Eleventh Grade Burns(67)

Otis’s tone was clipped, angry. Rightfully so. “He’s out walking alone. There’s no time like the present.”

Vlad shook his head, trying to maintain reason. He’d already seen one dead boy tonight. He didn’t want to see two. Besides, even though he hated Joss for taking Tristian’s life, he also understood Joss’s anger toward vampirekind. Vampires hadn’t exactly been nurturing toward Vlad—he could only imagine how they treated slayers. So there was a reason that Joss did the awful things that he did. Unforgivable, yes, but not completely without reason. “Wait. You don’t know for sure that Joss did this. What if it was someone else? I mean, it could’ve been some psycho.”

But even Vlad didn’t believe the words that were rolling off his tongue.

They both looked at him, incredulous, and then Vikas spoke, his voice grave, bitter. “I found Tristian with a stake buried in his chest. And I know of no other slayer in Bathory tonight.”

Vlad shot his uncle a look. “You can’t go after him, Otis. You can’t kill Joss.”

Vikas exploded. “I can and I will! He murdered my Tristian. He stole my drudge away from me. Innocent, sweet Tristian. And you would have me sit idly by while he toast to his kill? This is madness!”

Otis released a tense breath. “Calm, Vikas. I’m sure my nephew has his reasons. What would you have us do, Vladimir?”

“Let me handle it.”

Vikas said something else loudly in Russian. Vlad didn’t know the language, but he knew when someone was swearing at him.

Otis, who spoke Russian fluently, held up a hand to calm Vikas’s ranting. “What do you mean, handle it? This isn’t a situation that calls for a light touch, Vladimir. It calls for blood.”

Vikas growled behind him. “Much blood!”

“You’ll have blood, Otis, but let me handle it.” His eyes moved to Tristian’s grave and back to Otis. “Please.”

Otis didn’t speak. Or rather, he didn’t speak out loud. It became very obvious that he and Vikas were discussing something telepathically After a long while, Vikas swore again in Russian and made his way into the house. Otis offered Vlad a single nod and then followed Vikas inside.

Vlad left immediately. He searched the town, every street, every inch, until finally, at 2 A.M., only the cemetery remained. He crossed under the archway that marked the entrance and moved between the stones, and there, standing near Vlad’s parents’ tombstone, stood Joss. The look on his face was one of respect. He was gazing at the stone, looking unaware of Vlad’s presence, but something about the feeling in the air told Vlad that Joss was very much aware that he was near. Vlad approached him cautiously and stood beside him, looking down at the stone.

Joss spoke calmly, as if they were continuing a conversation they’d begun earlier that day. “Your parents, did they know?”

Vlad swept his eyes over his mother’s name. His heart skipped a beat. “About me being a vampire? Well ... yeah. My dad was a vampire.”

“You mean your creator.”

“No. I mean my dad. He and my mom made me the same way your parents made you.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.” He was hoping that Joss was referring to the fact that parents doing anything at all required to make babies was gross, and not the fact that his dad was doing just that with a human, but he suspected it was the latter. They stood there silent for a long time, until Vlad finally said, “What are you doing at my parents’ grave?”

Joss’s voice was calm. Too calm. For some reason, it reminded Vlad of Dorian. “I was apologizing to your mother ... before I kill you.”

Vlad barely had time to notice Joss flip open his jacket and withdraw his wooden stake from a leather holster on his belt. But once the stake was in Joss’s hand, Vlad noticed—oh man, did he notice—and moved across the cemetery with vampire speed. Joss blinked, and then realized that Vlad was standing ten headstones away. A smirk touched his lips. He looked both challenged and irritated. “You’ve learned a new trick.”

Vlad brushed his hair from his eyes. “That’s just a taste. I’m not the same vampire I was when you backstabbed me freshman year.”

The corner of Joss’s mouth twitched subtly. “Good. Because I’m not the same slayer I was. This time, you won’t get back up.”

Joss flew at Vlad faster than he ever had before, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Vlad moved with vampiric speed, barely breaking a sweat, dodging Joss’s attack. He played keep-away for a while, darting back and forth across the graveyard, until an image solidified in his mind, one he couldn’t shake: the image of Tristian, lying dead.