17 Spooktacular - My Sister the Vampire (9 page)

‘Oh, it was amaaaazing!’ she squealed into her cell phone, four feet away from Josh and the greasy gang’s table in the Meat and Greet. She was fake-wandering down the aisle
just a few inches at a time, as if she were so wrapped up in her conversation that she didn’t even realise that anyone else could hear her . . . especially the boys whose table she was
secretly aiming for. ‘I just soooo wish you could have been at Café Creative for the party, Jackson,’ she said loudly. She had to hide a wince at the rolled eyes of the customers
at the nearby table, whose conversations were being interrupted by her blasting voice.

Remember: this is what we want!
For the sake of every vamp in town, she needed as many people as possible to overhear her. So she added a happy little bounce to her next step, and
pretended not to notice the annoyed huff of the man whose foot she’d just trodden on.

‘Camilla put together the most incredible, spooky effects for Halloween!
Especially
the last one,’ she added, as she drifted to a halt by the boys’ table. ‘I
could hardly believe how real it felt. She actually rigged all the doors and windows to open on a timer at the end of the show. Everyone
totally
freaked out!’

Tipping her head to one side, she paused and faked a look of concentration, as if she were listening to “Jackson” on the other end of the phone . . . which she had actually turned
off. Then she plastered a huge smile on her face, as if Jackson had just said something wonderful.

‘I know! It was the
best
idea of yours to call in a favour with our director. That machinery he loaned Camilla for the party was unbelievable. Honestly, if I hadn’t known
better, I’d have been fooled into thinking there was a real ghost, too!’

There.
Still beaming, Olivia slipped a glance at the table next to her . . . and the smile slipped right off her face.

All five boys were hunched over games on their phones, their eyes fixed to the screens, their thumbs darting madly over the keys.

‘C’mon, c’mon . . . yes!’ Josh pumped his fist in the air. ‘I
rock
, losers!’

They didn’t hear a word I said.

Not a single person at any of the tables was paying attention to Olivia’s too-loud phone call. They’d all shut it out to focus on their own conversations, leaning towards each other
and gesturing intensely.

Crud. This isn’t working.
Apparently, not even mentioning Hollywood contacts was enough to distract ghost-hunters from their wild theories!

So much for that plan.
‘Goodbye, Jackson,’ Olivia mumbled. She slipped the cell phone back into her purse as she walked out of the Meat and Greet, her steps dragging.

Obviously, they were going to need to try even harder. Which meant it might just be time to bring in an
actual
Hollywood contact . . .

Twenty minutes later, still upset by Olivia’s failure, Ivy and the others streamed into Café Creative for a second attempt at breakfast and another desperate
brainstorming session. The café was nearly as packed as the Meat and Greet today, but Ivy was relieved to see that it wasn’t full of ghost-hunting conspiracy buffs.
Maybe the
creative atmosphere repelled them,
she thought.
Or maybe even the ghost-hunters don’t want to be in a room that might
actually
be haunted!

The café was full of busy groups working quietly on artistic projects, from friends scribbling in notebooks side-by-side, to sketch-artists and mural-painters. It was just the kind of
vibe that Lillian had envisioned for this space . . .

. . . although Ivy was pretty sure that any health inspectors would
not
be impressed by the fact that Albert was painting a watercolour only inches from his meal. Although she
didn’t envy any uppity inspectors who tried to criticise the cranky old vampire – personally, she wouldn’t dare!

Joan harrumphed as they approached her counter. ‘I hope you’re planning to actually stay and eat the food you order this time!’

Ivy saw her twin cringe at the reminder of the way they’d abandoned the café other day. ‘Sorry. I just . . . um . . .’

‘This time, we’re staying,’ Ivy assured the glowering barista. ‘Don’t worry. We’re starving! And today, I
really
need my coffee.’

While Joan pulled their pastries out from the glass display case, Reiko bounced on her toes and scanned the café as if looking for a tennis opponent she was determined to beat.
‘Right. Where are we going to sit?’

Olivia frowned as she picked up her croissant and her smoothie. ‘If we want to be able to talk in private, maybe . . . over there?’ She pointed at the far side of the room, where
there were three empty tables in a row.

‘I might have a better idea,’ Ivy said reluctantly, bracing herself.
Ivy Holmes must show no fear!
‘We should ask someone who
really
knows what’s been
going on here . . . forever!’

The other girls sighed as she pointed at Albert, but none of them argued. The museum’s caretaker might be grumpy, but he was also the best source of information in the café, and
maybe in all of Franklin Grove.

Now Ivy just had to figure out how to get him started on exactly the right old story.
At least it’s good training for becoming an investigative journalist
, she told herself.

But when she turned around, she found Olivia already standing next to the vampire caretaker, staring open-mouthed at his watercolour painting.

‘That’s the red dress . . .’ Olivia breathed. ‘That’s the girl who was sitting at my table on Halloween!’

Ivy looked over Olivia’s shoulder to see that Albert’s painting was of a girl with pinned curls, wearing a red dress exactly like the one Olivia had described on the girl she had met
at the party.

Albert’s brush stopped moving. He let out a heavy sigh. Then he looked up at Ivy’s twin, his expression pained. ‘You saw her?’ he asked. ‘If you did, I believe I
can guess exactly what she said to you that night. She asked if you had seen her sister, didn’t she?’

Olivia nodded, gulping.

Jackpot!
This was exactly the kind of information they needed. Ivy and the others all huddled around him to take in every word.

‘What can you tell us about her?’ Ivy demanded.

For the first time that she could remember, she saw a smile on Albert’s face, though it was tinged with sadness. He carefully wiped off his paintbrush. ‘That’s a long story,
I’m afraid. But it all began over a century ago, when I first met a girl named Patience Calhoun.’ He nodded meaningfully at the dark-haired girl in his painting, lowering his voice to a
whisper.

‘I’ve been keeping this to myself for far too long. I didn’t even mention it to the others at the meeting because – well, I couldn’t bear to bring it up. But since
it sounds like . . .’ Ivy saw disbelief in the old vampire’s eyes, just for a moment. Then he nodded, as if making a decision. ‘. . . yes, since Olivia might actually have met
Patience herself . . .’

He picked up his cup of tea, but he didn’t take a sip, his expression weary as he cradled the full cup in both hands. ‘The girls’ father, Cornelius Calhoun, was a wealthy
merchant from the South. He often travelled for business, and would take Patience and Hope with him to broaden their horizons. They must have moved up here when they were about your age. One
autumn, Cornelius’s business took him all the way across the ocean to England. The girls were both terribly excited about the sights they would see there. Unfortunately, when the time came
for their departure, Mrs Calhoun was too sick to travel. She couldn’t stay at home by herself, so one of the twins had to stay behind and look after their mother. After a great deal of
discussion, it was decided that Patience would stay, and Hope would go with Cornelius.’

Oh, ouch
. Ivy had already heard the basics of this story from Camilla, but hearing the details now, in Albert’s trembling whisper, felt so much worse. ‘They never came back,
did they?’ she said quietly.

‘Never.’ Albert’s lips compressed into a thin line for a moment before he managed to continue. ‘In those days, of course, the journey was by ship, not by plane, and the
sea was occasionally . . . unkind.’ His face tightened again and he lifted one hand to brush quickly at his left eye, which seemed to be sparkling oddly.

Is he actually crying?
Ivy would never have imagined it of the crotchety old vampire. ‘How well did you know the girls?’ she asked, her voice softening.

‘Better than anyone realised,’ he replied. ‘I was a youngster myself when this tragedy happened, and we kept our friendship secret.’

‘Ahhh,’ Sophia said knowingly. ‘The rich girls’ parents didn’t want them mixing with an ordinary boy?’

‘That wasn’t it at all.’ Albert’s shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. ‘No, by my family’s particular standards, the Calhoun twins were far more ordinary than
us, simply because they were human. It was
my
parents who discouraged me from getting too close to either of them, for fear of putting our secret at risk. They didn’t understand . .
.’ He broke off, shaking his head.

Ivy felt a twist of sympathy. Her own bunny twin was already reaching out to take Albert’s hand, and – astonishingly – Albert didn’t pull it away.

Ivy tried to make her voice gentle as she asked the question she couldn’t avoid: ‘Do you really think Patience’s ghost is haunting Franklin Grove? Camilla’s done some
research, and there’s a pattern of strange things happening at Halloween. And now with what went on at the party . . .’

Albert nodded. ‘Clearly, your sister met Patience – she never got over losing her twin. Her spirit must ache with the loss . . .’

Instinctively, Ivy looked to her own twin. Olivia was still clasping Albert’s hand in both of hers, but she was gazing at Ivy, her face stricken.

How would either of them keep going if they lost each other? Ivy couldn’t bear to imagine it.

Gradually, though, the sound of Albert’s voice trickled back into her awareness.

‘. . . and as for the timing, Hope was supposed to return home at the end of October that year. The girls planned to celebrate their delayed fourteenth birthday party on the day of
Halloween itself. It was their tradition that they always took tea in the grounds of their house together on their birthday, just the two of them. Patience had already chosen Hope’s birthday
present, months ahead of time. She couldn’t wait to give it to her. But of course Hope never arrived for her birthday tea that year – and Patience never celebrated another birthday
again.’

‘I
’m sorry,’ Olivia said, as her vamp friends took in Albert’s story. ‘I really have to go.
Now
.’ She
turned and hurried away from the table, leaving the vampires to debate their theories. She felt terrible for leaving, but her thoughts were making her heart heavy.

How would I feel if Ivy went away, but never came home?

Taking a deep breath, Olivia stepped back into the long, echoing hallway that led out of the museum. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the button to call Camilla.
There. Keeping an eye
on my best friend for the vamps’ sake has to be a lot less sad than going ghost-hunting with Ivy and the others! Maybe I can talk Camilla into just watching old romantic comedies with me for
a while.

When Camilla answered her phone, though, she sounded out of breath, and the sounds of honking car horns blared in the background. ‘Olivia! I was just heading out.’

So much for a quiet movie afternoon.
Olivia frowned as she stepped through the museum’s big front door, blinking against the bright autumn sunlight. ‘Where are you
going?’

‘The park,’ Camilla said.

Whew.
Olivia’s shoulders relaxed.
That sounds safe.
‘Are you filming something new there?’ she asked brightly.

‘Nope. I’m
investigating.
’ Camilla lowered her voice to an intense whisper. ‘Believe it or not, our local park is exactly where the old Calhoun house was once
located!’

Oh, no. More ghost-hunting!
Olivia bit back a sigh, her steps slowing down. ‘Camilla, it’s just a park. The house isn’t even there any more. What exactly do you think
you’re going to find?’