Vlad cleared his throat. “So, what’s with the distance lately?”
Henry sank into his desk chair again. “ To be honest, I’ve been really stupid. Questioning why you never gave me a choice about being your drudge. Stuff like that. It’s not like you knew what biting me would do. And I was the one who suggested it.”
He grew quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was but a whisper in the quiet dark of the room. “I guess I’ve just been wondering if you’d wander off someday with your vampire friends and leave me behind. I mean, why wouldn’t you pick vampires over me?”
Vlad’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He never imagined that Henry, Mr. Cool, king of make-out and popularity galore, would be worried about Vlad leaving him behind. He shook his head vehemently. “Because you’re Henry. Because you’re my best friend, and I can’t picture any part of my life without you in it.”
Their eyes met. After another long silence, Henry smirked. “So should we hug now, or . . . ?”
Vlad chuckled, putting a hand up. “Hey man, I missed you. But I didn’t miss you that much.”
Henry grinned, then grew more serious and said, “It would be easier to be your drudge if you didn’t order me around.”
“Sometimes it’s just easier to tell you to do something instead of ask.” Vlad shrugged as a wave of guilt crashed over him. “I know that’s wrong . . . but it’s true.”
After a moment, Henry cleared his throat and said, “So, have you heard anything from Otis lately?”
Vlad shook his head, pulling the letter he’d just received from Vikas from his back pocket. “Nothing yet. But I’d written to Vikas to see if he knew what was going on with Otis and he wrote back a couple of weeks ago, said he had no idea but would check into it. I wrote him again, and just got a letter back this morning.”
“What did he say?”
Vlad unfolded the parchment, revealing Vikas’s perfect cursive, and read aloud.
Vladimir—
I was both elated and disappointed to receive another letter from you. I had my hopes raised that by now you might have been able to overcome the distance between us and reach me by telepathy. But regardless, it was wonderful to hear from you, Mahlyenki Dyavol.
But I return your good tidings with sad confusion, as I am still unable to locate your uncle. The last I heard from him, he had planned to visit, but when he did not show, I took it to mean that his plans had changed. Regarding your concerns, please allow me to put your fears to rest. Your uncle has not been arrested. If he had been, I would have learned of his arrest immediately, as I have friends in each of the councils. You may call them “spies.”
You asked about the relationship between your father and D’Ablo—a question I admittedly find most curious.
It is true, Tomas and D’Ablo were friends. But they were not friends in the same way that Otis and Tomas and I were friends, or that you and your drudge are friends (something that, I admit, boggles the mind). They were friends in the way that a mentor and one who is mentored are friends. D’Ablo looked up to Tomas, and rightfully so. Your father was an ingenious man. And D’Ablo desperately wanted to be like him.
As for your nightmares, I am convinced that those are brought on by the stress of your uncle’s absence. Do not worry, Mahlyenki Dyavol. I am certain Otis has his reasons for such silence, and that he will be in touch shortly.
In Brotherhood,
Vikas
Henry spoke quietly, his words sending a shiver down Vlad’s spine. “So, they were friends?”
“More mentor and mentored, it seems, but yeah.” Vlad folded the note and returned it to his pocket. “I wonder what my dad would think of his onetime friend trying to take his son’s life.”
“Repeatedly.” Henry met his gaze, his eyes brimming with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still having nightmares?”
Vlad shrugged. “You were distracted. But yeah, I’m still having them. Not to mention the weird visit I got from a vampire named Ignatius.”
Henry gave him a look, and Vlad poured his guts out, filling his friend in on all of the details that he’d missed out on. After he finished, Henry hesitantly said, “Listen, Vlad. About me not wanting to be your drudge anymore . . .”
“It’s okay, Henry.” Vlad wet his lips. His mouth felt horrifically dry. “I get it. I do. And it’s okay. But releasing you involves another bite—”
A momentary flash of fear crossed Henry’s eyes.
“—and right now I’m just not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Okay. But we’ll talk about it later, right?”
Vlad winced at his friend’s reaction, but understood it completely. “Of course. I should get home. Nelly’s going to be irate that I was out so late.”
Henry shrugged, as if the solution were obvious. “Why don’t you just crash here for the night?”
“And tell her what?”
“ Tell her it was my fault you got in so late, and I begged you to sleep over.”
Vlad mulled this over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stayed at Henry’s house without letting Nelly know in advance. Of course, there was the maddening scent of Henry’s blood to be considered. . . .
“You’ll be safe. I promise,” he said. “I won’t attack you or anything.”
Henry frowned and grabbed one of the pillows from his bed. He tossed it to Vlad. “Who are you trying to convince, Vlad? Me or you?”
Vlad bit his bottom lip and lay down on the floor, curling up on his side. He was too terrified to admit that he didn’t know the answer to Henry’s question.
Vlad tried desperately to tug his arms free, but the straps held fast, digging into his wrists and ankles, refusing to release him.
The shadowed man lifted the blade over his chest and plunged it deep between his ribs. Vlad screamed, howling from the pain. As his torturer pulled the knife out and stabbed him again, he lost his voice, unable to express with mere shrieking how unbearable the pain was. Blood gushed from his torso, spilling onto the floor below.
His torturer leaned forward, into the light, and Vlad was not at all surprised to see his face, which was twisted in an expression of immense satisfaction.
D’Ablo.
“Vlad! Vlad!” Henry shook him awake from his nightmare.
Vlad sat up, eyes wide. His hands were trembling as he combed back the hair from his sweat-drenched face.
“You were screaming. Are you okay?”
Vlad shook his head. It was his nightmare again. His never-ending nightmare. “ The journal, Henry. He wants the journal. And he won’t stop sending me these nightmares until I give it to him.”
“I thought you were convinced the dreams were a vision of the future.”
“I think maybe I was wrong. I think they’re a threat.” Vlad gasped, trying to calm his nerves, and failing miserably. “I’m giving it to him. I just can’t take this anymore.”
Henry’s tone softened. “Are you sure you want to do that? You know he probably has some pretty twisted reasons for wanting it.”
Vlad lay back down, phantom pain still lighting up his chest. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
Henry paused, then said, “Well, do what you gotta do, man. Now get some sleep, okay?”
Vlad curled up on his side, his fingers still trembling. That was it, then. The decision was made. He had to hand over the journal to D’Ablo.
He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that he’d memorized every page and there was nothing within it that D’Ablo shouldn’t necessarily see. But still sleep came very slowly. And when it did, it was filled with more nightmares.
The worst Vlad had yet experienced.
20
GROUNDED
NELLY’S VOICE HAD RISEN SO HIGH that it had left the realm of hysterical about five octaves ago. “Vladimir, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. First, you nearly bite Meredith. Then you get detention for skipping class and kissing in the supply room—”
<
br /> “It was a broom closet, and I wasn’t skipping class.”
“—and now you’re hanging out with a new set of friends who keep you out all hours of the night, with no explanation of where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing.”
Vlad took a deep breath, buying time to go over his and Henry’s story once more in his mind before speaking it out loud. “I told you, Nelly. We went to this club in Stokerton, and afterward I ran into Henry. He said he’d give me a ride home, but he got distracted by a girl, and then I stayed over at his place so I wouldn’t wake you up.”
Nelly shook her head. “And just how long did it take you and Henry to come up with that feeble excuse?”
Vlad pursed his lips. Nelly was smarter than he’d been giving her credit for.
When she spoke again, her voice cracked. “And exactly why is the front of the shirt you wore last night covered in what looks like dried blood?”
Vlad stared at the shirt for a moment, trying to find the right words. There was no way he could tell her the truth, no way he could burden her with his horrific, beastly act. Meeting her gaze, he saw suspicion lurking in her eyes. He replied with a blatant lie, mostly so they could both go on pretending that he was a normal teenager. Better that way. Let Nelly have her delusions. “I got sloppy with a snack pack, okay?”
The hurt expression on Nelly’s face cut Vlad deep, but it was better than telling her the truth and seeing fear there instead. She dropped his shirt back into the laundry basket and lowered her voice, as well as her eyes. “You’re grounded. One week for doing whatever you were doing last night. And one week for lying to me about it. Now go upstairs.”
A lump formed in Vlad’s throat. Nelly had never spoken to him that way before, or sent him to his room. He knew he deserved far, far worse for what he was putting her through. But it was better to lie and hurt her some than tell the truth and break her heart completely.
With a slumped posture, Vlad made his way up the stairs to his room, closing the door softly behind him. Before the door closed entirely, Vlad thought he heard soft weeping from downstairs. The sound of it made his chest ache. I’m sorry, Nelly, he thought. I’m so sorry . . . for everything.
He lay on his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about his conversation with Nelly or the fact that he missed Otis more than ever. He thought a little about Meredith, about his almost uncontrollable hunger, and wondered exactly how he could protect her from his dire thirst. Drinking from Snow had been paradise—a paradise he didn’t want to revisit with Meredith. But how could he save her from his hungry advances without distancing himself?
Mostly he focused on how he was going to give D’Ablo the journal. Being grounded complicated matters, but not by much. He contemplated calling Henry, to let him know that he was going to sneak into Stokerton tonight to pay D’Ablo a visit—after all, somebody should know his whereabouts, just in case something happened—but he wasn’t entirely sure he would be allowed a phone call. After several minutes, he cracked open his door and slowly made his way downstairs.
Nelly was sitting on the couch, quietly flipping through the pages of a magazine that Vlad was almost certain she wasn’t reading. He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long moment, unsure of what he should say. Finally, he cleared his throat softly. When she didn’t look up, he knew she was angry, but he wasn’t surprised. She had every right to be. He took a breath and said, “Can I call Henry?”
Nelly blinked up at him, her eyes red from crying. “I don’t know. Are you allowed phone calls?”
Vlad sighed and sat on the bottom step. “I don’t know. Don’t you kinda make up the rules on that?”
“Your mom would know what to do.” Nelly’s voice cracked. “If she was still here, things would be different. You wouldn’t be acting the way you’ve been acting.”
Vlad tilted his head, meeting her eyes. “How have I been acting?”
Nelly reached for another tissue, tears retracing the tracks on her cheeks. “Like a teenager, I suppose. But you have to understand, Vladimir, I’ve never dealt with a teenager before. Let alone a teenager as . . . special as you.”
Special. Vlad’s insides shrank a little. What a nice way of pointing out what a freak of nature he was. He was sure Nelly hadn’t meant it that way, but that didn’t erase the hurt.
Nelly took a shuddered breath. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Vlad’s face flushed, and he felt sick to his stomach. He had no idea he’d been hurting Nelly like that. “Nelly, I’ve been a teenager for a couple of years now. And you’re doing fine. I just . . . there’s a lot of stuff going on right now that I can’t talk to you about.”
Nelly’s eyes grew wide with concern. “What kind of stuff? Girl stuff? Friend stuff? Drug stuff? Gang stuff?”
Vlad suppressed a smile. It was sweet how she worried endlessly about him. “More like vampire stuff.”
“Oh.” Nelly relaxed some, then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Vlad sighed and ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “ That’s the thing. I want to, but there are these . . . laws. And I’m not exactly sure what I can tell you and what I can’t.”
Nelly nodded. “Otis mentioned something about vampiric laws. He said that he broke one in telling me he was a vampire, and that that’s one of the reasons he can’t stay here with us.”
Vlad blinked, suddenly curious what else Otis had shared with his guardian. “ That’s one of them. But there are a ton more, and I have to be careful not to break any more. Because I don’t want to put you in any more danger from Elysia just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”
Nelly was quiet for a good long time. Finally she dried her eyes and nodded. “ That makes sense, I suppose. So what you’re saying is, don’t ask too many questions?”
Vlad sighed, the sick feeling dissipating. “ That’s about it, yeah. I wish Otis were here.”
“So do I, sweetie.” Nelly straightened in her seat. “Okay. But I have to ask one question, or I’ll never be able to sleep at night. Did something happen last night that you can’t tell me . . . or that you won’t?”
Then it was Vlad’s turn to be quiet. Finally he shook his head, hoping she’d believe his lie. For both their sakes. “It’s not what you think, Nelly. I meant what I said before. I just got a little messy with a midnight snack, that’s all.”
To his enormous relief, Nelly visibly relaxed. “You should be more careful, Vladimir.”
He nodded, the burden of guilt heavy on his chest. “I know. I’ll try.”
Nelly nodded in return. “Are you going to call Henry now?”
“Am I still grounded?”
She sighed and met Vlad’s eyes with a forgiving smile. “I suppose I can’t really ground you for trying to protect me.”
Vlad shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk out of the room, then paused and looked back at his aunt. “ Thanks, Nelly.”
Before he could reach for the phone, there was a knock at the door. Vlad opened it to reveal Henry, who looked as if he’d just run all the way from his house. Breathless, Henry steadied himself again the doorjamb and managed to puff out, “I thought of a safe way you can hand over the journal.”
Vlad hushed him and opened the door, muttering quietly to Nelly as he ascended the stairs that he and Henry were going to hang out in his room for a while. Once safe inside his bedroom with the door firmly shut, Vlad turned to Henry and said, “First off, how did you know I’ve been making plans all day to return the journal, and second off, what are the odds you’d show up at my house just as I was about to call you?”
“You mentioned giving back the journal last night. And . . . I dunno, I just couldn’t shake the idea. What’s the big deal?”
Vlad shook his head. He didn’t want to bring up how Henry always seemed to show up when Vlad needed him, even without being told. It was like he could beckon his drudge without even thinking about it—something he knew would
freak Henry out. “No big deal. I was just curious. What’s your plan?”
“We ship it FedEx.”
Vlad blinked and tried hard not to look at his best friend like he was a complete and total idiot, but he was pretty sure he was failing. And with good reason.
Henry frowned. “What? It makes the most sense. They’ll deliver it straight to D’Ablo and you don’t have to share the same air as him.”
Vlad shook his head. “So your answer to my problem is to put someone else in harm’s way? Henry, what if he killed the FedEx guy?”
“At least it wouldn’t be you.”
It was touching in an odd way that Henry would rather some poor delivery driver bought the farm than Vlad, but still. “I can’t do that. I have to go to Stokerton myself. And I have to do it tonight, after Nelly’s asleep.”
Henry sighed, scratching his head in frustration. “What time are we leaving?”
“We?” Vlad cocked an eyebrow at him. If Henry thought he was tagging along, he was crazy. It was stupid enough that Vlad was willingly going to face the man that had almost been responsible for Vlad’s death . . . twice. He wasn’t about to subject Henry to D’Ablo’s insane bouts of moodiness.
Henry’s eyes widened in shock as realization sunk in. “You don’t think I’m letting you go back to Elysia to face that jerk alone, do you?”
“Henry, he could kill you. I at least have this Pravus thing going for me, y’know? He could hurt me, but I’ll live. I know I will. But in order to protect you, I have to leave you here.” Vlad met his gaze and held it, wanting very much for Henry to just drop the subject completely and realize that Vlad was only doing it for his own good.
Henry searched Vlad’s face. Then his jaw tightened. “Are you going to order me to stay?”
“Do I have to?”
“Look. What if these dreams you’ve been having are predictions of the future, like you thought? You’re gonna need some backup. If you order me to stay here, you’ll be on your own, strapped to some bloody table deep in the heart of the council building, right?” Dire need crossed Henry’s eyes. The need to help. “Otis isn’t here to save you. I am.”