Eighth Grade Bites (14 page)

After she closed the door behind her, Vlad lugged the journal and the large book with the glyph and locks out of his backpack and carried them over to the coffee table. He thumbed through the journal for a few moments before flipping to the final entry, dated the day before his parents died.

Vlad closed the cover and ran his fingers over his father's name.

Shaking off the sadness, he turned on the television. Nothing was on . . . well, nothing good anyway, but he left the TV on to fill the house with noise and opened the book, flipping to the pyramid of symbols. Vlad traced the outline of his father's tattoo with his fingernail and half listened to the news reporter on Channel 5 who was droning on about some car accident that was blocking an exit on the freeway.

A woman's voice broke in, catching Vlad's interest. “Thank you, Ted. And in other news, a body has been discovered near Requiem Ravine and is believed to be the remains of a missing Bathory Junior High teacher.” Vlad sat up and grabbed the remote, pressing the volume button until the television couldn't blare any louder. “John Craig had been missing for several months when local police pulled his body from the ravine. Police are baffled as to the cause of death, but speculate that an animal may be responsible. Mr. Craig was thirty-four years old. Could a wild dog be running rampant in the streets of Bathory? Although the local police assure us that this has not been proven, this reporter believes it to be a very real, very scary possibility. And now here's Terrance with the weather.” Vlad clicked the television off and sank back into the cushions of the couch.

Mr. Craig was dead.

Deceased, croaked, departed, shuffled off his mortal coil, bought the farm, slain, fallen, bit the big one, dead as a door-nail, gone, out of business, late, lifeless, taking a dirt nap, kaput, worm food, cashed in his chips, finished, lapsed, pushing up daisies, terminated, inanimate, kicked the bucket, past his expiration date, nonliving, checked out, left the building, bitten the dust, passed away, passed on, isn't-coming-back-for-the-sequel dead.

Killed by a vampire—Vlad was almost sure.

Late last night, in Tomas's journal, Vlad had read about Elysia, of tales of camaraderie and celebration, of familial ties, of being bound by blood. Vlad had found himself longing to encounter those of his own kind, to travel to the streets of Elysia—that faraway vampire world, but after a while it seemed more of a fairy tale than anything else.

Like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, only with fangs.

But the presence of Mr. Otis had proven quite different from the images Vlad's imagination had conjured up. He felt terribly threatened by Otis's presence. And who was that D'Ablo guy? Another vampire? Were vampires all over Bathory now, hunting for Vlad? And hadn't any of them thought to pick up a phone book? Bathory was populated by fewer than two thousand people, for crying out loud. If Mr. Otis was planning on killing him, why hadn't he done it last night after dinner? Why the games?

If Mr. Otis were from Elysia, why had he killed Tomas? Was Vlad's dad a criminal? And what did that make Vlad? Why was Otis stalking him? He couldn't have broken the law. He'd never even been to Elysia. Vlad shivered. Maybe he wouldn't belong there, either. Maybe no matter where he went, he'd be a freak.

The doorbell rang, shaking Vlad from his daze.

Vlad pulled open the front door and froze. Mr. Otis tipped his top hat slightly, holding Vlad's gaze with his serious eyes. “I was disappointed not to find you in class today, Vladimir.” His cheeks looked pale and gaunt, as if he hadn't eaten in some time.

Vlad pursed his lips and looked at his feet. He was tempted to slam the door in Mr. Otis's face and slap the dead bolt until it clicked, but old habits die hard, so instead he stood there and quietly waited for his teacher to finish so he could get on with his life.

“I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, Vlad. I'm afraid it can't wait.” Mr. Otis pressed against the door, but Vlad shoved his shoulder against the wood, leaving merely a foot of air between the door and the jamb. His teacher's face was inches from his own. “Mind if I come in for a snack? I'm sure you have something around the house that will appeal to my particular appetite.”

Feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck, Vlad shot his teacher a look fueled by betrayal. “Didn't anybody ever tell you it's not nice to threaten your students?”

“Do you feel threatened by me?” Otis nudged the door forward another inch, as if demonstrating that Vlad's strength wasn't an obstacle for him. “That's not my intent. I just want to get close to you, Vladimir.”

Vlad relinquished his hold on the door. He was shaking in his shoes, but he couldn't let Mr. Otis know that. He squeezed his fists tight against his jeans, ready for whatever Otis had in mind.

The corner of Otis's mouth rose, and for a second, Vlad could just make out the hint of a fang. “Let me in, Vlad. Don't make this difficult.”

“Don't make what difficult?” The porch boards squeaked as Henry approached, a concerned look on his face.

Mr. Otis looked back and forth between the boys and then glanced behind him, as if weighing his options. Without a word, he turned and stepped off the porch, pausing momentarily before continuing his exit.

Vlad breathed a nervous sigh of relief. “Oh, man. I'm screwed, Henry. I'm totally screwed.”

They went upstairs. Henry told Vlad about school getting cut short because of Mr. Craig's body being found, and Vlad told Henry all about last night's dinner. Henry gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “So you're saying your teacher sucks.”

Vlad brushed his bangs out of his eyes and snickered. “That's what I've
been
saying. I mean, he admitted it, Henry. He all but told me he's a vampire.”

Henry led the way down the stairs and out the front door. They both kept their eyes alert for any sign of Mr. Otis. When they reached Henry's porch, Henry squinted up at the sun. “I wonder how he keeps from frying in the daylight.”

Vlad shrugged. “Maybe he uses sunblock, too. Or maybe he's half human like me.”

“Maybe his soul's so dark that even the sun won't touch him.” Henry's tone was serious, so Vlad didn't laugh. Instead, he looked quizzically at his friend as he tossed his bag onto the porch. Henry dropped his bag beside Vlad's. “I mean, what kind of a guy stalks teenagers?”

“Not teenagers, man. Me. He's after me.” Vlad shivered at the thought of being Mr. Otis's next meal. He suddenly understood why Henry had avoided him for several days after he'd drunk Henry's blood. It made his stomach churn with queasiness. “Hey, Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry about biting you when we were eight.”

“No problem. Just stay away from the cat or Mom will throw a fit.”

N
OTHING COULD CONVINCE AUNT NELLY to let Vlad stay home for the duration of the school year, which just goes to prove that parents and guardians don't care if they're sending you to face bloodthirsty monsters, so long as you get a B in English.

Mr. Otis stood in front of the class. His eyes were still red from the touching ceremony the school had given in the gym in honor of Mr. Craig. He hadn't uttered a word or offered so much as a glance at Vlad in the weeks since their conversation on Vlad's porch. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked on the first word. “Thank you all for turning in such wonderful essay papers. I have graded them, and as today is an early-release day in honor of Mr. Craig's passing, you may pick them up on your way out the door. Have a safe weekend, ladies and gentlemen.”

Vlad shoved his notebook into his backpack and zipped it closed. On his way past Mr. Otis's desk, he snatched his paper off the pile and left the classroom, scanning Mr. Otis's various red scribbles as he walked. He'd gotten an A, which only proved that Vlad was excellent at writing from the point of view of a vampire and horrible at figuring out just how much it would cost to get from New York to Los Angeles if gasoline cost $2.35 a gallon and the car he was driving got twenty-six miles to the gallon.

Then Vlad glanced at the words scrawled at the bottom of the last page. He gasped.
I know your secret,
Mr. Otis had written.
I know you're a vampire.

Vlad almost jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to face Mr. Otis. “I must speak with you in private, Vlad.”

Vlad did the same thing he'd done in the sixth grade when Nelly asked him who'd broken Mr. Snelgrove's window. He denied any knowledge pertaining to current events. “Look, if this is about the punctuation test—”

Mr. Otis held up a hand and hissed, “You know what it's about. We're going for a little walk, you and me.”

“I.”

Mr. Otis's stern brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“We're going for a little walk, you and I.”
Vlad glanced at the double doors. They were only ten feet from him. He looked at Mr. Otis and shrugged. “Honestly, you're supposed to be an English teacher. Besides, I don't walk with murderers.”

Vlad bolted for the door and down the stairs. He kept expecting Mr. Otis to follow him, but by the time he reached the hospital, he was sure Otis wasn't there.

He caught Nelly at the nurses' desk and immediately launched into a quietly hysterical explanation of his presence. “Mr. Otis knows I'm a vampire and he's a vampire too and he killed Mom and Dad, not to mention Mr. Craig, so we have to get out of here! Do you think we could fly somewhere? Maybe the Bahamas? Or Australia? I'm thinking somewhere sunny.”

Nelly listened intently before picking up her sweater and whispering something to one of the other nurses. She ushered him out the door and took a deep breath before speaking. “Now calm down, Vladimir. You seem awfully upset. Let's start with Mr. Otis knowing your secret.”

They walked down the street, toward their house, and Vlad started to explain. He reiterated everything he'd told her the night of the dinner, but this time showed her the note Mr. Otis had scribbled on his essay. When he was finished, Nelly looked more concerned than fearful for their lives. “Where's Mr. Otis now? I should have a word with him, set him straight. That's a strange thing to accuse somebody of without any proof, being a vampire. Don't you think?” She gave him a side-long look, and Vlad shrugged.