The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills

by Heather Brewer

  But why?

  29

  A QUESTION OF HONESTY

  VLAD WALKED THROUGH THE KITCHEN DOOR of his house and slammed it behind him. His dad, who had left Nelly’s about a half hour before Vlad, was already inside and looked up expectantly at Vlad’s rather loud entrance. Vikas looked up too, then excused himself from the room. Tomas said, “You were rather quiet all through dinner. Something on your mind, son?”

  Vlad set his jaw. “I want to know exactly what happened the day Mom died, and I want to know now.”

  Tomas dropped his gaze to the floor. His voice lowered as well. “Then let’s go upstairs, and I’ll explain all that I can recall.”

  Their walk through the house was silent as the grave. Tomas lead. Vlad followed. By the time they got to the master bedroom, which had been recently thoroughly renovated, Vlad was pretty sure he could actually feel the tension in the air between them. His dad was probably feeling guilty about not telling Vlad that Mellina had been his drudge, and rightfully so. That wasn’t the sort of thing you left out of conversations with your half-vampire son.

  He’d trusted his dad. He’d not questioned his motives even once. But this ... this was too much.

  And if this had been kept a secret all these years, what else was Tomas capable of hiding?

  His dad paused in front of the bedroom door, then reached out and opened it with a flick of his wrist. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, as if he were on the verge of exhaustion. “What do you want to know?”

  “everything.” Vlad walked past him into the room, blocking out the horrible memory of finding his mother—and someone he thought was his father—on that terrible day. He moved closer to the window, not turning on the lights, letting the moonlight light the way. “That morning, I turned off your alarms, but you got up before the fire started. Where were you going?”

  Tomas released a tense breath before speaking. “As I mentioned before, I was going to spy on Elysia. More specifically, to steal books from their library in Stokerton.”

  Vlad’s defenses rose even further. “Books about the Pravus?”

  After a brief pause, Tomas answered, “Yes.”

  “And when you got back?”

  “It was too late. Your mother was gone.”

  “Who was in bed next to her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you had to wager a guess ...”

  His dad’s voice rose in terrible upset. “This was possibly the worst moment in my entire life and you want me to relive that pain. Why?”

  Vlad looked at him for a long time before speaking. He was trying to decide if this man, his father, had been lying to him for years, and if he could tell that just by looking at him.

  He couldn’t.

  “I just want to understand. I want to know what happened to her and why.”

  “So do I, Vlad. But those answers are never going to come.” Tomas shook his head adamantly.

  Vlad released a sigh. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, hoped that his dad would come clean without needing to be pushed. “How did you not feed on Mom, being so close to her? Otis says he just loves Nelly too much to feed from her. Was it that way for you?”

  “Yes” His dad flicked his eyes nervously about the room. “Of course.”

  Vlad shook his head. He was tired of this, tired of the lies. He wanted the truth. Even a shred of it. “Did you really subsist on bagged blood, Dad? Or were you feeding on someone?”

  Tomas dropped his eyes to the floor. He knew he’d been caught. It was right there in his expression. Vlad almost felt sorry for him. “I used the bagged blood the majority of the time, but supplemented with blood from the homeless in Stokerton.”

  Vlad tightened his jaw and boldly asked, “Was Mom your drudge, Dad? Did you feed from her?”

  The silence was stunning.

  Tomas’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Would it matter if she was?”

  “Yes.”

  “why?”

  “Because it changes things. Because it means that you weren’t exactly forthcoming with me. It means you lied.” Vlad’s voice caught in his throat. “Did you lie to me?”

  “What brought all of this on all of a sudd—” Understanding lit up his eyes. “Ahh ... Otis. I should have known. What did he tell you, that I’m not to be trusted?”

  Vlad shook his head again. “This isn’t about Otis. It’s about what I saw during dinner. It’s about the night you and Mom met. You bit her. Against her will, you made her your drudge.”

  “The blood. Dorian’s blood. It’s given you gifts that I had not imagined. Wonderful!” Tomas smiled. His voice had taken on an eerily casual tone, like they were talking about their plans for later rather than whether or not Vlad’s dad had ever fed on Vlad’s mom, whether or not he could control her with a thought. “She was my drudge. But I loved her, Vlad. From the moment I saw her, I loved her. She gave me you, after all. My son. The Pravus.”

  Disgust filled him. “And if I wasn’t the Pravus? If I were just some normal vampire kid ... would you be so proud of me then?”

  “Of course. But you are the Pravus. There’s no doubting that now.” Tomas smiled and a strange fog glazed his eyes, as if he were miles away, lost in whatever make-believe world made him the happiest. “Everything I have done, I have done for you, Vlad. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done because I love you. You are the Pravus. And you will embrace your future. You will manifest destiny.”

  30

  CONFRONTING OTIS

  VLAD WAS ABOUT TO ASK his dad just what the hell he was talking about, when he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

  “Vlad,” Joss sounded out of breath as he flung himself into the room. His skin was also disturbingly pale and small beads of sweat clung to his brow. “I have to talk to you. Now. Alone.”

  Tomas raised a sharp eyebrow, but moved silently from the room. Vlad couldn’t help but wonder where the conversation might have turned if Joss hadn’t interrupted. When Tomas was gone, Vlad turned to Joss. “What’s going on?”

  Joss closed the door and began pacing, his tone hurried, tense. He sounded angry. “What did you do?”

  Vlad blinked. “Can you be more specific?”

  Joss threw his arms in the air, his eyes lighting up with hot fury and betrayal. “That Slayer I told you about is dead! You didn’t have to kill him. Do you have any idea what this will mean? There are already another four hundred Slayers coming to Bathory because of this! It’s only a matter of time before the cleansing begins.”

  Vlad shook his head, holding his hands up in front of him like a prisoner begging for forgiveness for his crimes. Even though he hadn’t committed any. “Joss, slow down. I didn’t kill anyone.

  Joss looked stunned. “You dind’t?”

  Vlad shook his head, curtly, once.

  “Then who did you tell? Your uncle? Your father? Vikas?” The anger was still there, lurking under the surface, ready to explode at any second.

  It scared Vlad to see it.

  “No one, okay? I didn’t tell anyone there was another Slayer in town. What makes you so certain it was a vampire who killed him?”

  Joss ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “No human could have killed him that way. He was found with his heart ripped from inside his chest and crushed to a pulp.”

  Vlad’s heart shot into his throat. His eyes went wide. “I have to go.”

  “Vlad, what about the Slayers? We have to—”

  “Not now, Joss.” He had to get to Otis. He had to ask Otis if he’d killed the Slayer.

  Joss sounded frustrated. “But we have to—”

  “Not now!” Vlad yelled, and whipped out the door and across town as fast as he could move. He found Otis in Nelly’s kitchen. Breathlessly, he said, “Otis.”

  “Vladimir.” Otis met his eyes and his smile wilted. “Something on your mind?”

  There was. And that something was the death of everyone in Bathory.

  Vlad wet his lips, suddenly nervous.
Nervous to know whether or not Otis had just single-handedly started a war between the Slayer Society and everyone Vlad ever loved. “There’s something I need to ask you, and I need for you to be completely honest with me, at all costs. Okay?”

  Otis closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again and spoke, his tone was soft, gentle. He also sounded like he’d been expecting this conversation, which was in and of itself an admission of guilt. “Complete honesty? No matter how you may react?”

  “Yes.”

  “okay.”

  “Did you kill D’Ablo?”

  Otis’s eyes grew wide with alarm. The surprise in his tone completely threw Vlad. “What? No.”

  “And the Slayer that’s been wandering around Bathory—did you kill him?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Vlad furrowed his brow. He searched Otis’s face for any sign that he was lying, but found none. “And Enrico?”

  Insult and pain crossed Otis’s expression then, but he didn’t give voice to it. He merely replied, “I swear on my love for Nelly, Vlad. I am not responsible for any of these deaths.”

  Confusion enveloped Vlad. His uncle seemed completely innocent. But if Otis didn’t do these things, who did? “You didn’t rip their hearts out and mash them to a pulp?”

  It was Otis’s turn to furrow his brow. “No, but I have to admit, your line of questioning has piqued my interest. What brought this about?”

  This didn’t make any sense at all. It had to be Otis. There was no one else.

  Vlad shook his head. “Your shirt was drenched in blood the day after Enrico was murdered. Your hat has D’Ablo’s blood on it.”

  “It wasn’t me, Vladimir. I swear on Nelly’s life and all that she means to me. It wasn’t me. I confess that I don’t mourn D’Ablo’s passing, and I have no idea how his blood came to stain my hat. I haven’t even seen that hat in ages. My shirt was bloody because I went on a bit of a feeding frenzy. And I hadn’t even been aware that there was another Slayer besides your friend Joss in town. But I killed neither man. And Enrico ... I mourn Enrico’s loss. You’re free to search my memories, if you wish.” Otis met his eyes then, and Vlad saw the truth within them.

  His uncle hadn’t done any of these things.

  Vlad shook his head, almost guiltily. “I don’t need to search your memories, Otis. I trust you.”

  His uncle held his gaze, as if daring him to read his mind. “Perhaps you should search them. There are things locked away that you should learn. Things that I cannot bring myself to tell you. Things about your father.”

  Vlad raised a sharp eyebrow. “Like how my mom was his drudge? ”

  Otis looked surprised that Vlad knew about the true nature of his parents’ relationship. He nodded, as if there were more to know. “That’s one of the things, yes.”

  “What else is there?”

  Otis sighed. “I love your father, Vladimir, but he has always had a taste for the forbidden.”

  Vlad paused, uncertain if he wanted to hear whatever it was that Otis had to tell him. But at the same time, he had to hear it. He had to know. Knowing something, after all, was far better than being ignorant about it. Even if it was a bad something. “Forbidden? What’s forbidden? What do you know that you’re not telling me, Otis? Remember, you promised me total honesty. I’m holding you to your word as a vampire.”

  Otis nodded. That lost-in-thought look returned to his eyes for a moment before he spoke again. It was unsettling.

  “Tomas was always reading. From the time I knew him, he always had his nose in a book.” Otis ran his fingertips along the length of the kitchen table as he moved around it. “But not just any book. Books from the Elysian libraries. Special books. Forbidden books.” Otis dropped his gaze to the tabletop for a moment. His voice was a whisper, light and airy. But the meaning behind his words made Vlad’s heart feel heavy, though Vlad wasn’t sure why exactly.

  Vlad thought back to the note he’d found in his dad’s office a few years ago. The one with a single word scribbled on the back. It wasn’t a difficult guess to make. “Books about the Pravus.”

  “Yes.” Pressing his palms to the tabletop, Otis met Vlad’s gaze and held it. “He set out to create the Pravus, Vladimir. He chose your mother based on theories surrounding the Pravus myth, and made her his drudge so that she could not resist. He loved her, yes. But the love came later. First, he used her to bring about an impossible thing—to procreate with a human and bring a half-breed child into the world, a child that would come to rule over vampirekind and enslave the human race. He created you for that purpose. I’m just not certain why.”

  Hatred and fury and all sorts of evil things that Vlad had not thought he was capable of feeling toward his uncle came boiling up from within Vlad’s very soul. How dare he. How dare Otis insinuate that Tomas would ever do something so despicable. “You lie!”

  Otis’s voice remained calm and sure. “I speak the truth. Complete honesty, no matter how you may react—remember?”

  Vlad began pacing back and forth across the kitchen: running through his mind was every loyalty that Otis had ever proven to him. Why would he start lying now? There had to be a reason. He glared at his uncle. “You’re saying he planned it, that he planned my birth so that he would be the father of the Pravus.”

  “That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

  “And if I don’t believe you?” Vlad’s heart was hammering against his ribs.

  The corner of Otis’s mouth twitched, but only slightly. “Ask your father.”

  31

  TO TRUST OR NOT TO TRUST

  VLAD MOVED DOWN THE SIDEWALK in a determined stride, wishing that he could just fly across town at vampiric speed again. But Otis had lectured him on using his gifts out in the open, and how he was endangering everyone he loved—even Nelly—by doing so. But he wanted to get back home fast, to confront his father with what Otis had said, before he had too much time to think about it.

  He approached his house on Lugosi Trail and slowed his steps, surprised to find Joss and Henry outside, engaged in a heated argument. As he moved closer, Joss glanced at him, his face red, his eyes strained, his voice exhausted. “He knows, Vlad. He knows what we planned to do if we don’t find the journal.”

  Vlad’s eyes went wide. He looked from Joss to Henry and back. “You told him?”

  Henry shoved Joss hard. Joss barely moved. Henry’s eyes were red and furious. “I read it in his stupid journal!”

  Vlad looked at Henry, so confused and so wishing that his drudge had picked a better time for this. “What journal?”

  Henry shoved Joss again. “You’re not the only one who keeps a journal, Vlad. Now tell me, who’s idea was it not to tell me Joss was going to have to kill you?”

  The air was stifling, despite the cool breeze. Vlad and Joss exchanged looks that spoke volumes. They both had come to that conclusion. But they both didn’t have to suffer for it. Vlad said, “It was my idea, Henry.”

  Before Vlad could react, Henry balled up his fist and punched him in the nose. It felt like Vlad’s skull had imploded. And there was blood. Fresh blood. All over Vlad’s face, his lips. He had to fight the sudden urge to tear into Henry’s jugular.

  Vlad’s fangs shot from his gums and he turned on Henry, growling. “This is why we didn’t tell you! Because we knew you’d react this way!”

  “You could have told me! Should have told me! I’m your friend, and his cousin! What the hell, man? I’ve kept you safe for thirteen years, Vlad. What makes you think I’d stop now?” He was still upset, that much was clear, but much of Henry’s fury had been released in that punch.

  Just as Vlad could feel his nose swelling, it started to shrink again, healing in a way that only a vampire nose could heal. He looked at Joss, and then back at Henry. “You’re right. We should have told you. But you know now. So help us.”

  Henry shook his head. “Dude, we’ve searched the entire stupid town. Your dad’s journal is gone.�
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  Vlad sighed. “Then we need another option.”

  The three of them stood silently for several minutes.

  Then Vlad said, “But we’ll discuss it later, okay? For now, I have something important to talk to my dad about.”

  Joss nodded and made his way down the sidewalk. After he’d gone, Henry squeezed Vlad’s shoulder before turning to leave. “Sorry about the nose, dude.”

  Vlad tried not to look down, even though he’d climbed up into the big oak tree easily enough. It still made him nervous, and he still wondered why Henry had insisted on climbing it when they were little kids. He’d been up there for about an hour, mulling over exactly how to approach his dad. So far, he still had no idea.

  So maybe it was fate that opened the back door of Vlad’s house and pushed Tomas out and in the direction of the old oak tree.

  His dad smiled up at him. “I thought I’d find you here.”

  Vlad shifted some on the branch to a more comfortable position. “Why? I never liked climbing this tree.”

  Tomas shrugged. “Just a feeling I had.”

  “Can you still detect fellow vampires, now that your Mark is gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “But they can’t detect you?”

  “No.”

  “Can they control you?”

  Tomas raised an eyebrow, looking very much like Vlad’s older reflection. “Is that really what’s on your mind, Vlad?”

  Vlad set his jaw. “Well, can they?”

  “No. I’m free of Elysia’s binds.” Tomas met Vlad’s gaze. “What’s troubling you, son? Talk to me. What’s going through that head of yours? If something’s going on, just tell me. I’m always here for you.”

  Vlad slid forward, dropping from the branch and floated effortlessly to the ground. After he landed, he met his dad’s eyes. “Someone told me something about you. Something disturbing. I came here to ask you if it’s true or not. But I’m not really sure I want to know.”

  “Maybe I’m not the one you should be asking.”

  “You’re the only one who can answer my question.”