Tenth Grade Bleeds

5 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

VLAD TURNED TO FACE THE INTRUDER, the vampire responsible for so much of his pain and terror over the past two years, and set his jaw as best he could. His heart slammed against his ribs in solid, terrified beats. He was screaming on the inside, but his lips remained totally silent as he defiantly stared D’Ablo down, his left eyebrow starkly raised as if the vampire’s intrusion had only been a minor surprise. Vlad didn’t speak, didn’t even try, because he knew if he opened his mouth, his screams would find their way up and out and into the world. Instead, he pretended that he wasn’t scared out of his mind and scanned the room with his peripheral vision for anything that could be used as a weapon.

The corners of D’Ablo’s thin lips curled up in a smile. He held his hands outward, as if to show that he was unarmed. But he was always armed with his fangs and vampiric strength-something Vlad’s ribs refused to forget after their encounter in his eighth-grade year. Of course, if D’Ablo was always armed, so was Vlad. But Vlad wasn’t exactly comforted by that knowledge.

D’Ablo’s smile eased. “I’ll dispense with the pleasantries. After all, it’s ridiculously apparent that we share… distaste for each other.”

Vlad snorted. Distaste. That was a good one. Nice and understated.

“You have something that I want.” D’Ablo regarded him for a moment, as if waiting for him to ask what. Then, seeing that Vlad had no intention of speaking, he continued. “ Tomas’s journal.”

At this Vlad’s other eyebrow rose in surprise. “My dad’s journal?”

Then a crease formed on his forehead as his eyebrows fell. “Why? What do you want it for?”

“Sentimental reasons. A small memento, is all.” D’Ablo tightened his gloves on his hands.

The air between them grew thick with tension.

Vlad shook his head slowly. “No way. You can’t have it.”

D’Ablo didn’t look surprised at all. In fact, he looked like that was the reply he’d been expecting. “You may not be aware of this fact, but Tomas and I were extremely close before he abandoned all of Elysia for the likes of you. I respected him, revered him, even. And now that he has died-an act that is so rare for a vampire to undergo-I find myself missing my old friend more than I had anticipated.”

D’Ablo’s expression changed then, but only slightly. A brief blip of honest pain crossed his eyes. Seeing it made Vlad take a step back.

D’Ablo took a step closer. “You have hundreds of items to remember Tomas by. Give me this. Give me his journal.”

Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. On one hand, he had the feeling that D’Ablo might be giving him a chunk of heartfelt truth-something that freaked him out completely. On the other, if he handed the journal over, something in his gut said that it was a trick and that he’d be paying for it in one horrible way or another. After all, D’Ablo was probably the biggest jerk Vlad knew, vampire or otherwise. So why trust him?

“I know you and Tomas were close, actually,” Vlad said. “He was even your vice president, as I heard it. Your righthand man on the Stokerton council. I’m sure you two must have been close.”

“We were.”

“Of course that makes it even more twisted that you’ve tried to kill me. Twice now, isn’t it?” He looked at D’Ablo, whose expression changed dramatically at the jibe. It was almost as if this fact had never occurred to him. He looked somewhat pained. For a moment, Vlad pitied him. He shook his head again. “Not the journal. You can take something to remember him by, but not that.”

D’Ablo grew quiet, and Vlad really didn’t think he was mulling over what else of Tomas’s belongings he might be interested in taking back with him to his office in Stokerton. It was more likely that D’Ablo was debating exactly how to manipulate Vlad into giving him what he wanted. Or maybe how to kill him. Attempted murder would definitely be the more familiar path.

D’Ablo’s features tensed. His hands, gloved in their usual shiny black leather, tightened into fists and then loosened again. When he spoke, his words were hushed and crisp. “Is there no way that I can persuade you?”

Vlad felt himself relaxing a bit. It couldn’t be mind control that was easing his muscular tension-Otis had taught him well not only how to detect such attempts, but also how to block them. And it certainly couldn’t be confidence, as he was freaking out on the inside and it was all he could do not to run screaming into the night. Whatever it was, Vlad didn’t trust it. He met D’Ablo’s eyes with a cold gaze. “Why are you trying to persuade me at all? Why don’t you just attack me and torture me until I tell you where it is? What’s with this bizarre attempt at decency?”

And there it was, in D’Ablo’s cold, steel gray eyes. Vlad didn’t need telepathy to see it or understand it-not that D’Ablo would allow him even a glimpse of his twisted mind, Vlad was certain. But he could see it, the reason that D’Ablo was talking to him instead of attacking him on sight.

He really believed that Vlad was the Pravus.

And part of him, small as it might be, was afraid of that. And it looked like D’Ablo hadn’t yet figured out a way to take Vlad’s life because of that fact. After all, his attempts at both ripping Vlad to shreds and trying to turn him into a walking shish kebab via wooden stake had failed miserably.

Vlad straightened his shoulders, releasing the lungful of breath he’d been holding. “ Tell me why you want it, exactly.”

An impatient light flashed across D’Ablo’s eyes. Poised on his tongue was a blatant lie. “Simply to remember him by.”

Vlad knew better. If D’Ablo wanted the journal, there was a solid reason for it-one that wasn’t merely sentimental. “And if I offered you some pictures or a few of his favorite books?”

D’Ablo shook his head, a wave of low laughter escaping him. He’d grown tired of this game. In a blink he was inches in front of Vlad, squeezing his leather-covered hand tightly around Vlad’s throat, until Vlad could feel his lungs tighten in panic. Vlad tore at D’Ablo’s hands, but his attacker held fast, whispering bluntly into his ear. “ The journal or your life, boy. I’ll give you some time to think it over.”

Then, just as suddenly as he’d attacked, D’Ablo released his grip and turned toward the door. Vlad coughed and gasped as air entered his lungs once again. D’Ablo’s hand was on the knob when he managed to choke out, “That’s not gonna be easy if the Pravus can’t be killed.”

D’Ablo smirked and opened the door. He met Vlad’s eyes and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. But you’ll see soon enough.”

Vlad blinked, utterly confused. He reached out with his mind, calling to Otis for help… but Otis was silent.

As D’Ablo stepped outside, he spoke again, this time without looking back. “Sweet dreams.”

His words were followed by chilling laughter.