Free Tenth Grade Bleeds by Heather Brewer Page B

fastened tightly to his wrists, and there appeared to be no possibility of escaping. He strained his neck, but could barely see the room that he’d been trapped in. But he did recognize it.
    The nightmare was always the same.
    Above him hovered a dark figure, and out of the shadow that surrounded it appeared a silver blade. Moonlight glinted off its razor-sharp surface, and Vlad shivered with fear.
    He closed his eyes tight. It was just a dream. Just a dream.
    The man plunged the blade downward, ripping it through Vlad’s stomach. Pain lit up his body, and Vlad screamed.
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    Vlad’s screams continued until he rolled off his bed in a sweaty, tangled mess; his sheets were wrapped around his legs like boa constrictors. He scanned his dark bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief.
    Just a dream.
    He clutched his side and winced at the pain it caused him, then crawled back into bed.
    It had to be a dream. What else could it be?
    He lay awake in the dark until his legs jumped with energy. Maybe a moonlit stroll would calm his nerves.
    Dressing quickly, he found his way down the stairs and past Amenti, who was curled up asleep on the corner of the couch, nestled in Nelly’s favorite sweater, shedding all over it in blissful kitty contentment.
    He stepped out the door and buttoned his jacket, shivering in the cool air. He wasn’t exactly sure where he wanted to go; he only knew that he needed to move around until the nightmare had shaken completely from his mind. He headed north, content to walk the edges of Bathory until he was feeling a bit more like sleeping.
    There was no sign of Eddie, something that improved Vlad’s troubled mood.
    He passed houses, a small creek, and eventually found his way to Requiem Ravine, where the cops had found the body of Mr. Craig, Vlad’s English teacher. He paused, mourning the loss of such a great mentor and friend, before continuing along the town’s borders in an effort to quiet his mind. Within minutes, he’d found his way to an extremely familiar clearing.
    Vlad looked around, remembering how D’Ablo had waited for him and Joss here last year. The images of that encounter, and of Joss’s betrayal, flooded his mind like dark water. He still couldn’t believe that Joss had staked him, or that one of his closest friends would purposely cause him such agonizing pain, and almost take his life. But Joss had. Worse still, he couldn’t believe how much he missed Joss’s company.
    Getting staked had been a hard lesson in choosing one’s friends wisely, that was for sure.
    The chill of autumn snaked its way inside Vlad’s jacket, and he shivered briskly before turning to head home. But on the ground, lying amidst dead leaves and half immersed in muddy earth, Vlad spied a coin. He plucked it from the ground and wiped the dirt away. It was bronze, and on one side had two large initials, written in calligraphy: S.S. He flipped it over and noted the symbols on the other side. A crescent moon on the left, the symbol for eternity on the right, and at its center, a wooden stake. Along the top, curving along the crest of the coin, was Slayer Society. Along the bottom it read for the good of mankind.
    Vlad frowned in disgust. Joss must have dropped it that night, the night he’d tried unsuccessfully to rid the world of another vampire, the night he’d tried to murder Vlad with a sharp hunk of wood. Furious, he read the inscription again and swore under his breath. As if the Slayers’ murderous actions could be so easily disguised as being “for the good of mankind.” As if betraying your friend’s trust and putting him in the hospital could make you a humanitarian. Psychotic jerk, maybe. Humanitarian? Not so much.
    Vlad almost threw the coin into the ravine, but then he squeezed it tight and placed it in his pocket. It would be a good reminder never to trust anyone so easily again.
    He turned on his heel and headed home, the