Vampire Island (10 page)

“How about both of you go together?” suggested Maddy. “If this is my grim destiny, let’s get it over and done with.”

“Good idea,” said the von Kriks in unison.

Maddy sat up straight and closed her eyes. Disappointed as she was to be so heartlessly tricked, she knew that an expert vampire bite was not nearly as painful as falling off the top of a building or being struck by lightning—both of which had happened to her, and had taken quite a while to recover from.

Each Krik leaned forward and sunk fangs into her neck. A tingling filled Maddy’s body. It was as if her veins were being filled with dense liquid that was making her strong and powerful. Was she devoured yet? Because, really, it wasn’t at all bad. So nice that at first Maddy didn’t notice the humming in her ears.

“Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!”

“Arright, I’m sure I taste great. You don’t have to rub it in,” muttered Maddy.

“Mmmmm! Mmmmmm!”

Maddy opened her eyes. A whorl of fur, a whir of wings, a flash of dark, dancing eyes—hey, she knew that bat! But how had Hudson managed to transform by day?

Both von Kriks had detached from her and were now ducking and reeling around the room to avoid a Hudson-the-bat attack. But something else was wrong with them. Why were they clutching at their throats? Why were they gargling and choking?

Nigel staggered backward and crooked a finger on her.

“You got us—again!” he wheezed, and then his finger fell off, dropping from his hand like a stick of chalk and breaking apart like a grotesque buttercrumbly as it landed on the carpet.

Maddy gaped. As he’d spoken, Nigel’s face, wan and waxen, had cracked like a china cup into a thousand pieces. She turned to see a duplicate horror as a brittle and splintering Nicola dropped into a chair.

“Your blood…too sweet…,” cawed Nicola faintly, and then, before Maddy’s disbelieving eyes, she collapsed. Joint by joint, tiny flakes of Nicola broke off and crumbled to fine powder. All that was left was a pile of dust, upon which rested her glittering black beaded necklace. With a groan and a soft
phuff,
Nigel dropped next, as if a trapdoor had opened beneath his feet.

By this time, Hudson had flown from the room, and the music had stopped. Snooks appeared in the door. “Suppose I ought to find a broom and dustpan.”

“How’d I do that?” Maddy inched her tray forward for a better look at the soft mound of hair, clothes, dust, and linen napkins that had once been von Kriks.

“Not sure, but…” Snooks dropped to kneel before her. “I am now at your service, little shrimp. And I hope you’ll give me more time off for holidays than those cheap Kriks.”

“No problem,” said Maddy. “But if that’s really the way the cookie crumbles, then you can start by figuring out how to unstick me from this tray and handing me that black bead necklace. Chop-chop.”

Lexie

L
exie was honestly shocked. “You mean the thermos was full of holy water?” She wrinkled her nose. “I only used it because I found it in the fridge and it was cold.”

“Looks like that water you gave Maddy helped to save her life.” Hudson stretched his bony arms to touch the lip of the cracked porcelain tub. The three Livingstone kids were all hanging upside down and side by side from the shower rod in one of the many moldy bathrooms of the old von Krik house.

“It wasn’t all me. You were brave, sis,” said Lexie generously. “You probably thought you were done for. You must have felt so alone.”

“Oh, I had some extra help,” said Maddy with a secret smile at Hudson. “Anyway, all’s well that ends well, since the Argos gave us the deed to this perfectly fantastic townhouse.”

“Mmm,” Lexie answered.

Their parents had explained to Lexie and Hudson that Maddy saw the von Krik house differently from the rest of them. “There are some vampires who can see deeper into the past, at how things used to look. Instead of the way they are today,” their father had explained. Which meant what Maddy viewed as a stunningly beautiful townhouse, the other Livingstones saw for what it really was—a dark, dank, leaky, creaky, dreary old hunk of stone.

Lexie wasn’t sure she’d ever feel comfortable in it, but rules were rules. The battered parcel that came in the mail last week from the Old World had not only contained Maddy’s ruby-and-gold-dagger slayer’s pin but also the official transfer deed of the von Krik property to the Livingstones.

“I’m glad the Argos and the Old World ruled that your double-slay was self-defense,” their mother had said, pinning the pin on a proud Maddy. “And I have to admit, I do like being a home owner better than renting. Though you’ll never stop worrying me, Madison.”

Lexie left it to her parents to admire Maddy’s courage, but her own fruit blood curdled in apprehension. The von Krik victory had made Maddy brave, and a tiny bit of their puncture-wound blood now coursed through her. Lexie worried that it wouldn’t be long before her sister targeted her next victim.

Meanwhile, moving—even moving across the street—meant lots of work, especially since the Livingstone parents had decided to send Snooks away on a monthlong Fiesta Cruise. When they weren’t scrubbing at rot and fungus, or mopping the dust-carpeted floors, the kids were hang-and-stretch testing all the coat racks and the closet, shower, and curtain rods. It was a solid house with lots of nooks for hiding and swooping and roosting. And no amount of scrub and polish could get rid of the smell, not even for the special occasion of their parents’ three hundred ninety-fifth wedding anniversary, which was now also a housewarming party and their first-ever big celebration in the New World.

The smell of the Old World, mused Lexie as she walked inside, back from yet another errand to the Candlewick Café. Like the coffins we used to sleep in. Wet wood and mildew and stale ale. And ghosts, too. Though she hadn’t met one yet, she could smell them creeping around, quiet as cockroaches, waiting for the right opportunity to reveal themselves.

“‘The Spirits of the dead, who stood In Life before thee, are again, In death, around thee,’” Lexie quoted out loud, hoping to conjure a couple as she joined her mother, who was in the kitchen scooping cantaloupe and honeydew melon balls for her signature seven-fruit salad.

“Careful,” said her mother, taking the Candlewick bags. “We’ve got enough company coming without needing to raise up a bunch of ghosts.”

“Speaking of company, now that we’ve got all this room, I say we invite some pigeons to live in the attic,” Lexie suggested. “And maybe some nice mice, too?”

Her mother shook her head no. “Stray critters are too tempting for your sister. We have to keep watch on her appetite. Too much protein in Maddy’s diet isn’t safe.”

“Mom, why is Maddy so lethal? It doesn’t make sense.” Lexie shook her head over the question that had been stuck in it all week. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s my full-blood sister.”

Her mother said nothing, but was scooping melon balls double-time. When Lexie glanced at her out of the side cracks of her eyes, her mother looked tense.

“Your sister, Madison,” she began softly, “is not—” And then the doorbell rang. “Our first guests!” Her mother dropped the melon scooper and patted her hair. “How do I look?”

“Great.” Although ever since Hudson had requested that the family please cut down using the dry cleaner’s on account of their environmentally damaging chemicals, their father had taken on the chore of ironing the family clothes. As a result, the laundry was either scorched or wrinkly. Today, her mother’s shirt was little bit of both. But Lexie didn’t have the heart to say anything.

“I hope everyone likes fruit and veggies and soy.” Her mother looked at the decorative platters of vegan food, some homemade and some from Candlewick.

“Of course they will. I’ll get the door.” Lexie took off the apron that protected her new dress. She had found it in her favorite thrift shop. The lace scratched, but she thought it looked unfreakish and undoomed and party-perfect.

“Mr. Apple!” Lexie smiled as she opened the creaky front door. “Come on in.”

Her former fourth-grade teacher beamed. “Look at you, Lexie. All grown up.” Behind Mr. Apple was Hudson’s entire class. Each child was holding an item of fruit. None of them looked happy to be there.

“Holy trick-or-treat, is this a real-live Halloween house or what?” hissed one of kids.

“Haunted,” whispered another. “Definitely haunted.”

A redheaded girl thrust a cantaloupe into Lexie’s arms. “We heard that if we didn’t come, Hudson’s
other
sister would eat our eyeballs with a knife and fork and salt and pepper.”

“Or skin us alive,” piped up another fourth-grader.

“Or chop off our toes and feed them to ducks,” whispered another.

“Now, where would you get a silly idea like that?” Lexie shook her head. “Maddy would never do such terrible things. Follow me, and I’ll show you why you have nothing to worry about.”

The class dragged in. “See?” Lexie pointed out her sister, who sat at the piano, smiling and playing “Moonlight Sonata” and looking very lovely, Lexie decided, in her robin’s egg blue uniform and new black glass bead necklace. Too bad she had blown it with the real Elf Scouts. Now Lexie crossed her fingers to protect herself from the white lie she needed to tell to set all fourth-grade minds at ease. “Maddy’s an Elf Scout. That means she made an official vow to be thoughtful, helpful, and kind.”

There was some conferring among the others.
“I never saw an Elf Scout pin that was shaped like a knife.” “She’s still got those mean, pointy teeth!” “But what’re those Band-Aids on her neck for?”

Lexie pretended not to hear them. “So you don’t have to be scared of Maddy,” she said brightly.

Nobody looked too sure about that.

The doorbell continued to ring. Every time, Lexie answered it expectantly, but the person on the other side of the door was never Dylan. Would he show up at all?

Big Bill from Candlewick came, as did other members of her parents’ band, the Dead Ringers, and lots of their Wander Wag dog-walking clients with their dogs. But no Dylan. At least the fourth-graders seemed more at ease once the dogs arrived. Soon the party got noisy.

Maybe Dylan’s never coming, thought Lexie. Her mind filled like floodwater with poems about waiting, yearning, aging, dying, and not meeting up with your one true love until the crucial minute right before you drank poison or got stabbed in the heart.

Then Pete arrived, dressed as Alexander Hamilton, his second-favorite dueler. “Pete!” Lexie couldn’t believe her eyes. “You look so…” Handsome, she had been about to say. Then she felt too shy. Pete seemed taller, maybe—much taller now than Lexie. And broader across the shoulders. But there was something else. Something she could not quite put her finger on.

“I might have to leave soon,” said Pete. “As in, as soon as it gets dark.” He plucked at his cravat. He looked nervous. A gloss of sweat shone along his hairline.

“Sure.” Lexie shrugged. Pete could get worked up about strange things. Like the dogs, which were snuffling and yapping. They seemed to have taken an unusual interest in Pete.

The doorbell rang again. Dylan, at last. Lexie breathed a sigh of relief. He was propped on crutches to balance the weight of his fiberglass cast. On his one side was Mina. On the other was Lucy. Surrounding them were Alex, J.C., Keely, Fred, and Davina—the whole gang.

“Hope you don’t mind the extra crew,” said Dylan. “I didn’t invite them, but they came anyway.”

“We always go where Dylan goes,” said Mina with a laugh.

“Right.” Lexie’s voice was small. “Come in. Beverages are in the dining room.”

“I really like your granny dress, Lex,” said Lucy with a sniff. “Did it come free with bifocals and a cane?”

“Raise your hand if you’re surprised that Lexie lives in the scariest house in New York City,” Mina added as they all trooped inside. “Dylan, you sit there. I’ll be back with some snacks. If they’re not too gross and freaky.”

“And if it isn’t Pete Stubbe, all dressed up to look like a—” but then Lucy stopped and looked the suddenly improved Pete up and down. “Pete…um…you want to show me the buffet?”

Pete shrugged, but Lexie could tell he was pleased with Lucy’s attention as they went off together.

“So, L.L., gonna sign my cast?” Dylan flashed his perfect smile as he settled back on one of the sagging loveseats and leaned his crutches against the faded wallpaper. “I even got this special green pen.” He pulled it out from behind his ear.

Lexie sat next to Dylan and uncapped the pen. She stared at Dylan’s cast. So many people had signed it that the cast was colored more green than white. She started to write one place, then another. Then she gave up. “Dylan, there’s no room for my name,” she said, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of her voice. She felt so incredibly unspecial. Just another name on Dylan’s crowded cast.

“Yes, there is, see? Right up here.” Dylan leaned forward and tapped the place between two wriggling toes. “For your entire name. All six syllables.”

For a while, Lexie stared at the slip of space reserved just for her. Dylan had so many friends, it was daunting. There was no way she could make that scrap of space special unless…Quickly, while Dylan wasn’t looking, Lexie bit her finger deep enough so that she broke skin. A drop of dry blue-green blood welled up on the tip of her finger. She pressed the point of Dylan’s pen into the blood, then bent forward and signed her name in her very best Old World calligraphy.

Lexyngton Livyngsfone

“Nice!” Dylan whistled when he saw her handiwork. Then he looked closer. “Hey, all the letters are kinda raised up, and the ink’s a different green. That’s amazing, Lex. How’d you do that?”

Lexie smiled and shrugged. A mix of blood and ink was the standard signature for Old World vampire hybrids, but Dylan didn’t need to know that. Now, for as long as Dylan wore this cast, he would see her name first. “It
is
a funny color. Your pen must be running out of ink or something.”

“Yeah, really amazing,” Mina had appeared with a plate of tofu crab cakes in hand. “Like your rotating legs and how you can carry a grown boy seven blocks, or any of the other abnormal things about you. I saw you bite your finger, Lexie. What are you made out of, anyway? Martian goop?” All at once, Mina reached forward and pinched Lexie’s arm, hard.

“Yowch!” Lexie stared in shock at the mark Mina had made.

“Look at her skin, everyone!” Mina pointed. “It’s not pinchy-pink! It’s beasty-bluey-green!”

“Because I’m anemic,” said Lexie, rubbing the blue-green pinch spot. “It means I’m low on iron. Which makes my blood funny.”

“Whatever,” Mina scoffed. “Let’s see the giant bite mark on your finger.”

Lexie showed her finger. By now, the wound had halfway healed. In Old World days it would have been completely gone. Still, it was proof enough.

“See, Mina. Lexie didn’t bite herself,” Dylan said exasperatedly. “And everyone knows she’s on a special fruit diet. Don’t make her feel all self-conscious about her blood.” Coming from cool Dylan, the other kids easily accepted this logic. Mina simmered.

“Something’s up with you, Lex,” she fumed. “Something really odd, and one day, I’ll get to the bottom of it. You can count on that.”

Before Lexie could answer, she felt a tap on her shoulder, then a whisper in her ear. “I’m heading out.” She turned. It was Pete, looking more nervous and more intensely handsome even than when she’d seen him just minutes ago.

“What’s wrong?” As soon as Lexie stood, Mina plopped herself right down in the space on the loveseat next to Dylan.

“It’s getting dark.”

“So? Call your parents. Or stay over. We’ve got so many rooms now. My parents won’t mind.” Lexie laughed. “What are you, scared of the dark?”

“Kind of.” There was an urgency in Pete’s voice that Lexie hadn’t heard before.

“Okay, okay.” As she showed him out to the door, Lexie noticed that Pete’s hair looked thicker, coarser, more silvery. Also, the fabric of his frock coat was beginning to pull against his broad, weightlifter’s back. But since when did Pete have a broad, weightlifter’s back?