Heather Brewer - Tenth Grade Bleeds

Vlad saw Otis’s jaw tighten. Something told him there was a dark history between them that he knew nothing about. Otis growled, “Even you can’t be stupid enough to face two vampires alone, D’Ablo. The odds are against you, powerful as you may be. Let us pass and you can go back to whatever it was that you withdrew from my nephew.”

D’Ablo’s eye twitched, and Vlad couldn’t help but wonder how Otis knew what had transpired during the ritual. Most likely, he guessed, Otis had been lurking around in D’Ablo’s thoughts from the moment he had tasted Henry’s blood.

Otis took a bold step forward, and Henry followed. Vlad felt a surge of pride. His best friend knew when to follow orders, that was for sure.

“ That”-D’Ablo gripped the handle of his cane and twisted, withdrawing a long sword from the belly of the cane-“can wait.” The ritual dagger was nowhere to be found-Vlad guessed that a psycho like D’Ablo had deemed its purposes too holy for the likes of killing Otis. D’Ablo stood there, eyeing Otis. Vlad wondered how much of their conversation was occurring in telepathy.

“ Then leave them out of this. I’d be happy to take your life on my own.”

D’Ablo tilted his neck one way, then another, cracking it. “ Then take it. If you’re vampire enough.”

All Vlad saw was the corner of Otis’s mouth twitch, and then Otis flew across the room. D’Ablo swung the sword, slicing a button from Otis’s shirt in half, but Otis changed directions before the cold metal could pierce his skin.

D’Ablo moved in a blur, slashing the sword toward Otis, who ducked it, but just barely. Then D’Ablo snarled, his fangs dripping with saliva.

Vlad turned to check on Henry, but he seemed to have disappeared. He wondered if Henry had had the wits to get out while he still could. After all, being a human in the middle of a vampire battle was not a good way to foster one’s promising future.

Otis kicked D’Ablo in the chest, and D’Ablo stumbled back. But once D’Ablo regained his composure, he swung the blade around again, catching Otis’s cheek.

Otis cupped the gash in his face with a trembling, surprised hand. The look in his eyes was fierce and daring. “I’ll heal in but a moment, but you’ll always look the fool. What vampire needs a weapon to take down a foe?”

D’Ablo hesitated before throwing the sword across the room. He hissed, “I may look the fool for now, but it is the victor who writes the history books. And you’ll be lucky to end up as a footnote.”

With dizzying speed, so fast that Vlad almost missed it, D’Ablo darted to Otis, picked him up, and threw him toward the receptionist’s area. Otis slid over the desktop, catching its edge with his fingertips, and pulled himself up, so that he landed on the desk in a perch. He grinned at his attacker, the cut in his cheek healing closed. “You’re playing with me now. Surely you can’t think that maneuver is enough to keep me down.”

D’Ablo laughed. “Not at all. But it was enough to put you farther from your dear nephew.”

Otis’s eyes darted to Vlad, and before Vlad could blink, Ignatius gripped him by the throat from behind, the blade of his knife poised to plunge into Vlad’s chest. Ignatius squeezed hard, and Vlad felt his air supply cut off. After a moment, he could no longer tug at the hands that were suffocating him, could no longer fight. All sound seemed very far away. Even the color began to bleed from the room. He thought he heard someone scream, and then Ignatius released his grip. Vlad fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and gasping until air returned to his lungs.

Ignatius was on the floor to his left. Otis was on top of him, swinging his fists so fast they were a blur. Ignatius gnashed his teeth forward at every swing, biting with his fangs into Otis’s knuckles. But Otis kept punching, despite the pain. Blood flew from his hands, and the knuckles healed over until Ignatius bit them again. Finally, Ignatius managed to push Otis off him and they were both standing again, circling each other, like territorial felines. The two circled closer as the sun began to rise, shrinking the shadows of the room. Otis’s voice was harsh. “ The next time you touch him will be your last.”

Vlad was watching the scene unfold with great intensity when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that D’Ablo had retrieved his sword and was creeping up on Otis. Vlad acted before he could think about it. In a flash he recalled every action movie he had ever seen, every stupid wrestling match that he had been forced to endure on Saturday mornings at Henry’s house. He ran as fast as he could toward D’Ablo, jumping high into the air at the last minute. Two size 10 shoes connected with D’Ablo’s face. A letter-perfect drop kick that even Hulk Hogan would be proud of knocked D’Ablo off his feet and away from Vlad’s uncle.

D’Ablo wiped blood from his already healing lip and pulled himself back onto his feet. “I’m growing very tired of you, boy. I am going to enjoy killing you.”

“Oh my God, you broken record. Why don’t you get your cronies to write you some new material?” Vlad glanced quickly to check on his uncle, but Otis and Ignatius had disappeared down the hall. Vlad could only hope that Otis was strong enough to defeat his own father. He turned his attention back to D’Ablo, balling up his fists in fury. “Now do you want to go ahead and admit that your little plan has failed and give up? If not, then I suggest we finish this.”

D’Ablo cast a condescending smile, “As you wish.” His sword having been knocked away when Vlad kicked him, D’Ablo lashed out with his fist, catching Vlad under his jaw. Vlad flew several inches into the air and came down hard on the floor. But he wasn’t down for long. When D’Ablo jumped to cover him, he kicked him in the chest with both feet, sending him flying, then did a flip and was on his feet again.

Henry had reappeared, and he yelled Vlad’s name. Vlad looked just in time to see a small object flying through the air toward him. He turned his attention back to D’Ablo long enough to deliver a kick to his side that sent the vampire skidding across the floor. He turned back and reached out his hand to catch what Henry had thrown. His friend had one small bit of advice: “Just make sure you don’t miss.”

Vlad furrowed his brow, and then opened his hand. What he saw there completely explained why Henry had disappeared and very nearly made him hug Henry on the spot. He turned the familiar black cylinder over in his palm, and all he could hope was that what he was holding was the real Lucis, not the copy he’d been tricked with last year. He turned just as D’Ablo reached down to retrieve his sword. Holding his breath, Vlad aimed and brushed his thumb against the glyph on the end of the Lucis.

The room lit up with a brilliant white light. Otis came running back into the room, having apparently defeated Ignatius. He ducked just in time for the powerful beam of light to miss hitting him square in the side of the head. Vlad brushed the glyph again, closing the greatest weapon known to vampirekind.

D’Ablo howled. His hand had been blown completely off, leaving nothing but a charred stump behind. But “off” wasn’t an exact description, as the hand was nowhere to be found. It had been blown into oblivion, into nonexistence.

D’Ablo’s screams echoed in the lobby of the empty office building, blending with a myriad of curse words in every language he could think of, including one that Vlad guessed to be Elysian code. Vlad gripped the Lucis tightly, but he didn’t turn it on again. Something sick and horrible filled his insides. He couldn’t kill D’Ablo. He couldn’t kill anyone that his father had called friend, despite the fact that he hated D’Ablo with a passion. He lowered the Lucis and met Otis’s eyes. “I can’t kill him, Otis. I’m sorry.”