Crack!
Olivia felt rotting bark crumble beneath her feet, and she slipped down. She managed to grasp a sturdier branch above her, clutching it with her fingertips. Her feet swished wildly through thin air. She looked up at the branch she was holding for dear life.
Don’t panic, Olivia. Do not panic. She squeezed her eyes shut. Too late – she was totally panicking. Her arms started to shake and her fingers were aching with the strain of holding on. I could really use a dose of that super-strength about now! Where was her sister when she needed her? Olivia tried to adjust her grip, but her hand slipped and her stomach virtually jumped into her mouth. Down she plummeted.
‘Heeeeeeeelp! Ooof!’
She landed in a clumsy heap on the ground, cradling her camera to her chest. How utterly great, she thought. I try to stay busy and I wind up nearly killing myself! Olivia stretched her arms and then her legs, flexing her wrists and ankles. She’d had enough practice tumbling from the top of a cheer pyramid to manage not to break any bones. At least she could be thankful for that, and the camera was still in one piece.
Something in the grass prickled her shins, and Olivia scooted back. She looked down at the spot where she had landed. She was up to her ankles in exotic plants with green, ivy-like vines and furry white blossoms. Almost instantly, her skin started to itch. She leaned down to scratch, but the itching was getting worse by the second. She straightened up to get out of reach of the devilish plants, but then she noticed that she was bang in the middle of a crop; there was another metre’s worth of plants between her and the clear grass.
It was time for Olivia’s cheerleader skills again. She took two steps back, squared her shoulders and catapulted herself into the air, performing a perfect somersault before landing free and clear of the plant beds.
As she dusted off her clothes, Helga the Greenhouse Lady appeared at her side. ‘My dear, are you all right? I saw you fall into the . . . into the . . . Oh, no!’ She was staring at the crushed bed of plants at the base of the tree.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to damage them. It was an accid–’
But before Olivia could finish, Helga grabbed her round the waist and slung her over her shoulder! ‘I don’t care what you’ve done to the plants, it’s what the plants have done to you!’ she gasped.
‘Wha– what’s going on?’ Olivia cried as the woman broke into a run. Her body jiggled painfully against the gardener’s collar bone. Helga was racing back to the greenhouse with her as cargo! All she could do was watch the scenery go by as if in fast-forward. Helga pushed through a glass door, which grazed Olivia’s hair as it slammed shut behind them.
‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ Helga muttered under her breath, setting Olivia down on a metal table covered with various garden tools and bags of loose soil. ‘I have just the thing for you.’
For me?
Olivia stared open-mouthed at the high-tech greenhouse surrounding her. Artificial rain poured down from shiny, silver trays over rows of lush plants, complete with a soundtrack of rolling thunder. A miniature blimp buzzed around a track, sprinkling coloured fertiliser, and Olivia listened as giant, metal turbines mixed mulch in the corner.
Meanwhile, Helga bustled around, opening cabinets and grabbing colourful bottles. Olivia wanted to tell her that she wasn’t actually worried at all, but the woman seemed so concerned that Olivia thought it might be best to leave her alone.
‘I’ve only just started working here.’ Helga sniffed a purple bottle. ‘So I don’t quite know where everything is kept yet.’ She opened another steel cabinet and peered inside. ‘Ah, here it is!’ Helga wetted a strip of gauze with yellow liquid from a silver jar and began scrubbing Olivia’s legs with it.
‘Oh my goodness!’ Olivia looked down at her legs. Now she saw why Helga was worried. Her legs had changed colour from tanned to an angry red. A mass of swollen lumps had risen up on her shins. ‘What happened to me?’ she asked. While Helga scrubbed, Olivia scratched, but nothing could stop the terrible itching that was crawling up the length of her legs. Ew, a rash! She hoped it wasn’t contagious.
‘You got yourself caught in a crop of Bloodbite Nettles,’ Helga told her. Olivia groaned – even the name of the plant sounded painful! Helga wetted the gauze again and continued rubbing.
Olivia wanted to tell Helga that she was sorry about crushing the nettles, but all that came out was a long wheezing breath. She reached for her throat. Her lungs felt raw and swollen. She couldn’t speak. She waved her hands wildly at Helga.
‘Oh dear.’ Helga cleared the table of gardening tools. ‘Lie down.’ Olivia obeyed. ‘Yes, put your legs up, that’s right. Unfortunately, Bloodbite Nettles can have this effect.’
I wish those things had come with a warning label, thought Olivia, her chest heaving.
Helga rested an icy vampire hand on Olivia’s forehead. ‘Just lie very still and this will pass.’ Olivia blinked twice in response.
The greenhouse door was flung open and in burst Horatio. ‘I was washing the car and saw you rush in with Olivia. Miss Olivia, are you OK?’
Olivia rolled her head to the side and tried to smile, but she couldn’t because her face was swelling like she’d been stung by a whole swarm of bees. She knew Horatio must have been lingering nearby in the hopes of seeing Helga. After all, he had arrived very quickly – even for a vampire.
‘She’ll be fine,’ said Helga. She glanced sideways at Horatio, who was standing there like he didn’t know what to do with his hands – just like he had done during the car ride to the airport. ‘Would you mind passing me that corked bottle to your left?’ Helga asked. Their fingers brushed as Horatio passed the bottle and Olivia thought she noticed the faintest hint of a quiver run through the butler. ‘Thank you.’
Helga was grinding herbs into a thick paste that let out noisy squelches each time she stirred. She pointed and Horatio passed and, with each new solution added to the gooey mix, the smell wafting out of the bowl became more and more foul.
‘Once you drink this –’ Helga held up a spoonful of slimy, dripping goop – ‘you’ll feel one thousand times better.’
Drink? Olivia tried to let out a groan but her throat was now so swollen that making any kind of noise was out of the question. Horatio took a step forwards, opening his mouth to say something, but then stopped and retreated again. Helga turned just in time to see Horatio step back.
‘Oh, were you about to –’
‘No, I just . . .’ Horatio wrung his hands.
‘Oh, right, well I’d better . . .’ Helga trailed off and went back to stirring. Horatio, normally a giant, seemed suddenly shorter. Olivia frowned with frustration. If only I could talk! I would get those two chatting away in no time! But her tongue was filling her entire mouth and anything she managed to garble would have come out as nonsense. Not to mention the fact that the allergic reaction was boggling her brain, too! What if she couldn’t breathe? What if she swelled up into a big balloon and floated away? All while Horatio and Helga were making googly-eyes at one another.
OK, calm down, Olivia. Focus on the positive. She tried to relax and redirect her thoughts towards something more productive.
For instance, Olivia had managed to get these two together and talking – in a way. So what if she had only been trying to take her mind off Jackson? It didn’t matter, because Helga and Horatio would make the cutest vampire couple ever!
H + H . . . How sweet!
Helga turned to pour her mixture into a glass as Horatio helped Olivia sit up. She jerked her head in Helga’s direction, lifting her eyebrows as if to tell him, Go on, say something! Why couldn’t she be telepathic?
Horatio squinted, staring at Olivia. Olivia jerked her head again, but Horatio just peered closer.
‘Come quickly,’ he said, ‘I think something is wrong with Miss Olivia!’ Olivia tried to shake her head. You’re missing the point!
Helga came over to look at Olivia, bringing the glass of smelly herb sludge with her. At lea
st Olivia’s plan had sort of worked. Helga and Horatio were now standing next to each other – that was something.
‘She’ll be fine once she drinks this,’ Helga said, handing Olivia the glass.
Bottoms up! Olivia pinched her nose and took a swig. It had to be one of the most disgusting things she had ever tasted. She would rather swallow a tubful of Charlotte Brown’s fake tan than drink this stuff. But immediately the swelling in her tongue started to go down, and the hot itching in her legs began to fade. Phew!
Helga grabbed a sack from the other side of the greenhouse and propped it under Olivia’s head so that she could lie back down – which was good, because she felt like she was going to need a moment to digest the horrible medicine.
Olivia rested in the humid air of the greenhouse, breathing in the scent of fresh soil and flowers. Horatio and Helga stood on either side of the table, gazing at each other. Suddenly, Olivia was a little grossed out. She wanted Horatio to be happy, but what if those two leaned over her to have their first kiss?
Um – ew!
As Olivia’s eyelids started to grow heavy from the medicine, Helga turned away from Horatio with nothing more than a shy smile. Olivia drifted off to sleep, unable to keep her eyes open any more.
Getting Horatio and Helga together would have to wait.
Ivy’s combat boots had rubbed penny-sized blisters on her feet and she was seriously thinking about asking to borrow Olivia’s ballet flats for the rest of the weekend. She had taken a bus back from Wallachia Academy and was now making the long trek up the country road leading to the Lazar family’s massive front gate.
The sun was a burning orb hanging low in the Transylvania sky, and a light breeze tousled the bullrushes growing alongside the road. Ivy knew she should feel lucky. She was taking a walk in one of the most scenic countries in the world before getting to attend a real, live royal wedding. But it was hard to enjoy herself when she knew she might have to stay here indefinitely. Instead of making her feel better about staying in Transylvania, her tour of Wallachia had been a total disaster!
Ivy kicked a pebble and watched it skitter along. Then she looked up to see a vamp so obvious, he might as well have been wearing a cape . . . Wait – he was wearing a cape! How utterly lame! She wouldn’t have thought that Transylvania, home of the vampires, would have its very own version of the Beasts. It was like looking into a crystal ball and seeing Garrick Stephens’ future. The vampire was walking towards her down the rural road, stopping every once in a while to stare past the fence and into the Lazars’ estate. What in Dracula’s name is he doing?
Ivy flashed a brief smile as she passed the over-the-top vampire. He flung his cape over his shoulder with a big whoosh and lowered his chin in acknowledgment. ‘My Lady,’ he said.
‘Um, hi!’ Ivy ground her teeth together, stifling her laughter. The vamp’s long, dark hair was arranged in what she could only describe as a well-maintained mullet. If only Olivia were here to see – this man was a walking crime against fashion! Yuck.
She walked on, almost grateful to the OTT vampire. He had made her laugh despite her funk. Once she’d got beyond the creaky gates, Ivy walked through the grounds, looking at the trimmed hedges shaped like bats and the stone fountains gushing impossibly blue water into lily ponds. A man in a black suit and with a Bluetooth connected to his ear stopped her at the front door.
‘Ma’am, may I ask who you are?’ He held up white-gloved hands to stop her from entering.
‘Seriously?’ she asked. ‘I’m Ivy . . .’ He stared at her blankly. ‘Ivy Vega . . . You know, the Countess’s granddaughter . . . from America.’
‘One moment while I verify, please.’ The man murmured into the Bluetooth, ‘Ivy Vega is here, Countess Lazar. May she enter?’ Then to Ivy: ‘Very sorry, Miss Vega. Please, come right in. Welcome back.’
‘Thanks.’ Ivy smoothed her face into a serious expression. ‘I’ll try my best to behave.’
She hurried into the house, wanting to catch up with Olivia right away, and find out why their grandparents’ house had suddenly become Fort Knox. She was in need of some serious sisterly venting time. Stuck-up vamps, a pathetic duel and a long walk home – there was a lot to get through. As she looked for Olivia, Ivy passed the Countess’s study. The door was half open so she peeked inside.
‘No, no, no!’
The Queen was pacing the room, her posture as straight as a chopstick. So that’s why the mansion has turned into an army camp, she realised. The Queen is an ultra-stressed Mother of the Groom!
‘Everything is wrong.’ She adjusted her jewelled crown. ‘The forest-green aisle runner clashes completely with the emerald necklace you will be wearing. Surely you don’t want to walk down the aisle to the “Bridal Chorus” surrounded by colour clashes! No, we absolutely cannot have that. It must be perfect. This is my only son’s wedding we’re talking about.’
As Ivy hovered at the door, she saw Tessa sitting in a chair, taking notes in the corner. Tessa’s eyes had shadows under them and her hair fell lankly around her face. She looks worn out.
‘Maybe it’s better to keep things simple then,’ suggested Tessa in a meek voice that sounded nothing like that of a soon-to-be princess. ‘Alex and I could get married in a quiet ceremony somewhere else and return here for the reception.’
The hope in Tessa’s suggestion floated like a bubble in the air and, sure enough, the Queen popped it with one dismissive flourish of her ringed hand. ‘That is not tradition.’
Ivy rolled her eyes. She was beginning to wonder about all these vampire customs. They seemed so rigid. Maybe she would be better off in Franklin Grove, where the most serious tradition was singing embarrassing Christmas carols at the school’s Winter Assembly. As far as she could tell, the Transylvania vamps needed to take a chill pill!
Before the Queen or Tessa noticed her, Ivy snuck up to the second floor and slipped into the bedchamber she shared with Olivia. The room was empty, but right now Ivy was too tired to worry about it. The events of the day had suddenly caught up with her and all she wanted was a nice, long nap – preferably before she got roped into any party-planning.
She opened her coffin lid and was about to climb in when she noticed it was already occupied!
‘Olivia?’ She shook her sister. Olivia was lying in the coffin with her arms folded across her chest. ‘What are you doing ?’
Olivia sat up, shielding her eyes from the light. ‘Huh?’ She squinted at Ivy almost as if she didn’t recognise her.
‘What are you doing in my coffin?’ Ivy cocked her head, a little worried now. Her twin looked pasty and pale – but, then again, Transylvania wasn’t quite as sunny as Franklin Grove.
‘I’m sorry.’ Olivia spoke as if it was an effort. ‘I didn’t have the energy to climb into my own bunk. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I took a nap in yours.’
Ivy smiled. ‘Of course not. It just gave me a scare seeing you in my coffin like that. You were sleeping like the dead!’
‘It’s surprisingly comfortable,’ said Olivia, nestling back into the red velour cushioning. She closed her eyes. ‘Would you mind shutting the lid?’
Wow, the jet lag must have really caught up with her, thought Ivy as she gently closed the lid on her human twin. Bunnies were more vulnerable to that sort of thing, Ivy knew. There was probably no need to worry. Olivia just needed a good nap and maybe a cup of coffee to jump-start her into Transylvania time.
The bedroom door was flung open, making Ivy jump. ‘Shhh! Olivia’s going to sleep!’ Then she saw it was Tessa.
‘Sorry!’ Tessa whispered. ‘Can I hide out here for a bit?’
‘Yeah, no problem.’ Ivy offered her the swivel chair at the desk. Tessa’s hair was in tangles and her mascara was smudged under her eyes. Suddenly, Ivy wished Olivia could be more . . . well, awake. Her sister watched every one of those wedding shows. She would be much better at comforting a clearly stressed-out bride.
Ivy sat on the floor, playing with her shoelaces.
What if she said the wrong thing? ‘Um, is everything OK, Tessa? You seem, sort of, all over the place?’ She cringed. That hadn’t come out right.
‘Huh? Me?’ Tessa’s eyes flicked up. She’d been staring into space. ‘I’m fine. Just typical wedding craziness.’
‘I guess that’s to be expected when you’re planning the wedding of the century.’ Ivy tried to smile before she became tongue-tied again. The two sat in uncomfortable silence.
Ivy glanced up and saw Olivia’s camera on the desk by the computer. Olivia had been diligently snapping pictures ever since they’d arrived. It reminded Ivy that she should be doing more for her article. It wasn’t going to write itself! But now hardly seemed like the right time to interview Tessa.
Then Ivy had another idea. She stood up and picked the camera off the desk. ‘Do you want to check out Olivia’s pictures? Maybe it will take your mind off all the crazy wedding stuff for a bit.’
Tessa gave a tired smile. ‘OK.’
‘Great.’ Ivy pushed the power button and the screen lit up. ‘If I know my sister, she’ll have taken some killer shots.’
Sitting together on the narrow swivel chair, Ivy scrolled through the photos. There was a stunning picture of the rose meadow, and one of the mansion reflected in the glinting glass of the greenhouse. Olivia really did have an eye for this sort of thing. She had used different camera features to brighten the colours and the natural lighting to highlight certain parts of the scenery. If anything, Olivia had made the house and grounds look even more spectacular than they appeared in real life.
But what – or, who – was that in the background? Tessa craned her neck to take a closer look. Ivy leaned in, absorbed in Olivia’s shot. There was a figure lurking on the edge of the screen. She clicked the zoom button twice. It was the OTT caped vampire that she had run into on the side of the road. In the shot Olivia had taken, he was standing in a clump of tall bushes. Somebody’s taking this creepy horror-movie shtick too far, thought Ivy, noticing that in the picture he was staring up towards the castle. What was he doing?
10 Date with Destiny - My Sister the Vampire Page 7
