Eleventh Grade Burns(8)

“She’s also commented that you have a new group of friends—”

“Your point?” Vlad snapped. He hadn’t meant to, but he did. He was trying to stay calm. Otis knew. He knew about Snow. He knew Vlad had been feeding on a human. But how? Vlad had been so careful to hide his feeding sessions. Even Henry didn’t have a clue. And Otis wouldn’t dare break his trust by reading his thoughts unwanted.

Otis’s tone was calm and somewhat pleading. “I just want you to know that you can always talk to me, Vladimir, about anything. I will never judge you.”

Vlad’s heart raced along with his thoughts. Otis couldn’t know. There was no way. Vlad had guarded his secret too carefully for his uncle to find him out. Hadn’t he? “Well, there’s nothing to judge, is there? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Otis grew silent. After a moment, he gave Vlad’s shoulder a squeeze. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong, Vlad.”

He turned and headed down the hall, pausing at the top of the stairs. Without looking back, he said, “I know.”

Vlad froze at his uncle’s words. No truer words had ever been spoken—Otis knew. Somehow, he knew all about Vlad’s late night trips to The Crypt. He knew about Snow. He knew that while Vlad might be strong enough to stand up to D’Ablo and fight to the near death with a vampire slayer, he didn’t have the strength to admit when he was wrong.

He stood there for a long time, listening to his heart pounding in his ears. After a while, he slowly made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Otis was sitting on a stool next to the large island, a coffee mug of blood in his hand. He didn’t bother to offer any to Vlad, almost as though he assumed that Vlad’s hunger had been recently satisfied.

It had. Just a week before.

Vlad tightened his jaw and let another lie escape his lips. “I have to meet Henry now.”

As Vlad hurried out the door, slamming it behind him, Otis called out, “See you at dinner tonight.”

Great. Just what he needed.





4





MEANINGFUL CONVERSATIONS


NELLY, THIS STEAK IS DELECTABLE!”

Nelly smiled her gratitude across the table at Otis. Vlad poked his steak with his fork. It was good. Nice and raw, warm enough to encourage the blood to pool on his plate.

But it wasn’t human—a fact that was making it increasingly difficult for Vlad to finish his meal.

Otis met his eyes momentarily before engaging Nelly in some inane conversation that Vlad completely tuned out of. After several minutes of their chatter, Nelly cleared her throat, eliciting his attention. “You seem distracted tonight, Vladimir. Anything going on that I should know about?”

Plenty of stuff, Vlad thought.

Otis raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. Vlad flashed him a look. “Lurking around in my mind, Uncle Otis?”

Vlad turned his outward attention back to his aunt, balancing the two conversations—verbal and telepathic—with ease. “Nothing’s going on. Just not hungry, I guess.”

Otis took another bite of steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Lurking, but not poking around. What’s stuff, anyway?”

“What time is Henry picking you up?”

“Around six. Movie starts at eight, so we’ll probably wander the mall for a while. I might be back late though. I promised Snow I’d stop by The Crypt and bring her my copy of Dracula.” Simultaneously, he spoke to Otis with his mind. “It’s ... nothing, like I said this afternoon.”

“Just try to be back by ten. I don’t like these late-night stays in Stokerton. Big cities are dangerous places at night.”

Otis frowned slightly. “Nothing ... which is to say, nothing that is my business to know?”

“You catch on quick, Otis.” Vlad shook his head. “You worry too much, Nelly.”

Nelly stood and cleared the dishes away, waving off Otis’s efforts to help. When she disappeared into the kitchen, Otis met Vlad’s gaze again. “There is something I need to ask you. You walked out earlier and stole my opportunity away.”

Vlad shook his head sharply. “Don’t. Please.”

Otis furrowed his brow. “I admit I’m a bit perplexed by your reaction, Vladimir: But nevertheless ...”

Vlad looked his uncle directly in the eye, defying him to ask about his dining habits again. He wouldn’t admit to it. He couldn’t admit to it, not after all the preaching he’d done to Otis about how humans were people, not food. “I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no.”