06 Love Bites - My Sister the Vampire (5 page)

She followed her sister out of the car and the cold made her shiver. Her clunky boots crunched on the gravel, and she saw that the door knocker was a distorted face with fangs.

Ivy shuddered.
I’m a long way from home,
she thought.
A very long way.

Olivia expected the huge oak doors to creak open, but they swung open silently.

It was warm inside and the scent of burning pine logs filled the air from the open fireplace in the corner of the hallway.

‘It’s almost cosy,’ she whispered to Ivy, who was gazing up at the walls.

Olivia followed her gaze to see portraits of stern-looking men and women. One woman was wearing a tight corset and a large ruby ring on her finger while another stared down at them dressed
in a velvet cloak and white ruff. They all had pale skin and unusual-coloured eyes.

‘This must be the family,’ Ivy said.

Opposite the front door and to both sides were long corridors, making a T-shape. Each corridor was decorated with tapestries, chandeliers and more paintings. ‘It’s like a museum,’ Olivia whispered.

From the hall on the right, an elderly couple dressed in black entered the room. Olivia caught her breath. The woman was graceful and elegant. Olivia immediately felt dishevelled and under-dressed. Her hair was in a neat bun and she wore a stunning green jewel on a choker. Olivia realised it was shaped like an eye with a V in the middle – the same symbol that was on her and Ivy’s matching rings. This must be her grandmother, the Countess.

‘Welcome home, Karl,’ she said. She held out
her hand, her arm clad in intricate black lace, for Mr Vega to kiss.

Olivia couldn’t help noticing how her father’s face coloured. ‘It is Charles, now, Mother,’ he replied stiffly. ‘Call me Charles.’

‘Yes, of course,’ the Countess said, drawing back. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked hopefully into Charles’s face. ‘It’s good to have you back.’ Her voice was thick with emotion.

At her shoulder, the Count cleared his throat loudly and wiped his eyes. ‘Just a . . . speck of soot from the fire,’ he muttered.

‘It’s good to be back,’ Mr Vega said, after a moment. ‘Though this will all take some getting used to.’ He tried to laugh but it came out as a croak.

The Count shook his son’s hand awkwardly and then fiddled with his thick grey moustache.

There was an uncomfortable pause, until the
Countess turned to Olivia and Ivy. ‘And you must be our beautiful granddaughters. We are so happy to meet you at long, long last.’ She hurried forwards with a smile and her arms opened wide for a warm hug.

As she released them, their grandfather approached. Beneath his waxed moustache, Olivia could just see his mouth split in a grin. ‘Darling children!’ he said. Olivia shared a glance with Ivy, and then the two of them stepped into his arms. His suit rustled noisily next to their ears, and Olivia could feel the thick wool scratching her.

She took a deep breath and pulled away. Looking at the sparkling eyes of the Count and the Countess, and the smile on her sister’s face, Olivia knew Ivy was right: this was their family and even if she was different, she was sure she could still belong here.

‘Welcome home,’ said the Countess. ‘Do you like our little abode?’

Olivia found herself smiling from ear to ear. ‘It’s perfect,’ she said, gazing around. ‘Just perfect!’

‘Would you like a tour?’ the Countess said, taking each girl by the hand. Her fingers were heavy with jewellery.

Ivy hesitated before nodding. She definitely wanted to see the rest of this amazing place but she couldn’t help but notice that every time she took a step, the sound of her heels striking the floorboards echoed loudly. Too loudly?
Why can’t I just relax?
she wondered.

‘Let’s see if you can remember your way around, Kar– er, Charles,’ said the Count, slapping Mr Vega on the back and smiling.

‘Girls, this is the parlour,’ the Countess said,
opening the door to a sunny room with white and cream wallpaper, blue velvet chairs and a white baby grand piano in the corner. A delicate golden chandelier hung from the ceiling and light yellow curtains framed the tall windows.

‘Wow,’ Olivia breathed.

‘It hasn’t changed much,’ Mr Vega commented.

‘Some things have,’ the Countess said softly. ‘You see that vase?’ She turned back to the hall and pointed to a simple, tall piece of green ceramic shaped like a V on its own little table. ‘I never used to like modern pieces, but this one I could not resist.’

‘Very nice,’ Mr Vega commented. Ivy should have guessed that her grandparents would appreciate the artistic as much as her dad.

Ivy reached out to stroke the varnish – only noticing too late that her dad was bending over to peer more closely. Her elbow connected with
his nose and, with a yelp of pain, he staggered forwards, right into the vase’s table.

‘Oh no!’ gasped their grandmother as Olivia shrieked.

The vase wobbled then toppled, but Ivy managed to twist her body to the left and catch it before it hit the floor.

‘It’s OK!’ Ivy called. ‘All fine.’ Her heart was racing. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t worry.’ The Countess gingerly took the vase and placed it back on the table. ‘There we are,’ she said. ‘No damage done.’

Ivy smiled weakly.
Stake me now,
she thought.

‘Your house is so beautiful,’ Olivia said, trying to distract everyone, as they followed their grandmother further down the hall. ‘What’s wrong?’ she mouthed to Ivy when no one was watching.

Ivy shrugged. How could she tell her sister
how awkward she was feeling, when Olivia was clearly having the time of her life?

‘Thank you, my dear,’ their grandmother said, ‘but you must remember that this is your house, too.’

Ivy saw Olivia beam, but couldn’t feel the same. Not while she was walking around as gracefully as Frankenstein’s monster wearing a blindfold.

‘Here is the kitchen,’ the Countess said. She pushed through a wooden swing door to an enormous room with a low ceiling that was humming with preparations – people were chopping, slicing and dicing. Ivy counted five pots bubbling away on two stoves. A large woman with a smudge of flour on her cheek bustled over. ‘Madam,’ she said.

‘Greta, these are my grandchildren,’ said the Countess.

The woman peered at them. ‘Such skinny girls!’

‘Greta is our head chef,’ the Countess said.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Olivia and Ivy said at the same time.

‘And she makes the best beef stroganoff in Romania,’ said Mr Vega from the back of the group.

Greta gasped. ‘My mititei!’

The Count chuckled. ‘She’s always called him that,’ he said to the twins. ‘It means “little sausage”.’

Ivy couldn’t help laughing with her sister.

Greta pushed past everyone to squish Mr Vega in a hug. ‘Are you hungry? What can I make for you?’

Mr Vega laughed. ‘Nothing, Greta. Thank you. I am saving room for dinner.’

Greta clapped her big hands and hurried back to the kitchen table. She picked up a rolling pin
and waved it in the air. ‘Yes, tonight! Everything is prepared for your formal dinner this evening, Madam, including the vegetarian meal.’

‘F-formal?’ Ivy stuttered.

‘Of course, my darling,’ the Countess replied. ‘We are keen to introduce Ka– Charles back into society, and present his gorgeous daughters. Tonight is just a little dinner for thirty.’

‘Thirty!’ Ivy said. As the Countess continued to direct the staff, Ivy whispered to Olivia, ‘I didn’t know! I didn’t bring anything.’

Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Your dad did say . . .’

Ivy closed her eyes, picturing the sniggers if she came to dinner in one of her Goth outfits. She’d brought some nice clothes, but nothing
formal.
The word made her cringe.

‘Don’t worry,’ Olivia whispered. ‘You can borrow one of mine.’

Ivy sighed. Olivia had everything under
control, and Ivy couldn’t help feeling like she stuck out like cotton candy at a funeral.

‘Come, my granddaughters,’ the Countess said. ‘I shall show you to your coffin room.’

Olivia was loving every minute of their tour. Greta seemed really nice, and Olivia had already decided to call her dad a little sausage at some point.

The hallway from the kitchens opened up to a spiral staircase. Olivia guessed it must lead to one of the round towers she’d seen when they were approaching the house. Paintings of forests and castles were hung on the walls and ornate vases stood in little alcoves. As they ascended, Olivia noticed that the dark wooden hand rail had the family symbol carved into it. On the next floor, heavy scarlet curtains with golden tassels framed the window, which showed glimpses of the lake
and gardens with hedges in long curving patterns.

Olivia felt like she was on a movie set, everything was so immaculate and extravagant. That idea gave her heart a pang.
What’s Jackson doing now?
she wondered.

After the stairs had curved past four flights, Grandmother stopped at a door. ‘I thought you might like to share a suite.’

She pushed open the door to reveal two four-poster beds with billowing white curtains in the middle of an enormous attic room. A pair of large antique wardrobes faced each other and matching desks with computers were tucked into two corners. Their suitcases had already arrived.

‘It’s so beautiful!’ Olivia whispered.

‘Tessa, one of our maids, will help you with anything you may need.’ The Countess pointed to a cord near the door. ‘Just pull on this.’

‘How many people work here?’ Ivy asked.

‘Well, we have two maids, a valet, Greta the chef and one assistant, a groundskeeper and, of course, Horatio is our butler, but he’s really more like family.’ The Countess smiled. ‘And we are all going to make sure you have a wonderful time this week.’ She swept both of them up in another hug. ‘I’m just so delighted to have you here.’

She left swiftly, shutting the door behind her, and Olivia flitted from one piece of furniture to the next.

‘This totally sucks!’ Olivia exclaimed with a grin, knowing her sister would get the vampire terminology for ‘totally awesome’. ‘It’s even better than I could have imagined.’

But when she saw the look on her sister’s face, Olivia hurried to the bed where Ivy was perched.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘I stick out like a spider on a ballet shoe,’ Ivy confessed. ‘I mean, that vase . . . and did you hear
my boots clunking with every step?’

Olivia laughed. ‘Those boots make a great racket whenever you wear them – and you didn’t break the vase.’

Ivy shook her head. ‘It’s different here. They have servants! And this formal dinner . . .’

Before Olivia could stop her, Ivy unzipped her suitcase and started rifling through clothes. ‘Wrong, wrong . . . No good . . . No!’ Ivy declared pulling things out. She pulled out her sweatshirt that said ‘Do I scare you?’ with a cute little cartoon of Dracula underneath.

Olivia chuckled but Ivy wailed, ‘Why do all my clothes have stupid slogans on them?’

Olivia knelt down and gently took her sister’s hands. ‘Calm down. It’s all going to be fine. You just need to relax.’

Olivia took Ivy over to her suitcase and opened it up. She took out the garment bag
where she’d packed several nice outfits and pulled away a pink knee-length dress, a green empire waist dress and a light blue sleeveless ballerina-style skirt.

‘Those are all pretty,’ Ivy admitted. ‘But they are utterly you.’

‘Luckily . . .’ Olivia paused for dramatic effect. ‘I have this!’ Underneath the ballerina skirt was another one, darker blue and floor-length with a corset waist and cap sleeves.

Ivy reached out and tentatively stroked the embroidered hem.

‘But does it come in black?’ Ivy asked.

‘You can totally rock this dress,’ Olivia declared. ‘Black or not.’

‘OK.’ Ivy took the blue dress and held it up to her body, running her hand down the fabric. ‘You’re right.’

Ivy unzipped the dress and started to try it on,
but from her sister’s frown, Olivia could tell Ivy was still worrying.

‘Ivy, remember what you told me?’ Olivia said.

‘Don’t let the coffin bugs bite?’ she replied, zipping up the side and twirling in the mirror.

‘This is our family,’ Olivia reminded her, ‘and they are going to love us just the way we are.’

Ivy took a deep breath and Olivia could tell she was forcing her smile. ‘You’re right. They will love me just the way I am . . . while I’m wearing one of your dresses.’

How weird,
Olivia thought as she started to get ready herself.
It was supposed to be me feeling like I didn’t fit in, not Ivy.

A little less than an hour later, Ivy teetered at the top of a steep, twisting stone staircase.

How can I possibly survive this?
Ivy thought.
Four flights of stairs in these shoes
. . . The heels weren’t high, but she was used to chunky boots, not dainty slippers. She gripped the handrail and willed herself not to collapse.

In front of her, Olivia stepped confidently down the stairs in her pink dress and silver Grecian sandals.

Ivy took a first tentative step, holding up the short train of satiny fabric that trailed behind the
borrowed blue dress, and her ankle wobbled.