He turned, following her quietly, daydreaming about the moments following his meal. He’d steal into the boy’s home stealthily and make his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Then, with a turn of the knob, enter the boy’s resting place.
October turned the corner, oblivious to the vampire following her.
Once he was in the boy’s room, Ignatius would unsheathe his favorite blade and, with its tip, draw the covers down, away from the sleeping boy’s form. And then…
“What are you doing?” A voice from the shadows. Ignatius hung back, lost in his fantasy, but not so lost that he would expose his presence and lose his meal.
October slowed her steps, but by her posture it was clear she’d been expecting the intruder. “I’m going home. What’s it look like?”
Another human, a boy with silver hair, stepped from the shadows, his lips pursed. “It looks like you’ve been inviting a dork like Vladimir Tod to hang with us without even asking my opinion.”
She shrugged coldly. “I don’t need your permission, Kristoff. If you don’t like him, you can find other people to hang out with. Besides, he’s not a dork. I think he’s interesting.”
Kristoff snarled. “Interesting? He’s boring. And about as far from being goth as you can get.”
“I don’t choose my friends because of labels. I choose them because they intrigue me.” She raised a stark eyebrow, her posture suddenly very defensive. “You used to be so open-minded, Kristoff. What happened to you?”
After a long, silent moment, the boy shrugged, sighing. “There’s just something about him. I don’t know what it is. But I don’t like it.”
“So don’t like it. But give him a chance. The way I gave you a chance, David.”
Kristoff winced at the mention of his non-goth name and walked away without another word.
In waiting, Ignatius’s thirst had become dire. He had to feed, quickly, and get to his task. The sun would be up in five hours. He would need at least a quarter of that for the journey back to Stokerton. It wasn’t as much time as he’d hoped for, but his recent fast had weakened him, making waking from rest a drawn-out chore. But that was about to end.
He closed the gap between himself and the girl, and with a quick glance around them at the darkened windows of the houses that lined the street, he closed his hand around her arm. To his surprise, the girl threw her arm up, slamming her elbow into his Adam’s apple. Ignatius stumbled back for a moment, recoiling from the shock of pain. As he recovered, she spat out, “Don’t even think about it, pervert. I’ve been in self-defense classes since I was five.”
Ignatius considered engaging her in conversation, toying with her until the moment of her demise, but there was no time. He needed her blood far more than he needed her fear. With vampiric speed, he moved close to her, knocking her off her feet. He could smell her blood rushing through her veins in excited fear, and his hunger raged through him. He leaned closer, opening his mouth, exposing his fangs. The girl’s eyes were squeezed tightly closed. She kicked and thrashed uselessly, completely unaware that her life was about to be stolen away by a creature she’d only seen in her dreams. Ignatius brushed his lips against her throat, ready to bite down, savoring the moment for all its worth.
A bright light blinded Ignatius’s too-sensitive eyes. It was false light, but too bright for his vision to handle. He stumbled, then ran blindly into the darkness, hoping he was heading in the direction of the Tod boy’s home. Let it be finished then, hungry or not. Behind him he heard what sounded like a human police officer comforting the girl.
By the time he reached the boy’s home, his vision had cleared. He stood across the street, watching for a moment, hoping to savor his duties at least a little. He stepped forward, beginning to cross, but that same light that had assaulted him flickered in the corner of his eye. Down the street, a police car shined its searchlight between houses, seeking him out.
Begrudgingly, Ignatius turned from the boy’s home and fled. It would be safer to wait, and give the boy who would be Pravus one more night of peaceful rest. Or at least, a few more hours.
As he whipped through the town, it occurred to Ignatius that a more direct approach would be called for. And that the next time he encountered Vladimir Tod, his violent tactics wouldn’t just be fueled by a sense of duty and justice… but by revenge for having made him wait this long.
16 A RESTLESS NIGHT
THE DARK FIGURE STABBED THE BLADE into Vlad’s side and forced it as deeply as he was able, inciting an anguished scream from Vlad. But when the man twisted the dagger, forcing the wound to open further, Vlad began to think he would lose his mind. He could barely see now, practically blinded from the pain. Pain that was unending, unyielding, and could only be measured by peaks and valleys of torment.
The smell of his own blood-sweet, metallic-filled his nostrils. He would die on this table, of that there was no doubt. But death would be a tender release at the end of this boundless torture.
The man leaned closer, but Vlad could not make out his face. His words weren’t a voice so much as a sizzle, like bubbling liquid on hot steel. “I will never stop.”
At his final spoken word, he twisted the blade again, this time wrenching it until it pulled through Vlad’s flesh.
Vlad shrieked, and edged ever closer to the thin line between sanity and madness.
Vlad gasped and sat up in bed, bathed in sweat, his throat raw as if he’d been crying out in his sleep. The nightmares were getting worse.
He sat there for a few seconds, shuddering breaths shaking his already trembling body. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t tied to a table somewhere but in his soft, warm bed, safe and sound. He turned on the lamp beside his bed and glanced around the room, just to be sure. But somehow, knowing that his dreams were not his reality didn’t make him feel any better.
Before the details slipped from his memory, he grabbed his journal from the nightstand and scribbled down every last moment he could recall of the horrific nightmare, as he had almost every night since his birthday party. As he scribbled the last words down, a picture flashed in his mind-too similar to the weird, external camera view he’d experienced with Otis. A dark figure, standing outside in the snow, watching his house. Vlad tensed as the image left his mind.
Vlad moved to the edge of his bed and slipped on a pair of jeans. Shirtless, he moved out his bedroom door and down the stairs as quickly as he could. Pulling back the curtains, he searched the scene outside, but no one was there. Vlad frowned. Maybe his vampire abilities were on the fritz. Or maybe it had just been his imagination.
He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer. For some reason, he was famished. He grabbed three blood bags, bit his lip, and reached for a fourth, then a fifth.