Twelfth Grade Kills

by Heather Brewer

  “Like ... do you trust me?” His dad smiled slightly and gave his shoulder a squeeze, his eyes full of a warmth that only a father could convey. “Because if you do, then no other question need be asked. If you trust me, no one and nothing else matters.”

  His words hung in the air between them, and Vlad examined each one like an extremely careful surgeon, picking them apart and putting them back together again.

  In the end, they made perfect sense.

  Vlad nodded slowly, pushing away all of Otis’s crazy theories and every bad thought that he’d had about his dad since he left Nelly’s house just an hour ago.

  He did trust his dad.

  And that was all that mattered.

  32

  THE FOOD OF GENIUS

  IT WAS LUNCHTIME at Bathory High School. Lunchtime on a Tuesday, which could only mean one thing.

  It was Taco Tuesday. Henry’s favorite day of the week.

  Henry’s lunch tray had been covered with eight tacos when they’d stepped out of line, but they’d only been at the table for about ten minutes and his supply was already running dangerously low. He was down to three, and another fresh, crunchy shell was already in his hand and lifted to his open mouth.

  Vlad’s tray contained four tacos. Joss’s contained three. But neither was feeling very hungry at the moment.

  “What about your uncle? You said he’s open-minded. Can’t he get together a bunch of vampires to help us? Or maybe talk some sense into this Em person?” Joss’s voice was low, but Vlad could tell he was on the verge of shouting in frustration. They’d been searching for a solution, a plan, for weeks now to no avail. Every idea they’d had so far was dangerously stupid.

  Vlad sighed. “Not gonna happen, Joss. Otis can’t change Em’s mind, and I’m betting she has more followers than he does in Elysia. She’s ancient. People fear her. What about your uncle? Can’t he change the minds of the Slayer Society?”

  Joss threw him a glance that said that that subject was closed. Apparently, Joss was about as close to his uncle as Vlad had been to D’Ablo.

  Joss pushed his tray back, folded his arms on the table in front of him, and rested his chin on them. He was silent for a long time, but when he spoke, his words touched Vlad deeply. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  Vlad slumped his shoulders in defeat. “And I don’t want to die. But we’re running out of options and time.”

  Joss released a heavy, troubled sigh. “I don’t know what to do. The Slayer Society won’t stop unless you’re dead.”

  “And Em won’t stop until I’m dead.” Vlad sighed too. It came from deep within him, from the center of his very being. “What are we gonna do?”

  A loud crunch came from Henry as he took the last bite of his last taco. He chewed loudly, then stretched his arm across the table to Joss’s tray, snagging another taco. As he brought the taco back to his own tray, he shrugged with one shoulder. “Fake your death.”

  Joss sat up slowly, blinking at Henry. Vlad straightened his posture, glancing from Joss to Henry and back.

  Henry hadn’t been doing much talking at all since the other night, when they’d told him all about the fallback plan. And the killer thing was ... his suggestion was kind of brilliant, and way too obvious for Vlad and Joss to have missed it during their long debates about what to do.

  Joss shook his head, as unwilling as Vlad to accept that Henry had just had an excellent idea. “How are we going to do that exactly? The Slayers aren’t blind and the vampires can detect Vlad by reaching out with their blood.”

  Henry paused for a moment, midchew, as if mulling Joss’s question over in his mind. Seemingly satisfied with his thought process, he swallowed another bite, looked at Vlad, and said, “That clearing just outside of town has a cliff on the north end, just beyond the trees. If the Slayers see you go over and you use your freaky Pravus powers to block the vampires’ detection ... it could work.”

  Vlad thought about it, and even though the idea had settled the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at least a little—to the point where he almost reached for a taco himself, there was still that other thing to be considered. “But Henry, if I go over that cliff, I’ll break my neck.”

  Henry shook his head and rolled his eyes before helping himself to a taco from Vlad’s tray. “Dude. Have you forgotten who you are? You can hover.”

  Joss and Vlad exchanged looks. Tense, scrutinizing, wondering looks. This could work. This could really work. They collectively shook their heads and the corner of Vlad’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “You’ve been holding out on us, Henry. I had no idea you were so full of great ideas.”

  Henry held up his taco—formerly Vlad’s—and grinned. “Little-known fact, gentlemen. Tacos are the food of genius.”

  Vlad and Joss grinned too and the three toasted to Henry’s brilliant plan with tacos, thankful that it was Tuesday, and that they finally had a small chance of fixing all of their problems in one fell swoop.

  33

  UNHAPPY NEW YEAR

  VLAD WAS DONNING THE NEW SKULL SCARF that Nelly had knitted him and given to him on Christmas, standing outside in the cold. His fingers were starting to go numb. Beside him, Joss was twirling his stake between his fingers, waiting. Today was the day. The day that they would dupe Slayers and vampires alike, and see just how well Henrys taco-fueled plan would work.

  They’d been waiting for hours now and the sun had finally begun its descent. But there was still no sign of either the Society or Elysia. Vlad was beginning to wonder if they’d ever show.

  He and Joss hadn’t spoken much since arriving in the clearing. Maybe because there was nothing to say. Or maybe because they were both going over the plan again and again in their minds. It had to work. It just had to.

  Just as Joss had turned to Vlad and started to say something to break the silence, there was a rustle in the bushes to the right and out stepped a man. He was dressed in earth tones, slacks with boots, a button-down shirt and vest, a flowing, almost capelike trench coat. A brown leather baldric holding six small blades crossed his chest. At his hip was a leather holster, holding a wooden stake. His cheek was scarred, a four-inch-wide crescent shape. He cocked a displeased eyebrow at Joss. “You’re supposed to kill it. Not speak with it.”

  Joss stumbled over his words, hurrying to retrieve his own stake from the ground and return it to its place on his hip. “Uncle Abraham ... you’re ... here ...”

  Abraham pursed his lips. “On your feet, Slayer. Dispatch this vampire. Rid the world of this evil. Do as you have been instructed to do.”

  By the tone in his voice, Vlad got the feeling that Joss’s uncle didn’t like weakness, and when Abraham looked at Joss, it was all he could see.

  Joss looked from his uncle to Vlad and back again. “I was about to.”

  Here it was. Time to enact their get-out-of-jail-free plan. All they needed was a vampire to witness Vlad’s miraculous execution.

  “Abraham. It’s been too long.” Vlad’s dad wore a peculiar smile as he entered the clearing. Vlad raised an eyebrow at the familiarity in his tone, and resisted the urge to sigh in relief. They had their vampire. Now it was Joss’s turn. Vlad eyed Joss’s stake, ready as he’d ever be.

  Abraham’s hand hesitated on his stake. His tone was full of surprise and alarm, and just a little bit of fear. He reached up and gently stroked the scar on his cheek. “Tomas”

  “Oh, now isn’t this a surprising reunion?” Vlad turned at the familiar voice. Otis offered him a wink and then turned to face the Slayer.

  “Otis.” Abraham’s voice held no surprise this time, like he’d expected Otis to be along anytime since Tomas was here.

  Vlad raised a sharp eyebrow. “You three know one another?”

  Otis smiled, keeping his eyes on Joss’s uncle the entire time. “Oh yes. Abraham and your father are well acquainted.”

  “Nice scar, by the way.” Tomas grinned, then glanced at his son. “And Otis and Abraham are simply the best of frie
nds.”

  “That’s not at all how I recall it. But my memory’s fading.” Otis took a step closer to Abraham, but, to Vlad’s surprise, Abraham didn’t take a step back. He stood there defiantly. Otis smiled. “Perhaps we should reminisce about old times?”

  “Over a drink?” Tomas stifled a chuckle as he too stepped closer to Abraham.

  Abraham gripped his stake and glared at them both, growling, “I’ll have your heads.”

  Otis clucked his tongue. “Like that fateful day, Abraham, there are only two Slayers here, and three vampires. You are outwitted and outmatched.”

  Tomas shook his head, stepping even closer. “And this time, we won’t turn the other cheek.”

  Abraham laughed, and by the sound of it, Vlad was pretty sure it wasn’t something he did often. “You actually think I’m here alone? What kind of fool do you take me for?”

  A wooden stake whipped by Tomas’s head. He had just barely ducked it before it slammed six inches into a tree behind him. Vlad whipped his head around to see a Slayer standing in the woods, a modified crossbow in his hands.

  Otis quipped, “One with a short lifespan.”

  Vlad looked at Joss and nodded. Joss nodded back, then ran toward Vlad, stake held high. Vlad bolted across the clearing, but kept his movements slow enough that Joss could keep up. They wrestled for a moment, struggling for the stake and then Joss raised his eyebrows, as if to silently ask Vlad if he was ready. Vlad nodded.

  That’s when Joss pretended to stake him, and then tossed him over the cliff.

  Vlad flew over the edge, but with a little concentration, hovering just out of sight was an easy thing to do. From above, all he heard were whispers and muttering. It had worked. They had totally faked his own death.

  He owed Henry about a zillion tacos.

  Strong fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him upward. Vlad almost screamed as it felt like his scalp was being torn off. Lying on the ground, once more in the clearing, Vlad looked up to find Em holding his hair, looking disgusted. “Faking your death, are we? Not a bright boy, my great-grandson. That has to be the oldest—and dumbest—trick in the book.”

  She looked back at Abraham and said, “If you truly believe, Slayer, that you’re going to take Tomas’s life before I’ve had the pleasure, you should think again. I’ve come to carry out a sentence that has been a long time coming.

  She glanced at Vlad’s dad. “Italy, Tomas? Really.”

  When she looked back at Abraham, her eyes were no longer rolling. “Don’t think the threat of wood will do so much as make me hesitate. I knew your great-great-grandfather.” She snapped her teeth playfully at Abraham and grinned. “He was delicious.”

  At her final word, a group of no less than six Slayers descended on the clearing. Em, as if expecting this, snatched Abraham close to her while elongating her fangs and hissing into his ear, “Call off your pets, Abraham. Or die.”

  Abraham hesitated, then waved them away.

  Vlad never thought he’d ever be happy to see Em, but at the moment, he kinda was.

  Live and learn.

  34

  THE BEGINING OF THE END

  EVERYONE IN THE CLEARING-all but Abraham and Joss—relaxed some then.

  “Not so fast, Tomas.” Em’s voice was an echo in the night. Both Tomas and Vlad blinked at her. “There is the slight matter of your execution to tend to.”

  Vlad stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes, and looked at his father. Tomas merely shrugged casually, as if her threats meant nothing to him.

  “I think we might have slightly more pressing matters at hand, Madame Council.” The sarcasm in Tomas’s voice was evident.

  “I think that the assembled mass of vampires currently in Bathory can more than take care of a small group of Slayers.” An evil glint crossed her eyes. “I brought them in hungry.”

  With a twitch of her finger two of her cronies stepped forward from their spot in the surrounding woods. “Alert the others and take care of them.”

  The bigger of the two nodded. His lips spread into a smile as he let his fangs elongate, and broke into a run, followed closely by the other.

  Vlad said, “That won’t be enough.” Em glared at him, and he met her gaze with equal intensity. Vlad shook his head, overwhelmed by the enormity of his situation. “There are more Slayers coming. Joss has to kill me or everyone will die.”

  Vlad moved forward, eyeing Em with certainty. “You include.”

  “Vlad, don’t.” Tomas reached out a hand to stop his son from moving toward the oldest vampire in existence, but was unable to restrain him. Two more of her cronies exited the woods and moved protectively in front of Em. Vlad stopped just short of them, his eyes locked on Em. “My life will end, just as you want it to. The only difference is that Joss will be the one to kill me.”

  Em said, “That eager to die, are we?” Vlad wasn’t sure how, but it seemed that each time Em smiled she looked even more evil. “Your chance will come. For now my attention is on your father. Once I have dispatched him, I will take my sweet pleasures with your.”

  One of Em’s henchmen grabbed Vlad by the shoulders and turned him around to hold him in place. Em’s gaze fell on Tomas. She was going to make Vlad watch his father die.

  Vlad swallowed hard. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched as Abraham and Joss slinked away. Abraham practically had to force Joss from the clearing, but Vlad was glad he went.

  When her bodyguards started to go after the Slayers, Em merely smiled. “Let them go. We’ll hunt them later. It’ll be entertaining.”

  “Em, aren’t you forgetting something? Tomas has yet to have a trial.” Otis flicked his eyes from his brother to Em, as if hoping that this loophole might buy some time for Tomas, and for him to come up with a plan.

  “We’re not really concerned with the formalities anymore, dear Otis. There is no question of his guilt. The proof of it is standing there.” Em’s head motioned to where Vlad was being held, though her eyes never left Tomas. “Now, all that is left is to watch joyously as the life drains from his eyes.”

  The remaining vampires in Em’s entourage moved forward to restrain Tomas as Em pulled an ornate dagger from her long black coat and began to walk slowly toward him.

  “Aww, to hell with this.” Something told Vlad that Otis hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts out loud.

  Throwing his coat off his shoulders, Otis ran forward like a lightning bolt. If killing Em was the only way to stop this madness, then so be it. The speed at which he moved made him appear as a blur to all eyes around him. Vlad had never seen his uncle move so fast before.

  A hand stretched out from nowhere and met Otis’s face at full speed. The crunch of bone breaking made Vlad wince. Otis flipped over backward in the air, landing on the back of his neck and crumpling into a heap at the vampire bodyguard’s feet. He had hit the ground before his coat had a chance to fall in the place he had left it standing.

  Em leaned down to where Otis lay. “Now that wasn’t very smart was it?”

  She put her fingers into the blood that was dripping from his wounds and cleaned them off in her mouth, much like a child who just finished a chocolate bar on a hot day. “And I was going to let you live. Oh well, I guess you just got in line after your nephew.”

  She stood with a twinkle in her eye.

  “But first,” Em raised the dagger above her head, “Goodbye, Tomas Tod.”

  An arrow carved from a single piece of wood, tipped in silver embedded in Em’s shoulder. The dagger fell to the ground as she screamed. Figures, cloaked in shadow, surrounded the clearing. Stepping into the light in front of Em, Abraham had a smug look on his face. “That was just a warning. But I’m glad that arrow was fired by one of our first years, Em. I was hoping I would be the one who got to kill you.”

  “You have no idea that you just volunteered your little group for extinction, Abraham.” Em grasped the arrow and, with a yelp, pulled hard, yanki
ng it free of its fleshy quiver. The wound began to heal almost instantly; her eyes held the ferocity of a cornered tiger. “This battle has been looming for centuries. This war has gone on for too long. Today it ends when I feast on the blood of the last Slayer.”

  35

  THE CLEANSING

  THE OPPORTUNITY THAT OTIS HAD been hoping for had presented itself, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it pass him by. The vampire who was holding Tomas had released him and gone to the aid of his puppeteer. Otis stood next to his brother, his face already healed. The only evidence of the injury stained the front of his shirt red.

  Otis put a hand on Tomas’s shoulder, “Come on, let’s help Vlad.”

  “I don’t think we need to.” Tomas was smiling as he nodded toward his son.

  Apparently Otis wasn’t the only one who had heard the telltale knock of opportunity’s fist. Vlad stood above the vampire who had been holding him. The vampire’s wrist was twisted in Vlad’s hand, his thumb sticking painfully out onto the air. Vlad’s foot was on the back of the man’s neck, pushing his face into the ground.

  Tomas looked on with an air of pride, Otis with a gasp of amazement.

  Vlad smirked. “What? Henry’s brother, Greg, was also on the wrestling team. He taught me a couple of moves.”

  “And you learned them very well, son.” Tomas leaned down to the vampire on the ground. “I’d tell you to pick on someone your own size, but I don’t think it really matters in this case.”

  Otis shook his head in amazement. “Come on, you two. Let’s get out of here.”

  Vlad released the vampire he was holding and started to follow his uncle out of the clearing. There was a loud thump behind them. When they turned, Tomas was picking himself up off of the ground, kicking away the hand that had tripped him. The vampire that had just been bested by a teenager didn’t want to give up his quarry so easily.

  “You guys go ahead, I’ll handle this.” Tomas’s eyes darkened as his fangs shot out in anger. Vlad saw his dad deliver a kick to the face of the fallen vampire before Otis grabbed Vlad’s shoulder and led him out of the clearing and into the streets of Bathory.