The film jumped forward then. Exhausted and aged by his ordeal, Dorian lay on the floor of the training room, spent. The chanting man had stopped chanting and the man with the pen had ceased as well. A fourth man, one Vlad knew well, entered the room and set Dorian free. Vlad watched as Vikas killed the Foreteller and the Transcriber, though neither fought it. It was as if they’d expected it, as if they all knew they had a role to play and were willing to play it. Dorian crawled forward, lapping at the blood from their fatal wounds.
“Ever since I emerged from that room I have craved nothing but vampire blood, and as I am the Keeper of the Prophecy, as it is stored within my veins, all of Elysia bow to my whims. Perhaps they figure it is a small price compared to the torment that I endured. I don’t know.”
The image froze on Dorian’s hand lovingly caressing the dead face of the Inscriber, and just like that, Vlad was no longer watching Dorian’s memory.
Dorian said, “So to answer your question of where the prophecy is, the answer stands before you. Simply put, it is within me.”
Vlad took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to erase those images from his mind. “I don’t suppose you could jot it down for me.”
A smile touched Dorian’s lips. “No. I’m afraid I can’t. Nor can I tell you the prophecy verbatim. I have discussed portions of it with various vampires over time and books have been written on the subject based on those conversations, but none but I know the prophecy in its entirety. However, I can answer direct questions. And I will ... in time.”
Dorian turned around and started walking away. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Your uncle will notice your departure in a moment. I suggest you hurry back.”
“Wait. First tell me something. Something not about the prophecy. Something about you.” Dorian paused and Vlad ran to catch up with him. Once he reached his side, he asked, “Where do you get your powers from?”
Once again, Dorian smiled. “Ask your uncle.”
“Is that one of your secrets, Dorian?”
“I have only one secret, and that is not it. Perhaps one day I will share my secret with you, but that day isn’t today.” Dorian started walking again, and this time, Vlad didn’t follow.
He hurried back to V Bar and, just as he’d entered the door, Otis straightened and looked around. His expression darkened when he saw Vlad returning. While Vlad found his seat once again, Enrico excused himself to go help the bartender. Otis eyed Vlad for a moment before he spoke. “Enrico has invited us along for dinner. I’m assuming you missed that part of the conversation.”
Vlad swallowed hard, feeling very much like he was in trouble, but not knowing why. “I did. Good, though. I’m starved.”
Otis emptied his glass and sat it on the bar. “He’s asked us to join him in hunting humans for sport.”
At Vlad’s gawk, he said, “You don’t have to take part, but I’m not about to leave you alone in a hotel room in New York City.”
24
THE HUNT
OTIS WHISPERED, as if he didn’t want the other vampires to hear, which struck Vlad as enormously stupid, what with them having telepathy and all, but hey ... whatever floated Otis’s boat. They had just exited the subway and were now walking along the sidewalk, making their way north, toward Times Square and beyond it, Central Park. “Are you ready for this, Vladimir? The hunt is exhilarating, but not something I’m sure you’d agree with.”
Actually, Vlad found himself more intrigued by the idea than he’d ever admit. “I don’t want to be rude or anything. It’ll be okay.”
“After your reaction to the very idea of hunting in Siberia a few years ago, I thought the notion might sicken you.” Otis cocked an eyebrow at him, as if defying him to deny it, or perhaps coaxing him to admit he was curious. “But if you’re all right with it ...”
Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “How is it done? I mean ... we won’t hurt anyone, will we?”
“We?” Otis slowed his steps, as if in disbelief. “You plan to hunt?”
“No. I just ... no.” He swallowed hard, resolving that he wouldn’t be partaking in any fresh human blood tonight. Not even a drop. No matter how much it appealed to him.
Licking his lips, as if parched by the subject, Otis said, “Every vampire hunts differently. I always aim for the sick or homeless, those who don’t have a chance of surviving much longer anyway. Enrico prefers tourists.”
“But don’t they have families to go home to?”
“Think of it this way, Vlad. Do the chickens and cows that humans devour have families who will miss them? Perhaps. But whether or not they do is of no consequence on the hunt.”
Vlad furrowed his brow, more than a little disturbed. “You can’t kill them, Otis. You just can’t.”
After a thoughtful pause, Otis called up to Enrico. “Let’s try to let them live tonight.”
Enrico’s laughter drifted back to them. “Let them live? That would be a cruel fate.”
Vlad shot a glance at Otis. “What does he mean by that?”
“He means that killing them would be fast. Letting them live will require a satisfying chase. And I can’t guarantee that the thirst won’t cloud our reasoning a bit. We may kill them anyway.” Otis paused midstep, as if he were having second thoughts about bringing Vlad along. “Are you sure you’re up to this? You look a little green. Maybe I should take you back to the hotel.”
Vlad shrugged. He didn’t want Otis to miss out on the fun. Even if he was having a hard time with the idea of attacking innocent people. “It would be easier if I knew they were willing victims.”
“Victims are never willing, Vlad. That’s why they’re called victims and not volunteers.” Otis sighed. “You don’t have to participate. Neither do I if it makes the evening more ... palatable for you.”
Enrico’s voice found them again with a tone of celebration. “Ah ... as usual, our hunting ground is full. Herd your choices to the park, gentlemen, and let the games begin.”
Times Square was far cooler than any of the times he’d seen it on TV. Bright lights were everywhere. The smells of food filled the air. And the people ... so many people.
Otis spoke in a hurried tone, as if he’d all but forgotten his suggestion that maybe they should sit this hunt out. “The key to a good hunt is to choose a human who fits your mood. If you’re looking for a struggle, if you truly want a fight that will fulfill your animalistic urges, choose a strong human, preferably a runner. If you want a fast meal, the elderly are a good choice.”
Vlad flinched. “The elderly?”
“You’re feeling conflicted. That’s normal.” Then Otis hurried ahead into the crowd.
Vlad shook his head and followed, albeit reluctantly. “Nothing about this is normal, Otis.”
When he caught up with his uncle, Otis started rambling, and Vlad could tell the scent of blood had him now. Otis looked captivated by the crowd. “Let me put it into perspective for you. Being raised among humans, you have adapted many of their so-called morals. You’ve been raised to believe that you shouldn’t bring harm on humankind, that humans are not food, that you should do everything in your power to protect your fellow man. I was raised that way too, and for twenty years after I turned, I struggled with guilt at the things I was doing. The urges inside me were too powerful to ignore, but eventually, I realized that I was only hurting myself by ignoring them. I was no longer human, so I needed to learn a new way of living, a new way of looking at the world. You, Vladimir, may be half human, but every bit of you that I have seen is a vampire. And this is the vampire way.”
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.
A monster. Otis was a monster. Maybe Joss and the Slayer Society weren’t so wrong after all. Maybe vampires really were horrible beings, bent on human pain and destruction. Maybe their use of stakes wasn’t entirely misguided.
Despite his horror, Vlad found himself moving closer to Otis’s victim. The scent of the man’s blood was almost too much to bear. He wanted it. Desperately.
But more than that, he wanted his uncle back.
“Otis! NO!”
Otis seemed to have just noticed him for the first time. Blinking, he looked up from his impending meal.
Vlad shook his head sternly. “I’m not going to let you do this, Otis. It’s wrong. Look at him; he’s terrified!”
The vampire Otis glanced briefly down at the man, as if the very idea that humans could feel terror had never occurred to him.
“You call this hunting. You chase innocent people through the woods, terrify them, then kill them. That’s not hunting, Otis. It’s not sport. It’s murder and you know it. If this is the vampire way, then I’m really glad my dad took me away from Elysia. It’s ... it’s horrible. And you’re horrible for doing it.”
That scary light left Otis’s eyes at last, and he looked sober again and filled with shame.
But Vlad didn’t hang around long enough to be sure. He took off running, the wind whipping through his hair, moving with vampire speed until he was back at the hotel. He stepped into their room and closed the door, lying on the bed for what seemed like an eternity.
Otis would feed. Of that he was certain.
Disgust filled him, and guilt too. He’d never spoken to his uncle that way before. But then, it wasn’t his uncle he’d been speaking to. It had been the vampire Otis, someone he didn’t even know.
After a long time, the door opened and Otis stepped inside. His eyes were red, his expression drawn. He didn’t meet Vlad’s gaze, but sat on the foot of the bed, his shoulders slumped. He was quiet for a long time. Then, as if unable to stand the silence anymore, he spoke. “It hurts that you see me as a monster, Vladimir.”
“I never said that Otis. I never said you were a monster.”
He’d thought it. Oh yes, he’d thought it. But he would never admit that to his uncle, never reveal that for a moment, he understood Joss’s motives.
“You don’t have to say it. And ... you’re right, to an extent.” Otis sighed, burying his head in his hands. “It’s so difficult to resist gorging myself on their blood. Every day in Bathory, I somehow manage, always teetering on the verge of a thirst-fueled madness. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you manage to refrain from slaughtering the entire town. You’re immensely strong. Far stronger than me.”
Vlad raised an eyebrow. He’d never thought of himself as particularly strong before. “What about Nelly? You two cuddle all the time, but you don’t seem to be chomping down on her. You’re strong too, Otis.”
Otis shook his head. “That’s different. I don’t think of her in that way. But everyone else ... especially the humans I don’t know by name ... it’s immensely difficult to resist.”
Vlad swallowed hard. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be a vampire used to taking meals by force and then going stone sober. It had to be an awful habit to break. “Did you kill that man, Otis?”
He looked up then and closed his eyes. Vlad couldn’t be sure if his expression was one of relief or regret. “No. I did not. I wiped the experience from his memory and returned him to Times Square. Then I went for a long walk before returning here to beg your forgiveness.”
Vlad sat up, reached forward, and squeezed Otis’s shoulder. Otis placed his hand over Vlad’s and met his eyes.
“You don’t need to, Otis. There’s nothing to forgive.”
25
THE PRETRIAL
AFTER
A SHORT SUBWAY RIDE, Otis and Vlad headed back to V Bar. The city had come alive in the nighttime hours, something that was the absolute opposite of life in small town Bathory. Even V Bar was overflowing with customers, so it took Otis a minute to garner the attention of the bartender. Once he did, the bartender led them through the cellar door in the sidewalk to the storage area beneath. He closed the metal doors over them, and Otis moved to the small glyph behind a table and brushed it with his trembling fingers.
This was it. The moment that determined whether Otis would live or die.
“Otis?” Vlad’s voice shook slightly. “I’m scared.”
A section of wall opened to the right. Otis met Vlad’s eyes and sighed. “Me too, Vlad. Me too.”
After Otis entered the room, a familiar person stepped from the shadows. Dorian whispered, “It is important that you don’t speak at this hearing, Vlad, unless you are called on. Also, telepathy is not allowed. Do you understand?”
Vlad nodded and Dorian placed a hand on Vlad’s elbow to guide him inside. Beside the door was a second glyph. Ignoring all the fear that Dorian had inflicted on him, Vlad tapped Dorian’s hand and nodded to the marking. “What’s that?”
“That’s insurance that my influence cannot enter this room. It’s a new addition to pretrials. Apparently my gifts at bringing about true justice are not appreciated. As Em, the president of this council, despises me ...”
Vlad’s entire body went cold. “All it takes is a glyph to stop you?”
The corner of Dorian’s mouth rose in a smirk. He whispered, “No, but I like to let Em think it will. Besides ... Em is probably the only vampire in this world capable of killing me. I had hoped that she would be absent, as she normally is for such proceedings, and I would be able to influence the others, but alas ...” He sighed and Vlad could see that he was troubled. “Suffice it to say that Otis is on his own, my young friend. His future lies in Em’s hands.”