The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills by Heather Brewer Page A

would be very proud of the man you’re becoming, Vlad.”
    Vlad swallowed hard, hesitating for a moment before he spoke. “Are you?”
    The hint of a smile touched his lips as he met Vlad’s eyes. “Absolutely.”
    Vlad felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders, from his soul.
    His dad was proud of him. Despite everything. Despite all of his flaws. Despite his initial anger at Tomas’s return.
    The world swirled before Vlad’s eyes. Instantly, he was transported into a waking movie, the same way he had been right after he’d drank from Dorian. He saw himself at Nelly’s house, standing behind his father, behind Otis, who all looked intensely angry. Nelly was off to the side, her eyes wide, terrified. Standing in front of them were two vampires, their fangs exposed. The tall, thin vampire growled, “... come with us now, or we will kill your human.”
    His eyes moved to Nelly and the vision went away just as quickly as it had come, swirling down the imaginary drain it had slithered up. Vlad’s heart rammed against his chest.
    When he came back to the cemetery, back to reality, he was lying on the ground. His father was looking at him with frightened eyes, as if Vlad had simply crumpled to the ground without warning. Vlad jumped to his feet and took off toward Nelly’s house, dragging his dad by the sleeve. “We have to get to Nelly! There are vampires there. Nelly’s in danger!”
    They both broke into a run, but not before Tomas said, “How do you know, Vlad? How do you know that’s true?”
    An image passed through Vlad’s mind—Dorian, wise, dangerous Dorian, lying bleeding, dying at the hand of Joss. Vlad had drunk his blood because Dorian insisted, and it had changed him forever. It had given him visions—two now—of the future.
    But he said none of this. Instead, he said, “I just know, okay? Now let’s move.”
    Vlad raced ahead, the wind whipping through his hair as he ran. He didn’t think about any of his fellow Bathory residents or what they might think if they saw him moving with such incredible, inhuman speed. He only thought of Nelly, and how he was going to protect her from the vampires in his vision.
    When they arrived at the house, Vlad moved up the steps and through the front door in one fluid motion. Two men, two vampire men, were sitting on the sofa, looking expectantly at the door as Vlad stepped inside. Otis was standing in the living room, looking paler than usual. Nelly stood in the archway near the stairs, a confused and frightened look in her eyes. The secret of Vlad’s trial and sentencing wasn’t secret from her anymore. His dad stepped in behind him and when he saw the vampires Vlad had predicted, he cast his son a nervous glance.
    Vlad glared at the newcomers. “What do you want?”
    The taller, thinner vampire stood, his jaw set. “Em sent us to ask about your progress in locating your father.”
    The shorter vampire, who was kind of stocky, slowly stood, his eyes on Tomas. “Tomas Tod? You’re ... alive? This ... this cannot be.”
    Vlad’s heart sank. If they knew his dad was alive, and that Vlad had found him, there was no reason to wait any longer. It was time to carry out Tomas’s trial and his subsequent punishment. Without delay.
    And they wouldn’t have known about Tomas if Vlad hadn’t rushed his dad back in a panic.
    Tomas stepped forward, his shoulders straight and proud, his jaw set. He placed a supportive, comforting hand on Vlad’s right shoulder and stared the vampires down. “Neither I nor my son will be accompanying you to our demise. Not now. Not ever, gentlemen.”
    The shorter vampire sounded aghast. “Your trial is imminent, Tomas, and will be presided over by Em herself. Your—and your son’s, I’d wager—sentence awaits. There’s no denying it. And you, what, you plan to interfere? To refuse to come face the Council of Elders?”
    “We do.” Otis moved forward then as well, placing his hand on Vlad’s left shoulder and glaring.