Henry grinned and shoved a box into his hand. It looked like it had been wrapped in a grocery sack and tied with twine. “Open this one. It's from me.”
Vlad beamed at him and tore off the paper, revealing something that made his jaw drop. There were two Xbox games. One was
Race to Armageddon 3: The Final Lap
and the other was a game called
When Vampires Attack!
A
quick glimpse of the back of the box revealed that players assumed vampire roles, and whoever attacked the most victims won. Vlad laughed loudly, and Henry joined him. Nelly chuckled. Along with the rest of the crowd, Meredith simply smiled, not understanding just how hysterical it was that Vlad would be playing a game as a vampire.
For the next two hours, Vlad opened gifts and thanked guests and ate food and laughed. And finally, once he'd said good night to Henry and Meredith and the other guests and closed the door behind them, Nelly approached him with one final present. It was a thick parchment envelope. On the front in Otis's scratchy handwriting was
For Vladimir on his fifteenth birthday.
Nelly smiled a sad smile. “Otis left this with me at the end of the summer. He said he'd try to be here in person to give it to you, but if he couldn't, he still wanted to make sure you got it.”
Vlad didn't open the letter right away. In fact, he tucked it into his back pocket. As he and Nelly cleaned up the aftereffects of the party, he took it out every few minutes to look at Otis's handwriting and wonder where his uncle was and if he was thinking about the party that he had missed. More so, if he was thinking about his nephew, who missed him more than he could say.
Finally, after Nelly went to bedânot before reminding Vlad that it was okay to stay up late on his birthday, but to remember that he did have school to face in the morningâ Vlad slipped on his jacket and stole out into the night, clutching Otis's letter to his chest.
He zipped by trees and houses, casting careful, scrutinizing glances all around him, trying to make certain Eddie and his new camera were nowhere to be found. And once he reached the belfry, he floated effortlessly up to the ledge and stepped inside, staring at the envelope as he plopped down in his dad's comfy leather chair.
The envelope was wrinkled in several places, and torn slightly on one end. Vlad read Otis's handwriting once more before opening it slowly and withdrawing the letter inside. With the moonlight acting as his candle, he read.
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Dearest Vladimir,
It is with great regret that you are reading this letter, because it means that I was unable to return to Bathory for one of the most important days in a young man's lifeâyour birthday. Please accept my deepest apologies and know that I am thinking of you always. If my tone reads as a troubled one, it is because, at the moment I am writing this, you are upstairs, fast asleep, and in but a day I shall leave you yet again. It pains me, you see, as I have grown accustomed to our time together. But D'Ablo will not stop until he finds and performs this insane ritual that he spoke of last year, and so it is up to me to stop him by finding it first.
I won't lie to you. It may be a long search. Very long, indeed, as I haven't the slightest inkling where to start.
It has been yearsâif I am honest, it has been centuriesâsince I celebrated a birthday. Such celebrations are largely human in nature, you see. And it has been even longer since I celebrated a teen age, so I was lost on what gift I could give to you that you would truly enjoy. Initially, I had decided to purchase you something thrilling, like a dirt bike or perhaps a car, though your driver's license is yet a year away. But upon Nelly's input, I have decided to gift you with the one thing your life is truly lacking.
I shall gift you with the story of how your father and I met . . . and how we became vampires.
Â
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Vlad tore his eyes from the page long enough to release an anxious breath. At first, he was disappointed that Nelly had talked Otis out of that carânot that he could drive it yetâbut this present was much, much better. He grabbed the lighter from the bookshelf and lit the candle next to the chair, illuminating the belfry with a soft glow. Then he sank deep into the chair and continued reading.
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Your father was born in a small shire just outside of London in 1709. I was born in a small French village just a year later. Our friendship began in the Bastille prison in Paris, France, in 1743.
Now, if you've managed to stay awake during history class, you probably realize that only prisoners of stature were held in the Bastille. No, your father and I were not notable in any way, really. He was the only surviving son of a wealthy English aristocrat, and I was a French horse farmer. But upon being accused of a crimeâand to this day, I know not which crimes we were accused ofâwe were brought to France, to the Bastille, to await death. We lived there for three years and spoke every day, though we could not look each other in the eye. Our cells were side by side. But when Tomas stretched his hand between the bars I could glimpse the signet ring on his little finger. It was made from black onyx. When I asked him about it, he said that the ring was a symbol of his heritage and all that he was. It was all that he had, and though our imprisoners might take our freedom and our dignityâand eventually, our livesâthey could never take that from him.
Then, on the eve of my thirty-fourth birthday, a man came to visit. He offered Tomas and me our freedom. But so much more. He offered us eternity. Suspicious, I refused at first, but then Tomas agreed. The man went into Tomas's cell, and all I heard was a scuffle, then slurping sounds, then silence. It was all I could do not to faint from fear when our visitor entered my cell.
He'd killed Tomas, I was certain, and so I had nothing else to live for. If not this man, it would be another to take my life, and I no longer had endless conversations with my new friend to keep me from losing my mind entirely. Let death come. Let it be quick.
But he didn't attack. Instead, he asked me again if I would come with him into forever.
From the next room, I heard Tomas's voice. It was but a whisper. “Come with me, Otis,” he said.
Though I hesitated, I eventually nodded to our guest and he leaped on me, biting into my neck. The rest is a blur. I passed out, but when I came to, I was in Siberia, and Tomas was at my side.
Fast-forward many, many years, to the day he told me of his plans to flee Elysia for the love of a human. The last thing he said to me was, “This ring is all that I am, Otis. But as it is a part of me, so are you.”
Then he handed me the signet ring . . . and walked out of my life forever.
Please take care of this ring, Vladimir. It belonged to your father, and it meant as much to himâand to meâas I am sure it will to you.
Yours in Eternity,
Otis
Vlad picked the envelope up again and tilted the open end over his cupped palm. Out tumbled a black ring made of stone, with a crest as its insignia. With tears brimming in his eyes, he slipped the small ring onto his pinkie. Despite the fact that he wasn't sure whether or not his uncle could hear him, Vlad reached out with his mind and said,
“ Thank you , Otis. This means more to me than any stupid car.”
Then he doused the candle, closed his eyes, and cried.
10
CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH
I
GNATIUS TIGHTENED HIS JAW AS HE WATCHED Tomas's son step out of the shadows near the high school and make his way down the sidewalk toward his home. He'd lost the boy for several hours, and only half expected he'd broken into the schoolâfor what purpose, he neither knew nor cared. What was important was that he'd found the boy again, and the sky was overcast, protecting him from the rays of the sun as they reflected off the moon.
He moved in behind the boy, licking anxious lips. As he'd done with his last prey, he'd grab him by a handful of hair and drag him into the darkness, taking his time peeling back the boy's flesh with his blade, making him suffer. It would be exquisite, and he could hardly wait to begin.
With every step, he closed the gap between them. The boy moved along at a casual pace, occasionally glancing to the left or the right, never seeming to think to check behind him. His posture screamed of awkwardness. Ignatius stretched his hand out, his fingers brushing against the boy's soft black hair.
But as the tresses slipped between his fingers, the clouds shifted, uncovering the moon. Ignatius moved as quickly and silently as he could, flying with vampiric speed, to the safety of a nearby shed. Cursing, he watched out the small window as the boy brushed the back of his head with his palm and looked back in wonderment, as if trying to identify just what or who had touched him. After a nervous pause, he hurried his steps. In a moment, he was out of Ignatius's line of sight.
Bitter fury boiled within the hunter. Fury that would only be tamed by Vladimir Tod's suffering.
11
THE PRICE OF A STOLEN MOMENT
E
DDIE WAS IN AN UNUSUALLY CHIPPER MOOD as he waved a photograph in front of Vlad's nose.
Vlad snatched the picture and took a look, bristling at the fact that it had come from Eddie. The image was dark but crisp. Vlad making his way down the sidewalk at night. Behind him by a matter of feet was a man. Vlad shrugged. It was no one he knew, probably some drunk out for a sobering stroll after a night at the town's only bar. “So?”
Eddie spoke in a singsong voice. “So it looks like I'm not your only shadow.”
Henry slammed his locker door and plucked the photo from Vlad's hand. He tossed it down the hallway Frisbee-style and glared at Eddie. “Fetch.”
With a scowl, Eddie walked off, stopping only to pluck his beloved picture from the floor.
Henry turned back to Vlad. “Anyway, you were saying?”
Vlad sighed and leaned up against his locker. He clutched his new journal in his hands. It had become his constant companion since his birthday a week and a half before. “Nelly seriously thinks I'm going to have Meredith for dinner.”
Henry shook his head. “ That's ridiculous.”
Vlad groaned. “I know!”
“Meredith is way too small for dinner. If anything, she'd be lunch, or maybe a big breakfast.”
“I'm serious, Henry. What am I gonna do?”
But suddenly Henry didn't seem very invested in the conversation. Melissa Hart walked by them, and with every step she took, Henry's frown deepened. Finally she disappeared into a nearby classroom, and Henry shut his locker, his shoulders sagging, his jovial demeanor subdued. “I don't know, Vlad. I really don't.”
Vlad deliberated for a moment whether Henry was answering his question or simply musing about his troubles with Melissa, but he didn't have long to speculate. Meredith stepped into view at the end of the hall, looking pretty as ever, and, with a wink, she gestured with a bent finger for him to follow her.
With a glance at Henry, he headed down the hall, barely taking the time to breathe. “See ya.”
Meredith opened up the janitor's closet. Raising an eyebrow, Vlad followed her inside.
It was dark, but Meredith's hands found his shoulders. “Hi.”
Vlad smiled. “You brought me into a broom closet to say hi?”
“No. I brought you here so I could do this.”
She pressed her soft lips against his, and Vlad felt like he was floating. In a blink, he realized that he was. No more than an inch or two off the ground, but still. He was thankful for the darkness. Bringing himself back down, he kept kissing Meredith until the sound of her heartbeat and her warm proximity became too much to bear. He pulled back, gently but quickly, glad once more for the darknessâand not just because of his fangs. He was also blushing furiously. And his hunger . . . his hunger was crying out, begging to be satiated.
Vlad slowed his breathing, but it hardly helped. Much longer in such close proximity and Meredith would be in very real danger. And the sick thing was that part of Vlad wanted to keep her in the closet with him. Maybe Nelly was right. Maybe he was viewing Meredith as a food source more than a girlfriend.
He shook his head. There had to be a way to protect her, to keep her safe without pushing her away.
First step: Get out of the closet.
He could almost hear Meredith smiling. “ That was nice. Between my dad and your aunt, we hardly get any time alone together.”
The door flung open, revealing a rather perturbed-looking Principal Snelgrove. “I certainly hope it was, Ms. Brookstone. Because it may be your last.”
Vlad gulped and snapped his mouth shut, covering his fangs. He and Meredith exchanged startled glances. Meredith looked shocked and embarrassed. Vlad was both of those, but also immensely relieved.
Principal Snelgrove barked two words that made them both jump. “Office! NOW!”
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Principal Snelgrove had turned purple by the time they reached his office, and as he paced back and forth behind his desk, his shade of purple deepened. Vlad sank down in his seat, amazed that a person could look so much like an eggplant. Meredith sat in the chair to his right, staring straight ahead, wide-eyed. He doubted she'd ever had the misfortune of ending up in the Chair of DoomâVlad's nickname for any chair in the principal's office that didn't belong to the principal. He wanted to squeeze her hand, to reassure her in some small way, but he was almost certain that Snelgrove's skull would split open if he touched Meredith at all.
The purple color lessened as Snelgrove drew a deep breath before speaking. “I would expect this type of behavior from Mr. Tod here. But you, Ms. Brookstone, are one of our best students. And to pull a stunt like this . . . I must say, I'm very disappointed. You should be careful of the kind of company you keep, Ms. Brookstone. It may lead you down a road that it would be unwise to follow.”