Eleventh Grade Burns (26 page)

Vlad shot a glance at Otis, whose mouth pursed some, but he didn’t make eye contact. Then Vlad crossed the room and took a seat on the chair to the left of the council. Once he was seated, D’Ablo unwrapped the stump that used to be his hand and held it up for all to see. From the looks of it, it had healed up perfectly; there was no trace of a scar. There was also no trace of a hand, which was D’Ablo’s primary concern, Vlad would have bet. “I give you exhibit A.”

The room was quiet. Too quiet, considering that no one was supposed to know about D’Ablo’s missing hand. Vlad felt his insides sour. Something wasn’t right here. Why wasn’t anyone crying out for D’Ablo to be removed as council president? Why, all of a sudden, was D’Ablo’s disfigurement no big deal?

The room was so quiet for so long that Vlad was beginning to wonder if D’Ablo was ever going to ask him a question. Then, as if suddenly pleased with himself, D’Ablo flashed a small smile at Otis and turned to Vlad. “You were there the night my hand was permanently removed from my arm, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And precisely how was my hand destroyed?”

“By the ...” Vlad paused for a moment, trying to see exactly where D’Ablo was going with this. He couldn’t pin the loss of his hand on Otis, and he certainly couldn’t count on Vlad to pin it on Otis either. “By the Lucis.”

“And who was it that used the Lucis against me that night, obliterating my hand and leaving me disfigured?”

To be honest, that was Vlad. But Vlad wasn’t sure where D’Ablo was going with his line of questioning. He glanced at Otis, hesitating with the answer stuck in his throat.

D’Ablo took a step closer and hissed, “Stop protecting him, Vlad. Your uncle broke into the Stokerton council building and viciously attacked me with the most dangerous weapon known to vampirekind, didn’t he? If allowed to live, Otis will try to finish the job, won’t he?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. There was no way he was going to let this pompous windbag make his uncle take the fall. Vlad stood. “No! It wasn’t Otis and you know it. It was me, okay? I ruined your hand. But you—”

D’Ablo grinned broadly, turning back to the council. “I move to clear Otis Otis of the second charge.”

Otis released an uneasy sigh.

Vikas said, “Motion granted. On the third charge of revealing your true nature to two humans, I present myself as a witness and attest that I have spent much time with Otis and the two aforementioned humans. They believe that Otis is very much human. I would wager my seat on this council on it. I move to clear Otis Otis of the third charge.”

He was lying. Everyone knew he was lying. But still Em said, “Motion granted. On the charge of aiding and abetting Tomas Tod ...”

“A ridiculous charge, good council.” Enrico’s voice piped up from somewhere behind Vlad.

“Enrico, it is only out of our deep respect and admiration for you that this council allows your presence at these hearings. Speak out of turn once more and you may have charges levied against you for interference.” Em’s eyebrows were brought together in irritation. She meant business. She looked at the papers on the table in front of her and said, “Now, on the charge of aiding and abetting Tomas Tod ... I am under the impression that Mr. Tod is alive and well and fleeing his own charges. Is this true?”

Otis wet his lips and said, “As I explained to the Stokerton council four years ago, Tomas Tod perished in a fire at his home in Bathory.”

A low murmur flowed through the council. Clearly, something was up.

After muttering quietly to Vikas and listening to his response, Em nodded. She turned to D’Ablo with a sneer. “D’Ablo, why hasn’t this council heard news of this report prior to today? If the accused has presented your council with such a theory, it is to be investigated thoroughly before charges can be brought upon him.”

Vikas suppressed a smirk. “If it pleases the rest of the council—”

“I believe Otis has had quite enough help from you, Vikas,” Em snapped.

Vikas held up his hands in a relenting gesture. “I was merely going to suggest that you ask Vladimir about his father. He stands as witness to Tomas’s demise.”

When Em met Vlad’s eyes, he was struck by the age and wisdom that lurked within hers. He cleared his throat. “I found my father and mother burned to death in their bed, where I’d left them alive that morning. It’s true. My dad is ... he’s no longer with us.”

“I see.” Em turned to her fellow council members. They spoke for a long time in whispers and murmurs. At one point, D’Ablo’s whispered voice rose above the others, but Vlad still couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Otis Otis.” Otis looked up, his eyes sunk in, his lips trembling ever so subtly. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Horrible, seemingly unending tension hung in the air as everyone waited for Em to speak again. This was it. This was the moment that would steal Otis away from Vlad. Vlad’s heart had ceased beating as he waited for the guillotine blade to fall, severing him from his uncle forever. The corners of Em’s mouth rose slightly. “You are hereby cleared of all charges. May the blessings of Elysia follow you now and always.”

Otis inhaled at last, tears shimmering in his eyes. Vlad all but flew across the room to hug him. Otis was going to be just fine.

“The council calls Vladimir Tod before us.”

Vlad’s heart shot into his throat.

Otis looked up from their embrace. “What?”

Vikas snapped his eyes to Em. “What?”

But the smirk on D’Ablo’s face said it all.

G
LANCING BETWEEN OTIS AND VIKAS, Vlad slowly stepped forward and met the eyes of Em, the only other teenage vampire he’d ever encountered. Except she was old. Way old. The oldest vampire in existence. Without batting an eye, Em spoke, all business. “Vladimir, you have been accused of disfiguring a council president, of revealing your true nature to three humans—one Nelly, last name unknown, one Henry McMillan, and one Joss McMillan—of leading the vampire Jasik to his death via mind control, and entering into a romantic relationship with a human—one Meredith Brookstone. As your father is deceased, you will also stand trial for your father’s crime of the same nature—a romance with one Mellina Tod. How do you plead?”

Vlad blinked, unable to comprehend what she was saying, what was happening. Was she even speaking English? “I ... what? Henry is my drudge and Joss is a slayer. How they count as part of—”

“Based on your own admission here today, you are found guilty of the charge of disfiguring a council president. On the charge of revealing your true nature to three humans—”

“I stand witness to the fact that both the boy named Henry and the boy named Joss know Vlad’s true nature. If Jasik were here, he would attest to that as well. And let me assure you that I can stand as witness to the third charge also.” D’Ablo’s shoulders were back, a sneer on his face.

Vlad’s stomach shrank. Oh no. No, no, no. D’Ablo had set him up. Otis’s whole trial was just some sadistic way to get to Vlad. And if that were true ... Vikas being poisoned, his dad’s journal, Tristian’s death ... it must all have been D’Ablo’s doing, or someone working for D’Ablo all along. He shot a glance at his nemesis, knowing that D’Ablo was somehow responsible for all of it, all of Vlad’s pain and anguish. Why was he even a bit surprised?

Em raised a sharp eyebrow. “And this ... Nelly?”

D’Ablo dropped his gaze from hers, but only briefly. “I have no knowledge of her beliefs concerning Vladimir Tod.”

“Noted.” Em turned back to Vlad, who was inwardly plotting D’Ablo’s painful demise. “This council finds you guilty of revealing your true nature to two humans and of causing the death of the vampire Jasik.”

The few gathered started whispering among themselves. Vlad didn’t have to strain to hear what they were saying. They spoke of his impending death. Vlad shuddered.

Otis cried out, “This is madness! He’s just a boy!”

Enrico moved forward and placed a calm hand on Otis’s shoulder.

Vlad met Em’s sea green eyes and held her gaze for a moment before speaking. “Excuse me, but I never got a pretrial. According to the
Compendium of Conscientia
, all accused vampires must undergo a pretrial.”

Em set her jaw, as if bothered slightly by the knowledge that he’d read the book. “That law governs vampires. And you are half-human.”

“By that logic, any sentence you give won’t matter.” He shook his head. This was going nowhere fast. And it didn’t matter what Vlad said, didn’t matter what arguments he brought forth, Em wouldn’t hear him. She’d already made up her mind about that.

The corners of Em’s mouth rose in a small smile. “I assure you, it will.”

“So you can pick and choose when to acknowledge I’m a vampire and when to acknowledge I’m less than that? That’s not fair.” His voice was rising in upset, but he didn’t care. His thoughts raced back to the gathering of vampires this past fall. There had been speculation about Em—that she might be one of D’Ablo’s followers. If that was true ...

“Young one, life isn’t fair.” She picked up a pen and scribbled something on the papers in front of her, dismissing him.

D’Ablo was practically glowing.

Vlad hissed, “What is D’Ablo giving you to make this okay in the eyes of vampiric law, Em? Or rather ... what is he holding over your head?”

Em snapped her eyes up. They gleamed with anger and a hint of insult. “On the charge of entering into a romance with a human ...”

Vlad felt Em slip into his mind and shuffle through his memories. It was against the rules of the courtroom, but Em was beyond the law, beyond any law. And she would stop at nothing to satisfy the wishes of her cult leader. Rules, laws were in place for a reason, but apparently all bets were now off. Images of Meredith passed through Vlad’s thoughts against his will. Their first kiss. Their first dance. Walking her home. Their breakup.

Ignoring Vikas’s pleas, Em consulted the rest of the council quietly before speaking again. “Vladimir Tod, you are guilty on all counts but one, and so you are sentenced to death. As this council is mercifully understanding that you are yet a child, we grant you one week to get your affairs in order. This council is adjourned.”

Vlad snapped his eyes to D’Ablo. “It was never Joss. It was you. Vikas, the journal, Tristian. Even Otis’s trial wasn’t your goal—but you knew it would get me here. Why?”

D’Ablo waited until the room was nearly empty before he responded with a smirk. “Again with your presumptions, Master Pravus.”

“Why?” Vlad set his jaw, almost growling the word.

D’Ablo paused for the span of two heartbeats. “To put it simply, you destroyed my dagger and I knew that if you managed to escape the rest of the ritual, I would need a fail-safe at the ready. If I can’t have your status, Master Pravus ... no one can.”

He walked out of the room and Vlad wished for the first time that he could turn back the clock and fire the Lucis straight at D’Ablo’s heart.

V
LAD SLUMPED IN HIS SEAT on the plane, leaning his forehead against the plastic wall by the tiny window to his right, staring at the clouds outside. He’d never noticed how fluffy clouds were or how sometimes, when you were soaring miles above them, they looked exactly like a soft blanket of snow. He’d also never noticed how beautiful snow was. Or even ... Snow. He could picture her now, her pale skin, her black hair, her painted lips. So loyal, so trusting. In perfect contrast to Meredith.

Meredith ... who wore pink and always had a slight tan.

Meredith ... who wanted nothing to do with him.

And Snow.

Beside him, Otis shifted so that he was facing Vlad, as if that would make carrying on a conversation easier. But Vlad didn’t want to talk. He didn’t feel like talking. All he wanted to do was think about how pretty the world really was and how much he was going to miss being a part of it.

“Vladimir, please try not to worry. Vikas has assured me that he will do everything in his power to prevent your sentence from being carried out, and Dorian has even volunteered to step in and make the council truly listen to your appeal. You’re going to be fine.”

What Otis seemed to be forgetting was that if D’Ablo was smart enough to arrange Vlad’s trial in secrecy, he was probably smart enough to know that Dorian would volunteer to help Vlad out of his sentencing.

Vlad watched out the window, looking for even a small break in the clouds.

There was none.

Otis must have taken the hint, because he didn’t speak for the rest of the plane ride. Two hours later, the plane landed on the runway at Stokerton International Airport. Together, they wandered over to baggage claim to collect their bags. They chatted but didn’t say anything of consequence. Vlad had sunk too deep into his gloom to carry on any conversation with substance. As they moved through the security gate, Vlad lugging his heavy duffel along behind him, Otis paused midstep.

Vlad followed suit, raising an eyebrow at his uncle, whose face had gone completely white. “Otis? You okay?”

“Yes. I’m ... I’m fine. Take my bag, will you?”

But Vlad didn’t have a chance to answer. Otis dropped his bag on the floor and hurried through security, where Nelly was waiting. She moved to hug him, but he dropped immediately to his knees. He looked like a man in dire need, pleading before the only person in the world who could help him. Nelly’s eyes moved to Vlad and then back to Otis on the floor in front of her.

Vlad dragged the bags closer. He’d never seen his uncle look so scared.

“Damn the laws, Nelly, and damn the legal system too. I love you. I can’t stop loving you just for fear of being put to death by a corrupt government. I need you.” His eyes shined with tears, as if he was terrified of her response. From his inside jacket pocket, he withdrew a black velvet box. “Will you be my wife?”