Ninth Grade Slays Read online

  Follow the enclosed instructions and practice, practice, practice! However, as your former teacher, I must insist that you refrain from using your telepathy as a means to better grades. And yes, I’ll know. Trust me.

  As for the issues you seem to be having with mind control, give me time to compose some helpful tips regarding this skill. Together, we’ll find a way to make this possible. Your father was quite adept at doingthis. I confess that it surprises me that you may not be. But please know that I am not disappointed in the least.

  You are always in my thoughts, Vlad. Please take care of yourself. Be mindful of your surroundings, and please continue to study Elysian code. I know the vampirelanguage is challenging to read, but it is important that you memorize the Compendium of Conscentia. According to the phrase coined by the notable humanphilosopher George Santayana, “Those who cannotremember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

  Next week I will be in London—the address where I can be reached is enclosed. I will write as often as I am able to. Please give my warm regards to Nelly.

  Yours in Eternity,

  Otis

  Vlad ran his fingers over Otis’s closing. Yours in Eternity. It was the same closing his dad had used in every note, every book, every birthday card, he’d ever given to Vlad. Vlad felt the looming shadow of grief sweep over him again. The death of a loved one is funny like that. It doesn’t matter how much you grieve or how much time has passed, the littlest reminder of the person who died—a scent, an object, a word—can send you back to the moment you lost them, and before you can blink, you’re overcome by the aching sadness you worked so hard to leave behind.

  It was pretty disheartening to learn that dueling to the death last year against D’Ablo might set vampire society on his heels, despite the fact that D’Ablo had started the whole mess in the first place and Vlad had only blown a hole through him with the Lucis to avoid having D’Ablo rip one through him with his bare hands. But Vlad could deal with that. After all, thanks to Otis, Elysia thought Vlad was human, not half-vampire. Of course, Otis had said that what with Vlad possessing the Lucis, the most dangerous weapon against vampirekind, Elysia was pretty anxious to agree that he was human, to deny the notion that he was even remotly capable of hurting them, giving them little reason to chase after Vlad.

  It was frustrating to learn that his uncle had absolutely no sensible advice regarding Vlad’s current situation with the girl he liked. He thought about asking Nelly for her input, but the last thing he needed was a two-hour conversation about when Nelly was a teenager.

  Vlad sighed. It was hopeless. How was he ever going to explain to Meredith that he had no idea why he hadn’t kissed her after Freedom Fest dance last year, and that the only reason he hadn’t returned her calls over the summer was that she would ask him to explain his inaction . . . and he couldn’t. How was he supposed to explain something to her that even he didn’t understand?

  “What did he say?” Henry peered over Vlad’s shoulder at the parchment.

  Vlad folded the letter and shoved it back in the envelope, then withdrew the instructions. “He says to tell Nelly hi and that he’s enclosed some tips on telepathy.”

  Nelly smiled warmly and blushed, then glanced at her watch and sighed. She shook her head and reached for her purse. On her way out the door, she called behind her, “I’m late. I was supposed to take Deb’s shift at the hospital this afternoon. Can you boys fend for dinner?”

  The door closed before they could answer.

  Henry nodded toward Otis’s instructions. “You wanna try something out? I’ve been dying to know if Melissa Hart likes me.”

  Vlad folded the notes up and slipped them in his back jeans pocket. “I want to study the notes first for a few days. Maybe we’ll try something this weekend.”

  Henry groaned. “Come on! I’m busy this weekend. Joss, remember?”

  “I want to read them first.”

  “So read them. Then we can head over to the mall in Stokerton. Melissa is doing that ‘end of summer/fall fashion’ show they do every year, and you—”

  “Henry, I said no.” Vlad’s eyes were fixed on Henry. His tone was stern.

  Henry nodded slowly and reached for his orange juice.

  Drudge or not, Vlad hated giving Henry direct orders, and he only did it if Henry was being too pushy about something Vlad didn’t feel like doing or discussing . . . or if Vlad really wanted a Pepsi, but he really didn’t feel like going into the kitchen to get one. Other than that, their vampire/vampire’s-human-slave relationship was working out pretty well. It was astounding how well Henry had taken the news that with one bite, he’d become Vlad’s drudge.

  But then, maybe Henry had only taken it so well because Vlad had told him to.

  The thought made Vlad shiver. He didn’t like the idea of controlling Henry’s actions. Truthfully, it creeped him out a little. But sometimes Henry could be so pushy.

  Vlad flipped over the box and, spying his name on the label, proceeded to pop the flaps open. His lips spread into a grin, and he looked at Henry. “You wanna play Race to Armageddon 2?”

  Henry gasped at the game box in Vlad’s hands. “No way!”

  Vlad flipped the game over and looked at the screen shots. “They say it’s twice the action, three times the gore.”

  Exchanging maniacal grins, they bolted for the living room.

  Two hours, a bag of Doritos, seven Pepsis, and four bags of blood later, Vlad and Henry sat their controllers down and stretched. Henry’s eyes were wide with awed disgust. “That’s so gross. I love it!”

  “No doubt. It’s so cool that the androids can fly now.” Vlad drained his Pepsi and sat the empty can on the coffee table. His stomach rumbled.

  Henry furrowed his brow. “What’s with the alien king having six heads? That’s new. He’s gonna be tough to beat this time.”

  “They really added a lot of blood. Speaking of which . . .” Vlad retrieved another bag of blood from the refrigerator. As he was walking back into the living room, he let his fangs elongate—his hunger was pulsing beneath them. He bit through the bag and drained it, then let out a burp and wiped the excess from the corners of his mouth.

  Henry chuckled. “Pig.”

  Vlad snickered. “ ’Scuse me.”

  Henry bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment. His tone became careful and serious. “Do you think you’ll ever start feeding on people?”

  Vlad shook his head. “No way. Not in a million years.” He eyed Henry for a moment with his peripheral vision before facing him. “You actually think I’d do that?”

  “Well, you did bite me when we were eight.”

  Vlad flashed Henry an incredulous look. “Dude, we were eight. Besides, you told me to.”

  Henry pretended not to hear him. “And just now, before you bit into that bag, your eyes changed that weird iridescent purple the way they do when you touch a glyph.” Henry nodded to the strange symbol on the cover of the Encyclopedia Vampyrica and shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible. I mean, what if the bags and snack packs aren’t enough anymore?”

  Vlad shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together, tracing the glyphlike tattoo on the inside of his left wrist lightly. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke. “If they were good enough for my dad to live on, they’re good enough for me. Besides, the day I start feeding on people is the day I start beating you at video games.”

  Henry laughed and picked up his controller. “So you’re saying it’ll never happen.”

  3

  BATHORY HIGH

  VLAD SHOVED TWO PENS into the front pocket of his backpack and zipped it closed. Henry had tried convincing him over the summer to buy a new bag, specifically a cool coffin-shaped one they’d seen at the mall in Stokerton, but Vlad preferred his old one. He wasn’t against the gag—in fact, he found it quite hilarious that he and Henry would make such obvious statements about his being a vampire and that everyone in the town of Bathory shrugged it off, presuming Vl
ad to be just another goth kid—but he and his backpack had been through two years together. It had been up the flagpole almost as many times as Vlad had been shoved against a locker. In a way, it was his friend. Like Henry.

  If he could strap Henry to his back and force him to carry his books.

  Vlad pinned a new button to his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. Seeing it in the store had sent him into a hysterical fit, so he knew Henry would love it. The pin read CAREFUL, I BITE.

  Aunt Nelly’s voice drifted up the stairs. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late for your first day!”

  Vlad started to slip the small black cylinder into his back pocket and paused, then placed the Lucis on his dresser. He knew Otis and Nelly would freak out about him not carrying the vampire weapon for even a day, but he wasn’t exactly sure what effect it might have on humans, and the idea of carrying it into class made him feel a little queasy. Weapons, even vampire weapons, had no place at school.

  He took the stairs by two and flashed a smile at his aunt at the bottom.

  Nelly smiled back and handed him a snack pack, which he slurped down with glee. The blood was warm and gooey and slid down his throat with ease. The breakfast of champions, indeed.

  Vlad handed the plastic container back to Nelly and had just brushed the tips of his fingers against the doorknob when Nelly asked, “Did you remember to put your sunblock on?”

  Vlad chuckled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Why do you ask? Am I getting too tan?”

  Nelly shook her head, a bemused smile on her lips, and Vlad slipped out the door.

  Henry was standing on the sidewalk across the street, waiting. A bronze-skinned, good-looking kid stood next to him, and Vlad could tell by the similar facial features that they were related. Vlad gave a nod to Henry. “Hey.”

  Henry beamed and nodded toward the newcomer. “Hey. This is my cousin Joss.”

  Joss smiled but didn’t say anything. Oh good. The strong, silent type.

  They trudged toward the school together, following beaten paths between houses and worrying aloud about their impending first day as high schoolers. Vlad’s heart was hammering its objections against his ribs. And just as he’d taken enough deep breaths to calm the beating in his chest, he rounded the corner to face the front steps of Bathory High.

  Bathory High School was quite a source of gossip in the small town of Bathory, as it had once been a Catholic church. The church had been deserted sometime in the mid-1800s, due to some sort of horrific affair that no one in town—including the librarian, who knew everything about Bathory’s history and seemed to take great joy in sharing it with everyone—would talk about. Nearly a hundred years later, a wealthy businessman had purchased the property and developed it into what had been known as Bathory Preparatory Academy. Twenty years after that, the school had been turned into a public institution and eventually became what Vlad was squinting up at as he approached with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

  “Henry!” Carrie Anderson waved her hand enthusiastically through the air.

  Henry smiled sheepishly. “Be right back, guys.” In a moment, he was enveloped by a wave of the kind of popularity that Vlad had only managed to witness from the shore.

  Vlad sighed and turned to Joss. “Henry says you moved in from Cali.”

  Joss nodded. “He tells me you suck at video games.”

  After a moment, they both burst into laughter. Vlad beamed. “He’s a funny guy.”

  “Popular, too, it seems.” The look on Joss’s face was one of disdain.

  Vlad raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “I assumed all McMillans were popular.”

  “Not me, man. Not my thing.” Joss shook his head, casting an unsettled glance at the crowd. “I prefer a select group of friends—generally people who don’t suck up to you because of who your family is or how much money they have.”

  Vlad smiled. He and Joss were going to get along just fine.

  Henry waved, and before Joss was swallowed up by the throng, Joss adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder and smiled at Vlad. “Well . . . see ya, I guess.”

  “See ya.” Vlad watched Joss disappear into the crowd and turned to squint up at the school again.

  But he didn’t squint for long.

  As hands gripped his shirt and yanked him to the side of the building, Vlad’s eyes widened in fear.

  Bill Jensen and Tom Gaiber. Just his luck.

  They hated him and had ever since the first grade for no particular reason as far as Vlad could tell.

  Together, Bill and Tom slammed Vlad against the school’s stone wall, their mouths distorted into wicked grins. Tom snarled, “Welcome to your first day of high school, goth boy.”

  Vlad winced as his head bounced off the wall. He tried to keep his eyes glazed with indifference, but they betrayed him by flitting back to the sidewalk for any sign of help. He was about to have his face pounded into hamburger. Where was Henry when he needed him?

  Bill leaned close. His breath smelled like tuna fish and three-day-old mayonnaise. “What’s the matter, goth boy? Cat got your tongue?”

  Several witty retorts flitted through Vlad’s mind, but he thought better of saying anything and kept his mouth shut.

  Sometimes your best defense against bullies is silence. Of course, if you let a bully push you around, you’re nothing but a total wuss. Straightening his shoulders, Vlad shoved back against Bill, but Tom grabbed him by the collar. A pain shot through Vlad’s back as he returned forcefully to the wall.

  “Let him go.”

  Vlad turned his head toward the sidewalk. Joss had apparently ducked away from Henry’s entourage and was looking at Bill and Tom matter-of-factly. His head was tilted slightly and one of his eyebrows was raised, as if he wasn’t used to people not doing what he told them to.

  Apparently, Henry’s cousin was funny, but not terribly bright. Vlad wanted to tell Joss to beat it, but just then Tom rolled his eyes and pushed Vlad harder against the wall. Vlad’s spine was lodged against a rather pointy stone. He winced and fought to get away, but Tom had him pinned. “You’re gonna get it this year, goth boy. We’ve got plans for you.”

  “I said, let him go.” Joss had sat his bag on the sidewalk and was looking at Tom without so much as a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

  Tom and Bill released Vlad and turned to the newcomer.

  Run, Vlad thought, run for your life, Joss. Trust me.

  Tom and Bill exchanged glances that said that they weren’t really sure whether Joss was easy prey or not. With a final, deciding shove from Tom, they slinked back toward the front of the school without another word.

  Vlad wondered what it was about Joss that had made them back off so quickly. Whatever it was, Vlad certainly didn’t have it.

  He picked up his backpack and rubbed the lump on the back of his head thoughtfully. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about being rescued, but it was better than getting pummeled, he supposed. “Thanks.”

  Joss smiled. “No problem. Those guys were jerks. Brainless Neanderthal jerks.”

  “You’ve met them already?”

  “Didn’t need to. I could tell by their sloped foreheads and unibrows.” Joss smirked. “Want me to break their arms off for you?”

  Vlad chuckled. “That might be nice. I’d like to see them try to bully me then. What could they do, bump into me until it got really annoying?”

  Crossing behind Joss on the sidewalk was Meredith Brookstone, dressed in a pink dress that swished about her knees as she walked. Her cheeks blushed slightly as she smiled at Vlad. Joss followed Vlad’s eyes, and when he saw Meredith, he smiled, too.

  Uh-oh.

  Henry rejoined them and looked up at the building. “Kinda scary, isn’t it?”

  Vlad nodded, looking at the building looming in front of them. He’d been here a hundred times before, but what felt welcoming under a moonlit glow was about as creepy as you can get in full sunlight.

  Vlad followed Henry and Joss up the st
eps. It felt strange to be approaching the school from the front. He kept his head down and tried not to look up at the belfry.

  A sign on the door directed freshmen to the gym. Adjusting his backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, Vlad took a deep breath and walked into the school.

  Along either side of the lobby were thirteen large stone pillars, with arches between each at the top. Above them, on the second floor, were another, smaller set of arches. Black wrought iron closed off the top set. Vlad looked up at the high ceiling. It had clearly been painted at one time, perhaps with images of men in flowing robes and golden rings around their heads. But all that remained now were faded flecks of paint, only vaguely pictures. Several dark stones formed the shape of crosses high above Vlad’s head.

  Henry nudged him and whispered so that no one else would hear. “So is there any truth to the old vampires-hate-crosses myth?”

  Vlad chuckled. He’d never really considered the possibility that he would burst into flames the moment he encountered a cross. In truth, he never really thought about any religion at all, one way or another. “Guess not.”

  A large, burly man who reminded Vlad of a giant leprechaun held up his arms and spoke in a loud, gruff, no-nonsense tone. “Freshmen, you will make your way beneath the third arch to my right and down the hall to the gym. Hurry now. Everyone else, get to class. Stevenson, that means you!”

  Vlad felt a hand pat him roughly on the back and turned his head to see Greg, Henry’s older brother. Greg smiled. “Don’t mind Mr. Hunjo. He’s always like that. You know where you’re going?”

  Vlad nodded and looked around for Henry and Joss, who had apparently disappeared. “Hey, where’d your brother and cousin go?”

  “Probably the gym. Look for me in fourth period lunch, okay? I’ll show you guys the ropes, and make sure the upperclassmen know to leave you alone.” Greg patted his back again and disappeared into the crowd. Vlad watched until he could no longer see the black wool and crimson leather of Greg’s letterman jacket. Greg had been the starting pitcher for the Bathory Bats for the past two years, and you could be sure that once baseball season rolled around in the spring, he’d take that position again.