You'd think that having managed to blow a hole through an attacking vampire would make a guy more confident, but the fact of the matter was that last year's events had scared the crap out of Vlad. He didn't enjoy killing. He didn't enjoy hurting anyone. Even if the person he was hurting was out for his blood.

He went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of blood from the freezer. Tearing it open with his teeth, he poured the sticky sweet liquid into a coffee mug, and then sat it in the microwave and pressed the one-minute button. After it beeped, Vlad pulled the cup out and blew the steam away before taking a healthy gulp.

Nelly wouldn't be home for another few hours. He had no real idea of when Joss would show up, but Vlad bet that he'd be along shortly after Nelly. So with nothing to do but algebra, Vlad settled down in front of the television with controller in hand. He'd take out his recent frustrations on the menacing alien king.

Several hours later, after having lost to the computer four times, Vlad tossed his controller on the floor and ran a stressed hand through his hair. Nelly walked through the door, carrying a bag of groceries. “Evening, dear. How was your day?”

Vlad bit his bottom lip in contemplation. On the one hand, he wanted to spill everything about Joss and D'Ablo to someone who might be able to protect him in some small way. On the other hand, he didn't want to get Nelly involved. D'Ablo was dangerous—too dangerous for Vlad's guardian. “Pretty uneventful.”

Out the front window, Vlad saw Joss step onto the porch. A moment later, he rang the bell. Vlad slipped his sneakers on.

“Nelly, I'm going to hang out with Joss for a while. I'll be back in about an hour.” Before she could answer, he was out the door, and he and Joss were walking down the street.

Joss seemed distant, distracted. By the time the conversation rolled around to vampires, they were headed toward the edge of town.

Vlad eyed Joss's backpack warily. “So, where are we going?”

“For a walk. I have an unexpected errand to run.” Joss pulled his shoulders back. Vlad was sure he saw Joss strut a little. “You'll have to stay out of sight during my rendezvous, but afterward I'll run through some maneuvers with you for tomorrow.”

They walked past the Barker farm and into the woods on the very edge of what the map called Bathory. Up the hill some, the trees broke into a clearing. At the center of it stood a man dressed in black.

D'Ablo.

Vlad froze. His heart picked up its pace and thumped hard enough against his ribs to propel him forward a step. Gripping Joss by the arm, Vlad tugged him behind a nearby tree and tried hard to think of a quick way to escape without being noticed. They could slip back down the hill without a word, but that would require Joss's total, unquestioning silence—something Vlad wasn't sure he could get without mind control or a really, really good explanation. Unless, of course, he put plan Solve All Vlad's Problems into effect a little early.

Joss yanked his arm away. “What are you doing?”

Vlad peeked around the tree at D'Ablo and back at Joss. A giant lump had formed in his throat, making it difficult to force out words. “You see that guy out there? He's the vampire.”

Joss rolled his eyes and stepped from behind the tree. To Vlad's horror, Joss's movement caught D'Ablo's attention. Vlad yanked on Joss's arm again, but Joss shook him off. “Vlad, no offense, but I'm a slayer. I think I know how to spot a vampire. Besides . . .”

Joss waved to D'Ablo, who nodded in return.

Vlad looked from Joss to D'Ablo and back. Something was very wrong.

Joss offered a comforting smile to Vlad. “He's the guy who hired me.”

Vlad looked back at D'Ablo, who was smiling calmly. A slight snarl raised on D'Ablo's lip, so subtly that Vlad was certain Joss hadn't seen it. He glanced at Joss—poor, unsuspecting Joss—and knew that if he didn't do something, Joss would be D'Ablo's next meal. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the clearing, keeping his eyes on D'Ablo the whole time. “You hired a slayer?”

D'Ablo's lips curled into a cruel smile. “I had no choice. Believe me, boy, I would relish taking my revenge directly. But you see, our little brush last year left me scarred, which stole the council presidency from me. Last year, killing you would have been Elysian justice. This year, as the council now insists that if you are indeed a vampire, you are to be interviewed and then tried, a justified murder of you by my own hand without the council's consent would be illegal. If I ever hope to regain my presidency—and I will; that force is already in motion—I can't go breaking the highest law by killing my own kind. That would condemn me to death— assuming the council ever consents that you are one of us. And I rather enjoy living.”

Vlad cast a glance at D'Ablo's stomach, remembering the hole and the sound of a thousand spiders as he'd watched it heal closed. “So the Lucis . . .”

“Yes. It's the epitome of weapons against vampirekind. I was fortunate. Had you actually known what it was capable of last year, and had you aimed any higher, we might not be engaging in this conversation. Of course, if it weren't for your Pravus blood, I'd be scarred and wounded for life. Un-whole.” D'Ablo's eyes were haunted for a moment. Then his features lightened, and the corner of his mouth rose in bemusement. His eyes sparkled some in the moonlight. “It seems I owe you some gratitude. The blood of the Pravus has enormous healing capabilities.”

“I'm not the Pravus.” Vlad's voice wavered—even he didn't believe his words anymore.

D'Ablo clucked his tongue. “Oh, I believe that you are. Surely even you can't deny the possibility.”

Vlad's heart sank. It was possible, no matter how much he wanted to deny that possibility.

Vlad weighed his words carefully before wetting his lips and speaking. “If I am the Pravus, that means I'm a vampire. So, why aren't you taking me in to be interviewed and tried for my crimes? Or do you plan to capture me and harvest my blood?”

D'Ablo raised a sharp eyebrow. “No. I have no plans to capture you. I cannot kill you by my hand, but by a wayward slayer's hand, I can. It's really quite simple. I must prove that you are the Pravus, and the only way to do that is to do what I can to kill you. You have what I want, and trying you before the council won't give it to me.”

With a nervous shudder, Vlad met D'Ablo's eyes. “What do you want?”

Taking a step closer, a wicked smile crossed D'Ablo's face. “Ultimately? To take your place as the Pravus. But for that, I require three specific items . . . and, of course, your life.”

Vlad took a step back but didn't speak. His heart had become eerily quiet, as if by not making any sudden movements, it could escape being ripped from his chest.

D'Ablo chuckled, low and metallic. “If you are the Pravus, as I believe that you are, I will require your life to perform a very special ritual. First, of course, I must locate the precise instructions for performing the last part of the ritual. If you manage to survive tonight, I'll be back to collect you. After all, I'm ill equipped to care for a prisoner until the time when I discover the passage I'm seeking. It may take years. Though I hope it will be much sooner.

“It's not a proven method, of course. But texts that I've studied over the years insist that once the ceremony is complete, I will be the one to reign over vampirekind and to enslave the human race, and you . . . you shall rot.” He paused then, as if letting the enormity of Vlad's situation sink in. Then he offered a nod to Joss, who'd been standing strangely quiet this entire time. Almost, Vlad thought curiously, as if he were spellbound. “Our dear slayer here will try to take your life in a moment. If you live, we will have proven beyond all doubt that you are the Pravus. And the naysayers, the millions of vampires who insist that the prophecy is nothing but a fairy tale, will at last become believers. Believers who will be forced to follow me as the new Pravus once I complete a ceremony that is already in the works. They will obey my law, my customs, without question. No more councils, paperwork, difficulty. I will rule over all vampires with an iron fist.” His chest rose and fell quickly in excited breaths. Then, as if snapping out of his delusion, D'Ablo said, “If you die, I was wrong about you—a shame, really, but nothing I'll feel condolences for. Either way, it is a win-win situation for me.”

Vlad's mouth was completely dry. Even if he survived tonight, D'Ablo was determined to kill him. He had to end this. Running away wasn't an option. Unless he ran long enough to get Otis's help. But that would require an escape plan. And not just from D'Ablo.

His eyes flitted to Jasik and back. Jasik was standing behind D'Ablo.

Running his hand over his pocket, Vlad relaxed some. He still had the Lucis. He could end this all with a touch . . . and good aim. But he needed time, and distance. Slowly, he lifted his foot from the ground and took a step back. “Otis said that you and my dad were friends.”

“We were. But Tomas is dead. What greater gift can I give him than to send him his son?”

“How'd you know Joss would bring me here?” Vlad risked another step. Two more and he'd have the distance he needed to put a big hole right through D'Ablo and his sordid plan. As for what to do about Jasik and Joss after that happened . . . he had no idea.

“You act as if planting suggestions in the mind of a human is complicated.” A smirk danced on D'Ablo's lips. “It isn't. Neither is blocking from his thoughts the fact that Jasik and I are of the same species that he is hunting, or keeping him in check during our little reunion.”

“So why did you wait all year long? It's not like Bathory is a metropolis. I'm not exactly hard to find.” Another step. One more and D'Ablo's holier-than-thou attitude would be justified.

“Though you are of the utmost importance,
sire
”—Vlad thought he detected a note of sarcasm, but it was difficult to tell—“being fully healed is not enough to regain my presidency. However, if I take the council nine months of logs documenting the procedures and locations of the Slayer Society, the council will quickly warm to me, I assure you.”

Vlad snorted and slowly lifted his foot. “Don't you find any irony in a vampire sucking up?”

D'Ablo's pinched expression oozed impatience. “Enough of this. It's time to face your destiny, Vladimir Tod.”

Vlad reached into his pocket and withdrew the Lucis. He held it up and pointed it straight at D'Ablo's chest. “Not so fast.”

D'Ablo parted his lips and laughed. His laughter was low, strange, and chilling, as if he knew something that Vlad didn't.

Vlad ran his thumb across the glyph at the end of the Lucis and waited for a bright white light to shoot out of the other end. But nothing happened.

Vlad tried again, but the Lucis refused to respond. It was as if the tool were broken.

D'Ablo's laughter grew louder still. “You should have listened to your uncle's warning concerning taking the Lucis with you everywhere, Vladimir. For all you know, some rogue vampire could easily steal his way into your room one day while you were studying human biology, and pluck it from atop your dresser. And if he was cunning, he might replace the real Lucis with a fake one so as not to raise suspicions.”

Jasik grinned broadly and held up the Lucis, the real Lucis. Vlad's heart raced as he dropped the fake Lucis to the ground. A wave of panic threatened to sweep over him. He reached over, placed his hand on Joss's shoulder, and whispered, “Joss, do you have that case in your backpack still?”

But Joss wasn't listening. He had his eyes locked on Vlad's wrist.

Vlad pulled his hand back. His tattoo was glowing brightly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure what he could say to explain the strange, glowing mark. His heart had sunk deep into his stomach and had taken his voice box with it.