Eleventh Grade Burns(52)

The air was brisk, so Vlad pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears and moved down the sidewalk, stopping only to gaze up at the clear sky and the bright, twinkling stars. He was so entranced by the beauty of the night that he didn’t hear the familiar footsteps on the frosty ground. Nor did he hear the shuffling steps as Joss moved into a roundhouse kick. His chest exploded with pain and Vlad stumbled back, his tone surprised as he forced air back into his lungs. “Joss!”

“I can’t kill you yet but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.” His eyes were red, as if he’d recently been crying. He hissed, “How dare you say her name.”

Vlad stumbled for words, but before he could find them, a large hand closed over Joss’s throat. Joss stiffened and Vikas smiled at Vlad over Joss’s shoulder. “You would do well to treat this boy kindly, slayer. He saved your life, after all. If not for him, my friends and I would have feasted on your marrow months ago. Now find your way home.”

Joss swallowed and Vikas tightened his hand. “This creature and I have business to attend to. Release me.”

Vikas whispered in his ear, “Or you’ll what?”

For a moment, Vikas tightened his grip, as if to give Joss a taste of what awaited him should he refuse to leave. He opened his hand and Joss fell to the ground. “Go home, little one. Spend time with your family. Forget about Vladimir and enjoy your holiday weekend.”

Joss’s eyes had remained fierce throughout the encounter, though Vlad could see fear hidden in them. He stood up, brushing the dirt from his jeans. Relief took the place of fear in Joss’s eyes, and he started to back down the sidewalk toward Henry’s house. He called out to Vlad. “Do yourself a favor, Vlad. Don’t you ever say her name again. Your body-guard won’t always be there.”

Then Joss turned and broke into a run.

Vikas shook his head. “That boy is a fool.”

Vlad shook his head too, but for different reasons. “That boy is my friend ... or was, anyway. He’s been through a lot. He and his whole family have had their lives ripped apart by a vampire. No wonder he hates me. No wonder he is the way he is.”

After a moment, he looked back to Vikas. “Shouldn’t you be eating Thanksgiving dinner about now?”

Vikas smiled, and for the first time Vlad noticed the small trail of blood on the corner of his mouth. “I just finished, actually. Suffice it to say, Bathory no longer has a homeless problem.”

Vlad groaned and tugged Vikas’s sleeve, guiding him toward home. “Yeah, about your appetite while you’re here in Bathory ... we’ve got to talk.”





21


NOT-SO-DISTANT MEMORIES


VLAD RAN HIS FINGER THOUGHTFULLY ALONG the thin, silver chain around his neck until he reached the key that Otis had given him. He’d been wearing it ever since that day, always tucking it into his shirt so nobody would question what it opened.

But Vlad knew. And today, for some reason, the thought of opening the door to his parents’ bedroom was consuming him.

He’d argued with himself all through first and second period about how stupid it would be to go wander around a room that really held no clues at all to how the fire had started, but the closer it got to the bell ringing at the end of third period, the less his internal arguments made sense. By the time the big hand on the clock ticked toward the number twelve and the bell rang out through the halls of Bathory High, Vlad had decided to sneak out and see if there was anything there, anything at all that might help him determine exactly how his parents had died and who, if anyone, was responsible.

It didn’t take him long to exit the front doors or to get across town. As he opened the back door, he thought of Vikas, who was likely resting peacefully upstairs. It was weird to think of someone being there in his moment of possible discovery, but it wasn’t like he could shake Vikas awake and ask him to step out for a moment while he strolled down memory lane with the ghosts of his mom and dad. He moved inside quietly. It sounded like the TV was on in the living room, which he immediately attributed to Tristian. Without making a sound, Vlad made his way upstairs and, as he moved past Vikas’s door, pulled the chain over his head, holding the warm key in his palm.

He stood at his parents’ door for several minutes.

He might have been gathering courage; he might have been mentally preparing himself. But mostly, Vlad was fighting to keep the memory of that day—the morning he found them—from the forefront of his mind.