15 Secrets and Spies - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  But she didn’t believe that.

  Charles’s gaze had already moved back to the Triptych, and Olivia gave up.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your work,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I can’t wait for the exhibit this weekend.’

  ‘Yes, yes . . .’ Charles’s voice followed her out of the room. ‘Perhaps if I re-organised them by their Latin classifications . . .’

  Shaking her head, Olivia fumbled her way out of the museum, past dust-covered artefacts and spooky shadows. It was a relief to step out into the fresh air, even though the sky was dark outside. As the big oak door fell shut behind her with a boom, the cellphone in her purse rang.

  For the first time in hours, Olivia relaxed. I know that ringtone.

  Oh, it was so the right time to hear Jackson’s voice!

  She pulled the phone out of her purse and clicked it on to see her boyfriend’s very famous face fill the very tiny screen. This wasn’t just a phone call – it was a video call. Even better. ‘Hey, you!’ she said. ‘Can you see the creepy place I’m coming out of?’ She waved the phone at the bulky museum hulking behind her in the shadows.

  ‘Wow.’ Jackson’s eyebrows rose. ‘Franklin Grove just keeps on getting more interesting. Are you sure you haven’t snuck back on to some Hollywood set?’

  ‘Very funny.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So, how are you?’

  ‘Well . . .’ He drew a breath. ‘I was actually calling because I want your advice. What do you know about the Wanderer trilogy?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Spotting an empty bus stop ahead, Olivia headed towards it. I’d better sit down for this one! Parking herself on the metal bench, she said, ‘Well, I’ve heard of it – I mean, who hasn’t? Those books are huge. But I’ve never read them.’ She shrugged. ‘Stories about the end of the world aren’t my thing.’

  ‘No?’ Jackson frowned. ‘That’s interesting.’ For a moment, he was silent, obviously thinking things over. Then he said, ‘Amy just called me.’ Amy Teller was Jackson’s agent – Olivia’s too, some of the time. ‘She says that Jacob Harker’s going to be producing the film version of the trilogy. He wants to know if I’m interested.’

  Olivia let out a snort of pure surprise. ‘Isn’t the main character a guy in his mid-forties? I know you’re a great actor, but I’m not sure even you could pull that off!’

  Jackson laughed, his face breaking into the megawatt grin she’d seen on a zillion different magazine covers. ‘No, I’d be playing the role of the main character’s son, who dies at the very beginning – but haunts him all through the first movie.’

  ‘Ah!’ Olivia gasped with mock horror. ‘Spoilers! How could you tell me that?’

  ‘Like you were ever going to read a story about a war-ravaged Planet Earth stalked by hideous monsters?’ Jackson teased. ‘Hold on, I got another call coming in.’

  Olivia waited, watching Jackson typing something on his keyboard.

  Then a shadow fell over her.

  Uh-oh. Olivia swivelled around in her seat and saw a girl a couple of years older than her staring at the picture on Olivia’s cellphone screen. She must have been on her way to the bus stop when she’d heard Jackson speaking, and now she looked ready to pass out from sheer excitement. ‘Is that really . . . the Jackson Caulfield . . . on your phone? Is he, like, video-calling you personally?’

  Oh, no. Olivia had encountered Jackson’s super-fans before. Some of them had even chased her through the streets of London when they were there filming Eternal Sunset! If this girl was one of them, she’d bombard Jackson with questions for the rest of the phone call – if she didn’t faint right here on the pavement.

  Time to go into Protective Girlfriend-mode! Let’s hope Jackson keeps up.

  Olivia pinned a bright smile to her face. ‘Of course it’s the Jackson Caulfield,’ she said. ‘But he’s not live . . . This is a pre-recorded message. You can download it from the Jackson App. See?’ She tapped the screen. ‘It’s on pause now.’

  ‘Ooh. Let me see!’ The girl hurried up to lean over Olivia’s shoulder. ‘Ohhhh. He’s so handsome, isn’t he?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Olivia gave her boyfriend a sympathetic grimace. Jackson had to keep completely still to keep up her story of being ‘on pause’. Thank goodness he realised what was going on in time!

  ‘I love his movies.’ The girl sighed. ‘Do you remember the bouncy castle scene in Her Last Day?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Olivia remembered that scene very well, but she was starting to worry that Jackson would need to blink soon!

  She stood up, starting to lower the phone. ‘Maybe . . .’

  ‘Hey, wait . . .’ The other girl’s hand shot out to catch Olivia’s wrist with an iron grip. ‘Don’t I know your face? Do we go to school together?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Olivia said. She was already backing away, but she tried to keep her voice polite.

  The girl gasped and pointed at her triumphantly. ‘You’re Olivia Abbott!’

  Uh-oh. For a while, Olivia had been the main target of hate for every Jackson-fan in the universe. But there was no use denying an obvious truth, so she only smiled weakly. ‘Mm-hmm.’

  ‘Oh, you were great in The Groves!’ The girl beamed at her. ‘I hope Eternal Sunset goes really well, too. Hey, could you sign my cellphone?’

  ‘Sure.’ Olivia felt the sudden tension flood out of her. Thank goodness Jackson’s fanbase isn’t fuelled by jealousy any more!

  Unfortunately, in her moment of relief, she didn’t notice the girl crossing the short distance between them. ‘I’m Sara!’ the girl said, and grabbed Olivia’s hand again. ‘S-A-R-A. No “H”. But before you sign anything, could I see the rest of Jackson’s video message? Please?’

  Oh, no! Olivia tried to back away, but Sara had her hand in an unbreakable hold, her eyes gleaming eagerly as her fingers tightened around Olivia’s hand. ‘I just need to see him for myself, actually talking to me.’

  ‘Oh . . . kay.’ Olivia sighed, cringing inwardly. At least I can give Jackson some prep-time, maybe. ‘All right,’ she said loudly, ‘you can see the rest of the message, but it was almost over, so it won’t last that long.’

  Sara frowned. ‘Could you rewind it?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Olivia grinned tightly, searching for reasons. She’d improvised so much already, though, her mind had turned completely blank. I can’t think of a single reason why not, she realised. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll rewind it by running my thumb backward on the screen, like this . . .’

  It was a good thing her boyfriend was a professional actor. As guilty as Olivia felt, she was also impressed – because as she mocked rewinding via her touch-screen, Jackson did an amazing job of ‘talking backwards’.

  ‘. . . kcab ew era neht . . .’

  ‘And here we go!’ Olivia said loudly, pulling her thumb away from the screen.

  ‘Ohhhh!’ Sara gasped with delight as Jackson flashed his famous grin.

  ‘Hi, Jackson fans,’ he said. ‘It’s great to see you. I hope you liked the last film, and I can tell you, you’ll like the new one even more. It’s . . .’

  ‘He’s so amazing!’ Sara moaned. She crowded in next to Olivia, almost shoving her aside. ‘It’s like he’s talking just to me!’

  Olivia sighed and stepped back as Sara hogged the screen and Jackson delivered the rest of what sounded exactly like a movie star’s pre-recorded message.

  Now there’s someone who’s really good at improv, Olivia thought. Secretly, she grinned to herself. Next time he’s in town, I will force him to give me some lessons!

  Chapter Seven

  The next afternoon, just an hour after school had ended, Ivy hurried up the steps to the Franklin Grove Museum.

  Olivia trailed behind her. ‘I can’t believe I’m coming back here less than twenty-four hours after my first visit,’ she groaned.

  ‘Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, is it?’ Ivy hammered on the door. ‘Anyway, we’ll get out as soon as possible.’

  Ivy’s eyes widened as
the big oak door creaked open, revealing Albert the vampire handyman. Wow. That jogging outfit has even more paint stains than Olivia claimed!

  Albert seemed pained as he looked between them. ‘The museum is not open to visitors today.’

  ‘We know.’ Ivy smiled. ‘Don’t worry. We’re just here to see, um . . .’ She winced, but remembered Olivia’s story. ‘. . . Chas?’

  Despite herself, the name came out sounding like a question. Could anyone really call her father by that ridiculous nickname?

  Apparently, they could.

  ‘Very well.’ Sighing heavily, Albert stepped aside. ‘Do you know your way?’

  ‘I do,’ Olivia said, moving forwards to take the lead as Albert disappeared off into a side room.

  Ivy followed her twin through the dark, creepy halls of the old museum, until they were out of Albert’s vampire earshot. ‘I’ll make this up to you,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I know.’ Olivia gave her a faint smile, then sidestepped just in time to avoid a massive, dust-sheet covered figure. ‘OK, the main display room is just ahead.’

  ‘Got it.’ Ivy nodded firmly. ‘You go distract Dad while I hunt down the vampire records room. The sooner I find out the truth about that mystery Twenty-First Law of the Night, the better for Maya and Brendan.’

  ‘Are you sure you can find it by yourself?’ Olivia asked, with a frown.

  Ivy shrugged. ‘The Vorld Vide Veb says it’s kept in the basement of the museum. It can’t be that hard to find a set of stairs leading down towards the basement, right?’

  ‘Girls? Is that you?’ Charles’s voice sounded nearby, along with the echo of hurrying footsteps coming from the main display room. ‘I need an opinion on my Triptych placement. I’m just not sure . . .’

  Olivia winced and shooed Ivy off. ‘Run,’ she whispered, ‘before you’re trapped, too!’ Then she raised her voice. ‘I’m coming, Dad!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ivy whispered. ‘I won’t abandon you for long, I promise.’

  Ten minutes later, though, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep that promise. So far, all she’d found was a jumble of corridors that curved and crossed in chaotic patterns obviously designed to make sure no bunnies could accidentally stumble across the vampire records room.

  Ivy would have appreciated the security a whole lot more if she didn’t feel so lost! The scattered lanterns that lit the halls became fewer and fewer . . . and as she turned down another corridor, lit only by a distant lantern at the very end, she finally had to admit . . .

  I’m actually scared of the dark! I really am the worst vampire on the planet this week.

  Fighting the unease that made her want to run straight back to her twin, Ivy forced herself down the corridor. You’re doing this for Brendan, she reminded herself.

  At the very end of the corridor was a rickety-looking old door with a wrinkled, crumbling sign that read: DANGER! KEEP OUT!

  I can’t stop now. Ivy turned the handle and pulled the door open . . . revealing a pitch-black stairway that led down into a pool of shadow.

  To a bunny, it might have looked like absolutely nothing was waiting downstairs. Ivy’s hypersensitive vampire senses picked up something different in the darkness, though: the smell of books and candlelight.

  Jackpot!

  Ivy cautiously felt her way down the creaky wooden steps, feeling them judder underneath her feet. The darkness was so complete she had to hold out her hands on both sides to balance herself against the narrow walls. At the bottom of the staircase, she stepped forwards – and bumped straight into another door. This one wasn’t rickety, though. It felt like it was made of solid, foot-thick steel, built to block out light or sound.

  A moment of fumbling later, she was turning the handle and stepping into one of the most fabulous rooms she had ever seen.

  Light filled the massive library, and ancient-looking stone pillars lined the walls. Is the museum basement really this big? Ivy wondered. Or does the library just keep going forever underground? She couldn’t even see a far wall, only rows and rows of bookshelves receding into the distance.

  Stone faces peered down watchfully from the tops of the pillars, and the smell of old books was overwhelming. Ivy wondered, if the library was this old then what was the librarian like?

  Then she almost snorted. Did she really have to ask? She knew exactly what the librarian would look like: a vampire version of Ms Milligan! Some older vampire woman with sensible shoes and a dowdy style. Oh, and glasses, definitely – big glasses.

  Like it or not, though, Ivy still needed a librarian’s help. She started towards the big mahogany desk near the front door, gasping out loud as the door behind it swung open and the librarian stepped out.

  OK, this I was not expecting!

  From his carefully styled dark hair to the crimson scarf swept around his shoulders, the black silk jacket he wore over a billowing silver blouse, and his perfectly tailored black jeans, he looked the exact opposite of how Ivy imagined librarians . . . and he also looked about twenty-five years old, at most, though Ivy knew he was probably much older than that.

  ‘Really, my dear,’ the librarian said, twirling a silver fountain pen between his fingers at impossible speed. ‘This is against the rules. Haven’t your parents explained? This library is for adult use only.’

  ‘I know,’ Ivy admitted. If it weren’t for that stupid rule, she wouldn’t have had to bring Olivia along to distract Charles from noticing her library visit! ‘But I have something really important to research, and this is the only place I could think to come for answers.’

  ‘Hmm.’ The Librarian tapped the fountain pen against his lips. ‘In that case . . .’ He swept a flowing bow that made his long scarf flutter. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pierre.’

  ‘I’m Ivy.’ She smiled in relief. Not only was there a definite light of mischief in his eyes now, but she’d recognised the faint lilt of an accent in his voice, as faint as the hint of a Transylvanian bass in her father’s voice, which told her that Pierre had probably emigrated from France a long time ago.

  In other words, he wasn’t merely older than he seemed – he was aged. And that meant that he was exactly the right sort of vampire to help her with her problem.

  As he straightened, Pierre flashed her a grin. ‘I tend not to be a stickler for the rules myself,’ he murmured, ‘but I’m not sure I can let a girl your age run free through my library. I don’t mind you doing research down here, but you must have supervision. Agreed?’

  That sounded fair to Ivy, especially since she had no idea where to even start. ‘Could you help me?’ she asked. ‘I was hoping to find out about the Laws of the Night.’

  Pierre’s eyes lit up. ‘Now there’s a fascinating topic. The oldest Laws were instituted during the time of the Roman Empire, but more fascinating – in my opinion – are the amendments made over the years. They’re so revealing about the true changes in vampire history!’

  Uh-oh. Ivy recognised the light in Pierre’s eyes. It was the same one her father got when he talked about his museum exhibit.

  As Pierre launched into a freewheeling verbal history of Vampire Law, complete with footnotes and digressions, Ivy fought to keep the glazed look out of her eyes.

  ‘. . . but, you see, to me, the deletion and reinstatement of Laws eleven, fourteen and nineteen is one of the key moments in all of vampire history!’

  If I don’t do something, I’ll be stuck here all night, Ivy realised. And we won’t even get to the Twenty-First Law until dawn!

  Finally, as Pierre paused to draw a breath, Ivy seized her chance. ‘What do you know about the Twenty-First Law of the Night?’ she blurted.

  The Librarian did not hesitate. ‘A vampire must never taste earthstuff when the moon is full.’

  Ivy shook her head blankly. ‘Um . . . what?’

  Pierre smiled kindly as he translated: ‘Eating vegetables on a full moon.’

  ‘What?’ Ivy laughed. ‘You have got to be pranking me.’


  ‘Not at all, my dear.’ Pierre shook his head, twirling his fountain pen idly between his fingers. ‘The Law was introduced several hundred years ago, and has never been changed.’

  ‘So . . .’ Ivy could barely even say the words out loud. ‘What you’re telling me is that someone could be banished from their own hometown, for . . . eating a Caesar salad?’

  ‘Well,’ Pierre shrugged, his crimson scarf shifting stylishly against his shoulders. ‘Vampires are known to take their Laws very seriously, no matter how silly they may seem in retrospect.’ He sighed nostalgically and leaned against the desk. ‘You can’t have hindsight in the present, can you? If we could, I certainly would never have made that terrible mistake with the pirate and the . . .’

  But Ivy didn’t hear the rest of his story. She was too stunned to take it in.

  How could Brendan’s dad have gone along with that crazy rule when it meant kicking out his own sister? And more to the point, how many other vampires had been punished over the years for issues that were . . . well . . . silly?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, interrupting Pierre. ‘It was really great to meet you, but I have to talk to my dad. Now.’

  ‘Then I’ll wish you au revoir.’ Pierre straightened, sweeping his scarf dramatically over his shoulder. ‘But not goodbye. You are welcome to return to my library any time.’

  Ivy nearly ran out of the echoing library. By the time she’d made it back to her dad’s display room, she was shaking with outrage.

  Charles didn’t even notice as she stomped in. He was too busy lecturing Olivia, who looked glassy-eyed with hopelessness as her dad prattled on . . .

  . . . and on.

  ‘. . . But of course the really fascinating thing about the history of the Triptychs is –’

  Balling her fists and squaring her shoulders, Ivy marched inside. ‘Dad!’ Her voice rapped out, cutting off her father’s words. ‘I need to talk to you right now.’

  ‘Ivy!’ Still balancing a small, three-panelled painting in his gloved hands, Charles gave her his full attention. ‘What’s wrong?’