The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills by Heather Brewer Read Free Book Online

“That’s because of who you are, Vladimir. Much of Elysia fears you, fears what you are capable of.”
    “What am I capable of?” The room grew silent. Vlad was taunting his uncle on purpose, baiting him, trying to get Otis to admit that there was even a tiny smidgeon of possibility lurking within the Pravus stories that Otis had deemed fairy tales. When his uncle refused to respond, Vlad met his gaze and said, “Otis, do you believe in the prophecy ... even a little bit?”
    Obvious tension filled his uncle. He paused for a moment, as if summoning the courage to speak, or perhaps just putting the words together in his mind before speaking them aloud. “I cannot deny what I’ve been witness to over the past few years, but I refuse to believe that you are capable of enslaving the human race.”
    “Dorian said I’ll do that out of charity.”
    “Dorian was a madman.”
    Vlad’s jaw tightened. It was time to come clean and tell Otis the truth about what happened the night Dorian died. No matter what Otis might have to say about it. “What if I’m a madman now, Otis? What if you are?”
    Otis met his gaze, his forehead lined with confusion. “What do you mean?”
    With a deep breath, Vlad released words from his lips, words that he’d been holding in all summer long. “I drank from him. I drank from Dorian.”
    Otis pursed his lips. He seemed angry, but Vlad wasn’t sure why exactly. Vlad had never promised his uncle that he wouldn’t feed from Dorian. In fact, Otis had never said anything about the subject at all. Still, his uncle looked like he’d been betrayed in the worst way. “And you wonder why you’re seeing visions of your father?”
    Vlad tried hard to ignore that. Even though it stung, especially coming from his uncle.
    He counted two heartbeats, then a third. After a deep breath, he met Otis’s eyes again, calm.
    Well, mostly calm, anyway.
    “We both drank his blood, in some manner. I drank his, you drank his son Adrian’s. What’s the difference? Because I really don’t see it. If it’s so bad that I did it, then you’re just as guilty.” He hadn’t raised his voice, not quite, but his tone was defiant. Otis was acting like he was ashamed of Vlad’s actions. But really, when it came down to it, crazy or not, Vlad was glad he drank from Dorian, glad that he honored a dying vampire’s final wish.
    Even if it did make him hallucinate things that could not possibly be.
    Otis’s face flushed pink, but only for a second. He tossed the wadded up map into the recycling bin. “I made a huge mistake, Vladimir. A drunken, stupid, imbecilic mistake born of pain and loss. I was mourning your father and blood-drunk and stupid enough to listen to Dorian. But you ... what were you thinking? You’re better than me-so much better than me. And now...”
    Otis shook his head sadly. “His blood ... it taints people.”
    “He told me to do it.” Vlad held his uncle’s gaze, determined. “And I trusted him. So I drank.”
    Otis’s eyes widened in surprise. Something else lurked there too. Betrayal, maybe. Maybe regret. But Vlad wasn’t certain why. He knew that Otis hadn’t trusted Dorian and that Otis had wanted to protect Vlad from him, but he wasn’t at all certain he trusted his uncle’s motives. In fact, he was a bit concerned that maybe Otis had wanted him to stay away from Dorian to ensure that Vlad wouldn’t entertain any idea at all that he was the Pravus. After all, to this day Otis was still in denial about Vlad’s status. Maybe he was afraid of it. And if that were true, then maybe he was afraid of Vlad.
    Otis sighed in frustration and defeat. “But why? Why did you listen to him? How could you trust Dorian?”
    Vlad chose his words carefully and spoke them crisply so that Otis could not shut them out of his doubting, fearful mind. “Because he’s the Keeper of the Prophecy, Otis. And I’m the Subject of that prophecy.”
    Otis turned away, throwing his arms up, muttering