Twelfth Grade Kills Read online

  A glyph. Otis was making a glyph. But what for?

  Then Vlad had his answer.

  The glyph glowed red. Hot, bright, noticeably red. And Vlad recalled a conversation they’d had about glyphs, and how Otis had warned him never to touch a red glyph, not ever.

  Otis shouted, “Tomas!”

  Immediately, Vlad’s dad stepped out of the way, as if he’d known full well what Otis had been planning, had been doing. Otis tossed the paperweight toward the vampires. Instinctively, the taller one caught it.

  He had time enough to blink questioningly before his entire body crumbled to dust.

  The room fell completely, utterly, painfully silent.

  Nelly broke the silence with a gasp. With barely a breath, Otis whisked her from the room. From the kitchen, Vlad heard Otis’s voice rising and falling in comforting tones. Nelly’s voice followed, shaking slightly. He was protecting her, and explaining away what had just happened. Vlad wondered if any other human on the planet knew as much about Elysia as Nelly did now. He doubted it.

  Tomas moved toward the shorter vampire, whose bottom lip was quivering, and began to speak, his voice eerily calm. So calm, in fact, that it sent a strange shiver up Vlad’s spine. “You are being allowed to live, but only because my brother and I have deemed it necessary to our cause that you do so. We feel no pity for you. Nor do we feel any measure of trust. Do you understand?”

  The vampire nodded, his terrified eyes on the paperweight, which lay in the pile of ash on the carpet.

  “Good.” Tomas stepped closer, until Vlad was certain his hot breath was brushing the man’s forehead. “You will go back to Em, and you will deliver her this message. Failing to do so will bring hell on your heels. A hell you cannot possibly understand and do not want. Do you understand?”

  The vampire whimpered and nodded again.

  Vlad stood fascinated. His dad seemed so powerful, so strong, so cunning. It was no wonder to him how Tomas had survived all those years on his own. He was strong. Like Vlad only wished he could be.

  “You will tell Em that there has been no sign of Tomas Tod, but his son continues to search. You will tell her that on your way out of town, you and your friend were attacked by a small group of Slayers, and after they dispatched your friend, you fought them off valiantly, but not before overhearing that they were headed to Italy. Promise her with your life that she will find the Slayers there. Tell her this, and mean it as you’ve never meant anything before. I want you to believe it so that she will believe it. And so help you if she doesn’t.” Tomas’s tone was still very calm as he spoke, and Vlad would have bet that he was feeding his mind control into the vampire’s thoughts. The sound of his tone gave Vlad a frightened chill. He could only imagine how the other vampire was feeling.

  Otis returned to the room, exchanging nods with Tomas, who growled at the vampire. “Now go.”

  12

  UNEXPECTED WORDS

  VLAD WATCHED THE SKY as Henry drove them back from the Stokerton Mall. During the drive, he’d explained to Henry all about his vision, Em, and her cronies. After he’d explained, Henry had asked why he’d agreed to go to the mall after all of that. The answer was simple: because sometimes even half-vampires just want to act like normal teenagers. The sky was big and blue and beautiful, but he couldn’t help but focus on how empty it was, how empty the entire experience was, without Snow.

  He missed her. And he was trying not to think about her. Only he was failing miserably.

  He closed his eyes for a minute and pretended that the cool breeze brushing his hair back from his eyes was Snow’s hand. It was enough to bring a smile to his face. One that burst like a bubble when he opened his eyes and she wasn’t there.

  Henry turned down the street, then pulled up in front of Nelly’s house and let the car idle. Vlad started to open the door to get out, then closed it again and looked at his friend.

  Henry met his eyes and shrugged. “What? Something wrong?”

  Vlad chose his words carefully. “Dude, my dad’s been back for like a week now and you still haven’t been over to see him. What’s up with that? He’d really like to see you.”

  Henry flinched, as if he’d been hoping he could skate by for a few more weeks on lame excuses. He put the car in park and cut the engine, then turned to Vlad with a sigh. “Your dad was always the coolest guy on the block, Vlad. I liked him, actually liked him better than my dad. It seriously bummed me out when he died.”

  Henry flicked him a glance, one full of uncertainty. “Well, you know what I mean. When he ... when he disappeared.”

  “I know it’s weird that he’s back, that he’s still alive and all that, but Henry ... he needs us. All of us.” Frustrated, Vlad ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just ... lonely, y’know? I feel bad for him. All he tried to do was the right thing and now when he comes back, trying once again to do the right thing, he gets punished for it. Everybody was mad at him, and even though that’s changed now, even though Otis and Nelly are being nicer to him and have forgiven him and all, I can tell it still bothers him that we were all so upset. Not to mention that he walks into a huge mess—my mess—and feels the need to come to my rescue. So please, for me, for my dad ... just come inside and say hi.”

  The street was quiet, as usual. No kids playing, no dogs barking. It was just as it had always been, but for Vlad, it felt different now. His dad’s return had changed everything. He only hoped that it hadn’t changed the one thing in this world that he could count on for sure—that Henry would have his back and support him in this too.

  Henry stared out the windshield for a moment, and then sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of frustration or regret. It was one of resolve. “Where’s he been this whole time?”

  Vlad shrugged slightly. “Everywhere. Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that my dad’s not dead.”

  Henry pulled his keys from the ignition and opened the driver’s side door. Hesitantly hopeful, Vlad said, “Where are you going?”

  “To see your dad. He sounds like he could use some company.”

  A small smile touched Vlad’s lips. He didn’t know why he ever doubted his best friend. Henry always had his back, no matter what. “Thanks, Henry.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’m not doing it for you, Vlad. I’m doing it for him ... and for me.” Henry slid from his seat, stepped out the door and closed it in one fluid motion. Vlad followed him into Nelly’s house, still smiling.

  Otis had mentioned the idea that Tomas might want to move into his house permanently—it was, after all, Tomas’s home—but Vlad’s dad wasn’t comfortable with the changes that Otis had made. He needed time to adjust, time to mourn Mellina, time to ready himself. So Tomas was staying with Nelly for now.

  Vlad understood completely.

  Henry walked through the gate and up the front steps, and moved into the house, shouting, “Hey, Mr. Tod! You home?”

  Vlad stepped inside, now grinning at the surprised, befuddled expression on his father’s face. “Henry McMillan?”

  Tomas looked from Henry to Vlad and back, his own lips curling into a smile that barely mimicked theirs. “It’s been years. How are you, Henry?”

  “Starving. But I know there are cookies around here somewhere. Nelly bakes like a fiend and is a sucker for every big-eyed girl scout in town. So cough up the goods.”

  Tomas chuckled and Vlad followed suit. His dad pointed to the freezer. “Thin Mints are up there. They’re better frozen.”

  Ten minutes later, as they were munching on chocolate cookies and catching up on current events, Henry shoved three cookies into his mouth and said, “Y’know what would go great with these? Carnage. Is your Xbox 360 still hooked up?”

  Vlad nodded toward the living room, his mouth too full of sugary sweetness to speak.

  Henry grabbed the box and led the way. “C’mon, Mr. Tod. You can be the red android.”

  “I ... don’t play video games, Henry.” Both boys snapped their eyes to Tomas, who lo
oked admittedly ashamed. “That is, I ... I never have. Played them. Before.”

  Vlad shook his head in a chastising manner. “Well, that’s something we have to correct immediately. Wouldn’t you say, Dr. McMillan?”

  Henry folded his hands in front of him, straightening his shoulders and rocking back and forth on his feet. “Yes, Dr. Tod. I’d say the patient is suffering from lack of exposure to kick-butt graphics and gore galore. What do you prescribe?”

  Vlad nodded knowingly. “Immediate and intense Race to Armageddon activity. It’s the only cure.”

  Henry raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “Stat?”

  Vlad grinned. “Stat!”

  Dragging Tomas into the living room—Henry pulling from the front and Vlad pushing from the back—they ignored his pleas and sat him on the couch. Vlad dropped a controller into his hand and gave him the best advice he could. “Don’t die.”

  Three hours later, Tomas had died more than Vlad ever had during an afternoon of play.

  Henry shook his head, chuckling. “No offense, sir, but you suck even worse than Vlad does at this game.”

  Tomas laughed, warm and real. The sound of it warmed Vlad’s heart.

  Vlad emptied the glass of O positive he’d been sipping from and his stomach rumbled its protest. It wanted more, and refused to be satisfied.

  Especially with bagged blood.

  His dad smiled at him, a curious gleam in his eye. “You look thin, Vlad. Are you getting all the nutrients you need?”

  Vlad nodded, but he wasn’t honestly certain he was telling the truth. After all, what did he know about the differences between nutrients in bagged blood versus fresh? “Yeah. I think so.”

  Tomas leaned closer, and in a bemused tone, said, “But are you getting all that you’d like?”

  Suddenly, Vlad’s stomach rumbled with need. Before Vlad could answer his dad, Henry glanced at the clock and muttered, “Oh crap, I’m late. Mom will kill me.”

  “Late for what?”

  “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say it involves ten neighborhood women, tea, quilting, and me being charming and fetching cookies.” Henry shuddered visibly. “Otherwise known as the worst night of hell a guy my age could possibly experience. ”

  “And I thought Nelly was bad.” Vlad chuckled. “See ya, man. ”

  “See yea.”

  Henry hesitated in the doorway for a moment before speaking. “Hey, Mr. Tod?”

  “Please, Henry. Call me Tomas. We’re both men, and grown men refer to one another by first name.”

  “Tomas.” Henry seemed to mull the name over on his tongue, getting comfortable with it. Then he broke into his trademark grin and on his way out the door, said, “I’m glad you’re not dead, dude.”

  Tomas smiled, his eyes dancing with a bemused light. “As am I, Henry. As am I.”

  Hours later, after dinner, and once his dad and Otis were well into a bottle of bloodwine and reminiscent tales of their youth, Vlad slipped out the door and down the street to the belfry. With barely a thought, he floated upward and stepped gingerly through the stone arch. He didn’t light any candles—he knew exactly what he was going to find and where it was. As he retrieved his journal from the small table next to his dad’s chair, Vlad smiled, pressing the book to his chest. He could hardly wait to share it with his dad, and hoped that Tomas would feel a stronger connection with him by reading what awaited him on the pages within.

  With his journal in hand, he dropped from the belfry and headed back to Nelly’s as fast as he was able, despite the nagging reminder in his thoughts that he needed to find Tomas’s journal, and find it fast. Tomorrow, he told himself. He’d look for it some more tomorrow. Tonight belonged to the only semblance of normalcy Vlad’s life had ever really had.

  A cool breeze floated through the air, brushing Vlad’s hair from his eyes as he made his way from the belfry back to Nelly’s house. He was feeling oddly light, strangely hopeful, as he navigated his way through the darkness. A brief flash of memory flitted through his thoughts like a hummingbird—Ignatius, his grandfather, the maker of both his dad and his uncle, had once attacked him on this stretch, and had almost killed him. He wondered if his dad would have killed Ignatius the way that Otis did, without regret. Something told him Tomas would have.

  He rounded the corner then, thinking back briefly to Jasik, and how Jasik had stolen his blood. He wondered if the money had been worth the theft and all that would come to pass, but wagered it had not. The memory of the pain, the utter emptiness that had enveloped Vlad left a dark, shallow hole at the center of his being.

  It was weird how the past kept sneaking up on him. Just when he thought he was over something, there it was again.

  A shadowy figure sat on Nelly’s porch swing. Vlad froze with his foot on the bottom step.

  The figure lifted its head, meeting Vlad’s eyes.

  Vlad’s world came to a screeching halt, an utter stop.

  He didn’t even breathe. The journal in his hand was completely forgotten.

  Joss nodded, as if acknowledging the strangeness that was hanging in the air between them.

  Vlad parted his lips to speak, but then realized that he had nothing to say. He wanted to apologize, but somehow it felt as if they were past that, as if it were too late for words. He wanted to ask if Joss was okay after how badly Vlad had beaten him, and where he’d gone to heal from his wounds, but he closed his mouth and pursed his lips instead. Because the truth of it all remained: they were even. Each had nearly taken the other’s life. They were in a dead heat in the race to kill one another. Once friends, they were now something completely different. They were vampire and Slayer. Mortal enemies.

  Vlad braced himself for what he knew was coming, readying himself for a fight.

  Joss shook his head. Apparently, he didn’t need telepathy to read Vlad’s thoughts. “I’m not here as a Slayer. I’m here as your friend. My last act as your friend, you might say.”

  Vlad relaxed some, but only slightly. He had to be vigilant, to remain on guard. Slayers, after all, couldn’t be trusted. Otis had been right all along, something which pained Vlad terribly. He’d wanted to believe in their friendship, to believe that despite their differences, he and Joss were really friends. But what if he was wrong?

  He met Joss’s gaze. “Is this about revenge? Because I won’t let you trick me again, Joss.”

  He knew it couldn’t be so simple. Joss wanted what he’d wanted all along: blood. Strangely, the same thing that Vlad wanted, but in another way. For another reason. Just another one of the vast differences between them.

  Joss shook his head in response. “This is about something else entirely. I’ve been trying to call you all summer, but ... my mom isn’t exactly keen on the idea of you and me talking”

  Vlad swallowed hard, remembering her reaction to him the night he’d put Joss in the hospital. “So what do you want?”

  Joss dropped his voice to a hushed tone, one that Vlad nearly had to strain to hear. It sounded like he’d been crying.

  Joss. Who never cried.

  “Peace, Vlad. I want peace. But no peace can exist between us. Not now” He shook his head again, this time as if to summon the strength that he would need to say whatever it was he’d come here to say. He looked at Vlad again, his eyes hidden by the night’s shadows. “I was originally sent to Bathory to locate and extinguish you. I was sent back to gather information and then kill you, Otis, and Vikas. After I failed on both counts, the Slayer Society convened and it was decided that they would cleanse Bathory.”

  Vlad looked at him then, a question poised on his tongue. Something that in his head sounded like “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Joss sighed heavily, as if a huge weight were on his shoulders. “A cleansing removes all life within an area that does not belong to a Slayer.”

  Vlad’s eyes grew huge. His heart picked up its rhythm in shock. “They plan to kill everyone?”

  Joss nodded gravely. �
�That was the plan. But I struck a deal. To save everyone—even some vampires—I have to kill one vampire, Vlad. Just one. One specific vampire.”

  The air left Vlad’s lungs in complete understanding.

  Him. Joss had to kill him. In order to save everyone, Vlad had to die.

  “They agree that if I take your life, everyone else will be allowed to continue living. But if I don’t . . .” Joss swallowed hard, as if the subject were a difficult one for him. “. . . or if I try to help people run and hide from the cleansing, they’ll hunt everyone down and kill them all, me included. I don’t care about that part, but Meredith, my mom, my dad, everyone . . .”

  Vlad shook his head. It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be possible. “Can they really do that?”

  Joss nodded then, without hesitation. “It’s what they do, Vlad. Slayers are naturally skilled. Enough to take down vampires, and you know what skills vampires possess. Now imagine unsuspecting humans. It’s possible. Believe me.”

  Vlad sank down until he was sitting on the porch step.

  It had to be him. Him or everyone he’d ever loved.

  His insides felt as if they’d been painted black.

  There was a soft squeak as Joss left the porch swing and came to sit beside him on the steps. After a long, silent moment, Joss slipped his wooden stake from the leather holster on his hip and placed it between them.

  Vlad could think of no better fitting metaphor.

  When Joss spoke again, his voice was soft. Soft and strangely kind. “The thing is ... we both know that you’re stronger than I am, Vlad. We both know I can’t beat you. But I have to try. And the only way I can succeed ... the only way that everyone we care about can possibly survive this ... is if you let me.”

  “Let you?” Vlad’s eyes snapped to those of his former friend. “You mean, let you kill me?”

  Joss nodded slowly. “The Slayer Society is giving me until the end of the year. By December thirty-first, either you’ll be dead or the cleansing will begin.”

  Vlad’s shoulders sank in defeat. No matter what Vlad did, it seemed, he was going to have a terrible New Year’s Eve.