Re-Vamped! (12 page)

“Not
me,” Ivy groaned.

Later,
at lunch, Olivia and Ivy were sitting with Brendan, Sophia, and Camilla,
surrounded by a mob of people holding out newspapers and begging for
autographs. Ivy looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.

Suddenly
Charlotte Brown pushed in front of everyone else—except she didn’t want an
autograph. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” she huffed. “I mean, it’s
just the
Gazette
. It’s not like
Teen Style
or anything.”

Ivy
rolled her eyes, and Olivia just smiled to herself as she signed a
seventh-grade jock’s newspaper, thinking,
Oh yeah? You should see our
glamour shots in
Vamp
!

Then
Toby Decker came up, carrying a tray with two towering ice cream sundaes that
he’d made at the dessert bar. He looked
so
excited— after all, it was
his story the
Gazette
had reprinted. “You two gave me the biggest scoop
of my life!” he exclaimed, setting a sundae down in front of each of them. “The
least I could do is give you yours!”

“Thanks,
Toby,” Olivia and Ivy said.

Both their
mouths were full of ice cream when Sophia snapped a picture. “Who knows what
publication this might end up in?” she said excitedly.

Ivy
was glad to walk into the library with Olivia after school, to research their
biological parents on the regular Internet.
At least in here,
she
thought,
people will have to shut their boxes about us for a second.

It was
like the whole school had gone batty. It was strange enough when the
Scribe
came out, but now it seemed like everyone was idolizing them. Vera had come up
to Ivy and Olivia at the beginning of science, and Ivy had expected a fight.
Instead, Vera just smiled sheepishly, apologized for the way she’d been acting,
and asked for their autographs like everyone else.

Fame
is like blood,
Ivy
thought.
Everybody wants a sip.

She
and Olivia sat down next to each other at a computer in the corner of the
library. Olivia started by doing a search for “Lazar,” and a bunch of results
came up:
A noble history of

Covasna,
Transylvanian aristocracy, the Lazar mines.
Olivia clicked through a bunch of them, but mostly all
she found was brief, cryptic mentions. In fact, apart from the fact that the
Lazar family had made their fortune in mining, the girls didn’t find out
anything they didn’t already know. And they didn’t find any pictures.

“There’s
an old saying in our community,” Ivy said. “‘There’s only one thing more
secretive than a vampire: a vampire aristocrat.’ ”

“Apparently,”
said Olivia. Next, they tried searching “Susannah Kendall Owl Creek,” but
nothing came up.

“Didn’t
the ASHH file say she was from Massachusetts?” Ivy recalled.

Olivia
typed “Susannah Kendall Andover,” and one link appeared. Ivy held her breath as
the screen filled with a black-and-white newspaper photo of a woman in a
patterned, V-necked blouse framed by lustrous, shoulder-length hair, laughing
warmly at something off to the side. Her eyes sparkled. At the top of the page
was a newspaper headline: LOCAL, SUSANNAH KENDALL, 34, DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.
It was the same as the one they’d found in the ASHH files—except at ASHH, the
article had been clipped without the photograph.

“There
she is,” Olivia whispered.

“She
has our nose,” noted Ivy.

“And
our eyebrows,” Olivia agreed. “I’m going to pay to print out two copies, one
for each of us. Okay?”

“Thanks,”
Ivy said simply, and then she was alone in front of the screen.
Susannah
Kendall of Andover died suddenly in a tragic accident yesterday
, the
article began.
She was 34.

Ivy
was still thinking about that when her sister returned. Olivia sat down and
quietly read aloud from one of the printouts in her hand.

“‘Susannah
was a warm, fun, and generous soul, always opening her heart to others. Blessed
with a sharp wit and a keen mind, she made an impression on all who met her.’ ”

Olivia
struggled to read the last line of the article. “‘Susannah will be sorely
missed.’ ” She dragged her eyes away from the paper at last. “That’s it.” She
shrugged. “No mention of a husband. No mention of us.”

“They
were in hiding,” Ivy said simply. For a moment, neither she nor her sister said
anything.
I never knew I lost my real mom,
Ivy was thinking.
I only
knew my dad found me, and that made everything okay.

“I
feel so lucky my parents adopted me,” Olivia echoed aloud.

“I
guess,” Ivy said slowly, “we both ended up right where we belonged.”

“It’s
nice to know where we came from, though,” admitted Olivia, a small smile
breaking across her face.

Ivy
nodded. “And, now that we know Susannah was our mom and Karl Lazar was our dad,
we know you definitely had a vampire parent,” she pointed out. “All the Veras
of the world won’t be able to complain about you knowing the secret.”

Olivia
glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Does that
mean I have to start shopping at BloodMart?” she joked.

A few
minutes later, they were just leaving school when Ivy saw her father pacing
ominously at the bottom of the deserted steps. He was clearly waiting for them.

When
he saw them coming, he charged up, meeting them halfway. “Is it true that the
two of you broke into the offices of ASHH?” he demanded angrily.

Ivy
and Olivia exchanged panicked looks, which immediately gave them away.

“How
could you, Ivy?” her father said, his voice filled with disappointment.

“How
could I what?” Ivy snapped. “How could I want to know about my real parents?
Olivia and I have a right to know!”

“You
took a human into a restricted area!” her father said. “Did it fail to occur to
you that there would be security cameras capturing your every move?” His voice
dropped to an urgent whisper. “The Vampire Round Table came to our house today.
Olivia is being called for an initiation!”

Ivy
froze. “A what?”

“A
ritual,” he explained, “to test whether she is worthy of the Blood Secret.”

“Uh-oh,”
Olivia said under her breath.

“But
why?” Ivy gasped.

“Why?”
her father repeated in
exasperation. “Because, between the article in
Vamp
 and the footage of
Olivia at ASHH, they have deduced that there has been a violation of the First
Law of the Night!”

“Is
she going to be hurt?” Ivy asked.

“Hurt?”
cried Olivia.

“I
don’t know exactly,” Ivy’s father answered with a shake of his head, his anger
suddenly faltering.

“But
what does she have to do?” Ivy pressed.

“I
know that there are three trials she must pass,” her dad answered. “Olivia,” he
asked, “do you think your parents will allow you to sleep at our house on
Friday night?”

“I
think so,” Olivia said. “Why?”

“That
is the appointed date and time for your initiation.”

“But
that only gives her one night to prepare!” Ivy objected.

Her
father studied Olivia’s face. “The best and only way to prepare,” he said
solemnly, “is for you to be ready to bare your true soul.”

“What
if she doesn’t pass?” Ivy asked in a small voice.

He
peered down at her, and Ivy couldn’t tell whether his eyes were filled with
hope or hopelessness. “If it is meant to be,” he said in a resigned voice as he
turned away to descend the steps, “then it shall be.”

On
Friday evening, Olivia’s mom dropped her off in front of the Vegas’ house.
Luckily, her mom had a bridge game, so she couldn’t even attempt to come inside.

When
Olivia rang the bell, Ivy opened the door at once. Inside the foyer, Mr. Vega
greeted Olivia with a solemn nod. No one spoke, and then Olivia heard footsteps
approaching briskly from down the hall. Into the light of the foyer stepped a
tall vampire woman wearing a black and red kimono. It took Olivia a second to
realize what was so striking about her. Then she saw what it was. The woman
wasn’t wearing the contact lenses most vampires used all the time to protect
their eyes from the sun and disguise their eye color, and she had
red eyes
.

“I am
Valencia Deborg,” the woman declared. There was a ruffle of her enormous
sleeves, and a thick black binder appeared in one hand, while a ballpoint pen
materialized in the other. She clicked the pen meaningfully. “Secretary of
human relations for the Vampire Round Table.”

“And
I,” said a nasal voice from the darkness, “am Mr. Boros of ASHH.” Olivia half
expected a tall, mustachioed vampire to appear in a black cape. Instead, a
short bald man in a rumpled suit stepped into the light beside his colleague.

“I saw
that guy leaving ASHH right before we snuck in!” Ivy whispered in Olivia’s ear.

“And I
saw you sneak in on the security cameras,” said the man coolly, “right after I
left.”

Ivy
and Olivia both straightened to attention.

“We
are here to supervise the initiation of Olivia Abbott,” Valencia Deborg said
solemnly. “The trials shall commence in one hour, at the setting of the sun.”

Casting
a sidelong glance toward her sister, Olivia could see Ivy looked totally worried,
which made her feel even more nervous.

“Before
we begin”—Mr. Boros held up a stubby white finger—“we must be clear about what
is to occur. There are fewer than a dozen humans in the world who know the
Blood Secret, all under exceptional circumstances.”

“And
your circumstances,” Ms. Deborg said, training her fiery eyes on Olivia, “are
the most exceptional of all.”

“Unprecedented,
according to our records,” confirmed Mr. Boros in his nasal voice.

“The
tests to which you are to be subjected were devised hundreds of years ago,” Ms.
Deborg told Olivia. “They were used only in those rare instances when a human
learned the Blood Secret and there was a vampire willing to vouch for him. Is
there a vampire present willing to bear this burden?”

“I
will,” Ivy and her father said at the same time. Olivia could see that her
sister was as surprised as she was by Mr. Vega’s volunteering like that.

Ms.
Deborg and Mr. Boros nodded at each other, and Ms. Deborg continued. “The
original tests were torturous . . .”

“Hideous,”
said Mr. Boros with a shudder, as Olivia felt the color drain from her face.

“And
unspeakably painful,” Ms. Deborg concluded.

“But
now, of course,” Mr. Boros added casually, “the tests are more ritualized.”

A sigh
of relief escaped from Olivia’s mouth. “In the past,” Ms. Deborg explained, “if
applicants proved unworthy, they were summarily killed. Since the 1926 Vampiric
Accord, that is no longer the way.”

“So
what happens if I fail?” Olivia asked nervously.

“Your
memory of anything and everything vampire related will be erased, and you will
never see or have any contact with your sister ever again,” Mr. Boros answered
simply.

“What?”
Ivy and Olivia both exclaimed.

“How
is that possible?” Olivia asked.

“Vampire
scientists have developed a concoction for this purpose,” Ms. Deborg answered.

“I
understand it’s not unlike a strawberry smoothie,” Mr. Boros remarked proudly,
“which is much less messy than the old method of removing a portion of the
cranial cortex.”

“And I
wouldn’t be able to remember Ivy at all?” Olivia demanded. The vampire
officials nodded.

“B-but
we just found each other,” Ivy stammered.

“Perhaps
it is for the best that you and I are moving to Europe,” Ivy’s father said
under his breath.

Ivy
shot him a bitter look. “What if Olivia refuses to be initiated?” she asked Ms.
Deborg.

“She
will confront the same result as one who has failed,” Ms. Deborg said icily.

Olivia
took a deep breath. “And if I pass the tests?”

“Then
everything will continue as before,” Mr. Boros replied.

Olivia
squeezed her sister’s hand. “I know I’m worthy,” she whispered bravely. “I’ll
pass any test they throw at me. I’m not going to lose you.”

Of
course, inside, Olivia was totally freaking out. Sure, she’d been nervous, but
she hadn’t had a clue how serious this whole initiation thing was. She was only
thirteen, and already she was facing senility.

“Any
questions?” Mr. Boros asked.

When
Olivia shook her head, Ms. Deborg announced, “The applicant will now have a few
moments for solitary contemplation before the First Test begins.” She and Mr.
Boros turned to leave the room.

“Can I
stay with her?” Ivy blurted.