Eleventh Grade Burns(62)

Vlad shrugged, unwilling to listen to his uncle when he was chattering on like some starved lunatic. “I guess ...”

Otis gestured to the crowd with a nod. “All that blood, just waiting to be devoured. You may never hunt, but at least let me show you how to do it right. Look around, smell the blood pumping through their veins. Find the one whose blood really calls to you.”

“I ... I can’t, Otis. I think, I mean, you’re not acting like yourself.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. Not that Otis could reason that at the moment. “Look over there. The man in the blue business suit? His blood smells like a mixture of blackberries and pomegranates to me. So, now that I’ve found my meal, I’ll plant thoughts in his head to direct him up the street to the park.”

Vlad shook his head in disgust. He didn’t dare mention that the man was neither sick, nor elderly. “Not so much a hunt than it is herding people like cattle, huh?”

“The hunt really begins when we hit the park.”

Once the man had stepped from the cold, hard streets of Midtown Manhattan, into the lush green of Central Park, he slowed his steps, turning some in mild confusion, as if he were waking from a dream. Vlad glanced at Otis and said, “I thought group hunting was illegal in cities.”

“While I’m thrilled you’ve been reading the Compendium, you may have missed the short paragraph about the only un-governed city. As you might guess, it makes New York a popular area for vampires to visit.”

The man stepped forward, moving deeper into the woods. Vlad could feel the tension rise up in Otis and, with it, his hunger. Otis’s face had paled; his fangs had elongated. He looked positively fierce in the light of the street lamps. Vlad stuttered, actually frightened by the changes he saw in his uncle. “S-so as long as you hunt here, you w-won’t get in trouble?”

“That’s right.” Otis barely glanced at him, like it was virtually impossible to tear his gaze from his prey. His pupils were pinpoints. His voice was accompanied by a guttural growl. “Let the games begin.”

Otis bolted across the few yards between where Vlad stood and where Otis’s intended victim was wandering in a daze. In an instant, the man seemed to gather his senses and realize that someone ... something was coming up behind him fast. He turned, eyes terrified and round, mouth opening wide to scream. Otis jumped up, pouncing on the man in a catlike move. Saliva dripped from his fangs, and he growled, “Run. Or you will die.”

The man shoved Otis off of him—or thought he did; Vlad knew that Otis had let him go—and ran deeper into the park, much to Otis’s visible pleasure. He sat there, crouched, giving the man time to flee, and when Vlad approached him, he looked up with a strange light in his eye. “It seems cruel, I know. But his adrenaline will ease the pain of death some, so it’s better that he’s afraid.”

A hard, hot, hollow spot formed at Vlad’s center. “You are seriously freaking me out, Otis.”

“I can’t stop now. He’d run for help, expose us all. Besides,” Otis grinned, his sharp fangs bared. “It makes the blood even sweeter.”

It was very apparent that Otis—the real Otis, the one who taught mythology at Bathory High and nuzzled Nelly’s neck when he thought Vlad wasn’t looking—wasn’t here anymore. This man, this vampire, wasn’t the Otis that Vlad knew. He was a hunter through and through, a creature that thirsted for blood and would do anything within his power to get it. The sight of him scared Vlad like nothing ever had before.

After another moment passed, the vampire Otis took off at a sprint, delaying the chase purposefully. Vlad followed at a distance, watching out for Otis in a way that made him feel very much like the responsible one of the two. He’d smelled the guy’s blood, so rich and warm and tangy with fear, but couldn’t understand why the hunt hadn’t taken control of him the way it had his uncle. Maybe it was because Vlad had never hunted before. Maybe it was because he was part human. Whatever it was, he was glad. Otis seemed hypnotized, bewitched by the power of an ancient, carnal need, and Vlad wanted no part of it ... no matter how much his gums throbbed and his stomach growled.

As he followed Otis, ignoring the terrified screams of the man he was chasing, Vlad passed Enrico feeding on a platinum blonde in the bushes. He looked drunk, like Otis, and the human part of Vlad wanted very much to run like hell.

When he caught up to Otis, he had the man cornered by a large tree. Otis was growling. Then, in a flash, as if he’d reached the pinnacle of his thrill, Otis leaped on the man. He tilted his head back, his long fangs glistening, ready to tear open the man’s throat and swallow mouthfuls of his blood.