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

“As my brother said, gentlemen. You can’t have him. Ever.”
    The tall, thin vampire growled, “Tomas will come with us now, or we will kill your human.”
    His eyes moved to Nelly and Vlad’s heart shot into his throat.
    He’d seen this. He’d lived this. It was the future, and Vlad had known it was coming about in just this way. Clearly, drinking Dorian’s blood wouldn’t just reveal the prophecy to him. It would also reveal the future. And who knows what else?
    Vlad stepped in front of his aunt and shook his head, growling, “If you lay as much as one finger on her, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
    With his peripheral vision, Vlad saw Otis move quietly to the bookcase, the one containing Nelly’s cookbooks. He saw Otis’s hand stretch out and close over a large glass paperweight. What did Otis think he was going to do, knock them out with a paperweight? Highly unlikely. Besides, they were powerful vampires, built for speed and out for blood. It didn’t exactly seem like the smartest plan.
    Ignoring his uncle, he focused on the vampires in front of him, who’d both bared their fangs and were eyeing Nelly like she was their next meal.
    Tomas growled, “I’m giving you both fair warning. Leave now, before someone gets hurt.”
    Em’s cronies turned their attention to Tomas then, and the three began arguing in Elysian code. Vlad turned to check on Nelly, and as he did, he saw what Otis was up to.
    Otis had bitten his finger and was dragging it hastily across the paperweight in the shape of his Mark.
    A glyph. Otis was making a glyph. But what for?
    Then Vlad had his answer.
    The glyph glowed red. Hot, bright, noticeably red. And Vlad recalled a conversation they’d had about glyphs, and how Otis had warned him never to touch a red glyph, not ever.
    Otis shouted, “Tomas!”
    Immediately, Vlad’s dad stepped out of the way, as if he’d known full well what Otis had been planning, had been doing. Otis tossed the paperweight toward the vampires. Instinctively, the taller one caught it.
    He had time enough to blink questioningly before his entire body crumbled to dust.
    The room fell completely, utterly, painfully silent.
    Nelly broke the silence with a gasp. With barely a breath, Otis whisked her from the room. From the kitchen, Vlad heard Otis’s voice rising and falling in comforting tones. Nelly’s voice followed, shaking slightly. He was protecting her, and explaining away what had just happened. Vlad wondered if any other human on the planet knew as much about Elysia as Nelly did now. He doubted it.
    Tomas moved toward the shorter vampire, whose bottom lip was quivering, and began to speak, his voice eerily calm. So calm, in fact, that it sent a strange shiver up Vlad’s spine. “You are being allowed to live, but only because my brother and I have deemed it necessary to our cause that you do so. We feel no pity for you. Nor do we feel any measure of trust. Do you understand?”
    The vampire nodded, his terrified eyes on the paperweight, which lay in the pile of ash on the carpet.
    “Good.” Tomas stepped closer, until Vlad was certain his hot breath was brushing the man’s forehead. “You will go back to Em, and you will deliver her this message. Failing to do so will bring hell on your heels. A hell you cannot possibly understand and do not want. Do you understand?”
    The vampire whimpered and nodded again.
    Vlad stood fascinated. His dad seemed so powerful, so strong, so cunning. It was no wonder to him how Tomas had survived all those years on his own. He was strong. Like Vlad only wished he could be.
    “You will tell Em that there has been no sign of Tomas Tod, but his son continues to search. You will tell her that on your way out of town, you and your friend were attacked by a small group of Slayers, and after they dispatched your friend, you fought them off valiantly, but not before overhearing that they were headed to Italy. Promise her with your life that she will find the Slayers