A thousand words ran up Vlad’s throat, but only a few managed to escape. “Chelsea Whitaker is quite possibly the most obnoxious person on the planet. Why would you want to hang out with her?”
Henry paused. A good long pause too. At least he had to take a second to think about it. “We have stuff in common.”
“Like what, other than the fact that you’re both human? And I’m still not all that sure about Chelsea.” Vlad snorted at his wit, but when he looked in Henry’s eyes, all the humor drained out of his body. That was it. Exactly it. Chelsea was human. Henry was human. And Vlad… Vlad was not.
His mouth went dry from the sudden onset of shock and anger. “You know, you’re a real piece of work, McMillan. I guess you’re more like your cousin Joss than I realized.”
Henry scowled with contempt. “Are you done? Or are you planning on ordering me to sit, stay, and roll over for your amusement, master? ”
Vlad stepped closer and jabbed his finger into Henry’s chest. “I’ll give you an order. You do whatever you want to do. But you’d better choose right now-either me or Chelsea.”
“Fine.”
To Vlad’s horror, Henry turned and rejoined the popular crowd.
Vlad turned in a huff and left the lunchroom. He slammed the school doors behind him, and was halfway across town before he realized where he was going.
His old house looked exactly as it had the last time he’d visited-cold, dark, empty, haunted. Not haunted by ghosts, but with thousands of happy moments and memories, all spoiled by the horrific reality of his parents’ passing.
He moved around to the back door, knowing it would still be unlocked, and opened the screen. Before he went inside, he took a deep breath-both for bravery and to bring with him a little piece of the outside world, the world where he was slowly getting past the pain of their demise, the world where he was beginning to feel safe once again.
The floorboards creaked slightly as he made his way inside, and that familiar acrid stench of smoke invaded his nostrils. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d come here, only that he needed to be somewhere alone, somewhere that reminded him of who he was. He climbed the stairs and walked into his father’s office. Papers still littered the floor from when he and Henry had searched the office two years before. A fine layer of dust now covered them. Vlad sneezed, and the sound of it echoed through the house.
He ran a hand over the surface of his father’s desk, then whispered angry words that only his father could answer. “Who am I, Dad? What am I? Am I a vampire? A human? Both?”
He hesitated a moment, choking back horrified tears, then added, “Neither?”
His concern, the same concern that haunted his dreams, was that he would never really fit in anywhere. And he couldn’t help but wonder if Henry’s recent detachment was just another reminder that he wasn’t one hundred percent anything, only two halves… incomplete.
Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be whole.
Disgusted at the mess he and his potentially-former best friend had made, he knelt on the floor, plucked several papers from the floorboards, and stacked them neatly in an empty file box. The least he could do was put everything back in order. Besides, he was technically skipping school, so he needed something to do while he was hiding out until the last bell rang. With any luck, the school wouldn’t call Nelly. After his recent detention, he was pretty sure she’d come down hard on him for walking out in the middle of the day. Normally Vlad would have stuck it out, but today’s events called for truancy. After all, it wasn’t as if it would have done him any good to sit through physical science with Chelsea after Henry had chosen her over him.
Most of the papers Vlad had gathered up were boring-old tax returns, receipts for furniture, photocopies of various things that Vlad didn’t recognize. But then he came upon something he very much did recognize-his father’s handwriting. All it was was a simple list of things to buy, but what made the corners of Vlad’s mouth lift in a small smile was the note at the bottom: Buy roses for M, bring chocolate for V. Whenever his dad had to go into Stokerton to make purchases that weren’t available in Bathory, he’d always bring Vlad’s mom a dozen of the sweetest blood-red roses he could find, and he’d bring Vlad a small gold box of delicious milk chocolates. It was just one of those things, one of those tender things that had made Tomas such a loving and attentive husband and father.
Vlad folded the note and was about to tuck it into his pocket when he noticed a single word scribbled on the back of the list.
Pravus.
He read the word again, silently wondering what that word was doing on a list that had belonged to his father, let alone scribbled in his own handwriting. But then, maybe that was what Tomas had meant in his journal when he’d written that he had “suspicions” about his son. He must have known what an oddity it was for a human and a vampire to procreate, so of course he would have wondered if Vlad was the Pravus.
Tomas wasn’t the only one. Vlad couldn’t help but wonder if the story was true, if he were some subject of ancient prophecy.
But there was no way to know, as Vlad wasn’t too keen on the idea of testing out the checklist of traits that only the Pravus would have. Sunlight? No, thank you. Immortal? He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot stake.
But one thing was for sure.
He had to learn as much about that prophecy as he could.
15 THE FEAST BEFORE THE KILL
IGNATIUS STARED UP AT THE SKY in blissful contentment. Not only was it a new moon, but the sky was overcast with thick black clouds, ensuring that his hypersensitive allergy to the sun’s rays would not emerge tonight. It would make for a luxuriously long ending to his hunt for the boy, and he would take his time with every stroke of his blade. The boy would bleed quickly, but the cuts would be oh so slow.
Nothing could stop the hunter tonight. No glinting of the sun’s light off the surface of the moon. No concerns about the boy’s human ward witnessing his actions. Ignatius had listened to her thoughts as she left the house an hour before-a double shift at the hospital would keep her away all night.
Now there would only be the boy, and the delicious slicing of his pretty skin.
But he had to be careful. He was famished, which always made for a better hunt, but it also increased the temptation to feed off the hunted during his cutting sessions. And he’d be damned if he was going to taint his palate with the bitter crimson of an arrogant half-breed. Better that he should complete his hunt on a full stomach than run the risk of draining his flawed captor.
As if in answer to his needs, a girl passed him on the sidewalk, her skin pale, purple streaks through her dark hair. Ignatius recognized her at once as one of the human children who frequented the front steps of the local high school each evening. Her name stuck on his tongue. It was a time, not a name, and had reminded him instantly of the smell of autumn and cool breezes. October.