The urge to wet his pants was undeniable, but what would Mark and Todd think if they saw? But then why should he care what they thought. They were mean jerks and had run away without him. And when they found out he was dead the next day, they’d feel awful and deserved to.
Vlad blinked again, squeezing his eyes tight and opening them once more. His feet came to rest on the ground in front of the boy. He’d read the little vampire’s thoughts without even trying. Vlad whispered, “You should get home now,” which seemed to be the magic words required to release the boy’s feet from where they’d been cemented into the sidewalk. The boy ran past him, the pitter-patter of his steps quieting as he shrank down the street in the direction his companions had gone.
Henry burst from the bushes, cackling wildly, and snatched one of the fallen pillowcases from the pavement. “Did you see his face? I thought he was going to wet himself.” He dug out a pack of peanut-butter cups and tore open the orange wrapper, Stuffing one of the cups into his mouth, he held the other out to Vlad.
Vlad lifted the sweet chocolate to his lips and bit, his fangs shrinking back in his moment of confusion. The candy melted in his mouth, but he found little pleasure in it.
Henry ran ahead, calling over his shoulder for Vlad to hurry. Vlad picked up the little vampire’s bag and ran to catch up just as Henry was stepping onto the porch of Matthew’s house. Music was blaring from the open door, and flecks of colored lights hit the porch from inside. Matthew’s mom greeted them with laughter. “Well, come on in, you evil dudes! The party’s started and it’s totally rockin’!”
Vlad and Henry exchanged looks. It was both sad and annoying when adults tried to act cool. Without comment, they walked inside. The living-room furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and a large, mirrored disco ball was suspended from the ceiling. Bursts of fog occasionally covered the floor with a hiss. Vlad counted twenty of his school-mates before he gave up trying to figure out how many were there, but not before he noticed Meredith standing near the punch bowl at the opposite end of the room, giggling with several of her girlfriends.
Henry nudged him and said something, but Vlad couldn’t hear over the loud music, so he nodded and watched as Henry was swallowed by the crowd. Left to his own devices, Vlad took an empty spot on the end of the couch and waited for Henry to return. Bill Jensen and Tom Gaiber were moving toward the front door. Vlad shrank into his seat, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. Bill looked straight at him and pulled on Tom’s sleeve until Tom nearly fell over on top of Vlad. “Oh my God, check this geek out.”
Tom guffawed. “Nice costume, goth boy.”
Vlad glared and turned away. “Nice breath, loser.”
Matthew’s mom was standing near the door, watching the situation with pity-filled eyes. Vlad wished she’d look away, but she continued to stare as the skinny, pale, unpopular boy was picked on. He hoped she’d have enough sense not to try to comfort him after they’d gone, or worse, before. To Vlad’s relief, Bill and Tom started moving out the door. Then, to rub salt in the wound, Bill yelled as loud as he could, “Bite me!”
A hot flash shot through Vlad’s insides, and in that moment, he was prepared to oblige. He could feel his incisors lengthening, pushing his plastic fangs down, away from his gums. Clamping his mouth shut, he waited a moment to be certain Bill and Tom had gone, and then stepped out onto the porch and stretched, knowing it would take a few minutes to calm his hunger.
The cool quiet of the wraparound porch was a much-welcome distraction from the party. Bill and Tom’s taunts had left him with that uncomfortable, hollow sensation for which the only known cure was a few hours at home, battling evil-doers for the fate of the earth. People could say what they wanted about video games contributing to the delinquency of minors, but Vlad was sure that if Bill and Tom spent more time playing PlayStation, they’d spend far less taunting him.
He flopped down on the porch swing and listened to the music pouring out the front door. He was kidding himself if he thought he’d be able to ask Meredith to the dance. Girls like Meredith Brookstone didn’t date boys like Vladimir Tod.
Besides, the hickeys would be a nightmare.
His fangs shrank back, and as he stood, he heard Meredith’s voice, sweet and giggly, coming through the open kitchen window. “Are you asking me out?”
Vlad’s heart sank into his stomach, then squeezed its way down his leg and popped out of the hole in his shoe, where it struck the floor and broke. That was what it felt like anyway. He snuck over to the window and, holding his breath, peeked inside.
Henry was sitting on the kitchen counter, his sneakers dangling. He leaned forward and whispered to Meredith, whose soft brown hair was swept behind each ear. Her lips were pursed in a pout while she listened. Vlad tried not to jump to conclusions, but the sight of Henry’s lips moving just inches from Meredith’s pretty ear was enough to send his mood plummeting to levels of jealousy he’d not been aware he was capable of experiencing.
Henry glanced up at the window. Vlad ducked, but it was too late—he’d been seen. Moments later Henry was on the porch. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”
Vlad tried to play it cool, to grasp the last remaining thread of dignity he had and come off uncaring and nonchalant. Instead, his voice cracked and a lump formed in his throat. “This was a mistake. Maybe I should just go home.”
“Already? What about Meredith?”
Vlad hurried ahead, shrugging as he descended the porch steps. “It looked to me like she was in good hands.”
Henry followed, stopping Vlad with a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got it all wrong. I was trying to hook you up for the dance.” He looked at Vlad. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Sure, he believed Henry. But it was hard to ignore the fact that Henry was probably the most crushed-on guy at Bathory Junior High. At times, the wistful sighs from interested girls as they passed in the hall were deafening. Still . . . this was Henry. If Vlad could trust anyone, it was him.
Vlad managed a smile. “Of course I do.” He continued down the steps with Henry following close behind.
Henry said, “Did you hear about Mr. Craig?”
“What, is he going to be out sick for another week? I don’t think I can handle any more of Snelgrove’s pop quizzes.”
Henry slowed his steps. “People are saying he’s been declared missing.”
“No way.” Vlad stopped walking for a moment and let it sink in. With concentrated effort, he moved forward and tried to erase the possibilities from his mind. “Does anybody know anything?”
Henry had lost the pillowcase, but his front pockets were bulging with candy. “Not really. They say he just up and disappeared.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah.” The serious expression Henry wore was replaced by his familiar grin. “Hey, did you see Stephanie’s sister in there? She was looking pretty nice.”
Vlad shook his head and turned the corner toward home. “Dude. Seriously. She’s twelve.”
3
THE HIDDEN ATTIC
VLAD ROLLED OUT OF BED and rubbed his eyes. Careful not to step on Henry, who was still snoring in his sleeping bag on the floor, he crossed the room and shut the door behind him, then stepped into the library. From the nearest recessed bookcase, he grabbed a copy of The Theory and Practice of Telepathy and went downstairs, where the smell of chilled blood and fried bacon greeted him. Mmm . . . the breakfast of champions. Aunt Nelly was at the stove and turned just as he took a seat at the long plank table. “Morning, sunshine.”
Vlad blinked at her. “Morning, sulfuric acid.”
“Pardon me?”
“Well, isn’t it just kinda wrong to call a vampire ‘sunshine’?”
“Oh. Sorry.” She set a juice glass full of cool, deep red liquid in front of him, which he downed while she tapped the book. “Something interesting going on?”
Vlad ran the back of his hand across his lips, staining the skin burgundy. “Kinda. I read someone’s thou
ghts last night. Somebody I didn’t even know.”
Nelly took a seat across from him and sipped her coffee. “I thought you could only read Henry’s thoughts.”
“I thought so, too.” He scratched his chin and flipped open the book to a page covered with yellow sticky notes.
Nelly looked pensive. “Vladimir . . . you didn’t . . .”
Vlad scanned the page, only half listening to Nelly. When he realized what she was implying, his jaw dropped. “No! I wouldn’t taste somebody’s blood on purpose.”
“Except for Henry’s, you mean.” Nelly sipped her coffee, eyeing him over her glasses.
Vlad rolled his eyes and slid the book closer to him. “Aunt Nelly, I was eight years old. Can we let that one go already?”
“Well, you said before that you were only able to read Henry’s thoughts after you’d ingested some of his blood. So if you didn’t taste this person’s blood, how do you suppose you could read his mind?” Her tone was even, but careful.
Vlad leaned over the book and perused his various notes, theories, and scribbled thoughts on telepathy. “No idea. But then, it’s not like I have an Encyclopedia Vampirica to consult. So far, all I have are theories.”
Nelly nudged a plate of sticky buns toward him and proceeded to cover her own plate with crisp bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. Vlad grabbed one of the sweet pastries and dropped it onto his plate while Nelly refilled his glass with the blood he would need to begin his day. Nelly had never been squeamish when it came to Vlad’s diet. She was a registered nurse and went to great lengths to sneak blood from the hospital for him. Nelly chewed a bit of bacon, watching him with great interest. “So what happened at midnight?”
“No clue. We left early.” Vlad shrugged. Then, thinking about his overnight guest, he asked, “Is it cool if Henry stays another night? His parents aren’t going to be back until Monday afternoon.”
“So long as you boys can manage to find your way to school in the morning.”
As if awakened by the mere mention of his name, Henry came bounding down the stairs and burst into the kitchen with a bad case of bed head and a happy, well-rested grin. Aunt Nelly slid him an empty plate, finished her bacon, and placed a kiss on Vlad’s forehead. “See you later, boys. I’ve got a long shift today.”
Vlad ran his finger thoughtfully along the lip of his glass. “Hey, Nelly, we’ve got this family tree project in history. I was wondering if you could help me out.”
She ruffled Henry’s hair on her way to the door. “Have you checked the attic? I know your parents had some photo albums up there. They’d be more help than I would.” Vlad stared after her, dumbfounded. Nelly sighed. “Honestly, Vladimir, you’ve lived here for three years and still don’t know about the hidden attic? The door to it is a foot from your bed, for goodness’ sake! I thought vampires were supposed to have ultrasensitive powers of intuition.”
Vlad shrugged and picked up another sticky bun. “Don’t you think if I had powers of intuition, I’d be doing better in math?”
Nelly groaned. “Let’s hope you develop that next.”
With the click of the front door, Vlad and Henry were left alone for the day.
They finished breakfast and settled down in front of the television, bouncing back and forth between watching cartoons and saving the world through PlayStation until morning slipped into the comfort of late afternoon. Henry had already beaten Vlad twice at Race to Armageddon, but on the third round, it looked as if Vlad might be making some headway. The prize, of course, was glory and riches, combined with the godlike status of having been the android to defeat the menacing alien king. But just as Vlad was raising his laser sword to strike the alien king down, Henry hit the turbo button and interrupted the blow with one of his own. Vlad dropped his controller with a groan. “I suck at this game.”
“Yeah, but you can fly. I have to be better at something.” Henry dropped his controller on the floor beside Vlad’s and reached for his open soda can. The floor in front of the beanbag chairs was a battlefield of open potato-chip bags and candy wrappers.
Vlad shook his head. “I can’t fly. Only hover a little.”
“Fly, hover, whatever . . . it’s cool! Plus, if you learn how to turn invisible, just think of the terror you could be in the girls’ locker room.” Henry wiggled his eyebrows and took another drink. “I wonder if you’ll be able to turn into animals and stuff when you get older.”
At first Vlad thought Henry was kidding, but when he stole a glance at his friend, he noticed that Henry’s usually jovial demeanor had turned serious. Vlad shook his head. “That’s stupid.”
“Think about it. In all those old stories and legends, vampires can turn into bats and wolves, and fog and stuff.” Henry shrugged at Vlad and dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor between them. “It’s possible.”
Vlad thumbed his controller and tried not to sound too intrigued. It had been something he’d wondered about for some time. “I guess. But I’m not a hundred percent vampire anyway. My mom was human. Remember?”
Henry lowered his voice some and watched Vlad with a careful expression. “You must miss them a lot.”
“All the time.” Vlad held his breath for a second and tried not to give in to the sudden threat of tears that he could feel building up in his eyes. There was never a moment when he wasn’t thinking about his father and the kind sparkle in his eyes, or the tender way his mother would kiss him on top of his head whenever she walked within a three-foot radius of him. Three years without them would have been impossible if it hadn’t been for Nelly. It didn’t matter that they weren’t actually related. Nelly and his mother had been closer than sisters and that, in Vlad’s mind, made Nelly family.
“It was weird how they died.” Henry unplugged his controller and wrapped the cord around it.
“Yeah. People don’t normally just up and burst into flames.” Vlad took on a casual tone, but secretly wished Henry would forget the entire ordeal. He picked up his controller and reached for the console’s reset button. “Let’s play again, but this time I get to be the blue android.”
“I’m hungry.”
Apparently Vlad wasn’t the only one with mind-reading abilities. “There’s fried chicken in the fridge.”
Henry disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a plate of chicken in his hands and a drum-stick in his mouth. “I wuff Newwy’s chippen.”
Vlad wrinkled his nose, suppressing his growing nausea at the smell of cooked flesh. “Speaking of Nelly . . . I’d better work on that family tree. If I get another D in history, she’ll kill me. When’s it due, anyway?”
“Friday.” Henry dropped a clean bone on the plate and looked at Vlad. “How much have you done?”
Vlad raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Does writing my name at the top of the page count?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Doesn’t matter. I haven’t done that yet anyway.”
It didn’t take long to find the hidden door to the attic. Vlad grabbed the flashlight from his dresser and slid in first, with Henry following close behind him. Narrow stairs hugged the wall and curved upward, leading them to the attic room above. At the top, Vlad reached up, hoping a string to a light would be dangling down somewhere nearby. Finding one, he tugged it once and illuminated the room with a soft glow.
Henry wrinkled his nose. “Dude, what smells like cat pee?”
“You mean besides your breath?”
“Don’t make me get the holy water, Vlad.”
Boxes lined the walls in various towering stacks. Vlad lugged one of the boxes off a stack and placed it on the floor at Henry’s feet. He reached for another, and Henry asked, “What are we looking for exactly?”
“Photo albums and birth certificates. And if we’re lucky, a family tree.” Vlad pulled another box down and crouched on the wood floor. He tore the packing tape away from the seam and flipped open the flaps. The top was filled with nothing of interest. Tax papers, mostly, and the occasi
onal folder of receipts. But toward the bottom Vlad found several shoe boxes overflowing with family photos. He set them to the side and reached for another box.
By the tenth box, they’d discovered several photo albums; two small velvet boxes containing his parents’ wedding bands; and a leather-bound book with a strange symbol on the front, held securely in place by thick leather straps and two brass locks. Exhausted from the search, Vlad brushed a thin coat of dust from his knees. “I guess these will have to do.”
With a nod, Henry wiped a cobweb from his ear, picked up a stack of photo albums, and disappeared into the passageway.
Vlad was two steps from joining him when he spotted a cylinder poking out of a small box atop one of the stacks. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was small, no more than six inches long, smooth and completely black, except for the strange gold symbol engraved at one end: three slanted lines slashed across the bottom, encased in what looked like parentheses. He slid the cylinder into his pocket before turning off the light and making his way down the stairs in the dark.