Heather Brewer - Tenth Grade Bleeds

D’Ablo roared in pain, clutching his face and thrashing about the room.

Finally Vlad coaxed Jasik back onto his feet, causing him to leap onto the still-blind D’Ablo with the blade in his hand. As D’Ablo struggled to keep the blade from entering his chest, Vlad bolted from the room.

It took him a second, but soon he recognized where he was and hurried through the next door to the corridor of prison cells. Vlad pushed hard and reached out, locating Otis in the cell at the end, astonished at his ability to take on two mind-focused tasks at once. What he saw when he reached the cell jolted his entire being.

Henry’s head was bent to the side, and Otis’s mouth was firmly fixed to his neck. Henry’s eyes were closed-it looked like he was sleeping… or dead. Oblivious to anything else around him, Otis drank, swallowing greedy mouthfuls of Henry’s blood.

Vlad felt his control over Jasik waver slightly, distracted by the horror he was witnessing.

Otis was feeding on Henry.

A single tear escaped the corner of Vlad’s eye and traced a line down his cheek, before falling to the floor with all of his hopes for the future.

OTIS, NO!” Otis pulled away, and Henry winced as Otis’s fangs slipped out of his neck. Vlad breathed a brief sigh of relief that Henry wasn’t dead, but he was still horrified at the scene before him. “What have you done?”

Otis stood, strong once again, his wounds completely healed. “Your drudge saved my life.”

Then he met Henry’s eyes. “ Thank you, Henry. I am indebted to you.”

Henry nodded weakly and said, “Hey, you needed blood. I couldn’t let you starve to death. Besides, you could barely move and, not that I don’t have faith in Vlad’s abilities, but something tells me we’re going to need your help getting out of here.”

Otis replied, but Vlad was too distracted to hear it. His breathing had picked up in panic, his eyes blurring with tears. But these things hadn’t come from him. He focused on the part of his mind that was still controlling Jasik, pushing a bit more until he saw through Jasik’s eyes.

D’Ablo was beneath him, holding the blade at bay, his eyes fierce. “You’re weak, Jasik. Letting a boy control you like this. You deserve what fate awaits you.”

Jasik was panicking and struggling to regain control-Vlad could sense that much. But he couldn’t. Vlad, for once, was too strong-something that pleased Vlad more than he would ever admit to.

But still Jasik struggled, pushing with his mind against the part of Vlad that lurked within him. It was more than Vlad could allow, and he pushed back with all of his might, harder than he ever had before. Jasik lowered the knife momentarily, dazed. Something warm and wet dripped from his nose. It was only when a drop of crimson landed on D’Ablo’s hand that Vlad realized Jasik’s nose was bleeding. What’s more, Jasik seemed dazed, as if Vlad had caused him physical harm, all from pushing with his mind.

In an instant, D’Ablo had wrenched the blade from Jasik’s hand and shoved him across the room. Jasik stumbled and fell, only to find D’Ablo atop him with the blade, growling to Vlad through Jasik’s ears, “You’ll be next, Vladimir Tod.”

He shoved the blade forward hard, piercing Jasik’s chest and sinking the blade as deep as he could. Jasik struggled to pull it out, but it was too late. Blood poured from his heart, and Jasik’s vision blurred, then darkened.

Sharp, horrible pain crashed through Vlad’s mind. He staggered, and Otis caught him. “ Vladimir, what’s wrong?”

But Vlad couldn’t speak. The pain… the pain of death was too much to bear. He could feel the blade in his own chest, though nothing was there. He could feel his life aching and ebbing from his limbs. He was alive, and apart from his wrist, which was already beginning to heal, in good health, yet he hurt as if it were he who was dying.

And then… the emptiness came.

Vlad weakened in Otis’s embrace. He could almost feel himself going paler. It was over. Jasik was dead.

But the pain remained, coupled with the terrifying shadow of death that shrouded his being. Vlad was a living zombie now, an echo of what his living self had been. There was no going back. This was penance for what he had done to Jasik, and he deserved every nightmarish bolt of pain. He coughed, the feeling of blood pooling in his throat, and Otis whispered, “You were in his mind. He… died before you could withdraw.”

Vlad still couldn’t make a sound, only nodded feebly. Unbelievably, the pain went on and on, and only Otis’s presence brought him any comfort.

Otis blanched, but spoke in a commanding tone-one that he’d never used with Vlad before. “You have to block these feelings, Vladimir. Or they will haunt you until the end of your days. Now stand up. If Jasik is dead, then D’Ablo will be here shortly. I need you. So stand up.”

Vlad stood, because Otis told him to. But it was the only thing that could have made him move through the agonizing sensation of death. Otis needed him.

Otis again spoke in a commanding tone, all business now. “We need to get out of here, and fast. Unfortunately, the escape tunnel we used in the past has been blocked off, so we’ll have to leave through the lobby. Stay behind me. Henry, you remain between Vlad and me for protection-I know your ankle hurts, but keep up and move quickly. When I stop, you stop. And don’t make a sound.”

“ Vladimir.” Otis met Vlad’s gaze, then finished his sentence with his thoughts. “Sunrise is in twenty minutes, and we are without sunblock. We need to get out of this building and into the cover of darkness as soon as we can. If anyone gets in your way, kill them quickly. We don’t have time to be merciful. And we do not want to be in this building when the council members arrive.”

After a moment, Vlad nodded slowly. He’d had enough of death today, but apparently, death hadn’t yet had enough of him.

Otis nodded in return. “Through the door now. Follow me.”

Otis led the way and Henry followed. Vlad, very much on guard and fighting to keep the pain of Jasik’s death at bay, stepped in behind them. They moved quickly down the hall and through the open door. Otis led them through several dark corridors, always whispering before they determined which direction to take. “Left… now right… left again…”

As quietly as possible, they descended a long set of stairs that led to a small, dark room. They crossed the room, then Otis listened carefully at the door at the other end. “Here. This way.”

The door opened into another small room, this one full of copiers and a fax machine. As he followed Otis and Henry into the room, Vlad paused. Something wasn’t right. He reached out, wondering where D’Ablo might be, and then he saw him, actually saw him. The gloved hands, the cane he held, the sinister, sneering face, the curled lip, the fierce fangs. He saw D’Ablo with his mind, as he’d seen Otis earlier this year standing in front of Mr. Craig’s old house. Pulling away from his vision, he called out in a whisper, “Otis, don’t…”

But Otis and Henry were already out the door. Vlad ran to catch up with them just as they reached the lobby doors. He cried out, “Otis, D’Ablo is-”

Otis stopped suddenly, and Vlad caught up. D’Ablo was standing just as Vlad had seen him in his mind, in front of the lobby doors, their exit. “-right there…”

Otis sighed, sounding weary. “So he is.”

D’Ablo tilted his head slightly, eyeing them with utter disdain. In stark contrast, he kept his tone light. “Yes. Yes, he is. And he’s grateful that you chose to come to him instead of making him come after you.”