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

his wrongs, and to help any further complications, he’s greeted with nothing but fury and rejection. Vlad swallowed hard. “They’re just angry. We’ve all been through so much.”
    Tomas’s eyes shimmered. His pain was evident. Vlad couldn’t help but wonder what had hurt him more, their words or the punishment he was putting himself through. “Did no one miss my presence enough to overlook the pain I’ve caused you ... even for a moment?”
    Vlad was about to say that he had missed his father terribly, but just was so overwhelmed with everything that had happened. But his words were cut short while still poised on the tip of his tongue.
    “For a moment, my friend.” It was a familiar voice. Warm and friendly and thickly accented in rich Russian tones. Vlad was glad to hear it.
    Judging by the sound in his dad’s voice, so was he. A smile lit up his features as he turned to face his old friend. “Vikas, you old dog.”
    Vikas embraced him and patted his back roughly, letting out a relieved laugh. “You’ve been missed, my old friend. That, I assure you. It has been too long, Dyavol, and it seems you’ve already made such a stirring with your return from the dead.”
    The look in Tomas’s eyes was a pained one as they moved to the door and back. “Otis—”
    “—will be fine. Give him time.” Vikas smiled, looking back and forth between Vlad and his father. “Now, let’s toast to this happy reunion, and you and your son can catch up some, eh?”

8
    A CELEBRATION INTERRUPTED
    Z a Vas!” Vikas’s voice was jubilant, even if it was slurring slightly. In the last hour, the three of them—Vlad. Vikas, and Tomas—had emptied three bottles of bloodwine. Vlad’s portion had been exactly one glass ... one glass which had remained untouched and sitting in front of him the entire time. He stared into it, trying to wrap his head around his father’s miraculous return. He should have been happy.
    He wasn’t. And he was feeling more than a little ashamed about it.
    After all, here he was, with his dad. Together again, at last. But all Vlad could think of was how he was supposed to turn his dad over to Em’s monstrous whims. By the end of the year, he was going to have to say goodbye to his dad again. This time, forever.
    Tomas raised his glass with a bleary grin. “Za Vas!”
    Vlad set his goblet on the table. “So where were you? This entire time you were gone, I mean. Where?”
    Tomas took another drink and said, “Everywhere and nowhere, my son. I traveled the globe, visited my home in London, stayed unseen. It was lonely, Vlad. More lonely than you can ever imagine. I couldn’t speak with many vampires, since I’d risk revealing myself to Em and others who cry out for my blood. So I had a lot of time to think. By happy circumstance, I traveled to Siberia one day, and as I was spying on my vampire brethren there—out of loneliness, I suppose—I witnessed a funeral pyre. A curious thing, with no body to be found.”
    Vlad took in a sharp breath. His dad’s mock-funeral. His dad had been there, after all.
    “Imagine my surprise to see a younger version of myself, standing before the pyre.”
    A lump formed in Vlad’s throat at the memory. “It was a tribute to you. But I couldn’t say goodbye.”
    His dad squeezed his hand and held his gaze. Warmth and compassion ebbed from him. “I know. Thank you for that.”
    Vikas took another swig from his goblet. “You have a good son, Dyavol. And he has a good father. I hate to taint our conversation with bad news, but we have yet to discuss the foreboding shadow of Em and what has transpired in your absence.”
    Tomas nodded and refilled his glass. “Of course. Please.”
    Vikas met Vlad’s eyes for a moment, and Vlad was almost certain that he was going to use telepathy, to ask Vlad what he wanted his dad to know and what he might not want to discuss on his dad’s first night officially back from the dead. But then Vikas shook his head, as if