Tenth Grade Bleeds (19 page)

Vlad stared at the shirt for a moment, trying to find the right words. There was no way he could tell her the truth, no way he could burden her with his horrific, beastly act. Meeting her gaze, he saw suspicion lurking in her eyes. He replied with a blatant lie, mostly so they could both go on pretending that he was a normal teenager. Better that way. Let Nelly have her delusions. “I got sloppy with a snack pack, okay?”

The hurt expression on Nelly's face cut Vlad deep, but it was better than telling her the truth and seeing fear there instead. She dropped his shirt back into the laundry basket and lowered her voice, as well as her eyes. “You're grounded. One week for doing whatever you were doing last night. And one week for lying to me about it. Now go upstairs.”

A lump formed in Vlad's throat. Nelly had never spoken to him that way before, or sent him to his room. He knew he deserved far, far worse for what he was putting her through. But it was better to lie and hurt her some than tell the truth and break her heart completely.

With a slumped posture, Vlad made his way up the stairs to his room, closing the door softly behind him. Before the door closed entirely, Vlad thought he heard soft weeping from downstairs. The sound of it made his chest ache.
I'm sorry, Nelly,
he thought.
I'm so sorry . . . for everything.

He lay on his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about his conversation with Nelly or the fact that he missed Otis more than ever. He thought a little about Meredith, about his almost uncontrollable hunger, and wondered exactly how he could protect her from his dire thirst. Drinking from Snow had been paradise—a paradise he didn't want to revisit with Meredith. But how could he save her from his hungry advances without distancing himself?

Mostly he focused on how he was going to give D'Ablo the journal. Being grounded complicated matters, but not by much. He contemplated calling Henry, to let him know that he was going to sneak into Stokerton tonight to pay D'Ablo a visit—after all, somebody should know his whereabouts, just in case something happened—but he wasn't entirely sure he would be allowed a phone call. After several minutes, he cracked open his door and slowly made his way downstairs.

Nelly was sitting on the couch, quietly flipping through the pages of a magazine that Vlad was almost certain she wasn't reading. He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long moment, unsure of what he should say. Finally, he cleared his throat softly. When she didn't look up, he knew she was angry, but he wasn't surprised. She had every right to be. He took a breath and said, “Can I call Henry?”

Nelly blinked up at him, her eyes red from crying. “I don't know. Are you allowed phone calls?”

Vlad sighed and sat on the bottom step. “I don't know. Don't you kinda make up the rules on that?”

“Your mom would know what to do.” Nelly's voice cracked. “If she was still here, things would be different. You wouldn't be acting the way you've been acting.”

Vlad tilted his head, meeting her eyes. “How have I been acting?”

Nelly reached for another tissue, tears retracing the tracks on her cheeks. “Like a teenager, I suppose. But you have to understand, Vladimir, I've never dealt with a teenager before. Let alone a teenager as . . . special as you.”

Special. Vlad's insides shrank a little. What a nice way of pointing out what a freak of nature he was. He was sure Nelly hadn't meant it that way, but that didn't erase the hurt.

Nelly took a shuddered breath. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”

Vlad's face flushed, and he felt sick to his stomach. He had no idea he'd been hurting Nelly like that. “Nelly, I've been a teenager for a couple of years now. And you're doing fine. I just . . . there's a lot of stuff going on right now that I can't talk to you about.”

Nelly's eyes grew wide with concern. “What kind of stuff? Girl stuff? Friend stuff? Drug stuff? Gang stuff?”

Vlad suppressed a smile. It was sweet how she worried endlessly about him. “More like vampire stuff.”

“Oh.” Nelly relaxed some, then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vlad sighed and ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “ That's the thing. I want to, but there are these . . . laws. And I'm not exactly sure what I can tell you and what I can't.”

Nelly nodded. “Otis mentioned something about vampiric laws. He said that he broke one in telling me he was a vampire, and that that's one of the reasons he can't stay here with us.”

Vlad blinked, suddenly curious what else Otis had shared with his guardian. “ That's one of them. But there are a ton more, and I have to be careful not to break any more. Because I don't want to put you in any more danger from Elysia just because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.”

Nelly was quiet for a good long time. Finally she dried her eyes and nodded. “ That makes sense, I suppose. So what you're saying is, don't ask too many questions?”

Vlad sighed, the sick feeling dissipating. “ That's about it, yeah. I wish Otis were here.”

“So do I, sweetie.” Nelly straightened in her seat. “Okay. But I have to ask one question, or I'll never be able to sleep at night. Did something happen last night that you can't tell me . . . or that you won't?”

Then it was Vlad's turn to be quiet. Finally he shook his head, hoping she'd believe his lie. For both their sakes. “It's not what you think, Nelly. I meant what I said before. I just got a little messy with a midnight snack, that's all.”

To his enormous relief, Nelly visibly relaxed. “You should be more careful, Vladimir.”

He nodded, the burden of guilt heavy on his chest. “I know. I'll try.”

Nelly nodded in return. “Are you going to call Henry now?”

“Am I still grounded?”

She sighed and met Vlad's eyes with a forgiving smile. “I suppose I can't really ground you for trying to protect me.”

Vlad shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk out of the room, then paused and looked back at his aunt. “ Thanks, Nelly.”

Before he could reach for the phone, there was a knock at the door. Vlad opened it to reveal Henry, who looked as if he'd just run all the way from his house. Breathless, Henry steadied himself again the doorjamb and managed to puff out, “I thought of a safe way you can hand over the journal.”

Vlad hushed him and opened the door, muttering quietly to Nelly as he ascended the stairs that he and Henry were going to hang out in his room for a while. Once safe inside his bedroom with the door firmly shut, Vlad turned to Henry and said, “First off, how did you know I've been making plans all day to return the journal, and second off, what are the odds you'd show up at my house just as I was about to call you?”

“You mentioned giving back the journal last night. And . . . I dunno, I just couldn't shake the idea. What's the big deal?”

Vlad shook his head. He didn't want to bring up how Henry always seemed to show up when Vlad needed him, even without being told. It was like he could beckon his drudge without even thinking about it—something he knew would freak Henry out. “No big deal. I was just curious. What's your plan?”

“We ship it FedEx.”

Vlad blinked and tried hard not to look at his best friend like he was a complete and total idiot, but he was pretty sure he was failing. And with good reason.

Henry frowned. “What? It makes the most sense. They'll deliver it straight to D'Ablo and you don't have to share the same air as him.”

Vlad shook his head. “So your answer to my problem is to put someone else in harm's way? Henry, what if he killed the FedEx guy?”

“At least it wouldn't be you.”

It was touching in an odd way that Henry would rather some poor delivery driver bought the farm than Vlad, but still. “I can't do that. I have to go to Stokerton myself. And I have to do it tonight, after Nelly's asleep.”

Henry sighed, scratching his head in frustration. “What time are we leaving?”

“We?” Vlad cocked an eyebrow at him. If Henry thought he was tagging along, he was crazy. It was stupid enough that Vlad was willingly going to face the man that had almost been responsible for Vlad's death . . . twice. He wasn't about to subject Henry to D'Ablo's insane bouts of moodiness.

Henry's eyes widened in shock as realization sunk in. “You don't think I'm letting you go back to Elysia to face that jerk alone, do you?”

“Henry, he could
kill
you. I at least have this Pravus thing going for me, y'know? He could hurt me, but I'll live. I know I will. But in order to protect you, I have to leave you here.” Vlad met his gaze and held it, wanting very much for Henry to just drop the subject completely and realize that Vlad was only doing it for his own good.

Henry searched Vlad's face. Then his jaw tightened. “Are you going to order me to stay?”

“Do I have to?”

“Look. What if these dreams you've been having are predictions of the future, like you thought? You're gonna need some backup. If you order me to stay here, you'll be on your own, strapped to some bloody table deep in the heart of the council building, right?” Dire need crossed Henry's eyes. The need to help. “Otis isn't here to save you. I am.”

Vlad sighed and ran a careless hand through his hair. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before meeting Henry's eyes again. “We leave at midnight.”

Henry grinned, victorious. “I'll drive.”

Vlad shook his head. He couldn't believe he and Henry were going to face D'Ablo together—and he really couldn't believe Henry was stupid enough to think they'd actually survive. “ There are about a million things wrong with that, but the top two that come to mind are that you don't have a license and you don't have a car.”

“I have a permit and I can borrow Greg's car.” Vlad must have looked just as horrified at the idea of Henry driving as he felt, because Henry frowned and said, “What? You rode with me last night.”

“Last night I was distracted, and fearing more for your life than my own.”

Henry huffed. “I'm a good driver.”

“Who says? Your mom?”

“Actually, no. She won't even get in the car with me, says it makes her sick to even think of it.”

Vlad laughed first, but after a moment, Henry joined in. Vlad was quite certain the worst thing he'd face tonight wasn't D'Ablo—it was the possibility that Henry would forget where the brake pedal was located.

A
T A QUARTER AFTER MIDNIGHT, Vlad finished placing a protective glyph on the front door of Nelly's house, climbed into the passenger seat of Greg's car, and cringed as Henry gunned the engine to life. For a brief moment, as the car lurched forward into the night, Vlad saw his life flash before his eyes, but then they were on their way, and Henry seemed to know what he was doing behind the wheel. After a few minutes of silence, Vlad reached for the radio knob.

“No music!” Henry almost shrieked. Vlad stared at him, wide-eyed, questioning. Finally Henry threw him a glance. “Sorry. It distracts me. I can't listen to the radio and concentrate on driving at the same time.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows and relaxed back in his seat. The last thing he wanted was to distract Henry from the road. “Okay . . . no radio.”

An hour later, Henry finally peeled his hands from the steering wheel. They were parked across the street from that familiar thirteen-story office building deep within downtown Stokerton. They sat there in silence for a long time, Henry no doubt recovering from one of the longest driving sessions of his life, and Vlad clutching his father's journal to his chest and staring out the window at D'Ablo's lair. It looked horrifically ominous, framed by a moonless sky, with only the streetlights illuminating it.

There was no sense in delaying any longer.

Vlad opened the door and got out. Henry followed his lead. They were only ten steps from the building when Henry let out a yelp.

Vlad turned to see what was the matter, and what he saw sent his heart racing. Ignatius, the vampire who'd attacked him that dark night in Bathory, had Henry by a fistful of hair. A sharp, curved blade was pressed dangerously close to Henry's throat. “We have unfinished business to attend to, boy.”

Vlad set his jaw, more angry than terrified. “Whatever business we have, it's not with my drudge. Let him go.”

Not wanting Ignatius to gain the upper hand, Vlad didn't miss a beat. He pushed hard into Ignatius's mind, and Ignatius released his grip on Henry. Henry ducked down and away, running back to the car, as if he knew this fight was beyond him. Then Ignatius clamped down hard on his thoughts—so hard that Vlad's head throbbed—and said, “ That was unexpected. But I won't underestimate you again, boy.”

As he spoke the last word, a piece of spittle flew from his mouth. His fangs were elongated, his eyes almost glowing with hatred. In a flash, he cocked the knife back and flung it forward. It whistled through the air, straight for Vlad's right eye.

Terrified, Vlad leaned fast to the left. It was like the entire world was moving in slow motion, except for him. He couldn't explain it, had no idea just how he'd done it, exactly. It was just like the first time he'd faced this monster—vampiric speed took over in a rush of instinct and reflex. Only this time, Vlad had more control over his actions. His abilities were growing.

As he leaned, the blade whistled closer, merely inches from his ear. He reached up with that same mysterious, glorious vampire speed and grabbed the knife as it flew, marveling at his own actions. The edge of the blade sliced the small webbing of skin between his forefinger and thumb, but the wound healed almost instantly. Feeling abnormally powerful, Vlad snapped a glare back to Ignatius and raised a daring eyebrow.