The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills (9 page)

Except for the fact that he didn’t want to lose his dad again. Not after everything he’d been through.

“Mahlyenki Dyavol . . .” Vikas’s words followed him out the door and hung in the night. Vikas came too, grabbing Vlad’s shoulder gently, stopping his escape. But Vlad knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell Vlad that he was wrong, to urge him to apologize.

Vlad bit his tongue for a moment before speaking. “Nothing you can say will take away how I feel, Vikas. So don’t bother.”

Both were quiet for a long time. Then, just as Vlad had lifted his foot to step off the porch, Vikas spoke again. Calmly. Almost serenely. “Did it ever occur to you what it must have been like for your father? He lost his wife and his son and all of Elysia in one day. In one fell swoop, he lost all sense of family—and was forced to keep his distance from his only son, in order to protect him, not knowing if it really would. Can you imagine the pain that he’s experienced? We’ve all been through a lot since that day, Vladimir. But who has suffered more? You had the love of Nelly and then later, Otis. I had Elysia. Your father had no one. No one and nothing to quiet the ache in his heart.”

Vlad released a shuddered breath. Selfish—that’s what he’d been. Vikas was right. He’d had it bad, but Tomas ... he’d had it far worse. At least Vlad had a family in Nelly and Otis. At least he had Elysia with Vikas and the other vampires, if only for a moment.

Vikas squeezed his shoulder, urging him inside. “Come, Mahlyenki Dyavol. I believe the guilt that Tomas feels for leaving you is punishment enough for his wrongdoing. Don’t you?”

With sagging shoulders, Vlad moved back into the house, where Tomas was waiting.

Tomas was still sitting at the table, his eyes lowered, his expression subdued. He waited a moment, pausing, as if to form just the right words in the forefront of his mind. Once he had them, he spoke, his voice soft, soothing. “You didn’t give me a chance to respond.”

Of course Vlad didn’t. Giving him that chance would’ve opened Vlad up to more heartache, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood. He had no choice now but to listen. Because Vikas was right. Vlad was pushing away the father who he loved, who he’d missed for so long. And all because he was scared to death of losing him all over again.

A pensive look crossed Tomas’s face. One full of meaning, and regret. “Perhaps you should hate me.”

A soft breeze blew through the open window, rustling the drapes. It was the only sound until his dad spoke again.

“I like to think that I left Elysia to protect your mother, and that I left Bathory to protect you, but the truth, Vlad—the real truth—is that I was afraid,
am
afraid, and it is because of my fear, my cowardice, that your mother is gone and your life is in continuous danger. I can’t deny it. I can’t take it back. But I am more sorry for my cowardice than you could ever believe, more filled with regret than I have ever been in my four hundred and twenty-three years on this earth. And I promise you, I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you however I can. If that means doing the right thing this time around and
not
running, then so be it.” Tears shimmered in his eyes. His voice grew gruff. “I’m sorry, Vlad. More sorry than you’ll ever know, son. I was wrong.”

Vlad felt his resolve melt away. Swallowing the threat of tears, he met his father’s eyes. He was about to tell his dad that everything was going to be okay, that as long as he stuck around and they figured out what to do about Em’s looming deadline, everything would work out.

But then the door opened, and Otis stepped inside.

The air thickened with tension.

Vikas gestured with his eyes to the stairs, but Vlad shook his head. He wasn’t leaving. Not now. Not while his dad and Otis were at odds.

Otis took a step, then another, as if he hoped to quietly move past Tomas, and end the conversation before it had a chance to begin. But Tomas would have none of it. He spoke with a raspy, hushed voice. “Otis, please. Sit. Let’s talk about whatever’s troubling you.”

“I think you know very well what troubles me, Tomas.”

“My presence, though I admit, I’m confused by your reaction. I had thought—”

“Whatever you thought doesn’t matter, because the fact remains that you are just as selfish as you ever were.” Otis’s tone changed then, still stern, but open to hearing what Tomas had to say. “I want answers, Tomas.”

He flicked his eyes to Vlad and back. “We all do.”

Vikas parted his lips and Otis snapped, his voice rising in venomous upset, “And I want them from Tomas, Vikas.”

Tomas was quiet for a while, then said, “So much anger coming from my brother—”

“Half
brother, remember?”

“Yes. As it seems you will not let me forget,” Tomas whispered. “So much anger coming from my
half
brother and my son ... an explanation is warranted, for certain. But, Otis, I’m not arrogant enough to ask for or expect forgiveness from either of you—only compassion. I’ve been alone for so very long. And my decision to return—no matter what it might mean to Vlad’s life—was not an easy one to come by. So please, if you would, give me time, and I will explain everything that you ask of me.”

Vlad looked at Otis, half begging him to listen, half understanding why he wouldn’t. Otis avoided his gaze entirely, but Vlad wasn’t sure why.

“When you’re really ready, ready to be totally honest, Tomas, you know how to find me. Until then, my compassion waits in preserve.” The back door slammed, signifying Otis’s abrupt exit.

I
T WAS THREE DAYS before Otis and Tomas spoke again.

Vlad had spent many hours at his old house, keeping his dad company, even though Tomas had been eerily quiet, disturbingly reserved. Tomas had been keeping vigil inside his home, his eyes rarely straying from the windows. Vlad would have bet anything that he was waiting for Otis, waiting for his brother to come to his senses and talk to him.

But Otis, as Tomas had said, was a very stubborn man.

Not that Vlad could blame him.

Vlad had just rinsed out their mugs after a fine meal of A positive topped off with mini-marshmallows—a vampire’s answer to hot cocoa—when his dad stood, with a determined look in his eye, and walked out the back door. When he looked to Vikas for answers, the Russian merely shrugged and said, “Perhaps the silence is about to be broken. You should go with him, Mahlyenki Dyavol. In case . . .”

But he didn’t finish his sentence, leaving Vlad to wonder in case what.

Regardless, Vlad followed. When he caught up to his dad, he said nothing, only kept him company, secretly pleased that Tomas was clearly heading for Nelly’s house.

When they got there, Tomas paused on the porch steps, as if doubting his earlier determination. Vlad frowned and strode forward, opening the door and calling out for his aunt. “Nelly, do we have any cookies? I’m feeling snacky.”

Taking a deep breath, Tomas walked up the steps and through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

“I just baked some. Chocolate chip.” Nelly walked into the room, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. When she spied Tomas standing there, her face paled. For a moment, Vlad thought she might order him out of her house. But then she said, “Would you like a cookie, Tomas? They’re still warm.”

Relief flooded Tomas’s eyes. “Thank you. I’d love one.”

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Nelly moved forward and hugged him tightly, wordlessly.

Vlad wasn’t sure how long Otis had been in the room, but he saw him now, watching Tomas with a wary gaze.

Tomas wrapped his arms gently around Nelly and whispered words of comfort. He and Otis exchanged glances, but Vlad wasn’t sure what those glances meant.

Finally, Tomas released Nelly from the embrace, meeting her eyes with a kind smile. Otis stepped forward and put an arm around her, almost protectively. Nelly dabbed at her eyes with the towel and released a shaking breath. Her eyes hadn’t left Tomas even once since he’d entered the room. “I’m glad you came over. It’s time things got back to normal around here.”

Tomas nodded, his smile slipping into a sorrowful purse of the lips. “Nelly, can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

For the first time, Nelly looked over at Otis. When Otis lowered his eyes and said nothing, the anger still boiling off of him, she set her jaw stubbornly and forced a smile. “There’s nothing to forgive. You must have been terrified, so you ran. Anyone who would claim that they’d have done otherwise is likely kidding themselves.”

Vlad couldn’t be certain, but that sounded like a jab at Otis.

Tomas looked relieved.

Nelly clapped her hands together. “It’s getting late and I’m tired. I’m sure Vladimir is exhausted too. Why don’t I get you two boys some AB negative to go with your cookies and leave you to celebrate your reunion?”

Vlad looked from Nelly to his dad and uncle. He wasn’t tired in the least and Nelly looked about as perky as one can get. Otis’s eyes began to slant in a glare at her suggestion, but then he caught himself, as if he just realized he was about to flash a dirty look at the woman he loved. Nelly met his eyes, her tone serious, but gentle. “For me, Otis. Please. And for your nephew.”

As if remembering that Vlad was in the room, Otis glanced at him, his shoulders relaxing some, almost in defeat.

He couldn’t fight Nelly. He’d lose. Vlad had learned that years ago. The woman had an arsenal of guilt-inducing tools and was adept at every one of them.

“Vladimir? You’re tired, right?” Nelly looked at him expectantly.

The clock on the wall said it was just a few minutes after seven. The sun was still shining outside. But Nelly wanted him to go upstairs, to leave Otis and Tomas alone to hash out details that she thought might harm him in some way. But Vlad wasn’t about to leave. He had a right to the answers that Tomas would give. He shook his head at his guardian, defiant. “I’m not going anywhere, Nelly. I have every right to hear this.”

Nelly looked pained and caught, but eventually she nodded and headed up the stairs alone. When her bedroom door clicked shut, Vlad turned to face his father and uncle. “Fix this. Because it’s killing me to see the two people I care most about in this world hating one another. Fix it. For me.”

Otis and Tomas exchanged looks—long, silent, lingering looks that spoke volumes. Finally, Otis nodded. He would do anything for his nephew. “I need answers, Tomas.”

Tomas looked relieved. “I need questions to answer. Ask them. Let’s be done with this.”

Otis met his gaze. The defiance and anger had completely left his tone. All that was left behind was curiosity and understanding. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Everywhere. Hiding out like a dog. Occasionally spying on Elysia.”

“On me? On Vlad?”

“Yes.”

Vlad chewed his bottom lip for a moment. It was unsettling to think that his dad had been watching him and Otis. He couldn’t help but wonder what his dad might have seen.

Otis shook his head. It was apparent he was wondering the same thing. “Why not confide in us that you were afraid for your life?”

Vlad sat forward, nodding. “We could’ve helped hide you with glyphs and stuff. You wouldn’t have been so alone. And we could’ve been together.”

Tomas’s eyes went wide with horror at the thought. “I couldn’t endanger either of you that way.”

“That’s stupid.” Vlad shook his head, holding his dad’s gaze. “If you can’t count on your family, who can you count on?”

After a moment, his dad sighed heavily. “You’re right. I was being stupid. I see that now.”

“Why did you wait so long to come back?”

On the heels of Otis’s question, Vlad added, “And why come back now?”

Tomas ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I had planned never to return. Ever. To let you both believe that I had perished. To disappear into the night, the sole carrier of my horrific burden. But I recently overheard a conversation between Em and another vampire that suggested your life may be in danger, Vlad. I knew I had to come back, to help you if I could. I had no idea that it was something as serious as a trial.”

“And Mellina? Is she truly . . .” Otis voice was firm, guarded, but something else lurked beneath the surface. Pain.

Tomas’s voice cracked. He sounded like he was crying, but no tears fell. “Dead. I don’t know who the other person in that bed was. I can only assume the worst.”

Vlad looked away. He didn’t want to hear about his mom. He didn’t want to hear that she’d been with someone else the day she died, or that she was dead after all. He blocked it out from his emotions and pretended not to have heard a single word about it.

Even though every syllable had been etched into his heart with a razor.

Otis’s voice was caring, kind, full of empathy. He was the uncle that Vlad had come to know and love once again. He leaned across the table and grasped Tomas’s hand in his. “From all that Nelly’s told me, Tomas, Mellina loved you deeply. Don’t think such things of her. There has to be another explanation.”

There was a long pause. Then Tomas spoke again, his voice hushed, his eyes red with the threat of tears. “Will you forgive me, Otis? Can you possibly, even remotely, see yourself forgiving me one day? Or is my one hope a lost cause?”

“Nelly forgives you. Vladimir has forgiven your.”

Vlad glanced at his uncle. Otis knew. Otis knew that Vlad had forgiven his father, when Vlad hadn’t said a word. But he didn’t need telepathy for that. It was obvious to anyone with a brain. Vlad loved his dad. And had completely, totally forgiven him for any pain his actions might have caused. It was over. It was done. It was past tense now.

Otis sighed. “What choice do I have?”

Vlad stood. He placed a hand on his dad’s shoulder, and a hand on Otis’s, then squeezed. “It’s about time. Can I get you guys something to drink?”