The Knaveheart's Curse
Page 10
“They were in Lullaby’s lost and found,” said Lisi. “I saw your initials on the bottom in purple Magic Marker. I figured you might want ’em back.” She shrugged. “People get attached to their sneaks.”
“Hey, thanks.” Maddy slipped them on. Maybe Lisi wasn’t all bad. Maybe she’d even be a good candidate for helping Maddy to create future Boxes of Disgusting. After all, those Elcris shoe boxes were everywhere.
“By the way, your sister’s sneakers stink,” added Adam to Hudson. “She should come down to Elcris Shoe Emporium for a new pair.”
“Finally, an original thought. Keep ’em coming, squirt.” Hudson slapped Adam on the back as he led them all to the dining room. “Lunch is this way. Buffet style.”
When Orville showed up a little later, in human form as Mr. Schnur, he tipped a ghostly Lupo the Wolf off his chair and promptly seated himself and his full plate next to Maddy. Ugh. Now she couldn’t gulp the drowsy housefly that had been buzzing around the fruit bowl center-piece.
Orville must have noticed her hungry eyes on the insect. “Good job releasing your sister from that Knave, Maddy. But don’t lose sight of the reason why you came to the New World. If you want to be mortal, you must banish your vestigial vampire traits. Like bloodthirst.”
Maddy nodded, but when Orville wasn’t looking, she caught the fly with her tongue, sucked out the blood, then spit the buggy leftovers into her napkin. After all, she was a slayer of purebloods and a Knave hunter. And right now she wasn’t sure she was ready to give up those titles in the name of plain old vanilla mortality.
After lunch, Carlyle asked the band to play one of their songs. “I prefer opera, but I do want to hear something modern—if it’s not too tedious.”
Dakota’s dad picked up his clarinet. “I’ll play along.” “Wonderful!” said their mother, though the mortals all looked at her strangely, since she seemed to be speaking to a mirror propped against an empty chair.
Maddy herself could only see the faintest outline of Dakota’s dad, but she could find him easily in the music that wafted through the air, audible to all, as he played a scale and then accompanied the Dead Ringers through a few of their new tunes.
“Hex, you should give Dakota’s dad that clarinet,” Maddy suggested to her sister. “Especially now that you’ve decided to take up . . .” She tried not to roll her eyes. “The harp.”
“Ooh, that reminds me.” Lexie jumped up and ran off, returning with her newest instrument. She plucked a few notes. “I just learned a very tragic song called ‘Running Water.’ Wanna hear?”
“Of course, darling,” chorused her parents.
“Not really,” said Maddy.
“Supportive!” Pete reminded as Lexie tuned up.
“‘Once victim, always victim,’” Maddy quoted back. “That’s what Lexie says when the same horrible thing happens over and over. For example, like Lexie continuing to believe that she’s musically gifted.”
On her one side, Dakota giggled.
On her other side, Lisi passed the huckleberry pie. “Get some before Adam goes for thirds. If he eats any more, he might turn into a huckleberry himself.”
“Thanks.” As Maddy took a slice, she realized—here she was, at the end of the summer, sitting between her two friends. Real friends, not imaginary ones. And not just for a day, since Dakota and Lisi had decided Maddy’s bedroom was gruesome enough for a spooky haunted house sleepover. (Whatever that meant. So far, all the ghosts Maddy knew were pretty tame.)
But no friend could have replaced her sister. Maddy’s eyes itched to think about how close she’d been to losing Lex. Even now, the von Krik necklace that sparkled around Lexie’s throat was a reminder that she needed protection against shifting under a stronger vampire’s influence. Thankfully, Carlyle had agreed to let Maddy trade it back for Hudson’s vintage Russian costume. Of course, Crud still didn’t know about that.
“Running water, running water. Where are you running from?” sang Lexie in her fruity, not-that-good voice. “You always seem to be on the run.”
And the guests and ghosts all nodded along, in the spirit of the tune.
MADDY’S
STRENGTH DOUBLER
A Guaranteed Energy Boost for Vampires,
Humans, and Horses*
In a juicer add:
1 large, violet beet
1 parsnip
½ bitter turnip
½ cup cranberries
1 whole cup blueberries
1 bunch kale
1 bunch bok choy
1 red cabbage
2 large celery stalks
3 rutabagas
After these vegetables and fruits have been juiced, pour the juice in a blender and add:
2 tbsp. powdered vitamins
2 tbsp. wheat germ
1 tbsp. gelatin
1 tsp. cod liver oil
1 tsp. cinnamon for flavor
1 tsp. Tabasco sauce for kick**
Transfer into a bowl. Refrigerate overnight. Delicious! Double your energy!
*If planning to feed this to a horse,
substitute wheat germ with carrots or apples.
**Desiccated moth wings not recommended.
Lexie’s
LATEST LIST OF THE BRILLIANT AND (OCCASIONALLY) DOOMED
Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) “The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent / to be lost that their loss is no disaster.”
Jeff Buckley (1966-1997) “This is our last goodbye / I hate to feel the love between us die / But it’s over / Just hear this and then I’ll go / You gave me more to live for than you’ll ever know.”
Tess Durbeyfield / Tess of the D’Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) “Once victim, always victim—that’s the law!”
Johannes Ewald (1743-1781) “Then champions to thine arms were sent / Terror and Death glared where he went / From the waves was heard a wail that rent / Thy murky sky!”
Billie Holiday (1915-1959) “Life’s dreary for me / Days seem to be long as years / I’ve looked for the sun / But can see none / Through my tears.”
Daniel Johnston (1961- ) “Running water / Running water / Where are you running from? / You always seem to be on the run!”
Elliott Smith (1969-2003) “Do you miss me miss misery / Like you say you do?”
Timid Frieda / “Timid Frieda,” by Jacques Brel (1929- 1978) “Timid Frieda, If you see her / On the street where the future gathers / Just let her be her, let her play in / The broken times of sand.”
Dr. Yuri Zhivago / Dr. Zhivago, by Boris Pasternak (1890-1960) “The more we love, the more the object of our love seems to be a victim.”
Hudson Livingstone’s Book Report
VLAD THE IMPALER AND DANIEL BOONE: A COMPARATIVE BIOGRAPHY
Wilderness explorer Daniel Boone was born in 1734, near Reading, Pennsylvania, many centuries after, and on an entirely different continent from, nobleman Vlad Tepes, who was born in 1431 in a high fortress overlooking Sighisoara, Romania, Old World.
As a lad, Daniel Boone befriended Native New Worlders. He enjoyed learning the ways and habits of wild animals, though he was just as quick to kill them with his spears. Young Boone soon became a rifle-carrying huntsman. In contrast, young Vlad soon learned the ways and habits of angry mobs when his brother was blinded by warring Turks, who stuck hot pokers into his eyes before they buried him alive.
After Boone served in the French and Indian War, he returned home to marry his beloved, Rebecca Bryan. Together they built a modest homestead. Vengeful longtime bachelor Vlad never stopped fighting the Turks, and eventually he and his army took over Hungaria. Once Vlad had established leadership, he conscripted a thousand of his slaves to build the fearsome Castle Dracul. After the slaves’ hard work, Vlad ordered them all to be impaled, and he displayed their heads on his spiked gates.
A dedicated explorer, Daniel Boone had plenty of friends and shared adventures with them. He and his comrades explored Kentucky all the way
to the Falls of the Ohio. On another trip, Boone tracked the Kentucky River to its mouth. A dedicated tyrant, Vlad’s army terrorized and pillaged whenever they got the chance. He loved conquering new land, and he took pleasure in causing misery to his foes through torture. Among his gruesome means of murder : boiling, beheading, scalping, hanging, and, of course, burying alive.
Boone left the Bluegrass in 1788, moving into uncharted West Virginia. Many years later, he decided to explore the Missouri region. Lore has it that as he paddled his canoe downriver, somebody asked him why he was leaving Kentucky. “Too crowded!” quipped the prospector. Vlad’s exploits also earned him a nickname, “Dracula,” meaning “Son of the Dragon.” Stories of his reign became legend. But all horrifying eras must end, and eventually Vlad was driven from power.
Boone died peacefully at the age of eighty-five. He was buried beside his wife in Missouri. Twenty-five years later, the couple’s bodies were brought back to the Bluegrass and laid to rest in Frankfort Cemetery, where you can visit their graves today. Vlad’s last chapter was not so lucky. Without a throne or any more peasants to kill, his hunger for blood caused him to go insane. He was assassinated in 1476, and his corpse was decapitated by one of his many enemies. Nobody knows exactly where this dreadful Knaveheart is buried, and his coffin has never been found.