It had to be a dream. What else could it be?
He lay awake in the dark until his legs jumped with energy. Maybe a moonlit stroll would calm his nerves.
Dressing quickly, he found his way down the stairs and past Amenti, who was curled up asleep on the corner of the couch, nestled in Nelly’s favorite sweater, shedding all over it in blissful kitty contentment.
He stepped out the door and buttoned his jacket, shivering in the cool air. He wasn’t exactly sure where he wanted to go; he only knew that he needed to move around until the nightmare had shaken completely from his mind. He headed north, content to walk the edges of Bathory until he was feeling a bit more like sleeping.
There was no sign of Eddie, something that improved Vlad’s troubled mood.
He passed houses, a small creek, and eventually found his way to Requiem Ravine, where the cops had found the body of Mr. Craig, Vlad’s English teacher. He paused, mourning the loss of such a great mentor and friend, before continuing along the town’s borders in an effort to quiet his mind. Within minutes, he’d found his way to an extremely familiar clearing.
Vlad looked around, remembering how D’Ablo had waited for him and Joss here last year. The images of that encounter, and of Joss’s betrayal, flooded his mind like dark water. He still couldn’t believe that Joss had staked him, or that one of his closest friends would purposely cause him such agonizing pain, and almost take his life. But Joss had. Worse still, he couldn’t believe how much he missed Joss’s company.
Getting staked had been a hard lesson in choosing one’s friends wisely, that was for sure.
The chill of autumn snaked its way inside Vlad’s jacket, and he shivered briskly before turning to head home. But on the ground, lying amidst dead leaves and half immersed in muddy earth, Vlad spied a coin. He plucked it from the ground and wiped the dirt away. It was bronze, and on one side had two large initials, written in calligraphy: S.S. He flipped it over and noted the symbols on the other side. A crescent moon on the left, the symbol for eternity on the right, and at its center, a wooden stake. Along the top, curving along the crest of the coin, was Slayer Society. Along the bottom it read for the good of mankind.
Vlad frowned in disgust. Joss must have dropped it that night, the night he’d tried unsuccessfully to rid the world of another vampire, the night he’d tried to murder Vlad with a sharp hunk of wood. Furious, he read the inscription again and swore under his breath. As if the Slayers’ murderous actions could be so easily disguised as being “for the good of mankind.” As if betraying your friend’s trust and putting him in the hospital could make you a humanitarian. Psychotic jerk, maybe. Humanitarian? Not so much.
Vlad almost threw the coin into the ravine, but then he squeezed it tight and placed it in his pocket. It would be a good reminder never to trust anyone so easily again.
He turned on his heel and headed home, the nightmare of Joss staking him replacing the one he’d been trying to forget.
9 THE PERFECT GIFT
VLAD TWISTED THE BLACK RIBBON around the knot of an inflated red balloon and tied it before letting the balloon go. It flew up toward the ceiling and then bobbed pathetically at the end of its tether. “How many of these did Nelly say to fill?”
Henry emptied one of the helium-filled balloons into his mouth. When he spoke, he sounded like a deranged Mickey Mouse. “I think she said fifty.”
Vlad shook his head. The room was already so stuffed with balloons, streamers, and party favors that he was pretty sure once they opened the door to let any guests in, the house would explode, draping the entire neighborhood in his favorite colors-black and red. Which, now that he thought of it, wasn’t such a bad idea. Bathory could use a bold splash of color. Or two. Or twelve. He called out, hoping his aunt could hear him well enough over the sounds of food preparation. “Nelly, just how many people did you invite? I mean, this seems like a pretty big deal for just me, you, Meredith, and Henry.”
Nelly’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, so full of parental pride that it made Vlad’s eyes roll. “ Vladimir, it’s not every day that a boy turns fifteen.”
She was right. But, Vlad noted with a hint of terror rushing through his veins, she also didn’t answer his question. Dropping the bag of empty balloons, he rushed into the kitchen and was greeted by warm, sugary smells… and enough food to feed an army of teenagers. He stared suspiciously. “Exactly how many people did you invite to my birthday party?”
Nelly glanced at the calendar on the wall, where November 21 was circled in red. Scribbled on the square was Vlad’s B-Day: 38 RSVPs. She stirred something creamy and brown and smiled. “Around forty. Why?”
Vlad’s jaw dropped. “Nelly! I don’t know forty people!”
“Sure you do. You know Henry’s family, some of the nurses from the hospital, and the rest are your friends and teachers.”
It took every ounce of his brain to process the fact that she’d invited his teachers, and a small shudder shook through him. “You invited my teachers?”
She looked at him, completely oblivious. “What’s wrong with that?”
He stared at her, mouth agape. It was like the real Nelly had been abducted by little green men with a fondness for registered nurses who couldn’t cook. “Nelly, I spend all day with them. What makes you think I want to see any of them at my house?”
Nelly tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl and rested it on the counter. “Some of your teachers are very nice.”
“Yes, and some of them are descendants of Hitler himself.” Exasperated, Vlad threw his hands in the air. “Besides, do you have any idea what a high school faux pas that is? You might as well knit me a sweater that says KICK MY BUTT on it.”
Nelly cast him a knowing look. “Need I remind you that last time I invited your teacher over, he turned out to be your uncle?”
Vlad huffed quietly. “All right. But if I find out I’m related to Mr. Cartel, I’m going to g-g-g-go jump off a bridge.”
Nelly sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. Most of your teachers didn’t RSVP anyway. It’ll mostly be all of your friends.”
Vlad raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been my guardian, Nelly?”
“Five years, this spring. But what does that have to do with-”
“And in all that time, haven’t you ever noticed that I only have one real friend? Henry?” Saying it aloud made Vlad’s stomach shrink. Suddenly he felt incredibly pathetic. And he wasn’t just saying it aloud. He was saying it loudly-his voice had risen until he was almost yelling. And he wasn’t even sure why, apart from the fact that the one person who should know him better than anyone didn’t seem to know him at all.