Vlad bit his bottom lip. Hard. Until he tasted blood. Then he turned back to his father. “Who opened the drapes?”
Tomas blinked, as if he had no idea what Vlad was talking about. “Pardon?”
“Who opened the drapes, Tomas?” He didn’t call him “Dad,” wouldn’t call him that word. He wasn’t acting like a dad. A dad would’ve done whatever he could have to protect his son. A dad wouldn’t have planned out his son’s entire life as a way to lift himself into a position of power. And a dad certainly wouldn’t have murdered his son’s mother. He was a monster. A vile, evil, cruel monster, who deserved nothing more than pain in return.
Calling him by his first name instead of “dad” was a start, but only just.
The instant hung in the air like a hot, crackling cloud between them. Tomas’s eyes darkened, as if he wasn’t used to insubordination.
The sound of soft footsteps approaching distracted them both, but still the cloud remained.
Then a voice broke in. Stern, full of warning, and so familiar. Vikas. “Vladimir, you shouldn’t use such a disrespectful tone with your father.”
The silence returned and after some time, harsh reality hit Vlad, nearly knocking him over.
“It was you . . .” He moved his eyes, full of wondering disbelief, to Vikas. Vikas’s wrist was no longer home to a Mark. It was scarred, just like Tomas’s. He looked back to Tomas. His throat closed for a moment in horrified realization. Even as the words escaped him, he was having a difficult time grasping the meaning behind them. “You killed my mother. Vikas opened the drapes and ... you both killed my mom . . .”
Vikas shook his head, clucking his tongue, and softened his tone as if trying to soothe a child. “She was just a human, Mahlyenki Dyavol. Besides, it was for the good of the cause”
To Vlad’s horror, his father nodded in agreement. They both wore the look of two people who had no idea what the big fuss was about. It ripped at Vlad’s soul to see such emptiness, such selfish, horrible disregard for the most important woman in Vlad’s life.
“You killed my mom!” He shoved his father, but Tomas didn’t even flinch. Something about the way they were standing told Vlad he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. Not until they had their say. He shook his head, his heart breaking. “You’re monsters. Worse than D’Ablo ever was”
Clasping his hands behind his back, his father took on a more formal tone, like a soldier reporting details to his general. “D’Ablo’s been rightly dispatched. He lost his faith, thinking he could take your place. He knew I was going into hiding, to watch you, to push you quietly from the shadows in the right direction, to wait for the proper time to claim what is rightfully mine. But he somehow lost sight of our purpose and tried to claim your status as Pravus for his own. And then there’s Enrico, who’d vowed to stop at nothing to uncover any treachery leading to Dorian’s death. Dorian knew of my plans, knew everything about everything, it seemed. I knew if Enrico was left to live, he’d eventually uncover hints of his son’s knowledge of my plans, and I couldn’t have that. Besides, I never liked him. And he was half mad, so killing him was really a charitable act”
Vlad almost gasped, but caught himself. He was shocked by what he was hearing, and immensely angry to hear it. He didn’t know this man at all, and never had.
“Your mother’s death was necessary because her loyalty to me was lacking. Every boy reaches the moment when he leaves his mother behind, Vlad. I just moved your moment closer. It was easy. Like stealing and burning that damn Compendium so that you wouldn’t grow to believe Elysia’s view that the Pravus is evil. Like hiding my journal in Joss’s backpack, to see how far you would go, to see if you would kill a friend. Though, in hindsight, I should have retrieved it immediately. Before that Eddie boy so cunningly stole it away. It took forever for me to retrieve it from him. The smell of his blood is excruciatingly distracting.”
Vlad shook his head—his new, darker reality settling into the still horrified part of his brain. His father and his friend. They’d planned his birth and killed his mother. Everything that had ever been wrong with Vlad’s life was because of them. He glared at Tomas, glared so hard he wished he could shoot lasers from his eyes and burn out Tomas’s cold, black heart. “why?”
A small smile danced on Tomas’s lips. “When I left that day, the day of the fire, it was so that I could convince Em that I was dead, to give me time, time to live without the threat of a trial and wait until after your eighteenth birthday, when I knew the prophecy would be fulfilled. I was watching you, often at a distance, but always for the same reason: to watch your Pravus powers grow and take shape. The believers think that I do all that I do in order to raise you up as the Pravus. But I’m afraid my reasons aren’t as simple as that. You see, D’Ablo was a fool. No one can steal your status as Pravus until you’ve fully developed your Pravus powers. And you just have. So isn’t my timing remarkable?”
Vlad shot him a shocked glare that was bitter and full of hatred. “I will never help you. I’ll do anything in my powers to keep you from gaining my Pravus traits. Anything! Even if it means my death.”
Tomas merely smiled.
“You will break, my son,” he whispered, that strange smile on his lips as he leaned closer to Vlad, like they shared some twisted secret. “We have our ways.”
40
THE TRUTH
TOMAS AND VIKAS DISAPPEARED. One moment Vlad was standing there, eyeing his father down, and the next minute, both vampires had disappeared in a blur of vampiric speed. The second he realized they were gone, he ran as fast as he was able to, whipping through the town, on the hunt for the men who’d killed his mother for their own selfish gain.
Near the high school, he found Otis, looking lost and confused. He stopped running immediately. “Otis! Is everything all right?”
Otis shook his head slowly. He stared down the street, then up it for a moment before speaking to Vlad in a distant, distracted tone. “Your aunt. . . .Vladimir . . . Nelly, have you seen Nelly? She was just with me, and then she was gone. Like a dust storm. Just here and gone. I can’t seem to find her anywhere.”
Vlad moved his eyes slowly over the landscape, scrutinizing every inch of the area surrounding them. But Otis was right. Nelly was nowhere to be found.
Horror filled Vlad as his father’s words echoed in his mind. “We have our ways.”
No.
Oh no.
Tomas and Vikas had taken her, taken Nelly, and all Vlad could think was that they were going to hurt her if he didn’t bend to their will.
Otis found Vlad’s eyes, his filling with concern. “that? What is it?”
“My dad ... and Vikas ... they killed my mom, Otis. They killed D’Ablo, and Enrico too.” Disbelief filled Vlad’s heart even though he knew it to be true. Tomas had killed his wife, no matter how much Vlad wished that it wasn’t true. Wishing a thing didn’t make it so.
Otis’s eyes grew wide. “that? That’s quite the accusation to make, Vladimir. Are you certain?”
Vlad nodded. “completely. I heard it from Tomas’s own lips. And there’s more. He’s the leader of that group, Otis. The vampires who support the coming of the Pravus? He started it all.”
Otis’s pale face grew red momentarily, and he swore loudly in Elysian code. Vlad was very surprised to realize that he understood what Otis was saying. Even if he couldn’t speak Elysian code, he was at least beginning to understand the swear words.
Otis paced for several seconds before turning back to Vlad. “I had my suspicions. For years, I wondered if Tomas was part of that group. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I couldn’t accept that my brother, my friend, was one of those mindless, ruthless believers. You do know what this means ... about your birth, yes?”
Vlad nodded slowly. “It means that my father only created me because he wanted to be the creator of the Pravus. It means he never really loved me or my mom.”
Otis placed a caring hand on his shoulder. “We don’t know that, Vladim
ir. But we do know that he believes so completely that you are the Pravus, the man that the prophecy spoke of, that he will do anything to further his cause. Anything. Even kill to convince you to follow his twisted path.”
“It’s not that, Otis. He ... he wants to be the Pravus.”
Otis shook his head, his whispered words turning bitter on his tongue. “Damn him. He’ll stop at nothing to fulfill his selfish desire.”
“We should run. Now! Go after them.” Vlad’s heart was beating a million miles a second at the thought of what horrible things might happen to Nelly if they didn’t reach her on time.
Otis shook his head. “Go. Go now. I’ll have to drive. I’m ... injured, Vladimir.”
Vlad followed Otis’s eyes to his side, where he was clutching his blood-soaked shirt. It hadn’t been soaked a moment before. Not that Vlad had noticed anyway. “Otis ... oh my god, what happened to you?”
Otis lifted his shirt, and the sight of the six-inch gash sent a wave of nausea over Vlad, almost knocking him over. “It’s healing, but it’ll take time, and I can’t run that fast while it’s healing. Go on without me. I’ll be there soon”
“Otis, you know I can’t leave you behind. I want you there with me to face my father. I ... I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face him and Vikas alone.”
A sleek, black car, whipped around the corner, fishtailing until the vehicle was right in front of them. The driver’s window lowered and Henry grinned. “Need a ride?”
Vlad furrowed his brow in confusion. “How did you know?”
Henry shrugged. “Just had a feeling. I’m learning to trust the feelings I have, especially when it comes to saving your butt. Now are you getting in or not?”
“Otis is hurt.”
Joss leaned over from the passenger seat and looked out the open window at Vlad. “I’ll get in the back with him and do what I can.”
Otis eyed the Slayer warily, but finally nodded. After Joss and Vlad had him safely in the backseat, Vlad explained everything: about his dad, about Nelly. But it was only after Vlad recalled a certain dream that had plagued him one night in his eighth-grade year that Vlad knew exactly where to go. After some instruction, Henry took off with a screech, barreling toward Stokerton at shocking speeds. It was the fastest that Henry had ever driven.
Henry parked in front of the Stokerton council building, and when they all piled out, including a healed Otis, Vlad wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Tomas standing on the front steps, his hand clutching the back of Nelly’s neck, Nelly’s eyes wide and terrified, Nelly speechless.
Vlad tapped into his Pravus powers and tried to execute control over Tomas, but couldn’t. Stunned, he looked at his father in confusion.
Tomas laughed. “It seems that part of the prophecy was misinterpreted, Master Pravus. You cannot control a vampire who has burned his Mark away.”
Vlad pursed his lips angrily, blocking Tomas from his thoughts.
Tomas’s voice was cruel. “I don’t understand why you fight against fate, my son. You are the Pravus and I am your father. I will take this burden from you at any cost. Then I will rule over vampirekind and enslave the human race. It’s unavoidable.”
Vlad shook his head curtly as he approached. “That’s not true. The prophecy says the Pravus will only enslave the humans out of charity.”
Tomas pursed his lips in anger, but didn’t speak.
Vlad flicked his eyes to Nelly, who looked so scared that her skin was almost as pale as Tomas’s. “Let her go, Dad. Let her go. Please.”
A cruel, hateful expression crossed Tomas’s eyes. “You have a choice to make, my son. Kill Otis now and I will let her live. Don’t kill him and I will drain her of every drop before your eyes.”
Vlad looked from Nelly to Otis in shock. He couldn’t imagine either of them leaving his life permanently. Especially not by his own hand. “but . . . why?”
Tomas’s voice sounded deeper, almost gravelly in tone. It sounded like he was dancing on the edge of madness. Not quirky Dorian madness. Real madness. “Because it amuses me. Now choose. Or I shall choose for your.”
Otis set his jaw and looked at Vlad. “Kill me, Vlad. I’ve lived a long life. And if I can’t live another day with Nelly, I’d rather be dead. Save her. Please.”
Tomas glanced at Vlad. “If you value your aunt’s life, Vlad, you’ll kill your dear uncle and head upstairs to the roof, where Vikas has carefully laid out the tools we’ll need to complete our transaction. If the hidden script in my journal is any indication, the final details of the ritual will be messy. It requires emptying you of both your invincibility—something that D’Ablo failed miserably at—and every drop of blood.”
Nelly turned her head, though Tomas still grasped her neck, and looked back at him, her jaw clenched. “Tomas Tod, you will not hurt this boy. What would Mellina think of all of this? Have you lost your mind entirely?”
For a long moment, they stood staring one another down, until Nelly softened some, her eyes wide with sorrow, her head shaking. “That’s it, isn’t it? You have lost your mind. Tomas, this is your son. You gave him life, held him in your arms, fed him, clothed him. And though recent years have been from a distance, you’ve watched him grow into the amazing young man you see before you. You can’t do this. You can’t hurt Vlad. He’s your son. You gave him life.”
“And so it is mine to take, Nelly.”
Nelly’s eyes were moist with anger and determination. “I won’t let you hurt him, Tomas! Mellina isn’t here to defend her son. She isn’t here because of you. I won’t lose Vlad the way I lost her. I won’t, Tomas! I won’t!”
She yanked herself away from Tomas’s grasp and reached for Vlad, who in turn reached for his aunt.
His eyes lit up with madness, Tomas shouted, “And I won’t let you manipulate my son! MY SON!”
Before Vlad’s and Nelly’s hands could make contact, Tomas gnashed his teeth into Nelly’s neck, draining her in seconds. Vlad froze in shock. Even his Pravus powers couldn’t shake him from his disbelieving daze.
Without another word, Tomas flew up the side of the building to the roof.
Nelly collapsed.
Vlad heard the sound of her heartbeat in his ears. It slowed, then stopped before she could take another breath.
Otis followed Tomas in a furious blur.
Vlad just stood there, staring at Nelly.
His caretaker. His second mother.
Dead.
41
HONOR THY FATHER
AN INTENSE HEAT started at Vlad’s toes and worked its way up his body, until every inch of his skin felt like it was being engulfed by flames. Fury washed over him like a fire.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Mahlyenki Dyavol. You were created for a purpose. Serve that purpose well.” Vikas was standing in the alley, one eyebrow cocked. It was clear he was looking for a fight, or at the very least, to distract Vlad from chasing after Tomas.
Vlad tried to push into his mind, to control him, to make him just stop. Stop and go away.
But he couldn’t.
With a grin, Vikas held up his wrist, revealing a scar where his Mark had once been. “I burned it out of me. All of Elysia’s control, gone. Even the Pravus cannot control me now.”
Joss and Henry exchanged determined glances, and Henry nodded to Vlad. “We’ve got this guy. You go after Otis—he could probably use your help.”
Joss slipped his stake from its holster at his waist and slapped the beautifully carved, silver-tipped hunk of wood into Vlad’s hand. The same stake that had been buried in his chest just a few short years before. With a set jaw and a worried expression, Joss said, “Whatever you do, don’t miss.”
Vlad squinted up, blocking the glow of the streetlights with his hand. Otis was standing on the edge of the Stokerton council building, looking down at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes.
Vlad knew this moment. He’d dreamed it. Four years ago, he’d dreamed it. And now it was coming to pass.
Blood dripped from a cut on Otis’s forehead. He wiped it away with his sleeve, smearing it across his pale skin. “Vladimir, run! Run and don’t look back!”
But Vlad wasn’t about to turn his back on family. He focused hard on his body and willed it upward, shooting higher and faster than he ever had before. He stepped nimbly onto the building’s roof and pulled Otis back from the edge. Otis shook his head and pleaded through his tears. “Please go, Vlad. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
Vlad looked across the rooftop to the shadowy figure standing there. Tomas. His father.
Behind him was the horrible table that D’Ablo had strapped him to a few years ago, and on top of that was a large syringe and Tomas’s journal.
Vlad squeezed Otis’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fight, Otis. It’s mine.”
But then Vlad was hit in the side and knocked to the ground. His knee smacked the tarred roof and cracked audibly. He winced and swore aloud.
Tomas was fast. Lightning fast. Almost as fast as Vlad.
Vlad glanced up at his uncle and saw Otis’s eyes grow wide. He looked back to his father, but his vision blurred. The scene above him turned red, like blood. And then Vlad was immersed in a memory. He was no longer on the roof, but standing in a library—a familiar vision, one he’d glimpsed as one of the memories Otis had shared with him. Tomas was poring over the pages of an old book. A wall of books surrounded him.
Otis entered the room, his steps slowing, a smile on his face. “Reading, again? What this time?”
Tomas looked up, his intense focus broken by a surprised smile. “Just some old stories. To pass the time, you know. What about you? I thought you were on a plane to Siberia”
Twelfth Grade Kills Page 21