Ninth Grade Slays (16 page)

Vlad swallowed, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper. “What do you mean exactly?”

“Only that I am sure there are certain wrongdoers in your life that have been long awaiting some payback for their actions against you. Am I wrong?”

Vlad didn't have to think hard. “No. But . . . what do you mean by revenge?”

Vikas's tone softened, but that didn't hide his eagerness. “Nothing more than a harmless prank. Of course, if you'd rather not pay them back for all that they've done to you . . .”

Vlad thought about Bill and Tom and every locker he'd ever been slammed into. He licked his lips slowly and said, “What do you have in mind?”

A knock at the door barely echoed into the room. Vlad relaxed his shoulders in disappointment. Their session was over—and before he could give Bill and Tom a taste of their own medicine.

Otis opened the door wide, spilling light into the room. “If I might steal my nephew away for a moment, Vikas.”

Vikas nodded. “Certainly.”

After a nod to Vikas, Vlad followed Otis out into the chilly air. The snow was blinding. He squinted and looked over at his uncle as they trekked up a nearby hill. “Is something wrong?”

Otis gave him a sideways glance. He pushed forward until they'd crested the hill. In front of them was a small clearing, untouched by footprints. Otis sighed. “What would make you think something was wrong?”

Vlad cleared his throat. He had the sneaking suspicion he was in trouble, but he wasn't sure why. “Well, you've never interrupted my training room sessions before.”

Otis turned to face him, his lips pursed tightly. "It's just that I don't approve of today's lessons. Or rather, where today's lessons were turning to. Concepts like vengeance and humans used for amusement may suit some vampires, Vlad, but they hardly suit you.”

Vlad paused, then lowered his voice suspiciously. “Those walls are thick enough to block out all sound, Otis. How did you know what we were talking about?”

Otis's steps slowed as they entered the clearing on the tree-topped hill. He dropped his gaze to the virgin snow on the ground. Vlad swore he could detect a hint of shame in his uncle's posture.

"You read my mind? I thought we had a deal!” Vlad's chest rose and fell as both his breathing and his heart rate picked up in irritation. “You stay out of my head, I stay out of yours, remember?”

Otis's eyes snapped back to Vlad's. His jaw tightened, as did his tone. “I remember all too well. Perhaps you'll do well to recall how unsettling it is to have someone wandering around in your head the next time you make Henry fall. Or worse. What were your plans for Bill and Tom exactly?”

Vlad dropped his eyes, but only for a second. “I wasn't going to hurt them or anything.”

“If you give in to this urge, this yearning for vengeance, you'll find it only too easy to move from harmless prank to . . .” Otis broke off then. His eyes wore the look of someone who has said too much.

Vlad tensed. With a stark eyebrow raised, he put a chill in his tone. “To enslaving the human race?”

Otis's eyes widened briefly with surprise, then darkened in defeat. His voice had dropped to a near whisper. “There are many steps between, but they are linked, Vlad. And closer than you realize, I assure you.”

Vlad stood quiet for some time. His uncle had all but said he believed Vlad to be the Pravus. How could he think that? How could he believe that his only nephew was a monster? Vlad's chest ached, but he managed to keep the hurt out of his tone. “Otis, you're blowing this way out of proportion. Besides, you can't just come into my thoughts and not allow me into yours. Especially after our agreement.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? I thought you trusted Vikas to teach me.”

“I do. It's just . . .” Otis shook his head, his anger visibly melting away. “Vikas is a traditional teacher. For the most part, his curriculum is brilliant. But some of his ideals are not necessarily the ideals I wish to instill in you.”

Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully before speaking. “Shouldn't that be up to me?”

Otis met Vlad's eyes, wide and full of awe. “Such wisdom from someone so young.” He shook his head and released a sigh, warming the chilled air between them. “I will interfere no more.”

Vlad drew his collar up so that it touched his cheeks, and shivered, shuffling his feet in the crisp white powder. One thing was for sure: Otis could have picked a warmer place to lecture him. “Is that why you brought me out here?”

“Partially. I also wanted to give you a gift.” Otis's eyes were careful. “Would you like to see your father again?”

Suddenly, Vlad wasn't cold anymore.

He looked at Otis, who merely nodded, as if to say that yes, it was possible. But it wasn't. Unless vampires could also travel through time. And if that were the case, Vlad was going to go back to the day he'd lost his parents and get them out of the house before the fire, save them, so that they would never have to be apart again. But . . . it wasn't possible. It couldn't be, or Otis would have told him already. “What are you—”

“It's simple. Tomas and I used to do this whenever we were apart, to catch one another up on moments we deemed important or memorable. It requires that you open your mind to me. . . .” A flash of guilt crossed Otis's eyes. “But trust that I will go no further than to share my memories with you. Your thoughts are safe. I swear that I will not tread there unwanted again.”

“You mean I can see your memories of my dad?” At Otis's nod, Vlad's bottom lip trembled, but he bit it back into submission. "I would like that very much.”

"Breathe deep, and open your mind.” Otis locked eyes with him, his gaze fevered and intense. Vlad drew a long, slow, deep breath and tried not to think about anything in particular—just as Vikas had taught him.

At first, there was nothing. Just the uncluttered quiet of his mind.

And then ...

A flash. A face. Familiar, warm, smiling. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone again. Like a single frame of some old 8 mm film.

"Open, Vlad. Try not to focus.”

Vlad steadied his breathing and waited.

The film reel in his mind flickered again, this time adding movement to his father's smiling face. The film jumped, and the image came into focus, surprising Vlad with the background noise of a busy marketplace. Tomas smiled at him—no, not at him . . . at Otis. He was seeing this through Otis's eyes—and laughed. “Come now, Otis. It's not like the Black Death is the end of the world. Lighten up.”

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the film ended, flipping forward through random pictures until it showed Tomas's laughing face once again. “It isn't every day we get a vegetarian meal, Otis.”

Across the street sat a group of long-haired hippies. One strummed a guitar while the others sang some song about peace and love. Otis chuckled. Tomas licked his lips, his fangs slightly exposed. “They look a bit stringy, but I'm sure we could squeeze a drop or two out of them. What do you think?”

Tomas looked back at Otis then, and Vlad saw his twinkling eyes, the familiar way the corner of his mouth rose in a smirk . . . familiar, because Vlad's did that, too.

Vlad tried to speak but couldn't. It was just a memory, just a fixed picture inside Otis's head. He kept his mind open and watched the film jump through blurry images until it settled on another memory.

Tomas was at a library. A wall of books surrounded him as he pored through every page. Vlad watched him, the way he seemed unaware of anything but the words on the page—so like Vlad whenever he immersed himself in a really good book. It was startling how similar his dad's mannerisms were to his. Vlad knew he and his dad were alike, but he'd forgotten just how much.

Otis's voice broke in. “Reading, again? What this time?”

Tomas looked up, his intense focus broken by a surprised smile. “Just some old stories. To pass the time, you know. What about you? I thought you were on a plane to Siberia.”

Otis's words were cut off by the film as it flipped once again through time.

Rain was pouring down in sheets, painting Tomas's hair to his skin. He looked over his shoulder at Otis, his eyes sincere. “We're brothers, Otis. We'll always be brothers.”

The film reel slowed, and Vlad could feel Otis pulling out of his mind. But he wasn't ready yet. Not to let go of the few precious moments he'd witnessed. He needed more, just a few more. . . .

The film reel jumped in reverse. Once again, Tomas was standing in the rain. This time, his forehead was creased in anger. “I'm not asking you to lie, nor to put aside your prejudices, Otis. I merely wanted to say good-bye before I left.”

“A human, Tomas. I understand the need to be loved, but to abandon all of Elysia for a human? That's madness.” Otis shook his head. “Where will you go?”

“I dare not say.”

“You don't trust me?”

Tomas paused and held Otis's gaze before turning away. “I dare not say.”

“Fine. Go if you must. But don't ask me for help when this all comes crashing down around you.” Otis's voice shook. “I feel like I don't even know you anymore.”

Tomas looked over his shoulder at Otis, his eyes sincere. “We're brothers, Otis. We'll always be brothers.”

Vlad furrowed his brow. The movie in his mind came to an end, and when he opened his eyes, Otis's forehead matched his. “Otis, I—”

“It's okay. You didn't know any better . . . and I didn't think you'd be able to pull the memory from me. It was the last day I saw your father. We fought. I was less than supportive of his romance with your mother, and I'm ashamed to admit, I was even less supportive when it came to Mellina's pregnancy.” Shame washed over Otis's features, and when he met Vlad's eyes, Vlad had to bite his tongue to keep the tears at bay. “Forgive an old fool, Vlad. I had no idea at the time how much I would regret that my last moment with Tomas was an argument. Nor did I have any clue that I would come to care so deeply for his son.”

Vlad dropped his gaze to the snow between his feet. In the past year, Otis had been something to him that only Tomas had been before—a father figure. A round tear betrayed him and rolled down his cheek, dripping from his chin to the snow below. “Thank you, Otis. For everything.”

Otis seemed to swallow his own tears and looked down the hill at the small village. “You should get back to your lessons.”

Vlad cleared his throat against his fist. “If you don't mind . . . I'd rather you showed me what ideals you want me to have.”

Otis glanced back at him, his eyebrows raised. “You mean, teach you? Vlad, I'm not sure I'd be much of a teacher.”

Vlad smirked, recalling the costumes and assignments of his eighth grade year. “You didn't do so bad last year.”

“What do you want to learn?”

Vlad shrugged. The truth was he wanted to learn anything Otis was willing to teach him. More than that, he wanted to draw out this moment alone together. Learning from Vikas had been great, but Vlad missed his uncle . . . plus, he had the sneaking suspicion that once the trip was over, Otis would be gone again, traveling the world in search of assistance for their predicament. “How did you do that memory thing?”

“It's just an extension of sharing thoughts.” His tone suggested it was no big deal. When he looked at Vlad, though, he seemed surprised. “Have you and Vikas not yet conversed telepathically?”

Vlad shook his head. Apparently, he wasn't learning as much as he thought from Vikas.

“Your father and I used to communicate by thought quite often. So often, in fact, that when he fled Elysia, I suffered migraines from the constant quiet in my mind.” Otis smiled briefly, but his eyes betrayed a darkness that lurked within. “To speak telepathically is one of the most trusting actions a vampire can partake in, as you're allowing another to push into your mind at will. It's a delicate balance of give-and-take. I will keep my mind open to you, and you to me. If we focus on the meaning of our words rather than on the words themselves, they will translate into conversations in our minds that only we can hear. Over time, if you like, we should be able to communicate at great distance. Do you want to give it a try?”

“Definitely.”

“Open your mind to me.”

Vlad relaxed, closed his eyes—it was easier with closed eyes, he thought—and let go of any thoughts, any questions that were tangling up his mind, anxious to hear Otis's voice in his head, the way his father had on many occasions.

Otis's words came out in a hushed breath. “Good. Now, focus on the meaning of your words and push them into my mind gently.”

“Like this?”
His eyes flew open at his own words. They sounded different. Not muddled, really, but low, as if confined in a small space.

Otis's chuckle reverberated through Vlad's skull, a pleasant buzzing in his brain.
“Absolutely. It comes in handy when humans are around and we want to discuss things of vampiric nature. Pretty neat
,
eh?”

Vlad's lips broke into a grin.
“This is way cooler than hovering. I can't wait to show Henry. Ought to make algebraclass more interesting.”

Otis shook his head and spoke aloud. “Henry is human. He doesn't have the brainpower to receive such clear communication. You can read his thoughts easily, and even plant thoughts in his mind that lead him to wonder about certain things, driving his curiosity to the brink, where he is driven to follow where your planted thoughts lead, but you can never clearly communicate by thought with a human. Even a drudge like Henry.”