10 Date with Destiny - My Sister the Vampire (9 page)

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 touch 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.’

Lucia turned her head away and Olivia heard a muffled sob. ‘Come here,’ Olivia said, drawing the wedding planner to her in a hug. To her surprise, Lucia didn’t pull away, but buried her head in Olivia’s shoulder.

‘I just wasn’t expecting it!’ she said in a muffled voice.

‘I know, I know,’ Olivia said, comforting her.

‘How did you guess?’ Lucia asked, pulling back to look into Olivia’s face.

‘I could tell by the way you were fidgeting and touching the ring finger of your left hand. There was a ring on there until very recently, wasn’t there?’

A sniffle escaped the sophisticated vampire and, when she turned to face Olivia, tears were pooling in her eyes. Suddenly, Olivia was
very
 
aware that a hush had fallen over the Great Hall. Every servant had stopped working and was now watching the scene unfold.

Lucia sank down into one of the plush chairs arranged for the guests. She wiped her eyes, smudging her eyeliner. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me,’ she whimpered. ‘I feel so stupid for crying over such a heartless . . .
cad
.’

Olivia sat down beside her, taking Lucia’s hand in her lap. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

Lucia blinked back more tears. ‘I was engaged.’ Her chin dropped to her chest. ‘I was supposed to have a beautiful wedding, just like the one tomorrow.’ Lucia’s breathing was shaky. ‘But at the last moment he called it off. It was only a month ago. My whole life fell apart.’ Her lower lip quivered and Olivia worried she was about to start real, full-on sobbing. Olivia patted her hand, noticing that even Lucia’s fingernails were painted black.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. That truly is the worst! A cancelled wedding! I can’t even imagine. When you must have been dreaming of your wedding day – with the veil and the big white dress and beautiful bouquets!’ Olivia noticed Lucia glaring at her. ‘Sorry,’ she said, returning to her train of thought. ‘But surely no, erm,
cad
 
is worth abandoning your entire faith in romance for, right?’

Lucia sniffled, but didn’t disagree.

‘Listen,’ continued Olivia. ‘I remember when I was in Hollywood and another actress tried to ruin my big moment. But was I going to let someone else get the better of me?’ Olivia paused for a response.

‘No?’ Lucia finally hiccupped.

‘Of course not!’ Olivia said with a touch more oomph. ‘And what about you? Should you let some guy get the upper hand?’

‘I guess not,’ Lucia squeaked.

‘
Absolutely
 
not,’ said Olivia, feeling like she was in the middle of a very important pep rally. She pulled Lucia back on to her feet. ‘The best way to get over your loser ex would be to celebrate the very idea of romance with a wedding fit for a prince and princess. How often do you get to throw a royal wedding? And think of the thrill it will give Tessa and Alex when they see all you’ve done.’

‘You’re right.’ Lucia swallowed hard, gesturing to the greenhouse lady, who was cradling her half-empty basket by the wall. ‘Helga, let me see those flower samples one more time.’

Olivia watched Lucia sniff a bright purple bloom.
All in a day’s work
, she thought, mentally patting herself on the back. As the Great Hall began to bustle again, this time with more energetic activity, she slipped outside through the giant French doors.

My own love life may be on ‘pause’ for the time being, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help fix other people’s
. As she wound her way through the long corridors of the Lazar mansion, Olivia realised that she should have felt positively giddy at her triumph. She had helped
save the day
 
!

But instead of being happy and light, she still felt like a heavy weight had settled in the depths of her stomach. The sound of her wedge sandals ricocheted along the empty hallways, giving Olivia a hollow feeling. She missed Jackson, with his megawatt smile and sweet blue eyes that made her feel like she was melting. But that wasn’t all. As Olivia wandered aimlessly among the ancestral portraits and ornate wallpaper, she realised that maybe one day Ivy might have her own wedding in this very building.
Maybe she’ll never return to Franklin Grove
. Olivia felt so isolated it was as if she was living on the outskirts of Siberia. Even when she tried to take her mind off Jackson or Ivy, there was no escaping the fear that was quickly becoming all too real to Olivia. She’d only recently got to know this whole new side to her family, and now it felt as though it was all being snatched away again.

I might be left on my own
, she thought.
I might lose my sister
.

I
vy stuffed another tender piece of rare steak into her mouth. She and Petra were seated at a round, granite table inside the Wallachia canteen. Unlike at Franklin Grove, where the students ate off plastic trays with flimsy forks, Wallachia provided fancy cloth napkins and baroque silverware. The table setting was even nicer than her father’s best china at home!

‘You like it?’ asked Petra, shoving some food around on her plate.

‘Like it? The food here is ten times better than anything at the Meat and Greet and the Bloodmart back home,
combined
 
– and, trust me,’ she said with her mouth full, ‘I’m a big fan of both.’

‘American food . . .’ Petra sighed as if a plate of burgers and French fries might be the most exotic thing on the planet. ‘You’re so lucky!’

Lucky?
 
Ivy was about to disagree entirely when she took a sip of straight B-positive from the crystal goblet in front of her, grimacing the way humans did when they sucked a lemon. ‘OK, fine, I’ll admit, you guys may be lacking in the milkshake department.’ Ivy preferred to get her blood fix a little less directly.

‘Well,’ said Petra, ‘if you came here permanently, I’m sure the chef could figure out something as simple as a milkshake. But seriously –’ she pointed her fork at Ivy – ‘we need more cool, less stuck-up girls around, and having you here would be a
big
 
help.’

Ivy felt her face get hot. ‘Thanks,’ she stammered. Ivy thought Petra was cool, too, but how stuck-up
was
 
this place if Petra was so desperate to balance out the snoot-factor?

Just then a group of first years walked by in their Wallachia uniforms – each with a matching strand of pearls. Their red pleated skirts swung lightly at their knees. As if on cue, their heads swivelled to examine Ivy.
Oh no, do I have something in my teeth?
 
Ivy slid her tongue over her would-be fangs, but that wasn’t it. A blonde first year with a trendy designer tote bag wrinkled her nose, her gaze lingering on Ivy’s plain T-shirt and jeans. She was worse than Charlotte Brown – even worse than the old, prima-donna version of Charlotte before she had become kind of, sort of, Ivy’s friend.

The moment the girls were out of earshot, Petra burst into laughter. ‘Oh my darkness, you
so
 
have to come here!’

‘After that?’ asked Ivy. ‘Where I come from, that wouldn’t exactly pass for a warm welcome.’

Petra clutched her sides. ‘Can you
imagine
 
how riled up those girls will be every single day if you come here? It’s going to be killer.’ She squeezed Ivy’s arm as if the two of them had concocted this whole scheme together.

‘Right,’ said Ivy, pulling her hands to her lap. ‘Killer . . .’ But her neck prickled. Could it be that Petra wasn’t as friendly as she’d thought? It seemed like she just hoped that Ivy’s American ways would get a rise out of the teachers and the other snooty students.

Ivy was about to excuse herself when the sound of a loud gong rippled through the air. She looked around. Why would someone be ringing a gong? Everyone but Ivy jumped up. An excited murmur travelled through the canteen, the likes of which Ivy hadn’t seen since Principal Whitehead had announced the school dance at the end of term and the bunnies had freaked out. Could that be it? Was there going to be a Wallachia-style shindig?

‘Hey! That sound can mean only one thing – a duel! Come on.’ Petra pulled Ivy up by the sleeve of her T-shirt. ‘We don’t want to miss this. It’s pretty much the only time boys and girls are allowed to mix!’

A duel?
 
Ivy wondered.
Like, to the death?
 
Petra dragged her outside to a grassy field where a group of vampire boys were bunched together. A bunch of girls were huddled together too, whispering furiously to each other, their eyes wide.
Haven’t they ever seen boys before?
 
Ivy thought.
If this is the way that segregated classes make girls behave I’m not sure I like it
.

One of the boys suddenly slammed a rugby ball to the ground, where it bounced – or it would have bounced, had it not burst.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Ivy, going on tiptoes because the crowd outside was getting so thick. Two young vampire boys snatched off their shirts while their fellow players formed a tight ring around them. Ivy caught her breath. The Academy might be fancy, but it wasn’t all that different from Franklin Grove School.
Stupid teen boys on an ego trip – it must be universal
.

The onlookers had drawn closer, chanting: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’

All across the grounds more students were streaming on to the field. ‘We need a better view.’ Petra tugged Ivy along after her again, snaking through the crowd until they found a perch on a stone bench. ‘You’re in luck!’ Petra winked. ‘We don’t get one of these every day, you know!’ Petra clapped her hands and began whooping along with the other spectators. ‘I love duels,’ she continued. ‘There aren’t enough of them these days. Seriously, we’ve gone whole school years without one.’