The Knaveheart's Curse (4 page)

IN THE GRAVEYARD

W
hoosh!
through the air and
smack!
Maddy hit the ground hard. Her bones creaked. Her collarbone cracked. No time to check damages. She ran, not stopping until Club Lullaby was miles behind her.
Ancient vampire smarts led her way. Her bare feet slapped the forest paths and twisty dirt roads. And then she arrived in a place that more than made up for her terrible day, as Maddy stared across the paradise also known as . . .
“The Queens Calvary Cemetery,” she said. “Wow.” Her hands clenched the locked iron gates as she peered in, awed.
Magic. She’d heard about this place, one of the oldest and biggest cemeteries in New York State. But she’d never viewed it in all its moldering magnificence. Marble crypts and mossy, crooked tombstones as far as she could see.
“Here we go.” She swung herself over the gate, dropping like a cat to the grass.
Maddy’s last visit to a grave site was when she and Lexie had made a pilgrimage to the tombstone marker of doomed rocker Jim Morrison, who was laid to rest at Père-Lachaise, in France. Almost all vampires loved Jim Morrison, and the Livingstones were no exception.
Most vampires adored cemeteries, too. Maddy imagined undead souls surrounding her like vapor. She strolled the rows of graves, reading names and dates, remembering her favorite vintage years and imagining these people as they might have been.

When she got to the tombstone of Giulio Rissetto (1689-1701), she leaned against it in order to crunch her shoulder bone back into its socket.
Then she sat down cross-legged on the tombstone plaque of Graham B. Murdoch (1823-1900) to consider what to do next. She had no shoes and no money. Between herself and home was a deadly current of water. And she’d made her blisters worse. Blue-green blood was crusted all over her heels and toes.
Losing blood was not only bad for her hybrid health, it might mean that the Knave could pick up her scent and track her.
“Yoo-hoo, Hudson!” Maddy called to her brother through echolocation. All of the Livingstones had retained this useful bat trait. Maddy didn’t know where her brother was, and so she bounced her SOS into his general districts—home, Duane Rigby’s apartment, and the Henry Hudson Parkway, where Hudson liked to fly free.
She called and called. Her echo didn’t catch and dissolved to nothing.
Not good. By now, the Underhills would have contacted the authorities. After all, Maddy was missing, and in the New World, missing children got reported immediately—not like in the old days, when townspeople believed that if you weren’t home by Sunday supper, you’d either moved to a new village or been eaten by wolves. In either scenario, there was no need to start a search party.
Not in the New World. People here thought a missing kid meant trouble.
“Mom!” she screeched. “Dad! Lex!” Mostly she kept trying Hudson. Ole Crud had the best hearing and would ask the fewest questions about what happened to her sneakers and why she’d been dumb enough to cross underneath water and nearly petrify herself.
“Help!” she called.
And now, at long last, a snag and a bounce—but not one she’d expected. “Madison! Climb up a tree, and I’ll come get you on flyby.”
Maddy jumped to her feet and looked around. The return caller was unfamiliar.
“Who are you?” she bounced.
Long silence.
“Hey, I’m not doing anything until you identify yourself,” Maddy called. “I’m not supposed to bounce to strangers.”
Longer silence. Then, “I’m no stranger. I am Orville of the Argos, on my way.”
“Orville?”
“Your brother is too small to carry you.”
Maddy bit her lip. Orville was Hudson’s friend, and, being an Argos, he was uptight about New World hybrid rules. So Maddy tended to keep her distance from him. Hudson might be too small for the job—but would Orville really help a rule-breaking hybrid in peril?
Or what if this was a trick? If she climbed to the highest tree, she’d be exposed to that Ninth Knave like the dumbest bunny in hunting season.
Then again, if Orville
really
was Orville, he might just be her only hope.
“Get climbing,” bounced the message. “I’m flying in fast!”
Maddy stood and brushed herself off. The sun was going down. Tree branches cast icicle shadows and tombstones threw shadowy blankets over the lawn. The miles she’d run had turned her leg muscles to sponge. She was hungry. She was too weak to save herself.
She’d have to risk it. No choice.
Maddy gripped the base of the highest tree, a red ash, and began climbing. Her palms still stung from her handspring. Heaving herself up, Maddy drooped double on the branch, like a wet towel on a line. Her neck swiveled for a sign of Orville.
The minutes ticked past. It felt like every tree had eyes.
A bat appeared in the distance, slipping through the dusk on leathery wings. Orville! No trick—she was saved!
And then, from the opposite side, another creature appeared in the distance. This creature, though farther off, was larger than Orville and sleek as an airborne panther.
The Ninth Knave.
Birds shrieked warnings and dived for cover.
“Up, Maddy, up!” Orville called.
Maddy’s nails dug bark as she hoisted herself higher. She could hear the birds’ hearts beating loud as a rainstorm. Her throat was going dry. Uh-oh. Fear was starting to petrify her again.
“Go away, Knave!” she called.
“UP!” Orville’s signal was a sonic boom.
I’m trying! But Maddy was too exhausted to bounce more messages. The moon had appeared in the sky, and the silhouette of the approaching Knave was outlined sharp against it.
“Remember, the Knave can’t see you!” bounced Orville. “Hide deeper in the branches, Madison. Keep still. Knaves are extremely nearsighted!”
Maddy reached and clung to a stout branch. The Knaveheart dipped and blindly circled the tree as Orville pushed forward, his claws attempting to snatch Maddy by the scruff of her neck. He missed.
Nooo . . . Maddy tried to swallow her scream, but a peep of despair escaped.
Instantly the Knave honed in, dive-bombing the tree. A steely talon scraped Maddy’s cheek. Ouch! She bit back her yelp. Swooping on an angle, the Knave smashed blind against the trunk.
Maddy squirmed as the Knave’s wings shook off leftover crumbles from Maddy’s Box of Disgusting—right on top of Maddy’s head.
“Just drop!” commanded Orville as he circled back in. “I’ll catch you!”
Maddy had to chance it.
She let herself fall, hands over knees over hands, branches slicing her arms and legs, sagging with relief to feel Orville’s claws hook her by the shorts—even if this careful catch allowed a quick but rather embarrassing view of her underpants. At least it was dark.
And she was safe at last.
She wrapped her arms tight around the neck of the old Argos as they sped away, New York City bound, while the Knaveheart’s caw echoed faintly through the cemetery. Alone and blindly searching . . .

MADEMOISELLE LIVINGSTONE, I PRESUME?

N
obody wanted to tend to Maddy in her mildewed attic, so the family decided to put her in Lexie’s room.
“Argh, nooo . . . I’ll recover way easier in my own bed,” Maddy protested sleepily as her parents tucked her between Lexie’s rose-scented, pressed cotton sheets.
The next morning, even before she’d opened her eyes, Maddy sensed the stamp of her sister’s care. Starting with the itchy, high-necked nightgown that Lexie must have tugged onto her when she’d been too weak to fight it.
“Good morning, sister dear,” sang Lexie as she slid a breakfast tray over Maddy’s lap. A bowl of Big Bill’s broccoli broth, a beet-ginger shake, and a fruit salad—a classic Lexie menu—were lovingly arranged. “Dad and Mom are working late today. They have double dog-walk duty,” Lexie explained, “so I’m taking care of you till they get home.”
Maddy’s eyes cracked open. Her hand rose to touch her head. “Why’s this weed stuck in my hair?”
“It’s not a weed! It’s a white gardenia, the favorite flower of doomed singer Billie Holiday. You looked so frail asleep that I tucked one behind your ear.” Lexie pulled a face. “But now that you’re awake, you don’t look as romantic.”
“Har har.” Maddy yanked out the flower, then picked up the bowl and sipped. Broth was usually a tasteless excuse for food, but this morning, ah. She drained the bowl, then slouched back in the pillows and rubbed her head. “Yeesh. I was having such strange dreams about the Old World.”
“That’s because I was reading to you from
Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambesi and Its Tributaries,
by David Livingstone, the famous explorer who identified our vampire-fruit-bat nomenclature
Pteropus Livingstonii
and gave us our last name. Remember him?”
“Duh. Doctor Livingstone was the most important contact in our then-eternal lives. He helped us figure out what we are.” Maddy scratched her lacy neck. “Why are you reading it?”
“Lexie was checking that your concussion didn’t erase your memory after the Knave attack.” Orville was sitting in Lexie’s rocking chair, so motionless that Maddy hadn’t noticed him.
Today Orville was in human form, where he was known by all as Mr. Schnur, a cranky old janitor at Hudson and Maddy’s school. He was even wearing his janitor’s green coveralls.
Maddy sat bolt upright in bed. Bits of the night rushed back to her. Wait—she hadn’t been dreaming—she really
had
been attacked by the Ninth Knaveheart.
She looked at Orville. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said.
“You’re not one hundred percent rescued.” Hudson’s voice was muffled. “Sis, you gotta be careful. Now that the Knave knows you, you’re in more danger than ever.” Lexie’s window shade rattled as Hudson unrolled himself to land on the sill.
“Oh, whatever.” Maddy waved off the warning. “Predators have chased us for centuries. I can usually take care of myself.”
“Listen to your brother,” warned Orville. “It’s no joke, Maddy. I speak as a member of the Argos—and as a friend.”
In agreement, Hudson clicked his displeasure and flew around the room, finally alighting on the bedpost.
“For someone who lucked out in the looks department, Hud, I don’t know why you spend all your time as a bat,” mentioned Lexie.
“Because Crud’s a show-off.” Maddy yawned.
“You’re just jealous because I can bat-morph and you can’t.” Hudson preened.
“Well, you’re jealous because I met the Ninth Knave,” Maddy shot back.
“Um, I think you mean you almost got crushed and pulverized by the Ninth Knave.”
“Maddy, you’re obviously feeling strong enough to talk,” interrupted Orville, leaning forward, “and I’ve got questions. Where did the Knave find you?”
“At Club Lullaby, in Queens,” said Maddy.
“As I suspected. Don’t go back there. We think it’s the Knave’s headquarters.”
“Why there?” asked Lexie.
“A golf course is the perfect habitat for a near-blind bat, because there aren’t any trees to crash into during flight,” Orville explained. “For limited portions of time, Knaves are able to take on a human identity, and so our Knave could go to and from Lullaby undetected. Since rats love Dumpsters, there’s also plenty of Knave food. Finally, a Dumpster makes a nice, private cave during a Knave’s extensive sleeping hours.”
Mmm . . . to Maddy, those Dumpster rats sounded a little bit delicious. In the Old World, she used to snack on tiny woodland creatures, and she still wasn’t quite used to her family’s strict vegan New World diet. In fact, when nobody was looking, she’d been known to slurp down the odd mosquito or fat tick.
Now she picked a chunk of papaya from her fruit salad, pretending that she was sinking her teeth into a baby field mouse. “Okay . . . but what’s next? Is someone planning to slay the Knave?”
“No, no. Nobody’s slaying anything. In fact, the Argos have been trying to negotiate a land treaty,” said Orville. “If the Ninth Knave stays on one side of the water and we stay on the other side, we hope to maintain peace.”
“For how long?” asked Hudson.
“As long as it takes for the Ninth Knave to find the Tenth.”
“Hope that’s soon.” Lexie’s lip curled. “I hate thinking of a Knave on the prowl.”
“Yeah,” Maddy agreed. “That Knave was kinda violent.” She could feel her fingernails sharpen as she remembered.
“You won’t be missed at Lullaby, Mads,” said Hudson. “Your friend’s mom was panicked. She called the police in all five boroughs. But everyone figured you ran away to sulk after you got kicked off the golf course.”
“Everyone is wrong. I didn’t run away to sulk. I was chased off by a hybrid-hating Knave. Hey, if I slayed that thing, I’d end their evil dynasty, right?”
“Madison! There’s not a chance you could slay it. Stay out of its path, and let destiny run its course.” Orville stood. “As always, this has been a top-secret conversation, for our sonic ears only.”
Then Hudson sailed out the window, while Orville left through the door.
Maddy was too worked up to rest up. “I could so slay that Knave! I was caught off guard this time. Next time, I’d be ready.”
Lexie, not listening, was strumming a guitar.
“Doesn’t sound half bad,” Maddy conceded, though it didn’t sound half good, either.
“Thanks!” Lexie beamed. “It belongs to my guitar teacher, Zelda. She’s letting me use it to practice. She’s performing at the Candlewick Café at the end of the week, if you want to come.”
“Uh-huh.” Blech, an acoustic guitar concert? No way.
Maddy knew if she wanted to think up her Knave-slay strategy, she’d have to leave this room of tuneless, strummy music. She snapped back the covers and jumped out of bed.
“Where are you going?” Lexie glanced up, alarmed.
“Up to my room,” said Maddy as she hopped out of bed. “Sorry, Lex. If I want to get back to my old self, I need to stop smelling the flowers and start smelling the mold.”
She also wanted to see if there was any online information about Knavehearts. On her way upstairs, she detoured into the family room and ran a search on the computer.
Nothing. In the e-world, Knavehearts had covered their tracks so carefully, it was as if they had never existed.
A letter was waiting in the Livingstones’ in-box. It was from [email protected]. Uh-oh. Maddy double-clicked and read: