Heather Brewer - Tenth Grade Bleeds

He met Vlad’s eyes, hurt shimmering in his. “Of course we’d be friends.”

A strange mixture of guilt and relief flooded over Vlad, and when he sighed, it seemed to make it easier to breathe, like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He nodded quietly at Henry, showing his relief that their friendship was real. Henry didn’t just hang out with him because of some vampire master’s spell. He actually liked Vlad. And that was pretty cool.

Vlad cleared his throat. “So, what’s with the distance lately?”

Henry sank into his desk chair again. “ To be honest, I’ve been really stupid. Questioning why you never gave me a choice about being your drudge. Stuff like that. It’s not like you knew what biting me would do. And I was the one who suggested it.”

He grew quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was but a whisper in the quiet dark of the room. “I guess I’ve just been wondering if you’d wander off someday with your vampire friends and leave me behind. I mean, why wouldn’t you pick vampires over me?”

Vlad’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He never imagined that Henry, Mr. Cool, king of make-out and popularity galore, would be worried about Vlad leaving him behind. He shook his head vehemently. “Because you’re Henry. Because you’re my best friend, and I can’t picture any part of my life without you in it.”

Their eyes met. After another long silence, Henry smirked. “So should we hug now, or…?”

Vlad chuckled, putting a hand up. “Hey man, I missed you. But I didn’t miss you that much.”

Henry grinned, then grew more serious and said, “It would be easier to be your drudge if you didn’t order me around.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to tell you to do something instead of ask.” Vlad shrugged as a wave of guilt crashed over him. “I know that’s wrong… but it’s true.”

After a moment, Henry cleared his throat and said, “So, have you heard anything from Otis lately?”

Vlad shook his head, pulling the letter he’d just received from Vikas from his back pocket. “Nothing yet. But I’d written to Vikas to see if he knew what was going on with Otis and he wrote back a couple of weeks ago, said he had no idea but would check into it. I wrote him again, and just got a letter back this morning.”

“What did he say?”

Vlad unfolded the parchment, revealing Vikas’s perfect cursive, and read aloud.

Vladimir -

I was both elated and disappointed to receive another letter from you. I had my hopes raised that by now you might have been able to overcome the distance between us and reach me by telepathy. But regardless, it was wonderful to hear from you, Mahlyenki Dyavol.

But I return your good tidings with sad confusion, as I am still unable to locate your uncle. The last I heard from him, he had planned to visit, but when he did not show, I took it to mean that his plans had changed. Regarding your concerns, please allow me to put your fears to rest. Your uncle has not been arrested. If he had been, I would have learned of his arrest immediately, as I have friends in each of the councils. You may call them “spies.”

You asked about the relationship between your father and D’Ablo-a question I admittedly find most curious.

It is true, Tomas and D’Ablo were friends. But they were not friends in the same way that Otis and Tomas and I were friends, or that you and your drudge are friends (something that, I admit, boggles the mind). They were friends in the way that a mentor and one who is mentored are friends. D’Ablo looked up to Tomas, and rightfully so. Your father was an ingenious man. And D’Ablo desperately wanted to be like him.

As for your nightmares, I am convinced that those are brought on by the stress of your uncle’s absence. Do not worry, Mahlyenki Dyavol. I am certain Otis has his reasons for such silence, and that he will be in touch shortly.

In Brotherhood,

Vikas

Henry spoke quietly, his words sending a shiver down Vlad’s spine. “So, they were friends?”

“More mentor and mentored, it seems, but yeah.” Vlad folded the note and returned it to his pocket. “I wonder what my dad would think of his onetime friend trying to take his son’s life.”

“Repeatedly.” Henry met his gaze, his eyes brimming with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still having nightmares?”

Vlad shrugged. “You were distracted. But yeah, I’m still having them. Not to mention the weird visit I got from a vampire named Ignatius.”

Henry gave him a look, and Vlad poured his guts out, filling his friend in on all of the details that he’d missed out on. After he finished, Henry hesitantly said, “Listen, Vlad. About me not wanting to be your drudge anymore…”

“It’s okay, Henry.” Vlad wet his lips. His mouth felt horrifically dry. “I get it. I do. And it’s okay. But releasing you involves another bite-”

A momentary flash of fear crossed Henry’s eyes.

“-and right now I’m just not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Okay. But we’ll talk about it later, right?”

Vlad winced at his friend’s reaction, but understood it completely. “Of course. I should get home. Nelly’s going to be irate that I was out so late.”

Henry shrugged, as if the solution were obvious. “Why don’t you just crash here for the night?”

“And tell her what?”

“ Tell her it was my fault you got in so late, and I begged you to sleep over.”

Vlad mulled this over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stayed at Henry’s house without letting Nelly know in advance. Of course, there was the maddening scent of Henry’s blood to be considered…

“You’ll be safe. I promise,” he said. “I won’t attack you or anything.”

Henry frowned and grabbed one of the pillows from his bed. He tossed it to Vlad. “Who are you trying to convince, Vlad? Me or you?”

Vlad bit his bottom lip and lay down on the floor, curling up on his side. He was too terrified to admit that he didn’t know the answer to Henry’s question.

Vlad tried desperately to tug his arms free, but the straps held fast, digging into his wrists and ankles, refusing to release him.

The shadowed man lifted the blade over his chest and plunged it deep between his ribs. Vlad screamed, howling from the pain. As his torturer pulled the knife out and stabbed him again, he lost his voice, unable to express with mere shrieking how unbearable the pain was. Blood gushed from his torso, spilling onto the floor below.

His torturer leaned forward, into the light, and Vlad was not at all surprised to see his face, which was twisted in an expression of immense satisfaction.

D’Ablo.

“Vlad! Vlad!” Henry shook him awake from his nightmare.

Vlad sat up, eyes wide. His hands were trembling as he combed back the hair from his sweat-drenched face.

“You were screaming. Are you okay?”

Vlad shook his head. It was his nightmare again. His never-ending nightmare. “ The journal, Henry. He wants the journal. And he won’t stop sending me these nightmares until I give it to him.”

“I thought you were convinced the dreams were a vision of the future.”

“I think maybe I was wrong. I think they’re a threat.” Vlad gasped, trying to calm his nerves, and failing miserably. “I’m giving it to him. I just can’t take this anymore.”

Henry’s tone softened. “Are you sure you want to do that? You know he probably has some pretty twisted reasons for wanting it.”

Vlad lay back down, phantom pain still lighting up his chest. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Henry paused, then said, “Well, do what you gotta do, man. Now get some sleep, okay?”