Tenth Grade Bleeds (21 page)

Relief and horror swirled through Vlad's veins together in a gale-force torrent. After a brief pause, Vlad regained his composure and said, “Where is he?”

D'Ablo set the journal on the table to his left and turned back to Vlad. “He's here, actually. Would you like to see him?”

At a loss for words, Vlad managed a nod.

D'Ablo seemed to search Vlad's expression for a moment before nodding in grave satisfaction. Perhaps he thought Vlad would finish his own uncle off, saving him from breaking the highest law. Whatever he thought, Vlad didn't care. He just needed to see Otis again. And, somehow, figure out a way to get free.

D'Ablo nodded again and said, “Wait here.”

Once D'Ablo stepped through the large metal door, Vlad grabbed the journal and stuffed it into his waistband, then helped Henry to his feet and headed for the second door on the opposite end of the small room. “Come on, Henry. We've gotta get out of here.”

Henry muttered, “It's about time you had that idea.”

But when Vlad opened the door, he found Ignatius standing there, snarling. As quickly as he could move with Henry leaning hard against him, Vlad shuffled back to the metal door, which opened to reveal D'Ablo, whose lips were curled in a cruel smile. D'Ablo stepped inside and lifted Vlad's shirt, snatching the journal back. “Now, now, Vladimir. You can't leave without first saying hello to your darling uncle.”

Behind D'Ablo was a face that Vlad recognized with a glance—Jasik, the vampire who'd bitten him last year and brought a vial of his blood back to D'Ablo, healing him. But what stopped Vlad dead in his tracks, what almost made him drop Henry, what nearly made him lose it completely, was the sight of the man that Jasik all but carried into the room.

Otis's left eye was swollen, his body broken and bleeding in several places—wounds that could only still be there, unhealed, if the torture had been continuous. Vlad gasped in horror. “Otis?”

Otis struggled to lift his head, but when he did, he met Vlad's eyes and managed a strange, impossible, relieved smile. Vlad wondered if he was thinking that Vlad could save him, save them all.

Or maybe, Vlad thought with a shudder, Otis just wanted to see his nephew one last time before he died.

O
TIS PARTED HIS CRACKED LIPS and, through bloodied teeth, whispered, “Don't . . . listen . . . to him, Vladimir.”

As the last word escaped his mouth, Jasik threw him to the floor. To Vlad's astonishment and his uncle's credit, Otis didn't cry out.

Vlad released Henry, who limped back over to the chair he'd been sitting in, and knelt before his uncle. Otis met his eyes, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Otis hadn't meant to be out of touch for so long. It was D'Ablo and his cronies who'd kept him away. And Vlad hadn't caught on to the nightmare clues, Otis's cries for help—the only bits of communication that D'Ablo had allowed through. “I'm sorry, Otis. I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. I hadn't realized . . .”

A chilling laugh echoed from D'Ablo. “Ah, what a touching family reunion.”

Despite the warning in Otis's eyes, Vlad stood up straight and tall, turning to D'Ablo. “You monster! There was no reason for this. You were just getting your sick kicks torturing him like you did.”

The fury within Vlad's chest continued to build. “You knew where I was this whole time. You even stopped by my room. Why not take the journal by force? Or send one of your lackeys to do it? That seems to be more your style.”

“I would have, but I confess that after our previous encounters, I'm—pardon the phrase—once bitten, twice shy when it comes to direct confrontation with the Pravus. And that much is true, young Vladimir, you are the Pravus. And there are at least a thousand other vampires who share that belief with me. We have been waiting your coming for a millennium.”

Otis managed a wheezing laugh. “You're a fool who believes in fairy tales, D'Ablo.”

“Your uncle is among the majority of misguided vampires, those who believe the prophecy to be false, a mere children's story. Despite the fact that you have been born—a miracle in and of itself. You see, before the law was passed, vampires and humans were allowed to intermarry for several hundred years. In all that time not one child was ever born. Not to mention that you have survived a stake through the heart.” D'Ablo straightened with pride, clearly pleased with his manipulation of Joss last year. “But it doesn't matter what Otis believes or doesn't believe. You
are
the Pravus, Vladimir Tod. Even you cannot deny it anymore, after all that you have seen, all that you have experienced. Think of it—it would make no sense for the prophecy to be no more than a bedtime story for children. In all of vampire history, there has only ever been
one
child.”

Otis managed a single word. “Lies.”

But any further words were replaced by a scream as D'Ablo forced his gloved thumb deep into the open wound on Otis's shoulder.

Vlad cried out, “Knock it off!”

To his amazement, D'Ablo withdrew from Otis, but as he did, he licked Otis's blood from his thumb and shivered with delight. “You see, it was the council who sent Ignatius after you. It was they who insisted that he should be given a chance to restore his family honor.”

D'Ablo shook his head. “Such fools. Sending a vampire to kill the unkillable. Oh, that's not what they told him—they ordered him to bring you before them, to be tried for your crimes at last. But this is Ignatius, and his temperament has always run a murderous trail. I quite think they were hoping you'd not survive long enough to face them. Most of them would find it a difficult task to punish a child with the brutality of our laws—especially the child of a departed friend.”

Vlad looked at Otis, but Otis nodded, as if to indicate that he was fine. Then he looked back at D'Ablo in confusion. “Wait . . . ‘restore his family honor'?”

Otis wheezed, gulping for air between words, as if his lungs had been damaged too. “Vladimir . . . Ignatius is . . . your grandfather.”

Vlad's eyes shot to Ignatius, who snarled, emitting a low, guttural growl that made Henry slide his chair back several inches. Vlad shook his head, refusing to believe that this monster could possibly be related to him.

D'Ablo chuckled. “Oh yes, it's quite true. Ignatius turned your father and your uncle into vampires. He created them. And, by extension, created you. Something that deeply disturbs him.”

In wordless agreement, Ignatius cracked his knuckles, his fierce eyes on Vlad the entire time.

D'Ablo continued in an oddly casual tone. “By bringing you to justice—or death—it would bring honor to his blood-line, honor that was lost by Tomas's and Otis's crimes, not to mention those of his grandson. I didn't want to send him, because Ignatius is a skilled bounty hunter, one of the best there is, despite his intense allergy to the sun—so severe that even the sunlight reflecting off the moon will harm him. You see, he can only venture out under the dark of the new moon.”

Vlad swallowed hard. He thought he had it bad by having to slather on sunblock several times a day.

“Alas, due to the proper paperwork being held up, as sometimes happens, and his seeming inability to find you completely alone, as well as his unfortunate exposure to the dawn during your initial encounter, which took an enormous amount of time for him to recover from, Ignatius has hardly had a fair chance at justice. Something that has both embarrassed and infuriated him no end.” D'Ablo flicked his eyes to Ignatius and back, a bemused smile on his lips. “I knew that Ignatius would not succeed in killing you, but would bring you before the council—something that would make acquiring the journal difficult, to say the least.”

Vlad gulped as the pieces fell into place in his mind. It had been a trap all along. And he'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. “So you kidnapped Otis.”

D'Ablo offered him a nod, the smug smile never leaving his lips. “And took great pleasure in causing him pain, knowing that though I blocked his telepathy with a Tego charm, he would be able to send you images of his experiences when your mind was most susceptible.”

“When I was sleeping.” Vlad almost gasped. He was quite certain that Otis and Henry were going to die, but he had no idea what D'Ablo and his cronies had in store for him.

D'Ablo nodded once more, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Luckily, I am an infinitely patient vampire. Besides, invincibility is well worth the wait.”

Vlad threw him a confused glance.

“ Through my studies, I have learned that the great vampire philosopher Diogenes once theorized that there is a way to steal the status, the traits, the power of the Pravus. And so he designed a ritual to do so. And you, my boy, have just handed it to me.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “Nice try, nimrod. I know that book from front to back. There's no ritual in there.”

D'Ablo held out his hand and in his most gentlemanly voice said, “Your hand, if you would.”

“Not a chance.”

“Very well.”

Before Vlad knew what was happening, he was grabbed from behind by Jasik. He had been so involved in his conversation with D'Ablo that he hadn't even noticed Jasik moving into position. Otis summoned all the strength he could and leaped out to free his nephew, only to be met by D'Ablo's elbow in his face. Otis fell back on the floor in a heap.

From behind his back, D'Ablo pulled a dagger—the same dagger, Vlad noticed with a shudder, that he had used to torture Otis. With a nod, Jasik grabbed Vlad's wrist and offered up his hand. D'Ablo slashed his palm open, and Vlad cried out, but remained still. Blood dripped from the wound, and before it could close, D'Ablo pressed the backs of two of the journal's pages against Vlad's palm, staining them with crimson.

D'Ablo's eyes were locked onto the blood-smeared pages. Vlad was about to use the distracted moment to shove Jasik away and try, somehow, to get his wounded uncle and friend out the door, but then something happened. . . .

The pages began to glow. All of the pages.

And after a moment, flames scrawled across the pages that Vlad could see, burning letters, then full words, into the parchment.

Vlad almost forgot completely about the wound in his palm, which had already begun healing closed. He gasped, “What is it?”

“It's your future, Master Pravus. It is your end.” D'Ablo met his gaze with the glowing grin of an empowered lunatic. The three words he spoke next made Vlad's heart skip a beat and his limbs freeze with terror. “And my beginning.”

J
ASIK RELEASED VLAD AND STARTED HELPING D'Ablo to arrange things on the table. Otis reached a shaking hand up to Vlad's sleeve and tugged him closer. “He believes the ritual contained in those pages will steal the invincibility of the Pravus, and he fully intends to perform it. He truly believes in the story, Vladimir, dangerously so. You must leave. Find a way out while their backs are turned. Or he is going to kill you.”

Vlad whispered back, “I'm not leaving without you and Henry.”

Otis smiled at him through his tears, grateful for even this final moment together. “Don't you see, Vladimir? Henry and I are as good as dead. I can barely move, and he's just a drudge. You can make another.”

Vlad flinched. “He's not
just
a drudge.”

“Get out while you can. Get to Vikas. He'll protect you.”

Vlad shook his head, tears welling in his eyes as well. “When we were in Siberia last year, I overheard Vikas tell you that I didn't need his protection.”

“But you do. Right now, you do.” Otis winced in pain. As he spoke, a small amount of blood left the corner of his mouth and trailed down his chin. “Please. Don't make me witness your demise. You're like . . . you're like a son to me.”

In that moment, Vlad's tears dried, replaced by determination. Because Otis was like a father to him, the same way that Nelly was like a mother to him, and there was no way he was going to lose his entire family a second time. He was getting out of here—they all were—and they were going home, to Nelly.

“C'mon.” He took Otis's arm and placed it around his shoulders, helping Otis to stand, despite his quiet protests, then gestured to Henry with a glance. Henry, wide-eyed, nodded in response and carefully stood, wincing as he put weight on his injured ankle. Vlad nodded to the big metal door, and Henry followed his lead. They moved slowly, only a single step every few seconds, hoping that the other vampires—who were engaged in some kind of setup for D'Ablo's insane ritual—wouldn't notice their departure until they were gone, or at least until they had a good head start.

The seconds slipped by, and Vlad counted his blessings with every heartbeat. After what seemed like an eternity, Vlad's fingers met the ornate doorknob.

As if he'd actually heard the subtle sound of Vlad's fingertips lightly brushing metal, D'Ablo stiffened, then turned to face them. “Fools. Did you really think that would work? The three of you are no match for even one of us. Especially given the fact that two of you are injured, one but a drudge. You can't escape.”

Vlad's jaw tightened. “ Then let's even the odds. You and me. Right now.”

“As tempted as I am by your offer, Master Pravus, we have other business to attend to.” D'Ablo glanced at his cronies for a moment. “Lock Otis and the human in a cell together. It ought to be quite interesting having them share such a small space, what with Otis's now surely ravenous appetite. How long has it been since you fed, Otis? Nine months? Ten?”