Olivia typed the web address to Jackson’s Journal, the online blog he kept as a continuation of his bestselling book from earlier that year. He had probably only had time to jot a couple of lines of updates: Such-and-such city is great! The movie’s good! I’m too exhausted to move!
The page loaded and, instead, Olivia was greeted with high-res photos of European landmarks. And not just any landmarks – romantic landmarks. There he was at the Eiffel Tower; and here he was lounging in the grass in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He must have been taking a trip around Europe. Below each picture, he’d written long passages of text describing the sights and his thoughts about them.
Bonjour from the Tour d’Eiffel! Here I am in the City of Light and Love and may I just say: I’m totally digging it! Nicknamed the ‘Iron Lady’, the Eiffel Tower is even cooler up close than it is in pictures . . .
Olivia’s jaw dropped. These blog posts had obviously taken a long time to put together – but he couldn’t come up with a few minutes to write her one measly email! She felt her chest throb.
She shook herself. Where were these feelings coming from? And why was it that she almost didn’t want him to have a good time? She knew it was silly, but she’d somehow feel better if she knew he was missing her at least a little. But noooo . . . She did a mental eye-roll. He’s off being Mr Big Movie Star and probably can’t even remember if I spell my last name with one ‘b’ or two.
She punched the power button and the screen went black. ‘I can be busy as well, Jackson,’ Olivia said as the tears began to well up in her eyes and clog her throat. She shoved back from the desk and marched to the door, pulling it open and colliding with Charles, who was passing on the landing. She stumbled backwards, starting to fall, but Charles snatched out a hand with vampire quickness to stop her.
‘That was a close one,’ he said, patting her shoulder.
‘It was a little painful.’ Olivia rubbed her forehead whilst trying to smile. Bumping into a vampire was like walking into a brick wall.
Charles chuckled. ‘My apologies, Olivia.’
She felt her head. She didn’t want a big, fat bump messing up the hair style she had planned for the wedding. ‘Do you know where Ivy’s gone?’
Charles adjusted his thin red tie and brushed the lapel of his navy blazer. ‘She’s out with your grandmother this morning.’ Olivia didn’t need to be told any more. It had to be Wallachia stuff – one more thing to give her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
It was starting to feel . . . real. Ivy might not be coming back to Franklin Grove with her. First Jackson and now her twin. It seemed like everyone was leaving her.
‘You’re welcome to join Lillian and me for breakfast out on the terrace,’ her bio-dad offered.
Olivia rubbed her temples, trying to erase the sad thoughts. ‘Thanks, but I think I’m going to skip breakfast and get some work done while Ivy’s away.’
Charles frowned. ‘It’s first thing in the morning. What is there to be done for your article?’
Olivia laughed at his bewilderment. ‘There is a wedding happening tomorrow in this house. And that means that somewhere in this ginormous mansion, there is some craziness happening; some task that needs some organising.’
Charles looked thoughtful. ‘You’re right. Weddings can take a lot of organising. The outfits, the wedding favours, the music for the first dance . . .’
Olivia shook her head. Since when has he been thinking about all this sort of stuff?
‘Here we are.’ Ivy’s grandmother kissed her cheek. ‘I will leave you to it. This decision has to be yours and yours alone. I don’t want you to feel as if I’m hovering over you, pressuring you one way or the other.’ She peered at Ivy from underneath an elegant, wide-brimmed hat.
Ivy gazed up at the towering iron gates of Wallachia Academy. The Countess had crept into Ivy’s room early that morning and rapped on her coffin. Apparently her grandmother didn’t know about her strict policy against activities pre-9 a.m. After Ivy had bolted down a quick breakfast of plasma pancakes, Horatio had driven the two of them here. Now she was completely overwhelmed by the spindly turrets and stone gargoyles of the old, Gothic buildings.
Large bats and a thorny rose-stem design were carved into the wrought-iron gates, supported by two massive pillars. In the middle was the same crest Ivy had been obsessing over every day on her computer – two bats on either side of a blood-red shield. Ivy felt like she was dreaming. After imagining it and thinking about it almost constantly, here she was, actually at Wallachia.
Should I go or should I not? That had been the persistent question on Ivy’s mind, and this visit was the biggest step yet towards making that decision.
Ivy squeezed her grandmother’s hand. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said. ‘And I promise to give it a fair chance.’
The Countess smiled. ‘That’s all I ask.’
The gates creaked as they were dragged open by a tall, spooky vampire in a dark-grey suit, who looked like he might have been related to Horatio. Here goes nothing. Ivy waved one last goodbye to the Countess and Horatio – who showed no sign of recognising the spooky vampire – before stepping inside. The campus was quiet and peaceful, like a fancy cemetery without the headstones. Pristine emerald lawns stretched as far as she could see, and neatly raked gravel crunched beneath her feet on the drive. Flags bearing the school motif fluttered from the towers and the mullioned windows winked in the sunlight. This place makes Franklin Grove look cheap and nasty! she thought, remembering how impressed Olivia had been when she’d first seen the school’s ivy-covered pillars back at home. Wallachia Academy was off the scale.
Ivy suddenly felt very self-conscious in her jeans and black T-shirt. Perhaps I should have gone with my wrap dress, after all . . .
‘Welcome to Wallachia Academy, Miss Vega,’ said Horatio Two. ‘I trust you will enjoy your visit.’ If only Olivia were here! She would have been super-scared of the old-school vamp. Ivy felt a stab of sorrow. This was an area of her life that Olivia would never be able to be a part of.
Ivy forced the thought out of her mind. She had promised her grandmother she would put her best foot forward. Forcing an Olivia-style smile on her face, she continued up the impossibly long and curving walkway that led to the main building.
‘Wallachia Academy was founded by Vladimir Ivanov, the longest-living vampire of all time.’ Horatio Two trailed one step behind her, reciting the school’s history. They passed a large stone sculpture of a stern-looking vampire riding a stately-looking horse. ‘The Academy,’ he continued, ‘has produced some of the finest vampire thespians, artists and Nobel laureates. In fact, it was right here under this very stone archway that Shakespeare wrote his first sonnet.’
‘Shakespeare was a vampire?’ Ivy spluttered.
Horatio Two leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘In an early draft of Romeo and Juliet, the Montagues were based on a very well-regarded family here in Transylvania.’ Woah! Just wait until I tell Sophia, Ivy thought. She’ll be amazed! Then Ivy’s heart sank a little bit – she had no idea when she’d be seeing her friend next. Ivy felt cast adrift without her old friends, and so far she had no new friends at all.
The sound of their footsteps echoed on the black-and-white marble floors as Horatio Two led Ivy inside to a cavernous reception area.
‘You may have a seat, Miss Vega.’ He gestured to a row of what Ivy could only describe as thrones. At least, they were the plushest chairs she had ever seen in a waiting room. ‘Your guide will be with you shortly.’
Ivy climbed on to one of the red velvet chairs, feet dangling awkwardly. The room was deadly silent and Ivy took the opportunity to look around. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling and a full-sized coat of armour stood guarding the doorway. Ivy felt very small and – worse – she realised she was slouching in the swanky chair. One does not slouch one’s body in such elegant surroundings! Ivy thought, practising her best Wallachia-appropriate way of talking. She sat up straight, tappi
ng her fingers on the chair’s slick mahogany arm, then went back to slouching. She would sit how she liked – fancy room or not! Ivy sighed, shaking her head. Maybe she was overreacting. She had almost started an argument . . . with herself . . . in an empty room . . .
Talk about over-thinking things!
But she was still confused about the entire situation. She wanted to know more about her vampire self, but she definitely didn’t want to have the ‘Ivy’ beaten out of her.
‘I heard you were visiting today.’ Ivy jumped in her seat, turning to the door in time to see Petra slinking inside.
Instantly, Ivy felt better – more positive. ‘Are you going to be my guide?’
Petra wore a pristine, classical-style school uniform, one that Ivy was not looking forward to wearing. The whole red pleated skirt and knee-high sock thing was so not her style. Petra grinned wickedly. ‘I will be . . . in a minute.’
Just then, a receptionist with a tight bun and shiny black shoes clacked into the waiting room carrying a clipboard. ‘Ivy Vega?’ she asked.
Before Ivy could respond, Petra was skipping her way over to the woman. ‘Miss Dina,’ she said sweetly. ‘Excuse me, but there’s been a slight change of plan.’ She reached over and pointed to a spot on Miss Dina’s clipboard. ‘Ursula can’t make it and she asked me to take today’s tour. Is that all right?’
Ivy held her breath. She realised from the way Petra grinned a moment ago that her new friend was probably lying. But Miss Dina just scribbled something on her clipboard and said, ‘Very well. Make sure to have Miss Vega back on time, please.’ If lying were a sport, Petra would be a professional! She managed to get one past an adult vamp!
Petra winked at Ivy. ‘Follow me,’ she said, beckoning with one finger. Ivy sprang out of the chair and followed Petra through the great double doors and out into an arching hallway with flickering lanterns.
Maybe this place wouldn’t beat the ‘Ivy’ out of her. Petra still seemed to have plenty of personality. Even if a part of that personality happened to be a talent for telling lies.
Olivia leaned against the massive doorway of the Great Hall in the Lazars’ home. She remembered the Valentine’s Ball from earlier in the year. The hall had been decorated with deep red roses and candles that cast a romantic glow throughout the room, but the most memorable part of the evening had been when her bio-dad had been reconciled with his parents after years of not speaking. Tomorrow, it would be the scene of the wedding of Prince Alex and soon-to-be-Princess Tessa. Olivia tried to imagine what it would look like once all the preparations were finished.
She nervously inched inside, watching the servants arrange the rows of chairs and polish the huge black vases that lined the aisle, waiting to be filled with flowers.
A statuesque woman stood in the centre of it all, waving her hands like a conductor. ‘No, not there!’ she directed. ‘Move it over five centimetres; five centimetres precisely.’ She pointed to one of the vases. ‘No, not like that. Oh, here, let me do it.’ The terrified servant scurried out of her way.
She must be the wedding planner, thought Olivia. But she’s dressed like she’s going to a funeral. Olivia studied the vampire’s tailored black suit. A very expensive funeral!
Suddenly, the woman span around. ‘You!’ She singled out Olivia. ‘Are you with the caterer?’ Olivia straightened, shaking her head. ‘No? Then what are you doing here?’
‘Um . . .’ She held up the camera she was carrying around her neck. ‘I’m the guest photographer for VAMP magazine and, well, my sister and I are doing a big feature on the vampire royal wedding. I wondered if I could take some photos. We want to chronicle the massive effort everyone’s putting into getting things ready for the big day.’ Before the wedding planner could protest, Olivia added, ‘Oh, and I totally agree. The vase looks better there. You have a great eye!’
The corners of the woman’s mouth twitched. ‘I guess I don’t see why not – as long as you keep out of the way.’
‘Great!’ Olivia said. ‘You won’t even know I’m here. I promise.’ She stepped back, but in doing so nearly tipped over a vase. Olivia gasped, managing to steady it just in time. The woman lifted an eyebrow. ‘Starting now!’ Olivia squeaked, feeling her shoulders hunch up to her ears. She retreated slowly to an unpopulated corner of the hall.
The wedding planner huffed, saying something to a servant nearby. OK, lady, Olivia thought, I might not have vampire super-hearing, but I’m not blind!
An older woman with frizzy grey hair approached the wedding planner, toting a large wicker basket. Olivia recognised her from the big greenhouse yesterday – it was Horatio’s crush! And she had quite the green thumb, it seemed. Olivia marvelled at the flowers overflowing from the basket. The woman had grown some extra special ones for the occasion, it seemed. Olivia held the viewfinder up to her eye and zoomed in for a better look. They truly were spectacular, so much so that she didn’t even recognise the different types of flowers. She stared at the purple, magenta, cream and aqua hues. They weren’t like roses or daffodils or lilies. They weren’t like anything she had ever seen. Not that Olivia was surprised. With all those hundreds of years’ practice, vampires were advanced at practically everything they did – even horticulture!
The wedding planner pinched a stem between two fingers and twirled it in front of her nose. ‘No.’ She tossed that one over her shoulder and selected a different flower. ‘No.’ A flurry of petals, like a rainbow storm, fell on to the floor. ‘No, no, no! Too much colour!’ she screamed, accidentally stomping on a gorgeous amethyst bloom. ‘These are entirely wrong! Don’t come back until you have something suitable.’ She shooed the gardener away and Olivia felt her eyes grow wide. She must really be out-of-touch with vampire fashion because she thought those flowers had been absolutely stunning! The gardener lifted her chin, snatched back her basket and strode off. Olivia felt bad for her – she could bet it took months to cultivate such perfect blooms.
‘Excuse me, Madam?’ A servant girl in a white frock tapped the wedding planner’s arm. ‘Where will the band be positioned? We would like to clear a space.’
The wedding planner tugged at the ends of her hair. ‘Band? There will be no band!’ She rested her forehead in her palm and shook her head vigorously. When she resurfaced, her face was so pink it looked as if she’d run a mile. ‘There will be exactly one pianist – there – in the corner.’ Olivia was relieved when the woman didn’t single out her corner. ‘Simple and direct.’ The wedding planner gave a short nod. ‘None of this grand nonsense everyone does at weddings. We may be vampires, but that does not mean we need to be over-the-top.’
Olivia wanted to tell her that it sort of did. They were, after all, hosting the wedding of the century – in a mansion. This was not the time to be skimping with one measly pianist!
‘Besides,’ the woman went on, pursing her lips, ‘for youngsters like Alex and Tessa, this will simply be their first wedding. They can go over-the-top with their second and third ones!’
Olivia gasped. Of all the people to be so cynical, it was the wedding planner? By rights she ought to be one of the most romantic people on earth. In fact, thought Olivia, her face growing hot, she should be making every effort to ensure that this is the most wonderful day ever for Alex and Tessa. She’s acting more like a Wedding Witch than a Wedding Planner!
And if the Wedding Witch got her way, Tessa and Alex would be getting married in a blandly decorated Great Hall with only one man on the piano to serenade them. Now, Olivia knew her taste was skewed a little pinker than the rest of the vampire world’s, but no colour at all? She glanced at the crushed petals on the floor. At this rate, there were going to be no flowers at this wedding whatsoever. That’s about as wrong as wearing socks with sandals! And wait, Tessa had even said she wanted the wedding day to be filled with flowers!
It was time for Olivia to do something. She took a step out from her corner, planning to give her opinion as diplomatically as possible, when she felt a soft tou
ch on her shoulder. She jumped. It was one of the servants, tall and ghostly pale, with a fabulous bright-red pixie haircut that Olivia knew she could never have pulled off. The vampire looked young – though it was hard for Olivia to tell an adult vampire’s age – and she held a spool of black satin ribbon that she’d been looping along the hall’s walls.
‘Don’t get involved,’ the vampire said. ‘Trust me.’
Olivia double-checked that the wedding planner was still ranting away so that she could whisper without fear of being overheard. ‘But someone has to stop her or else she’s going to ruin everything. Why is she even a wedding planner if she hates romance so much?’
The Pixie Vampire leaned closer. ‘She’s not usually like this.’
Olivia looked back at the wedding planner. The black clothes, the sombre decorations, the lone pianist – she seemed to be taking anything romantic and doing the exact opposite . . . as if she was making a statement . . .
‘What’s the wedding planner’s name?’ she asked Pixie Vampire, feeling an idea bubbling in her brain.
‘Her name’s Lucia. But I’m telling you, if you get in her way, she’ll eat you for breakfast.’ Pixie Vampire sniffed Olivia. ‘With you, maybe literally.’
Olivia shuddered. It wasn’t easy being the only human in a room full of vampires. Olivia took a breath and walked up the aisle. She gently linked her arm through Lucia’s stony vampire arm, drawing her close. ‘I love your idea for the lone pianist,’ she said. ‘It’s just so classy. And who can argue with the timeless appeal of black?’ Lucia gave a thin smile, bowing her head graciously. ‘But do you think that you’re in danger of making the day look slightly . . . mournful? Lone pianists always remind me of that film where the actress plays a heartbroken woman, sitting on her own in the ball room where she was due to get married.’ She looked long and hard at Lucia. ‘It must be awful for someone to feel like that.’
10 Date with Destiny - My Sister the Vampire Page 5