His heart had completely evaporated, leaving him as nothing more than an empty shell. Broken, he moved past tents and rides and people until he was free of the festival at last. He barely noticed Henry on his knees in front of Melissa, who was laughing in an oddly flirtatious way. He hardly noticed the goth kids waving to him and almost couldn’t remember which direction was home. All he could do was move, get away, hide his horrific self from the human girl he loved . . . before he killed her, all for the sake of hunger.
As he walked home, he kept to the shadows, hoping no one would notice him. Three blocks from the park, despite Vlad’s wishes, someone did.
A bright flash assaulted his eyes.
As his eyes adjusted once again to the darkness, a person came into view. Eddie’s voice was strong and sure. “Out for a walk, Vlad? Or is it a snack?”
Vlad hesitated, then pushed the demon within him back down and kept walking.
Eddie kept the pace, and was only about two steps behind him. “What’s the hurry? Gotta get back to your coffin before sunrise?”
Eddie chuckled to himself and Vlad tensed, pausing mid-step. “What do you want from me, Eddie?”
“I just wanted to show you a picture of my new friend.” He held out a photograph of a girl with black hair, pale white skin: Snow. “Oh, she doesn’t know it yet, but she and I are about to become the best of friends. And oh, the conversations we’ll have—some, I’m sure, about you.”
Without thinking things through with his rational mind, Vlad grabbed Eddie by the shirt collar and slammed him up against a nearby tree. Eddie yelped, then made an oof sound. Vlad gripped his collar tighter and hissed into his ear. “Listen to me, because I’m not going to say this again. If you don’t stay away from me, you’re going to get hurt. I’m going to hurt you, Eddie, and I will take guilt-free pleasure in your pain. You got me? Now back off!”
He let go, and Eddie slid down the trunk, trembling. Vlad turned and walked away before the hunger raging within him ended Eddie’s young life.
Vlad moved through the gate and into his house, slamming the door behind him. His secret was out. He had no way of stopping Eddie. He had no way of leading a happy, normal life without becoming a danger to those he loved. And he couldn’t even ask for help from Otis, all because of his stupid pride. He ran his hands through his hair and released a shuddering sigh.
As he moved toward the stairs, the sound of television drew his attention. Otis and Nelly were cuddled up together on the couch as a movie played on television. Nelly had fallen fast asleep, and Otis was on his way. Otis offered Vlad a concerned look. “You’re back early.”
Vlad watched Nelly snoozing quietly against Otis’s chest, then turned his eyes to his uncle. “How do you do it, Otis?”
Otis pushed the power button on the remote, silencing the television. “What do you mean?”
Vlad licked his lips. “How do you get close to her without wanting to feed?”
A long silence went by. Then Otis whispered, “It’s not easy, but I manage.”
“And if you couldn’t control your . . . urges?”
“I’d keep my distance.” Otis paused, a look of concern on his face. “Is everything all right, Vladimir?”
Vlad’s heart sank. He took a deep, shaking breath. “It will be.”
He started up the stairs and sighed, his heart heavy, his chest tight. “I don’t know how . . . but it will be.”
28
AN OVERDUE APOLOGY
VLAD TRIED HARD TO STOP PACING, but he was having little luck with his efforts. A breeze blew through the alley, brushing his hair from his face and cooling his skin. The temperatures had risen to full-blown summer heat in the past week, and this evening was no different. Vlad blamed the heat wave for the beads of sweat on his forehead, but knew that he was kidding himself. It was his nerves, plain and simple.
The back door of The Crypt swung open, and, for a brief moment, music blared into the alley. Something raw. Something dark. Snow stepped out and the door closed, muting the sounds once again. Vlad caught her glance and cleared his throat, but didn’t speak.
She approached, gliding dreamily toward him, her steps not cautious in the least. Vlad wondered for a moment if she remembered the night he took her blood, or if it was all just a blur. Still, he had a burning need to apologize, even if she didn’t understand. “Thank you for meeting me. I need to apologize to you, Snow. I did something that I’m not proud of, and I can’t go into details, but—”
“You mean when you fed on me?” Her head was tilted slightly in a curious fashion, her well-plucked brows raised.
Now it was Vlad who didn’t understand. “You . . . you remember that?”
Snow nodded, and her burgundy lips spread into a grin. “Remember it? I’ll never forget it. It was great! I mean, at first I was confused. But ever since the fog lifted, it’s all I can think about.”
A brief flash of Eddie’s face invaded Vlad’s thoughts, and he frowned. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
Snow looked mildly insulted. She shook her head, her bangs draping across her eyes like a curtain for a moment. “I would never tell anyone about that night. That is just between you and me.”
Vlad stayed quiet for a long time, uncertain what to say or do. After all, technically the girl standing before him was his drudge. Had she not recalled their previous encounter, it wouldn’t really matter, but here she was, fully aware. He had no idea what to do with her, other than the obvious. “Don’t tell anyone about me. And if a boy named Eddie Poe tries to talk to you, ignore him.”
Snow nodded eagerly. “Is there anything else?”
Vlad wet his lips, hesitant. “You should know that you’re my drudge now. It’s . . . well, pretty much a vampire’s human slave. You won’t be able to resist any direct orders.”
She seemed to mull this over for a minute, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with her predicament. “I’m cool with that. Are you . . . hungry?”
Vlad shook his head curtly. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t feed off humans.”
Snow furrowed her brow, questioning. “But . . . you are a vampire, right? And you bit me. And I know you drank. It made me dizzy.”
“ That was a mistake. One I don’t plan on repeating.” He inhaled a delectable whiff of her blood as it rushed through her veins. Her heart beat quicker, and he could also smell the adrenaline in her blood. Vlad lowered his voice to a near whisper, terrified of himself, of his growing need to feed. “No matter how good you smell.”
She stepped closer and, against his will, he remained very still. Carefully, she swept her hair to one side, exposing the smooth porcelain of her neck—just as perfect, just as flawless as it had been before Vlad had bitten her. Vlad recalled Henry’s wound when they were eight healing within seconds after Vlad had removed his fangs—apparently, that was the norm. It looked as though that initial feeding on Snow had never occurred, though Vlad’s appetite recalled otherwise. The blue vein there pulsed, and Vlad felt his will break. He wet his lips again, suddenly famished.
Her whispered words brushed his cheek, enticing him further. “It’s okay. It’s just between us. Feed. You need it. I can tell.”
Vlad inhaled again, and his head spun with thirst. “It . . . it has to be a secret. From everyone.”
Snow was still nodding in understanding when Vlad leaned closer and bit hard into her neck. He drank deep, the rubies of her veins spilling over his tongue and filling his stomach, gifting him with the greatest pleasure he had ever known. He fed and fed, mindful of her heartbeat, but more mindful of his hunger and the taste of the forbidden.
He wouldn’t tell Otis. Or Nelly. Even Henry. This was his secret, his and Snow’s. And he would feed on her in surreptitious shadows.
Until he learned how to tame the beast within.
If, indeed, he ever would.
Vlad shut that thought out and pulled Snow closer, swallowing mouthfuls of her sweet crimson and blocking from his thoughts all the li
es that he would be forced to tell in order to satiate his need for blood.
There would be many.
ADDENDA
ACRUMPLED PIECE OF PARCHMENT poked out of Vlad’s top dresser drawer. The paper was frayed, its edges soft, as if it had been unfolded and refolded several hundred times. It had, in fact, as it had been in Vlad’s possession since the summer before his freshman year. The words were scribbled in black ink, the handwriting almost unreadable. And if asked, Vlad could have recited the letter by heart.
June 15
Dearest Vladimir,
I hope that this letter finds you well. It is my understanding that as of the date of this writing, you have a little more than two months until you begin your freshman year at Bathory High. That leaves us with a very tight schedule, as the time has come for me to teach you how to read Elysian code, the language of all vampires. I’m certain you are as excited as I am that you will begin this journey of understanding, as knowing Elysian code will open up worlds to you, and you will be able to study the Compendium of Conscientia—a book traditionally passed down from vampire to vampire since before time existed.
A brief history lesson: The first written language, according to humans, occurred around 3500 B.C., but Elysian code predates even the most absurd scribblings of the oldest human caveman by several hundred years. It is both simple and complex, and has been echoed in every form of writing that has ever been written. Our vampiric ancestors chose not to share our language with humans, for much the same reason that they chose to keep their very nature secret—humans were not considered (nor are they today) worthy of the blessings of Elysia. They were (and are) considered a food source, and nothing more.1 Should a human come across something written in Elysian code, it was thought, its inferior intelligence would find the elegant script a jumble, and the secrets of all of Elysia would fail to be revealed.
But enough of history. On with your lessons.
As with wooden stakes, sunlight, and Italian food, vampires have a natural aversion to both punctuation and capitalization. Each letter written in Elysian code is enclosed in Teneo indicators, shown here: ( ). As you can see, Teneo indicators are roughly similar to human parentheses, but far more eloquent. Names (otherwise known as a vampire’s Mark2) are also enclosed in Teneo indicators, but the names themselves are almost always a jumbling of the vampire’s initials, as the Mark is formed by the vampire’s essence and not by the vampire him or herself. (Remember how your Mark formed after I fed some of my essence into you? It was a natural reaction by your own essence that formed your Mark .) Though Marks may be similar to one another, each Mark is completely unique, and no Mark has ever been repeated through the course of Elysian history.
Elysian code, translated below into English, is really quite simple in written form:
Therefore, if one wanted to write “Let’s go out for a bite” in Elysian code, one would write:
Likewise, if one wanted to write “I sucked rubies from his veins” in Elysian code, one would write:
Speaking Elysian code is another matter altogether, as the complex sounds of the vampire language cannot be translated onto a page. One must hear Elysian code spoken often in order to learn to speak it oneself. In fact, many young vampires of one hundred years of age or less are commonly confused by the spoken vampire language, despite their daily exposure to it. It is doubtful that you will learn to speak Elysian code at all, Vladimir, as you do not experience daily interaction with other vampires. But fear not—reading the vampire language is just as important.
Please work hard to memorize Elysian code, and immediately begin your studies of the Compendium of Conscientia. It is very important that you do.
On a personal note, I’m enjoying our exchange of letters greatly. I confess I have not felt this great a connection with another vampire since your father left Elysia. Please do keep writing. And give my best to Nelly.
Yours in Eternity,
Otis ( ///)
1 Please know that I do not feel this way about humans anymore, Vladimir, as knowing Nelly has most certainly changed my point of view of what wonderful beings humans are. I just wanted to illustrate that the majority of vampires do feel superior to humans. It is greatly frowned on by all of the Elysian councils for a vampire to interact with humans in any way that acknowledges them as our equals.
2 Marks are generally given to vampires by their creator (but for the few who are abandoned by their creators early on—or as occurred in your case, but I believe yours is a unique one). As with glyphs, the vampire must feed his intention into his bite in order for the Mark to be effective. This, of course, leaves the creator with a certain amount of control over the vampire he has Marked, but as it is such a minimal amount, very few ever utilize it. (Please do not have concerns about this, Vladimir—I respect you and will not utilize that small amount of control unless your life depends on it.) Removing one’s Mark not only breaks a vampire’s bond with his or her creator, but also severs the bond with all of Elysia.
Heather Brewer, Tenth Grade Bleeds
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