Ninth Grade Slays (6 page)

Death.

Glancing at the clock, he took a moment to reread Otis's latest letter.

Dearest Vladimir
,

My apologies. This letter will be brief
,
as I am waitingto board a plane to Paris as I write this. I will send a longer letter soon
,
but for now my time is stretched.

I was disappointed to hear that you have had only minimal success in manipulating people's thought processes
,
but I cannot help but question whether or not you are really putting forth an effort to control them
,
Vlad. I understand the difficulties that come with attempting to control someone close to you
,
but strangersshould be fairly easy to control. Please continue to practice
,
and I will see what assistance I can find on this matter.

Please tell Nelly that her last letter was greatly appreciated
,
and that I am saddened that I have no time to respond at present
,
but that I will soon. I promise.

Yours in Eternity
,

Vlad grabbed his plastic sickle and headed downstairs, where Nelly was filling a large plastic cauldron with gummy eyeballs and flavored wax fangs. Vlad looked into the cauldron and groaned. “Do you have to give out all the fangs? Can't you save some for me?”

Nelly chuckled and dropped another handful of candy in the cauldron. "You have enough fangs.”

The doorbell rang and Vlad opened it to Henry, who was dressed as a zombie—complete with missing arm and rotting skin—and Joss, who was wearing slacks, a button-down shirt, and an unbuttoned vest. Vlad raised an eyebrow. “Joss, I thought you were dressing up.”

Henry smacked Joss on the back of the head. “I told you! Go on, tell him what you're supposed to be.”

Joss's eyes grew wide at Henry's disgust, and he spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I'm an anthropologist.”

Vlad looked at Henry, who rolled his eyes. “Dude, can't you tell people that you're a serial killer or something? How am I gonna get Melissa to dance with me if my cousin's an anthropologist?”

Joss shrugged. “Maybe she'll think anthropologists are hot.”

Nelly chimed in with that parental tone that she used whenever she meant business. “I assume that there's no big surprise at midnight this year.”

Vlad wrinkled his brow. “No. Why?”

Nelly smiled. “Good. Home by eleven, Vladimir.”

Vlad rolled his eyes, but he didn't dare question Nelly. Instead, he led Henry and Joss out the front door and down the street. They were halfway to Matthew's house when Vlad noticed a trio of nervous trick-or-treaters rushing to the other side of the street. After a moment of curious confusion, he recognized the one in the middle and felt a rush of guilt at having scared the kid last year, all for want of impressing Henry and the promise of sticky sweet treats.

Henry nudged Vlad with his elbow. “You okay?”

Vlad adjusted the hood over his head and shrugged. “Yeah, fine.”

At the end of the street, cars were pausing in front of an excessively decorated house. It looked like Matthew's mom had gone all out this year. Standing on the porch was a group of girls. At the center stood a sparkly red devil, complete with glitter-covered horns. Meredith brushed her hair from her face with one of the tines of her plastic pitchfork. Vlad felt his heart punch his insides, as if it might tear free at any moment. He placed his hand against his chest, just in case.

Henry smirked. “Meredith looks pretty tonight.”

Meredith did look pretty. Breathtaking, in fact. But that didn't mean Vlad was any closer to having any clue what to say to her.

Unfortunately, Joss had also noticed how great Meredith looked. “Wow . . .”

Both Vlad and Henry shot Joss a warning look, but he either ignored them or didn't notice, because he moved forward and stepped up onto the porch. He was smiling at Meredith, who in turn smiled at Henry, when Henry grabbed Joss by the sleeve and pulled him into the house. Vlad ducked behind them and went inside as well.

Maybe next year he'd save them all a lot of trouble and come as the invisible man.

Matthew's parents had set up most of the party in their newly refurbished basement—a large room with two couches, a pool table, and a dartboard. His father had plugged in some DJ equipment and, thankfully, was playing what must have been music from Matthew's CD collection when the boys made their way downstairs.

Black and orange streamers draped overhead in long, twisted lines. Black and orange balloons were floating everywhere and bumping against the ceiling with every thump of bass. A few kids were dancing, but most were hovering around the punch bowl and laughing. Every few seconds, someone would wave frantically and shout Henry's name. Vlad wondered how long it would take for Henry to abandon him, but to Henry's credit, he stuck fairly close to Vlad and Joss for the next hour.

Unfortunately, popularity is a lot like gravity. There's no use fighting it. So Vlad understood when Henry mumbled that he'd be right back, which was code for
I'll see you after the party
, and disappeared into the growing crowd. It didn't take long before Joss disappeared into the crowd as well, leaving Vlad alone in a room full of about thirty people.

It was hard sometimes, trying to discern whether Henry had continued to be his friend over the years despite their differences because Henry really liked him, or because Henry felt a weird bound-by-blood, his-duty-as-a-drudge connection to him. Vlad didn't like to think about it much. Because if Henry wasn't his real friend, if all the stuff they'd gone through was nothing but some vampire-controlling hoax, then he really didn't want to know.

Still . . . it did make him wonder sometimes.

Vlad finished his punch, wishing the red liquid were more than just syrupy, sugary water, and navigated his way through the crowd until he was upstairs and outside, in the cool quiet of evening. All of the laughter, talking, and noise was going to give him a headache if he didn't take in the revelry in small doses. He stepped off the porch and walked around the side of the house.

A gawky, skinny boy with an old 35 mm camera hanging around his neck was sitting on a picnic table bench in the backyard. Vlad considered ducking back around the front of the house, but the boy looked positively miserable, and Vlad knew what it felt like when you were struggling to fit in. He moved closer and managed a smile. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie barely lifted his head to glance at Vlad. His voice was soft and hushed. “Hi, Vlad.”

If there were a more unpopular kid in the town of Bathory than Vladimir Tod, it was Eddie Poe. Eddie's parents were pretty well off as far as money went, but still they insisted on buying Eddie's clothes from the thrift store and couldn't, it seemed, pay enough attention to their son to see he should be wearing clothes two sizes bigger than what they were buying. Eddie's glasses had been cracked for as long as Vlad could recall, and he was constantly cradling what was obviously his most cherished possession, his camera. Vlad nodded to it. “Get any good pictures of the party?”

Eddie shrugged. “I haven't gone inside yet. My mom made me come. I wanted to stay home.”

Vlad nodded sympathetically. He could see why Eddie hadn't wanted to come. It was tough attempting to be social with people who'd rather pretend you didn't exist—especially when it was a Halloween party and your parents wouldn't even spring for a costume. Vlad slid the robe over his head and laid his plastic sickle on the table. “Man, this thing is hot.” He raised an eyebrow at Eddie. “Hey, you wouldn't want to wear it for a while, would ya? Maybe keeping an eye on my sickle for me?”

A spark lit up in Eddie's eyes, but it was quickly followed by suspicion. “I guess. But . . . why are you being nice to me?”

Vlad smiled. Eddie's suspicious reaction had been expected. After all, almost everyone at school picked on Eddie, so he'd been conditioned to expect that every act of kindness was a mean trick in disguise. “Nice to you? You'd be doing me a favor. I might melt in that thing.”

Vlad swore he could see tears lurking in Eddie's eyes as Eddie slipped the robe on. Eddie picked up the sickle and strode bravely toward the house. He paused and looked back at Vlad. “Thanks.”

Vlad scratched his wrist and shrugged, still smiling, and sat on the bench. “No problem.”

He waited for Eddie to leave, but Eddie's feet seemed frozen to the spot. His eyes were locked on Vlad's.

Vlad raised an eyebrow. “Eddie? Something wrong?” But judging by the horrified look in Eddie's eyes, Vlad didn't need to ask. Something was wrong.
Very
wrong, judging by the way Eddie's chest was rising and falling in startled breaths.

Vlad was about to ask what, when Eddie whispered aloud the three words that had haunted Vlad's dreams for many years. "W-what are you?”

Vlad shrugged and tried hard to keep his tone even, despite the fact that he was completely freaking out on the inside. He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. Nothing. His fangs hadn't betrayed him. It was somewhat comforting, but not enough to calm the racing of his heart. “What are you talking about?”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the house, as if judging the small distance between him and safety. "Y-you're n-not human. Are you?”

Vlad forced a laugh, but it didn't even sound convincing to him. “Not human? Man, Eddie, what did they put in that punch?”

Eddie gripped his camera tightly, but, Vlad noticed, he didn't run. “You're some kind of monster, aren't you? My mom, she says monsters aren't real. But I saw one last year, and now . . . now I'm seeing another one, aren't I?”

Inside Vlad's chest, his heart was slamming against his ribs. The flight half of his fight-or-flight response was on the verge of winning out but hadn't quite yet. Vlad kept his cool. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Your eyes. They turned purple for a minute. That's not normal, not human.” Eddie took a shuddering breath and released it. “So what are you?”

Oh no.

How did his eyes flash without being triggered? Vlad glanced down at his wrist and briefly recalled scratching it with his other hand. Great. Now he was going to have to worry about touching his own tattoo, too? Touching his mark, his name in Elysian code, had never triggered the weird purple-eye response before, and hadn't ever since the day Otis drank his blood and infused Vlad with his essence, burning the tattoo into Vlad's tender flesh. Why would it start now?

“I'll tell you what I am, Eddie. I'm not amused. You should be careful what kind of things you accuse people of.” Vlad met his eyes, hoping his sincerity would be enough to convince Eddie.

Eddie's eyes grew wide with fear once again. “Why? What are you gonna do to me?”

“Nothing, Eddie.” Vlad shook his head. His heart had tired of raging against his insides and had settled into his stomach in defeat. “Look, I think you need to talk to your mom about canceling the sci-fi channel. I'm just a kid, like you. Now leave me alone, okay?”

A full, silver moon hung above, and when Vlad lay back on the bench, it was perfectly framed by a thousand shimmering stars. He listened to Eddie's footsteps as they retreated inside and sighed in relief. Music drifted out from the house, but it was soft enough at this distance for Vlad to ignore it. He shut out his thoughts, not wanting to really think about anything but the moon and stars. A cool breeze brushed his cheeks, and Vlad closed his eyes.

What was he going to do about Eddie? He couldn't tell Nelly or Otis—they worried enough as it was. All he could hope for was that Eddie would wake up tomorrow and realize that his eyes had played tricks on him on the spookiest night of the year. After all, it was pretty easy to get freaked out on Halloween, what with all the stories going around this time of year about werewolves, ghosts, and vampires.

Vlad swallowed nervously.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Tom.” At Bill's first word, Vlad opened his eyes and sat up, but Bill shoved him back down on the bench with an open, heavy hand.

Above him, quickly blocking his view of the moon, was Bill's bulbous head, grinning with an evil glint in his eye. Joining him after a second was a sinister-looking Tom. “You're gonna get it now, goth boy.”

Before Vlad could blink, Bill yanked him off the bench and held him aloft. Vlad struggled and tried to kick free. A strangled, “Let me go, dorkwad” managed to escape his throat amid a myriad of curses. Bill shook him, and he glanced at the house, wondering how likely it would be they'd get interrupted by one of Matthew's parents. But inside, the party raged on, and no one seemed to notice that Vlad was in trouble. Serious trouble.

Before Vlad knew what was coming, he felt the meaty thud of Bill's fist against his jaw.

It didn't hurt. Not really. But Vlad's face grew very warm and his jaw tingled with something that might have been pain if it hadn't been for his rising temper. Wriggling out of Bill's grip, Vlad dropped to the ground and tried to stand, but Tom stepped closer and punched him hard in the stomach.

That
hurt.

And for a moment, Vlad couldn't breathe.

When the air finally returned to his lungs, he coughed hard and struggled to stand. He'd almost made it to his feet when Bill slugged him in the eye. Behind him—or somewhere, Vlad couldn't be sure where exactly—Tom said, “That's what you get, goth boy! That's what you get!”

Vlad cupped his hand over his eye. Inside his mouth, his fangs sprang from his gums, slicing into his already bleeding tongue. Vlad's stomach rumbled. His throat felt dry, parched with an almost uncontrollable thirst. He kept his mouth closed and glared with his uncovered eye at his attackers. He was pretty sure he could duck by Tom and make it to the sidewalk, but what then? Those jerks punched each other for fun and could run faster than you'd think two refrigerators could move. He needed a plan. And he needed it fast.