Vlad was watching the scene unfold with great intensity when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that D’Ablo had retrieved his sword and was creeping up on Otis. Vlad acted before he could think about it. In a flash he recalled every action movie he had ever seen, every stupid wrestling match that he had been forced to endure on Saturday mornings at Henry’s house. He ran as fast as he could toward D’Ablo, jumping high into the air at the last minute. Two size 10 shoes connected with D’Ablo’s face. A letter-perfect drop kick that even Hulk Hogan would be proud of knocked D’Ablo off his feet and away from Vlad’s uncle.
D’Ablo wiped blood from his already healing lip and pulled himself back onto his feet. “I’m growing very tired of you, boy. I am going to enjoy killing you.”
“Oh my God, you broken record. Why don’t you get your cronies to write you some new material?” Vlad glanced quickly to check on his uncle, but Otis and Ignatius had disappeared down the hall. Vlad could only hope that Otis was strong enough to defeat his own father. He turned his attention back to D’Ablo, balling up his fists in fury. “Now do you want to go ahead and admit that your little plan has failed and give up? If not, then I suggest we finish this.”
D’Ablo cast a condescending smile, “As you wish.” His sword having been knocked away when Vlad kicked him, D’Ablo lashed out with his fist, catching Vlad under his jaw. Vlad flew several inches into the air and came down hard on the floor. But he wasn’t down for long. When D’Ablo jumped to cover him, he kicked him in the chest with both feet, sending him flying, then did a flip and was on his feet again.
Henry had reappeared, and he yelled Vlad’s name. Vlad looked just in time to see a small object flying through the air toward him. He turned his attention back to D’Ablo long enough to deliver a kick to his side that sent the vampire skidding across the floor. He turned back and reached out his hand to catch what Henry had thrown. His friend had one small bit of advice: “Just make sure you don’t miss.”
Vlad furrowed his brow, and then opened his hand. What he saw there completely explained why Henry had disappeared and very nearly made him hug Henry on the spot. He turned the familiar black cylinder over in his palm, and all he could hope was that what he was holding was the real Lucis, not the copy he’d been tricked with last year. He turned just as D’Ablo reached down to retrieve his sword. Holding his breath, Vlad aimed and brushed his thumb against the glyph on the end of the Lucis.
The room lit up with a brilliant white light. Otis came running back into the room, having apparently defeated Ignatius. He ducked just in time for the powerful beam of light to miss hitting him square in the side of the head. Vlad brushed the glyph again, closing the greatest weapon known to vampirekind.
D’Ablo howled. His hand had been blown completely off, leaving nothing but a charred stump behind. But “off” wasn’t an exact description, as the hand was nowhere to be found. It had been blown into oblivion, into nonexistence.
D’Ablo’s screams echoed in the lobby of the empty office building, blending with a myriad of curse words in every language he could think of, including one that Vlad guessed to be Elysian code. Vlad gripped the Lucis tightly, but he didn’t turn it on again. Something sick and horrible filled his insides. He couldn’t kill D’Ablo. He couldn’t kill anyone that his father had called friend, despite the fact that he hated D’Ablo with a passion. He lowered the Lucis and met Otis’s eyes. “I can’t kill him, Otis. I’m sorry.”
Otis stood, his eyes wide in disbelief. He stepped toward his nephew. “I can. Give me the Lucis. This menace will not be stopped until we stop him, Vladimir. It ends today.”
Vlad flung the Lucis away, letting it fly from his hand. It tumbled through the air, and time stood still.
Otis pleaded with his eyes, but Vlad tightened his jaw stubbornly. “It does end today. But not that way, Otis. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I allowed my dad’s friend to die.”
Otis shook his head. The Lucis clattered onto the floor. “He won’t stop. He will never stop.”
The Lucis rolled over the slatted top of an open vent. Vlad whispered, “I know.”
Otis dove forward, but it was too late. The Lucis slipped between his fingers and down the vent shaft. He hung his head, defeated.
A curved blade sang through the air, stabbing through Otis’s hand. Otis screamed, and Ignatius pulled him back into the dark shadows of the hallway.
Vlad jumped forward to follow, but something large slammed into his side, knocking him through the air. He managed to glance in the direction he was flying quickly enough to shield his face with his hands. He smashed through the glass of the front door, and suddenly he could feel the sunlight on his skin as he fell outside. The smell of acrid smoke filled his nostrils, and fire lit up his sleeve. He was burning.
He opened his eyes, but couldn’t stand, couldn’t run from the sun’s murderous heat. Something was on top of him.
D’Ablo shrieked as his hair and flesh burst into flames, but not with pain . . . with laughter. He growled into Vlad’s horrified face, “Perhaps it’s better this way, Vladimir Tod. Perhaps it’s better that we die together.”
Then Vlad realized that the flames he felt weren’t coming from him. D’Ablo’s burning flesh had set his clothing on fire. Vlad was perfectly fine . . . and in full sunlight.
He screeched, “D’Ablo, get to the shadows! You’re dying!”
In a horrific, gravelly voice, flames framing his face as his skin charred before Vlad’s very eyes, D’Ablo said, “We’re both dying.”
He withdrew the ritual dagger with his only hand from somewhere behind him and lifted it high in the air.
Vlad almost choked from the smoke coming off D’Ablo’s burning flesh. He pushed as hard as he could with his mind, into D’Ablo’s thoughts, just long enough to make him drop the blade. Once metal had clanged against pavement, Vlad grabbed the dagger and pointed at his attacker.
D’Ablo stood, still aflame, and ran toward the nearest dark alley. All the while, he screamed.
Vlad dropped the weapon and rested his head on the concrete. After a moment, he held up a hand in the sunlight. It felt warm. It felt good.
And it erased any small remaining doubt that he was the Pravus the prophecy had spoken of.
25
THE AFTERMATH
VLAD PULLED OPEN THE DOOR and stepped back into the lobby, where Henry and Otis were waiting for him. Otis lurked back near the elevator, where the shadows were at their heaviest, covered in what smelled like Ignatius’s blood. Vlad threw his uncle an exhausted glance. “I thought drinking my blood would render the drinker immune to sunlight.”
“You thought wrong.” Otis frowned, watching the alley across the street. “As did he. I told you, Vladimir. Fairy tales and nonsense.”
Henry stood near the front windows, gazing at the alleyway that D’Ablo had disappeared into with an intensity Vlad didn’t know he was capable of. Henry pursed his lips. “We should go after him, Vlad. Finish him off. Otherwise, he’ll never stop trying to kill you.”
Vlad looked back over his shoulder at the bright, sunny day and shook his head. “My dad would have let him live.”
Otis’s voice was gruff. “Are you so sure of that, Vladimir?”
Vlad paused. In truth, he wasn’t, but he hoped that his assumption was right. “Even if he wouldn’t, I’m going to. It’s the right thing to do.”
The sidewalk began to fill with people. The city had awakened, and very soon, the building would be bustling with activity. “We should find some sunblock for you, Otis, and get home. I’m sure Nelly will be furious that I’ve been out all night.”
“Not to mention worried out of her mind.” A small smile curved Otis’s lips. “But I’m sure she’ll understand once we explain that you had important vampire business to attend to . . . such as saving my life.”
Otis grabbed Ignatius’s corpse from where he had left it near the end of the hallway and slid it along the floor to the waiting elevator. He dropped
it, ran a shaking hand through his hair, and sighed. “ That’s going to mean a lot of paperwork for someone.”
Vlad chuckled. “After everything we’ve just been through, you’re worried about somebody’s paperwork?”
Otis merely blinked at him.
Vlad sighed. “I will never understand grown-ups, vampire or otherwise.”
Vlad and Henry stepped inside the elevator with Otis and what was left of Ignatius. Otis opened the panel of buttons that led to the offices of the Elysian council. With a press of a button, they were on their way back to the room where D’Ablo had attempted to steal Vlad’s invincibility from him.
“You know, whatever that was that D’Ablo took out of you . . .” His voice trailed off for a moment, as if something occurred to him that had not before. “. . . we should probably get it back inside you where it belongs. If there’s any truth at all to D’Ablo’s ramblings, perhaps ingesting it would shield you against the Grim Reaper’s trespasses once again.”
“Ingest it?” Vlad looked disgusted. “You mean I have to drink that crap?”
Vlad wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what flavor his essence was, but he wasn’t about to take his chances. Being invincible, it turned out, came in very handy. Especially with psycho vampires lurking around every corner trying to kill you.
The elevator door opened, and the trio made their way down the hall to the room with the large metal door. Otis opened it and Henry immediately cringed. Jasik lay on the floor, dead, his gray, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. At the sight of him, Vlad felt that horrible emptiness again, just as he had at the moment of Jasik’s death. And he felt an unshakable pang of guilt for having controlled Jasik’s mind. After all, if Vlad hadn’t intervened, Jasik wouldn’t have suffered D’Ablo’s wrath and he might still be alive right now.
Vlad knelt and closed Jasik’s eyes with his palm. He looked around the room for a sheet or blanket—something, anything to cover Jasik’s dead body—but there was nothing lying around to serve that purpose. Otis squeezed his shoulder, and they exchanged looks of understanding.
“Oh no. No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . no.” Across the room, Henry muttered several curse words under his breath. “Um, guys. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Henry held up the vial that had contained the iridescent purple liquid. The glass was cracked in several places, and the top of the vial had been broken completely off.
Vlad frowned and crossed the floor to where Henry was still crouched down, holding the broken tube. He could see the crusty spot on the floor where the liquid from the vial had puddled and dried. His invincibility. One of his Pravus powers reduced to no more than a carpet stain. Vlad’s mind began to ask questions: What if the rest of his powers could be lost as easily? What if D’Ablo did come back to try again? What else might he lose? Had he made the right decision letting D’Ablo live? He silenced the thoughts before they had the chance to consume him.
After a moment of silence, Otis said, “Look on the bright side, Vladimir. Now there is no question of your mortality.”
Vlad snorted. He was about to ask a question when Henry intervened with the same thing he was thinking. “How is that a good thing?”
Otis met Vlad’s eyes. The concern Vlad saw there was almost overwhelming. “Because maybe now you will be more careful when facing your enemies.”
“Do you think I’ve been careless? I’ve tried my best not to have to face any enemies at all.” Vlad could feel his face get hot. “I really don’t find this an enjoyable way to spend my Saturday nights, Otis.”
“Vladimir, you misunderstood my intent.” Otis’s voice was soft and understanding, as if he could sense Vlad’s emotions starting to get the better of him. “I simply meant that with these vampires believing that you are the Pravus—”
“Really? Because it sounded like you were saying that I tend to seek out all this life-in-danger crap.” After all that he had been through in the past twelve hours, it seemed so unfair that his uncle blamed him for it all. Vlad had to fight to hold back the tears. “I just want to be left alone to live my life, but the psycho fanatics won’t let that happen. And frankly, knowing that I couldn’t be killed made facing them a lot easier. Now I . . . now I’m just scared.”
Vlad fell to his knees. Though he had won his fight against D’Ablo, he’d never stood a chance in the battle he now fought. Now he had to face the world, and whatever lurked in the shadows, without his ability to survive it.
His emotions won out. Vlad let out a shuddering sob and wrapped his arms around himself.
Henry took a step toward Vlad to comfort his friend, but Otis held up his hand, stopping the boy in his tracks. He spoke softly to his nephew. “Vladimir, you have been through a lot in the last few years. More than any boy. More than any vampire. I wish I could say that I understand what you are feeling, but I can’t. When you’ve lived for centuries you learn to deal with fear and loss in different ways.”
Otis bent down in front of his nephew and put his hands on Vlad’s shoulders. “All I can say for sure is that whatever it was that was in that vial is not you. It is not who you are and it is not what you do. There is nothing different about you now than there was before D’Ablo took out whatever that was.” He pulled Vlad in closer and let him cry into his chest. “And you don’t have to worry anymore. You’ve shown D’Ablo that you’re a lot tougher than he thought. I don’t think he’ll be trying anything anytime soon. And if he does, I’ll be here to protect you.”
Vlad lifted his head and looked into his uncle’s face, blinking away his tears. “Does that mean you’re staying? For good?”
“For now, not for good.” He smiled down at Vlad. “After what I’ve endured in the months since my capture, I could certainly use a vacation. However, I am still a fugitive in the eyes of Elysia, and I cannot stay in one place for too long. Speaking of which . . .” Otis’s eyes scanned the room to make sure that Henry was still nearby. He spotted him rummaging through the drawer of a cabinet against the wall. “We should find a way to get out of here before council members show up.”
From across the room Henry held up a small bottle of sunblock, SPF 40. “It looks like this is all they have. Will it be enough?”
Otis took the bottle, frowning a little. “It’ll have to be.”
Vlad regained his composure. Otis was right. There was more to him than some weird purple liquid. He was the Pravus. He knew that to be true now, could feel the . . . right-ness of it down to his very cells. And no one, not even D’Ablo, could ever take that away. He crossed the room and pulled open the large metal door, but Otis stopped him with a thought. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Your father’s journal, perhaps? After all, it is . . . precious to you, is it not?”
Vlad hesitated.
“I’m not sure I want it anymore, Otis.” The backs of the pages now contained a horrible memory. After all, it had been a tool for his demise—something that troubled Vlad deeply. Why would his father’s journal contain such a horrible ritual, especially knowing that Vlad was the only vampire born to a human mother?
“I’m sure your father had sound reasons for not destroying the ritual when he had the chance.” Otis’s lips formed a thin line as he nodded at Vlad. “We just have to trust that.”
Vlad was ashamed to admit that he didn’t trust that . . . and that he wasn’t sure why, exactly. “Why did my dad’s journal contain the ritual that could destroy me?”
“I don’t know, Vladimir. Maybe he was protecting you by keeping it close and hidden—out of the hands of the likes of D’Ablo. Or maybe he wasn’t even aware that it was contained on the backs of those pages.”
Vlad thought for a moment. “Do you think that D’Ablo put it there before he gave the journal to him?”
Otis’s forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows came together. “What are you talking about? Vikas gave your father that journal.”
“No, D’Ablo did. He told me so. There’s even a D on the inside cover. For D’Ablo.
”
“Is that what he told you to get you to give him the journal?” Otis shook his head and laughed, his voice warm and friendly in Vlad’s mind. “No, Vlad. The D stands for Dyavol, the nickname that Vikas used for your father. The same that he uses for you. Mahlyenki Dyavol. Besides, when a vampire gifts another vampire with something, we always inscribe our name in Elysian code, not in English.” Otis placed the journal into Vlad’s hand on his way out the door. “If for no other reason, to remember him by.”
Vlad squeezed the journal tightly. It had been a lie. Just another lie told to him by D’Ablo. And he had stupidly believed it.
Vlad followed his uncle to the elevator.
When the three of them stepped inside, they were greeted by the Muzak version of “ Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance. Vlad and Henry exchanged looks of horror, and Vlad sighed. “Is nothing sacred?”
26
SWEET RELEASE
NELLY PICKED UP A LONG WOODEN SPOON from the counter and stirred the concoction on the stove that she kept referring to as “soup.” Vlad grinned. Otis was looking rather exhausted, not from his encounter with Elysia, but from all of Nelly’s pampering. “Nelly, darling, I’m not ill. You can’t treat a vampire’s malnourishment with chicken soup. How many times must I tell you that?”
Nelly shook her head—desperate, Vlad wagered, to have some sort of control over the situation. She’d been trying to nurse Otis every day over the last four months. Otis had healed completely in a week, but Nelly insisted on mothering him. It was enormously funny to watch. “You had three broken ribs, a cracked tibia, countless abrasions, and a horrific amount of blood loss, Otis.”