Eleventh Grade Burns(50)

Immediately, her eyes brightened, but only for a moment. “Vladimir Tod. Joss has told me about you.”

Vlad debated that sentence for a moment, before she patted him on the hand and said, “You know, Joss never has had many friends. Just his cousin, Henry, really. Losing his sister really left him ... broken.”

That haunted look returned to her eyes. Vlad forced a smile. “Joss is a nice guy. He’s been a good—” He swallowed hard and forced the word out. “—friend to me. I’m glad I finally got a chance to meet you.”

It took her a second, as if she were remembering how, but finally she smiled.

When Vlad glanced over at Nelly, she was smiling too. For a moment, the venom that he had for Joss lessened a little bit.

He looked up and met Joss’s eyes as he walked into the kitchen. His slow steps and the look on his face said it all. Get away from my mom, you bloodsucking freak.

But Vlad didn’t move.

As if relenting, Joss came over to where Vlad and his mom were sitting and said, “You okay, Mom? Can I get you a drink or something?”

By “a drink,” Vlad was almost certain Joss meant “a wooden stake to jab Vlad with,” but he kept his mouth shut.

His mom shook her head and stood. “No, but you and Vladimir could get the veggie tray ready while I go wash up.”

Vlad looked around for Henry, but he had disappeared to who knows where. Nelly and Matilda grabbed a couple of platters and disappeared into the dining room, leaving Joss and Vlad completely alone. Vlad wished that he could talk to Henry’s mind the way he did with Otis. He would tell him that he needed to get back to the kitchen, now. Right now. Before his cousin did something stupid.

Joss picked up a sharp knife and stabbed it into the cutting board in front of Vlad. Instinctively, Vlad flinched. Joss glared at him and muttered, “To cut the vegetables with.”

Feeling more than a little stupid for having shown a sense of fear to a slayer, Vlad silently berated himself and reached for a carrot. After slicing four of them, as Joss worked on the celery, Vlad decided to break the silence. “Your mom is really nice.”

Joss tensed and growled, “Don’t talk to me.”

“I wish I could do just that, Joss, but there’s the matter of my father’s journal to discuss. I know you took it, and I want it back.”

Joss was quiet for a long time, and finally barked, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Only one problem: Joss was lying. He had to be.

Returning to silence, they chopped the rest of the veggies and laid them out on a round glass tray, surrounding a small bowl of ranch dip. Then Joss picked the tray up and headed into the dining room without another word. Joss had changed, that much was for certain. Vlad washed his hands, torn between the conflict of missing the old Joss and utterly despising the new one.

The dining room was about as picturesque as it could be, with a cornucopia at the center of the table and small candles in amber-colored glass holders placed here and there all over the table and room. The place settings were in various autumn colors, burgundy, bronze, gold, and pumpkin. Food sat in beautiful bowls and atop gorgeous platters. The turkey, a perfect golden brown, commanded the feast near the head of the table. It looked like a scene out of a movie, and it smelled a million times better than anything Nelly had ever prepared. So much so that Vlad found himself actually mulling over the idea of eating some human food, sans blood.

Big Mike was sitting at the head of the table, with Matilda to his right. Next to her were Joss’s mom and dad, then Joss. At the other end of the table sat Henry’s older brother, Greg, and to his right Henry, then an empty chair, then Nelly and Otis. Vlad went to the empty chair, but just as he’d begun to pull it out, Joss stood. “Don’t sit there!”

Joss’s dad said, “Joss, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, Harold.” His mom looked even paler than before.

Vlad froze. He knew he’d been about to do something wrong but wasn’t sure what.

Joss, still glaring at Vlad, snapped, “Sit somewhere else. That’s Cecile’s seat. We always leave an open seat for Cecile.”

Matilda clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s what we’re forgetting! Henry, there’s an extra chair in the kitchen. Why don’t you grab it for Cecile? Her place can be between Greg and Joss.”

At Matilda’s nod, Vlad took his seat. Once everyone was seated and a spot was reserved for the spirit of Joss’s dead sister, Henry’s dad said, “It’s tradition in the McMillan house that we go around the table by age, oldest to youngest, and say what we’re thankful for. As I’m fairly sure I’m the oldest here—”