15 Secrets and Spies - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  Ivy jumped almost high enough to graze her head on the ceiling. How could I have missed someone creeping up on us? But she knew the answer. The cemetery, then the shadowy underground crypt had so freaked her out she was distracted again.

  I am the worst vampire in the world.

  Gritting her teeth, she turned to face the block of shadows behind her. A slim figure shifted in the darkness. Out of the shadow stepped . . .

  Maya!

  Ivy gasped as she recognised the girl in front of her, and realised that the not-a-student had been wearing a disguise all along.

  Maya no longer had auburn hair or pale blue eyes. Wigs and contact lenses must have covered both of those. Now, as she stepped forwards into the candlelight, Ivy saw jet-black hair falling around the girl’s shoulders, while her fluorescent green eyes gleamed.

  Only a vampire could have eyes that bright and that unnatural.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Ivy frowned. ‘Your mother is a Daniels?’ But that means . . .

  Even as she started to form the thought, Brendan was already nodding. ‘This is my cousin Maya. Her mom is my dad’s sister.’

  ‘Ohhhh!’ Ivy’s sigh of relief was so huge, it left her sagging. Suddenly, everything made sense!

  That was why the pets in Lincoln Vale hadn’t barked as Maya had gone past – they’d been frightened by her, just like they were by every vampire! And best of all . . .

  ‘Thank darkness,’ she said on a gasp, ‘you’re not seeing someone else!’

  ‘What?’ Brendan’s mouth dropped open as he stared at her. ‘You thought I was cheating on you? I would never, ever–!’

  ‘I know!’ Ivy said hastily. ‘I mean, I realise now that it was ridiculous. But come on, you’ve been acting so strange this week, and you kept on sneaking off to meet Maya in secret.’

  Brendan flushed. ‘You knew about that?’

  Ivy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m a vampire, remember? Did you really think I wouldn’t overhear you guys at some point?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Brendan looked to the ground.

  Maya winced. ‘Ah, sorry about that. I probably should have mentioned on the phone. I caught Ivy and a couple of her friends trying to follow me this afternoon. They were obviously suspicious of something.’

  ‘Of course we were. All those secret phone calls, the hidden meetings . . .’ Ivy looked between the two of them, shaking her head. ‘What else was I supposed to think?’

  ‘Not that!’ Brendan muttered.

  Ivy put her hands on her hips. ‘The point is, you’ve been keeping secrets with someone else – and you still are.’

  ‘OK.’ Brendan let out a tired sigh, his shoulders relaxing. ‘Maya’s my cousin on my dad’s side, but her mom – Carla – was banished from Franklin Grove a long time ago.’

  ‘Why?’ Ivy asked.

  ‘Oh . . .’ He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. ‘It was just this silly disagreement she had with my dad.’

  Ivy frowned. ‘But what was it about?’

  ‘It happened a long time ago,’ Maya said quickly, ‘and it was no big deal, anyway. She only broke the Twenty-First Law of the Night – it wasn’t like it was even one of the major ones.’

  ‘The Twenty-First Law of the Night?’ Ivy stared at her. ‘I never even heard of that. How many Laws are there?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Brendan shook his head. ‘All I know is, after about the Eighth Law, they get a little too strict.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Maya took over the conversation. ‘That’s why I came to your school. I had to reach out to Brendan, to see what we could do together to get my family allowed back into Franklin Grove. Mom misses this town so much, it’s making her miserable.’

  ‘Aha.’ Ivy breathed a small sigh of relief as the last mystery was cleared up. ‘So that’s why the guidance counsellor didn’t know about you – because you were never actually registered.’

  ‘Right . . .’ Maya hesitated, looking uncomfortable. ‘Look, I knew it was a disaster when I bumped into you near that office.’

  ‘You two actually bumped into each other?’ Brendan groaned and pushed one hand through his hair. ‘Our school is, like, allergic to secrets.’

  Maya ignored him. ‘But seriously, Ivy, I never meant to come between you and Brendan.’ She shot Brendan a teasing look. ‘Do you know that my cousin talks about you all . . . the . . . time?’

  Oh, no. Don’t blush. Do NOT blush! Ivy ordered herself. Too late. She could feel her cheeks burning.

  Luckily, neither Brendan nor Maya seemed to have noticed in the candlelight.

  ‘Unfortunately, our plan isn’t going all that well,’ Brendan said. ‘My dad’s going to need a lot more convincing before he backs down.’ He gave his cousin a guilty look. ‘Sorry, Maya.’

  ‘I almost don’t want to ask,’ Ivy said, ‘but what is the Twenty-First Law of the Night?’

  Maya’s shoulders slumped. ‘I wish I knew,’ she whispered. ‘It’s caused so much trouble for my family but no one’s ever even told me what it is.’

  ‘What about you?’ Ivy turned to Brendan, but he was already shaking his head.

  ‘It all happened before I was born,’ he said. ‘Even when my dad told me the story, all he’d say about it was, “Rules are rules.”’

  Ouch. Ivy glanced between Maya’s forlorn expression and Brendan’s look of deep frustration.

  ‘Well, you know me,’ she said, trying to sound bright and breezy for their benefit. ‘I can never leave a good mystery alone – what kind of investigative reporter would I be if I could?’

  ‘What can you do?’ Maya asked, looking doubtful.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Ivy replied, honestly.

  Brendan grinned at them both. ‘If anyone can figure this out,’ he said, ‘it’s Ivy.’

  Ivy felt a swell of determination at her boyfriend’s words. She had to put the Daniels family back together – for the sake of Marc and Carla just as much as Brendan and Maya. If there was one thing Ivy knew from experience, it was that it was never good for siblings to be estranged!

  As Maya started out of the tomb ahead of them, Ivy turned to Brendan, feeling a tingle of sudden nerves race through her. She’d started out this night so confused and angry, ready to end their whole relationship if her suspicions were realised. Now they were alone again for the first time since the whole truth had come out – even the fact that she’d followed Maya to the mall that afternoon.

  He just has to understand. She took a deep breath . . .

  And Brendan’s arms closed tightly around her, warm and strong and familiar, pulling her into his hug. ‘How could you ever think I would cheat on you?’

  Ivy’s eyes stung as she hugged him back. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ she whispered into his hair.

  Brendan’s reply was muffled, but she heard it clearly: ‘You could never lose me, Ivy Vega. I’m yours.’

  Chapter Six

  The sky was already fully dark when Olivia arrived at Franklin Grove Museum that evening. Located on the outer edge of the town centre, the massive museum hulked like a Gothic mansion, complete with stone turrets that loomed against the night sky.

  Talk about a vamp-y atmosphere!

  Olivia took a deep breath as she stopped in front of the giant oak front door. I’m only two blocks from the Meat and Greet and Mr Smoothie’s, she reminded herself. There are lots of people nearby.

  She reached out and grabbed the big brass knocker on the door.

  THUMP! THUMP!

  The heavy knocks echoed ominously in her ears.

  A moment later, the door opened with a long, slow creeeeak.

  ‘What do you want?’ a voice snarled. The inner hallway was so dark, Olivia couldn’t even see who was speaking. Then he stepped up to peer out of the doorway, and she sucked in a breath of pure shock.

  The man facing her was tall and deathly pale, wearing a jogging outfit stained with muck, dust and paint-splatters.

  I can’t believe it, Olivia thought. Am I actually standing face-to-face with
a vampire handyman?

  ‘Well?’ he demanded, scowling. ‘The museum is closed.’

  Olivia gathered herself together and smiled winningly. ‘Is my father here?’

  The man narrowed his eyes at her, obviously taking in her pale pink twin-set and sparkle-encrusted blue jeans. ‘I really doubt that your father is here. You must have the wrong building.’

  ‘No, I don’t!’ Olivia grabbed the edge of the door as he started to swing it closed. ‘I’m looking for Charles Vega.’

  The man blinked. ‘Really?’

  Olivia nodded, trying to look as honest as possible . . . because there was no way she could pretend to be a vampire in this outfit.

  Her ‘honest face’ must have worked, because the man sighed and turned around. ‘Hey, Chas!’ he yelled. ‘Your daughter’s here. And she’s pink!’

  Olivia had to bite her lip to hold back her giggles. It was hilarious that anyone could get away with calling her formal bio-dad ‘Chas’!

  ‘Olivia!’ Charles appeared at the door a moment later, beaming and elegant in a tailored black suit. ‘Forgive the mess of me,’ he said, reaching out to draw her in. ‘I’ve been hard at work on this weekend’s exhibition and my designs for what I’ll do with the South Wing as soon as it’s turned over to me.’

  What mess? Olivia wondered. She looked again at her dad’s perfect outfit, free of any paint stains or plaster.

  Aha. He’d pulled his tie loose from his throat. Yeah, talk about getting really messy!

  Grinning, she tucked her hand into his arm and walked beside him through the long, echoing rooms of the museum. Most of the lights were turned off, and without Charles by her side, she would have stumbled more than once. Dust-sheets covered the artefacts they passed, turning them into creepy, shapeless shadows in the darkness. The ceiling rose high above them, like the vault of a dark cathedral, while their footsteps sent hollow echoes thudding through the night.

  I’m walking through a dark, creepy building in the company of a vampire, Olivia thought, and I’m not scared at all. How cool is that?

  She had to do a quick two-step to keep herself from walking into a dark figure covered in a dust cloth – maybe a suit of armour? Either that or a mannequin . . .

  ‘Hey, where are those vintage fashions you mentioned before?’ she asked.

  Charles’s smile could be heard in his voice. ‘I’ll show you later, I promise – once things have calmed down here.’

  ‘Yeah, there does seem to be a lot of work going on right now.’ Thinking of the handyman she’d met, Olivia’s lips twitched. ‘I can’t believe anyone ever calls you “Chas”!’

  ‘Well . . .’ Charles coughed. ‘You have to understand, I’ve known Albert for a very long time. We were rather wild together back in New York at the turn of the twentieth century, before we both matured and settled down.’

  ‘Really?’ Olivia shook her head in wonder. I can’t imagine my bio-dad ever being wild!

  He nodded stiffly. ‘The point is, there are certain things that certain friends can get away with, even if . . . well, ah . . . in this instance it’s an affectionate nickname. Even though it does drive me crazy!’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Olivia gave her dad’s arm an affectionate squeeze. Charles was so proper and upright, yet he still cared so much for his friends. It was part of why she loved him . . . and why she had to be brave now, no matter how uncomfortable it felt.

  ‘There is something I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said, as he led her under a low archway. ‘I feel kind of weird bringing it up, I know you think I’m probably too young for this stuff, but –’

  ‘And here we are!’ Sweeping out his arm, Charles flicked a switch on the wall. Suddenly, light illuminated the vast room spread out before them, with electric candles set all along the wall and a massive chandelier in the centre of the high, vaulted ceiling. ‘The main display room of the museum – and as you can see, none of these artefacts are hidden behind dust-sheets!’

  ‘Oh, wow.’ Olivia blinked as she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light . . . and the massive, sparkling collection of glass cases, paintings and sculptures that filled the room.

  Charles smiled in obvious satisfaction. ‘I’ve shared a room with these artefacts since yesterday morning, but they still take my breath away every time.’

  Shaking her head in wonder, Olivia leaned closer to the nearest case. ‘Is that really thirteenth-century?’

  ‘A fragment from a lost citadel.’ Charles beamed. ‘And did you see that Byzantine Triptych?’

  ‘It’s great,’ Olivia said honestly. ‘But that isn’t what I’m here for tonight. The truth is . . .’ Her fingers twisted together as she forced herself to finish: ‘I really want to know if Lillian is OK.’

  It was too late. Her bio-dad’s gaze had already fixed on a marble statue, and his eyes had glazed. ‘Of course,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Of course. The statue of Vladymore should never have gone here. What was I thinking? I should have put it next to the terracotta urn!’ He pushed past her, tutting to himself. ‘What a fool I’ve been!’

  ‘Dad . . .’ Olivia began.

  But it was no use. He was already pacing through the aisles of his exhibit, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. ‘If I shifted the reliquary next to the casket . . .’

  Olivia sighed. The last time she’d seen her bio-dad like this, he’d been in Groomzilla-mode, getting ready for his wedding. Back then, she’d found his single-focus mode kind of charming. Now, though . . .

  She bit her lip. Could this have something to do with how Lillian had been acting this week? If he’d been ignoring his wife to spend all his time with a bunch of old artefacts in a creepy house in the middle of town, it was no wonder Lillian had gotten so depressed.

  I can’t let this go. Steeling herself, Olivia marched up to him. ‘Can I talk to you, please? It’s important.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Charles didn’t take his eyes off the medieval artefacts in front of him. Even as he answered, he was pulling out a tiny notebook and a gold pen from his pocket. ‘I’ll be right with you in . . . no, no, no! These descriptive cards have been mistranslated! Those idiots! Sorry . . .’

  He stopped, breathing hard, as he seemed to finally remember Olivia. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just a little stressed about this exhibit. Please, can you just sit tight for a moment? I’ll be right back – and once I’m back, I promise I will give you my full attention.’

  Without waiting for an answer, he scooped up two handfuls of the descriptive cards from beneath their artefacts and hurried out of the room, muttering to himself, ‘As if medieval Transylvanian is even difficult!’

  Drat. Olivia’s hope deflated like a popped balloon as her bio-dad disappeared, leaving her alone in the massive, echoing room. So much for her great attempt!

  But then again, what am I even going to say? She groaned. How do you tell your own father that you think his new wife is unhappy?

  Squaring her shoulders, she braced herself. I’ve got at least ten minutes to figure this out. Maybe all her acting experience would finally come in handy! She could improv by herself for a few minutes, and have a perfect ‘scene’ to play out with her bio-dad by the time he got back.

  And . . . action!

  ‘Dad,’ she said out loud, to the room full of artefacts, ‘this is a difficult thing to bring up, and you might even think it’s inappropriate coming from a daughter – especially one as young as me – but . . . I know this may seem out of the blue, but I really think you might be missing something about Lillian. I mean, shouldn’t she be happy and content so soon after that gorgeous wedding? But she’s not, and that scares me a lot more than any spooky old buildings or vampires in jogging outfits. Because if she really is so unhappy that she’s fantasising about escaping, I just don’t know what I can do to make it right. That’s why I need your help . . .’

  ‘Help with what?’ Charles’s voice spoke just behind her, maki
ng her jump.

  ‘Oh!’ Putting one hand to her throat, Olivia waited for her heartbeat to slow down. ‘I didn’t hear you coming.’

  Why am I the only one without vampire hearing?

  He frowned at her quizzically. ‘Were you . . . talking to the artefacts?’

  ‘I was practising for you.’ Now that he was standing right there in front of her, though, every word she’d spoken seemed to have scattered from her head. I’ll have to re-improv!

  There was no time to stop and think, though, not when he might be distracted by his exhibit at any moment. ‘Um,’ Olivia said hastily, and drew a shallow breath. ‘How’s Lillian? Is she OK?’

  ‘Lillian?’ Charles half-frowned . . . and Olivia’s heart sank as she saw his gaze pass around the room, obviously starting to catalogue his artefacts again. His lips pursed as his gaze focused on one particular candlestick nearby.

  ‘Lillian, Dad?’ Olivia prompted him.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Reaching for his notebook, Charles started to scribble down a note. ‘Of course Lillian’s OK,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t she be? We’ve gotten over the wedding stress, and we’re settling into married life in Franklin Grove.’ He flipped over a new page in the notebook and kept on scribbling, sketching out what looked like a re-design of the room.

  Olivia gritted her teeth. ‘Maybe Lillian wants to be involved in this exhibit,’ she suggested. ‘It would be a good way for you to spend time together.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Charles shook his head – and none-too-subtly re-angled himself to take a good look at the Triptych. ‘Lillian’s not all that interested in history,’ he said. Lowering his pen for a moment, he gave Olivia a small smile. ‘Plus, it’s good for couples to have separate interests. You’ll learn that when you’re older.’

  Olivia stared at her bio-dad in disbelief, forcing herself to let out her frustration in a long, rippling sigh. There was obviously no point in talking to Charles about the problem because, as far as he was concerned, there was no problem.

  And maybe there isn’t, she told herself. Maybe I’ve just been over-thinking everything.