Vlad laughed first, but after a moment, Henry joined in. Vlad was quite certain the worst thing he’d face tonight wasn’t D’Ablo-it was the possibility that Henry would forget where the brake pedal was located.
21 MAYBE FEDEX WASN’T SUCH MAYBE FEDEX WASN’T SUCN a BAD IDEA
AT A QUARTER AFTER MIDNIGHT, Vlad finished placing a protective glyph on the front door of Nelly’s house, climbed into the passenger seat of Greg’s car, and cringed as Henry gunned the engine to life. For a brief moment, as the car lurched forward into the night, Vlad saw his life flash before his eyes, but then they were on their way, and Henry seemed to know what he was doing behind the wheel. After a few minutes of silence, Vlad reached for the radio knob.
“No music!” Henry almost shrieked. Vlad stared at him, wide-eyed, questioning. Finally Henry threw him a glance. “Sorry. It distracts me. I can’t listen to the radio and concentrate on driving at the same time.”
Vlad raised his eyebrows and relaxed back in his seat. The last thing he wanted was to distract Henry from the road. “Okay… no radio.”
An hour later, Henry finally peeled his hands from the steering wheel. They were parked across the street from that familiar thirteen-story office building deep within downtown Stokerton. They sat there in silence for a long time, Henry no doubt recovering from one of the longest driving sessions of his life, and Vlad clutching his father’s journal to his chest and staring out the window at D’Ablo’s lair. It looked horrifically ominous, framed by a moonless sky, with only the streetlights illuminating it.
There was no sense in delaying any longer.
Vlad opened the door and got out. Henry followed his lead. They were only ten steps from the building when Henry let out a yelp.
Vlad turned to see what was the matter, and what he saw sent his heart racing. Ignatius, the vampire who’d attacked him that dark night in Bathory, had Henry by a fistful of hair. A sharp, curved blade was pressed dangerously close to Henry’s throat. “We have unfinished business to attend to, boy.”
Vlad set his jaw, more angry than terrified. “Whatever business we have, it’s not with my drudge. Let him go.”
Not wanting Ignatius to gain the upper hand, Vlad didn’t miss a beat. He pushed hard into Ignatius’s mind, and Ignatius released his grip on Henry. Henry ducked down and away, running back to the car, as if he knew this fight was beyond him. Then Ignatius clamped down hard on his thoughts-so hard that Vlad’s head throbbed-and said, “ That was unexpected. But I won’t underestimate you again, boy.”
As he spoke the last word, a piece of spittle flew from his mouth. His fangs were elongated, his eyes almost glowing with hatred. In a flash, he cocked the knife back and flung it forward. It whistled through the air, straight for Vlad’s right eye.
Terrified, Vlad leaned fast to the left. It was like the entire world was moving in slow motion, except for him. He couldn’t explain it, had no idea just how he’d done it, exactly. It was just like the first time he’d faced this monster-vampiric speed took over in a rush of instinct and reflex. Only this time, Vlad had more control over his actions. His abilities were growing.
As he leaned, the blade whistled closer, merely inches from his ear. He reached up with that same mysterious, glorious vampire speed and grabbed the knife as it flew, marveling at his own actions. The edge of the blade sliced the small webbing of skin between his forefinger and thumb, but the wound healed almost instantly. Feeling abnormally powerful, Vlad snapped a glare back to Ignatius and raised a daring eyebrow.
Ignatius exploded.
But not in the now-wasn’t-that-convenient blood-and-guts-went-flying-everywhere way. More in the blind-fury kind of way.
He flew at Vlad with fists flying, and Vlad stepped back from each blow, wondering exactly why-whether vampire or human-things always seemed to end in a fistfight. Ignatius’s knuckles whispered by his face, but Vlad kept moving, kept dodging every attempted blow. Recalling the knife in his hand, Vlad tightened his grip on the handle and slashed the blade across Ignatius’s chest, managing only to catch the fabric of his enemy’s shirt. Soon the front of Ignatius’s shirt was shredded, and what tiny cuts Vlad had managed to make were already healing.
Vlad took another step backward-he was doing it; he was winning and could hardly believe it-and Henry cried out from his place near the car, “Vlad! Behind you!”
Vlad turned with that amazing speed, dodging another blow, still incredulous that he was capable of such a thing, and saw the ledge behind him. One more step and he’d have fallen backward, thirty feet straight down, into a delivery-truck dock. He kept turning, spinning as fast as he could manage, until he saw his target. Lifting the knife into the air, Vlad brought it down hard. The blade sang as it moved through the air, and then all sound ceased as it sank deep into Ignatius’s back. Vlad spun around again, feeling the gums around his fangs pulse at the scent of Ignatius’s blood, and kicked Ignatius hard in the back, driving the blade deeper still and knocking Ignatius over the ledge, into the shadows below.
Vlad stood there, catching his breath and searching the darkness for any sign of his attacker, for what seemed like an eternity. But nothing moved below. No sounds echoed up to him. He’d defeated Ignatius in one fell swoop and had barely suffered a scratch.
It had been too easy to trust.
His fangs shrank back into his gums. With careful, troubled steps, he walked over to Henry and said, “You okay?”
Henry’s eyes were huge and round. “Am I okay? I’m freakin’
Vlad shook his head, the corners of his mouth rising in a smirk. It was pretty cool, after all. “I figured out that I could do that the last time I saw that jerk. Pretty cool, huh?”
“I’ll say.” Inspiration lit up Henry’s face. “Dude, you should try out for the track team. You’d be a star.”
Vlad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’ll happen. C’mon, we should probably get inside in case he comes back.”
Henry slapped him on the back as they turned toward the building that housed the Stokerton council. “Whatever you say, hero.”
As they walked, Vlad thought he heard a noise, a small rustle in the distance. He glanced back to the docking area, but all was still. He was about to mention it to Henry when a small breeze brushed against his left cheek. He looked over to his friend, panic rising in his chest. Instantly, he was overcome by confusion.
Henry was gone.
Vlad turned full circle, finally noticing his friend flying through the air, as if he’d been thrown. Henry hit the wall of an adjacent building hard, falling in a heap, as if the force had wounded him terribly. Vlad moved his eyes about the area but saw nothing. Then Ignatius’s hand flew forward out of the darkness, connecting with Vlad’s jaw. The force of the blow sent Vlad through the air, until his back collided with the car several yards behind. The car alarm blared into the night, alerting the world to their presence. Lightning shot through his muscles and Vlad cried out, both in surprise and in pain.
Then Ignatius was standing before him, his fangs exposed. He planted his foot on Vlad’s chest, and Vlad’s ribs screamed. With a growl, Ignatius pulled his hand back and let it fly, backhanding Vlad again and again. Vlad tried hard to wriggle free, but it was useless. He was stuck. Small bones in Vlad’s face cracked. His cheeks swelled. And with every hit, Ignatius dug the heel of his boot deeper into Vlad’s chest.
After he was done with Vlad, he was going to feed off Henry until Henry was no more than a
