Eleventh Grade Burns (19 page)

As they danced, Snow stepped in closer and Vlad let her. They swayed side to side, so close and warm, and Vlad’s heart fluttered happily. Then, without warning, his gums throbbed and his fangs elongated. Tensing, he snapped his mouth shut.

Not here. Not now. Not when he was trying so desperately to quit drinking from Snow.

Snow looked at him, concern filling her eyes. It took her a second, but when she realized what the problem was, that Vlad needed to feed and he needed to feed
now,
she tugged him out into the hall. Henry emitted a howl from across the room, which made Snow roll her eyes right along with Vlad. Once in the hall, Snow pulled him into a semidark corner, bent her neck to the side, and whispered, “Hurry. Before someone sees.”

Vlad nodded, unable to speak, unable to refuse, only capable at the moment of hungering for what lay within Snow’s delectable veins. He pulled her closer, trying to be gentle, and bit firmly into her jugular. The sweet taste of warm blood splashed across his tongue, and Vlad almost moaned with pleasure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash—Eddie, probably, and his stupid camera—but he didn’t care. The hunger had him now. He drank deeply, filling himself with her essence, feeling his body growing stronger as hers grew weaker. For a brief moment, he opened his eyes, and over Snow’s shoulder he saw a face that he knew very well.

Meredith’s brown eyes were wide, but not terrified. She muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” and turned to walk away, her eyes shimmering.

He’d hurt her. Again, he’d hurt her.

Vlad pulled back, withdrawing his fangs. They shrank into his gums immediately. He wiped the blood from his mouth with his palm. “Meredith, wait...”

Snow crumpled to the ground, weak from his feast. Vlad crouched down, his eyes full of concern. He’d done it again, despite his determination not to. He’d fed from Snow. He’d treated her like nothing more than a cheeseburger. He’d hurt Meredith again and once more, he was hurting Snow. He couldn’t get anything right.

He didn’t deserve either one of them.

He met her eyes and she mouthed, “Go after her.”

After a pause, a long pause, filled with doubt that seemed to stretch on forever, he bolted down the hall, back to the gym. Meredith was hurrying across the room, heading straight for Joss. Vlad reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Wait. Would you just wait?”

She stopped suddenly but didn’t look at him.

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“So you weren’t just making out with that ... that ... that girl?” She flung an arm in the general direction of where they’d left Snow, her eyes furious, alive with jealousy.

“No. I—wait, what does it matter to you if I was? You’re with Joss now, remember?” His voice had risen in anger and resentment. He didn’t mean for it to.

Meredith’s cheeks flushed—mostly out of anger, but also because Vlad was right. It was no business of hers who Vlad made out with.

Vlad blinked, uncertain what else to say. Part of him wanted to let Meredith run off, to be done with worrying about what she thought, to dance with Snow and feed when he needed and kiss her ... yes, kiss her. The other part of him wanted—needed—Meredith to know the truth, to know if she loved him no matter what fiendish beast lurked inside of him, to hold her close and transport them back in time, to when things were easier between them. He took a deep breath and spoke before he could stop himself. “I wasn’t kissing her. I was feeding from her. I’m ... I’m a vampire.”

At first, Meredith didn’t do or say anything at all. He wasn’t even certain she’d heard him. Then she looked Vlad in the eye and slapped him hard across the face.

The sting shocked Vlad, and he turned his eyes back to her with a questioning look.

Her own eyes brimmed with tears, as if he’d just insulted her in the worst way, as if he’d invented an outrageous story just to hurt her feelings and demean her intelligence. Her voice wavered as she spoke, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of fury or sorrow ... or maybe a bit of both. “Do me a favor, Vlad. Do us both a favor. Never speak to me again.”

Vlad’s fingers touched his burning cheek lightly as she turned and found her way into Joss’s arms. She didn’t believe him. He’d told her the truth, his most guarded secret, and she thought he was lying.

Before he could blink, October was in front of him, looking more than a little irritated. “What are you doing with Meredith? Where’s Snow?”

“She’s ...” Vlad lost himself in thought mid-sentence. Meredith didn’t believe him. He’d only ever told Henry he was a vampire, only one other person in the world. Snow had learned with a bite; Joss had learned with a fight, and Nelly had known his entire life. But only Henry had been told. And Henry had accepted him without question. Meredith had shunned him, labeling his reality as nothing more than a cruel joke. As if he were no more than an insensitive jerk who’d broken her heart so he could be with Snow. Snow ... “She’s in the hall.”

October turned with a huff to go retrieve Snow, but Vlad grabbed her gruffly by the arm. “No. I’ll get her.”

He crossed the room, still stunned that he’d uttered those fateful words to Meredith and more stunned that she’d reacted the way she did. He found his way to the hall, where Snow was struggling to stand. He helped her up, then acted as a brace for her until her strength returned. When she spoke, her voice sounded broken, distant, sad. “What did you tell her?”

Standing at the end of the hall was Eddie Poe, looking more than a little interested in their conversation. Vlad tensed and wondered aloud, “What does he want?”

“The same thing he wants when he visits The Crypt. Answers. Answers I refuse to give him. Y’know, even if you hadn’t ordered me not to talk to him, I wouldn’t. That guy is such a weasel.”

Vlad almost managed to swallow his esophagus. “He comes to The Crypt? When? For how long now? What does he do?”

Snow held up a hand, stopping his ramble. She waited for Eddie to disappear back into the gym before saying, “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you stressing out over nothing. Mostly, he just stands in the corner and gawks at me. This last time, he asked me questions about you. It took him a while to work up to the vampire question, but he got there with some determination. But stop worrying about Eddie Poe. I have him under control. Now ... what did you tell Meredith?”

Barely able to tear his eyes from the door Eddie had walked through, Vlad’s words fell into disbelieving whispers. “I told her I’m a vampire.”

Snow’s eyes widened. “Seriously? What did she think about that?”

He shook his head, trying to erase the memory of Meredith’s face when he’d finally told her the truth. She didn’t believe him. She thought it was just a ploy to get between her and Joss. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. All that matters is that I’m sorry I left you to chase after her, Snow. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” Snow shrugged and smiled up at him, looking more than a little relieved that Meredith had rejected him. “I missed you feeding from me.”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. What a weird thing to say. “Really? Cuz it seems like it makes you sick or something.”

“Maybe it’s having you close that I miss.” She ran her finger delicately along the buttons of his vest and met his gaze. “Vlad?”

Was it getting warm in here? Vlad swallowed hard, resisting the urge to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. “Yeah?”

She tilted her head to the side, curiosity filling her lovely eyes. “Do you really like that Meredith girl still?”

He didn’t have to think about it, not for a second, and he didn’t want to lie. But he knew if he were another boy, a boy like Henry maybe, he wouldn’t have answered. He would have bent down and kissed Snow so deeply before dragging her back onto the dance floor with whispered promises and sweet nothings. But he wasn’t that kind of boy. He was Vlad. Almost guilty, he said, “Yeah. I do.”

“Oh.” The hurt was there in her eyes, hurt that shouted loud and clear. Snow wanted to be his everything, no matter the cost.

“It’s ... complicated.” Vlad made sure she was steady, then backed away from her. The hall cooled considerably.

“Love usually is.” She shrugged again and smiled, all traces of sadness erased. “What’s it like to be a vampire?”

“It’s ...” Vlad sighed, shaking his head. “It’s complicated too.”

“Would you ever ...” She had her well-groomed eyebrows raised, but then lowered them, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

But Vlad couldn’t help but wonder if Snow were about to ask him to make her into a vampire as well.

Clearing his throat, Vlad gave the subject a shove in another direction. “Do you wanna dance?”

Snow beamed.

Vlad held out the crook of his arm and led her back into the gym. He hardly thought about Meredith Brookstone the rest of the night.

Not more than five or six thousand times, anyway.

T
HE CAB PULLED TO A STOP and Otis slipped the cabbie some money before opening his door. Vlad slid out after him and yawned. The flight to New York City had been short, but uneventful—there had been minor excitement when Otis pointed out the Statue of Liberty as they were landing, but Vlad couldn’t see it, so he just nodded noncommittally when Otis asked if he had. From the airport, they drove straight through to Greenwich Village, with promises from Otis that they’d stay in Midtown Manhattan so that Vlad could see Times Square. Vlad was trying to be excited about the trip, but the fact remained that they were here for Otis’s pretrial. And according to Vikas, this was Otis’s last chance at getting out of the charges filed against him alive.

The cabbie pulled their suitcases from the trunk, wished them a nice day, and before Vlad could open his mouth to say goodbye, he was gone, barreling down the street as if he were in a hurry to get away from his pale, thin, ravenous looking fares. Maybe, Vlad thought, he was.

Otis picked up their suitcases and nodded toward an unassuming café behind Vlad. A small sign hung over the door, painted blue—like the door and window trim—with white letters that read V Bar. Otis leaned closer and said, “Any idea what the V might stand for?”

Vlad mulled the possibilities over for just a second. “A vampire bar? Really?”

Otis nodded. “The owner is a good friend of mine. Though not, as it were, a good friend of your father’s.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never been clear on that. But trust me. You didn’t want to be in the same room with Tomas and Enrico.” Otis stepped forward, leading the way inside the bar.

The moment Vlad stepped over the threshold, he felt at home. V Bar was small, but cozy, with worn wood and small tables. A long bar lined the right side of the room, and a large chalkboard hung over the bar proclaiming the menu to thirsty visitors. To his left was a compilation of interesting artifacts—a statue of an armless woman, an old Ouija board. On the bar sat a picture of Count Chocula. In the corner, a piece of wooden trim was painted to look subtly like blood-tipped fangs.

It was probably the coolest place Vlad had ever been in.

Otis stepped up to the bar and took a seat. After admiring the room a bit more, Vlad sat beside him. A man behind the bar with curly light brown hair and a lean, muscular form smiled at them and gave them a nod, as if to say he’d be with them in a moment. There was quite a selection on the menu, everything from tea to wine, but nothing, Vlad noted, that would satisfy a vampire’s palate. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps the V in V Bar simply referred to who owned the establishment, not the patrons. He frowned, somewhat disappointed. After such a long trip, he could really use a drink.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” The bartender had warm eyes and a kind smile. The blue of his T-shirt matched the shade of his eyes perfectly. Vlad bet that he was a really nice guy.

Otis smiled back. “The house red, please. For both of us.”

The bartender beamed, offering Vlad a sly wink before turning back to Otis. “I thought your guest was part of the club but had to ask to be certain. Are you here on business or pleasure, Mr. Otis?”

“Business, unfortunately.”

The bartender nodded, his smile fading some. “I’ll make it a double then.”

“Would you please let Enrico know that I’m here, and I’ve brought a guest?”

“Of course.” He turned and picked up the phone, speaking quietly into it. Once he hung up, he filled two wineglasses with what looked like red wine and sat them on the bar. With a glance at Vlad, he poured one glass into a plastic cup with a lid and straw. As he slid the cup forward, he said, “For appearances. We wouldn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, would we?”

Vlad chuckled and shook his head. The cup was completely see-through, but whatever. He’d just claim it was cranberry juice if anyone asked. He sipped from the straw and recognized the spice immediately. Bloodwine.

Vlad spoke to Otis with his thoughts.
“Is the bartender
...
like us?”

Otis chuckled. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Taking another sip, Vlad looked around to be certain no one would hear. Then he met the eyes of the bartender, who seemed to be awaiting his words. “Excuse me, but are you a vampire too?”

He furrowed his brow, looking quite confused and said, “A vampire? Are you putting me on? They don’t exist.”

Vlad blinked, lost. He’d been almost certain that the bartender had known exactly what Otis was, what Vlad was. He started to mumble an apology, when Otis and the bartender broke into laughter. The bartender shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “No, little one, I am not. I’m blessed to be one of Enrico’s drudges, but I am not a vampire—though I certainly wish to be.”

Vlad couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Like Tristian, this man looked like a vampire, carried himself like a vampire. Maybe drudges took on those traits after so many years in Elysia. He couldn’t ever imagine Henry doing so, but then, he wasn’t sure he moved the way they did, either. “Has Enrico changed many of his drudges?”