15 Secrets and Spies - My Sister the Vampire (9 page)

T
he sky was already fully dark when Olivia arrived at Franklin Grove Museum that evening. Located on the outer edge of the town centre, the
massive museum hulked like a Gothic mansion, complete with stone turrets that loomed against the night sky.

Talk about a vamp-y atmosphere!

Olivia took a deep breath as she stopped in front of the giant oak front door.
I’m only two blocks from the Meat and Greet and Mr Smoothie’s
, she reminded herself.
There
are lots of people nearby.

She reached out and grabbed the big brass knocker on the door.

THUMP! THUMP!

The heavy knocks echoed ominously in her ears.

A moment later, the door opened with a long, slow
creeeeak.

‘What do you want?’ a voice snarled. The inner hallway was so dark, Olivia couldn’t even see who was speaking. Then he stepped up to peer out of the doorway, and she sucked in
a breath of pure shock.

The man facing her was tall and deathly pale, wearing a jogging outfit stained with muck, dust and paint-splatters.

I
can’t believe it
, Olivia thought.
Am I actually standing face-to-face with a vampire handyman?

‘Well?’ he demanded, scowling. ‘The museum is closed.’

Olivia gathered herself together and smiled winningly. ‘Is my father here?’

The man narrowed his eyes at her, obviously taking in her pale pink twin-set and sparkle-encrusted blue jeans. ‘I really doubt that
your
father is here. You must have the wrong
building.’

‘No, I don’t!’ Olivia grabbed the edge of the door as he started to swing it closed. ‘I’m looking for Charles Vega.’

The man blinked. ‘
Really?
’

Olivia nodded, trying to look as honest as possible . . . because there was no way she could pretend to be a vampire in this outfit.

Her ‘honest face’ must have worked, because the man sighed and turned around. ‘Hey, Chas!’ he yelled. ‘Your daughter’s here. And she’s
pink
!’

Olivia had to bite her lip to hold back her giggles. It was hilarious that
anyone
could get away with calling her formal bio-dad ‘Chas’!

‘Olivia!’ Charles appeared at the door a moment later, beaming and elegant in a tailored black suit. ‘Forgive the mess of me,’ he said, reaching out to draw her in.
‘I’ve been hard at work on this weekend’s exhibition
and
my designs for what I’ll do with the South Wing as soon as it’s turned over to me.’

What mess?
Olivia wondered. She looked again at her dad’s perfect outfit, free of any paint stains or plaster.

Aha.
He’d pulled his tie loose from his throat.
Yeah, talk about getting really messy!

Grinning, she tucked her hand into his arm and walked beside him through the long, echoing rooms of the museum. Most of the lights were turned off, and without Charles by her side, she would
have stumbled more than once. Dust-sheets covered the artefacts they passed, turning them into creepy, shapeless shadows in the darkness. The ceiling rose high above them, like the vault of a dark
cathedral, while their footsteps sent hollow echoes thudding through the night.

I’m walking through a dark, creepy building in the company of a vampire
, Olivia thought,
and I’m not scared at all. How cool is that?

She had to do a quick two-step to keep herself from walking into a dark figure covered in a dust cloth – maybe a suit of armour? Either that or a mannequin . . .

‘Hey, where are those vintage fashions you mentioned before?’ she asked.

Charles’s smile could be heard in his voice. ‘I’ll show you later, I promise – once things have calmed down here.’

‘Yeah, there does seem to be a lot of work going on right now.’ Thinking of the handyman she’d met, Olivia’s lips twitched. ‘I can’t believe anyone ever calls
you “Chas”!’

‘Well . . .’ Charles coughed. ‘You have to understand, I’ve known Albert for a very long time. We were rather wild together back in New York at the turn of the twentieth
century, before we both matured and settled down.’

‘Really?’ Olivia shook her head in wonder.
I
can’t imagine my bio-dad ever being wild!

He nodded stiffly. ‘The point is, there are certain things that certain friends can get away with, even if . . . well, ah . . . in this instance it’s an affectionate nickname. Even
though it does drive me crazy!’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Olivia gave her dad’s arm an affectionate squeeze. Charles was so proper and upright, yet he still cared so much for his friends. It was part of why
she loved him . . . and why she had to be brave now, no matter how uncomfortable it felt.

‘There is something I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said, as he led her under a low archway. ‘I feel kind of weird bringing it up, I know you think I’m probably too
young for this stuff, but –’

‘And here we are!’ Sweeping out his arm, Charles flicked a switch on the wall. Suddenly, light illuminated the vast room spread out before them, with electric candles set all along
the wall and a massive chandelier in the centre of the high, vaulted ceiling. ‘The main display room of the museum – and as you can see, none of
these
artefacts are hidden
behind dust-sheets!’

‘Oh, wow.’ Olivia blinked as she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light . . . and the massive, sparkling collection of glass cases, paintings and sculptures that
filled the room.

Charles smiled in obvious satisfaction. ‘I’ve shared a room with these artefacts since yesterday morning, but they still take my breath away every time.’

Shaking her head in wonder, Olivia leaned closer to the nearest case. ‘Is that really thirteenth-century?’

‘A fragment from a lost citadel.’ Charles beamed. ‘And did you see that Byzantine Triptych?’

‘It’s great,’ Olivia said honestly. ‘But that isn’t what I’m here for tonight. The truth is . . .’ Her fingers twisted together as she forced herself to
finish: ‘I really want to know if Lillian is OK.’

It was too late. Her bio-dad’s gaze had already fixed on a marble statue, and his eyes had glazed. ‘Of course,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Of course. The statue of
Vladymore should
never
have gone here. What was I thinking? I should have put it next to the terracotta urn!’ He pushed past her, tutting to himself. ‘What a fool I’ve
been!’

‘Dad . . .’ Olivia began.

But it was no use. He was already pacing through the aisles of his exhibit, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. ‘If I shifted the reliquary next to the casket . . .’

Olivia sighed. The last time she’d seen her bio-dad like this, he’d been in Groomzilla-mode, getting ready for his wedding. Back then, she’d found his single-focus mode kind of
charming. Now, though . . .

She bit her lip. Could
this
have something to do with how Lillian had been acting this week? If he’d been ignoring his wife to spend all his time with a bunch of old artefacts in
a creepy house in the middle of town, it was no wonder Lillian had gotten so depressed.

I can’t let this go.
Steeling herself, Olivia marched up to him. ‘Can I talk to you, please? It’s important.’

‘Of course, of course.’ Charles didn’t take his eyes off the medieval artefacts in front of him. Even as he answered, he was pulling out a tiny notebook and a gold pen from his
pocket. ‘I’ll be right with you in . . . no, no,
no
! These descriptive cards have been mistranslated! Those idiots! Sorry . . .’

He stopped, breathing hard, as he seemed to finally remember Olivia. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just a little stressed about this exhibit.
Please, can you just sit tight for a moment? I’ll be right back – and once I’m back, I promise I will give you my full attention.’

Without waiting for an answer, he scooped up two handfuls of the descriptive cards from beneath their artefacts and hurried out of the room, muttering to himself, ‘As if medieval
Transylvanian is even
difficult
!’

Drat.
Olivia’s hope deflated like a popped balloon as her bio-dad disappeared, leaving her alone in the massive, echoing room. So much for her great attempt!

But then again, what am I even going to say?
She groaned.
How do you tell your own father that you think his new wife is unhappy?

Squaring her shoulders, she braced herself.
I’ve got at least ten minutes to figure this out.
Maybe all her acting experience would finally come in handy! She could improv by
herself for a few minutes, and have a perfect ‘scene’ to play out with her bio-dad by the time he got back.

And . . . action!

‘Dad,’ she said out loud, to the room full of artefacts, ‘this is a difficult thing to bring up, and you might even think it’s inappropriate coming from a daughter
– especially one as young as me – but . . . I know this may seem out of the blue, but I really think you might be missing something about Lillian. I mean, shouldn’t she be happy
and content so soon after that gorgeous wedding? But she’s not, and that scares me a lot more than any spooky old buildings or vampires in jogging outfits. Because if she really is so unhappy
that she’s fantasising about escaping, I just don’t know what I can do to make it right. That’s why I need
your
help . . .’

‘Help with what?’ Charles’s voice spoke just behind her, making her jump.

‘Oh!’ Putting one hand to her throat, Olivia waited for her heartbeat to slow down. ‘I didn’t hear you coming.’

Why am I the only one without vampire hearing?

He frowned at her quizzically. ‘Were you . . .
talking
to the artefacts?’

‘I was practising for you.’ Now that he was standing right there in front of her, though, every word she’d spoken seemed to have scattered from her head.
I’ll have to
re-improv!

There was no time to stop and think, though, not when he might be distracted by his exhibit at any moment. ‘Um,’ Olivia said hastily, and drew a shallow breath. ‘How’s
Lillian? Is she OK?’

‘Lillian?’ Charles half-frowned . . . and Olivia’s heart sank as she saw his gaze pass around the room, obviously starting to catalogue his artefacts again. His lips pursed as
his gaze focused on one particular candlestick nearby.

‘
Lillian
, Dad?’ Olivia prompted him.

‘Oh, right.’ Reaching for his notebook, Charles started to scribble down a note. ‘Of course Lillian’s OK,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t she be? We’ve
gotten over the wedding stress, and we’re settling into married life in Franklin Grove.’ He flipped over a new page in the notebook and kept on scribbling, sketching out what looked
like a re-design of the room.

Olivia gritted her teeth. ‘Maybe Lillian wants to be involved in this exhibit,’ she suggested. ‘It would be a good way for you to spend time together.’

‘Oh, no.’ Charles shook his head – and none-too-subtly re-angled himself to take a good look at the Triptych. ‘Lillian’s not all that interested in history,’
he said. Lowering his pen for a moment, he gave Olivia a small smile. ‘Plus, it’s good for couples to have separate interests. You’ll learn that when you’re
older.’

Olivia stared at her bio-dad in disbelief, forcing herself to let out her frustration in a long, rippling sigh. There was obviously no point in talking to Charles about the problem because, as
far as he was concerned, there
was
no problem.

And maybe there isn’t
, she told herself.
Maybe I’ve just been over-thinking everything.

But she didn’t believe that.

Charles’s gaze had already moved back to the Triptych, and Olivia gave up.

‘I’ll leave you to your work,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I can’t wait for the exhibit this weekend.’

‘Yes, yes . . .’ Charles’s voice followed her out of the room. ‘Perhaps if I re-organised them by their
Latin
classifications . . .’

Shaking her head, Olivia fumbled her way out of the museum, past dust-covered artefacts and spooky shadows. It was a relief to step out into the fresh air, even though the sky was dark outside.
As the big oak door fell shut behind her with a
boom
, the cellphone in her purse rang.

For the first time in hours, Olivia relaxed.
I know that ringtone.

Oh, it was
so
the right time to hear Jackson’s voice!

She pulled the phone out of her purse and clicked it on to see her boyfriend’s very famous face fill the very tiny screen. This wasn’t just a phone call – it was a video call.
Even better.
‘Hey, you!’ she said. ‘Can you see the creepy place I’m coming out of?’ She waved the phone at the bulky museum hulking behind her in the
shadows.

‘Wow.’ Jackson’s eyebrows rose. ‘Franklin Grove just keeps on getting more interesting. Are you sure you haven’t snuck back on to some Hollywood set?’

‘Very funny.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So, how are you?’

‘Well . . .’ He drew a breath. ‘I was actually calling because I want your advice. What do you know about the
Wanderer
trilogy?’

‘Hmm.’ Spotting an empty bus stop ahead, Olivia headed towards it.
I’d better sit down for this one!
Parking herself on the metal bench, she said, ‘Well,
I’ve heard of it – I mean, who
hasn’t
? Those books are huge. But I’ve never read them.’ She shrugged. ‘Stories about the end of the world aren’t
my thing.’

‘No?’ Jackson frowned. ‘That’s interesting.’ For a moment, he was silent, obviously thinking things over. Then he said, ‘Amy just called me.’ Amy Teller
was Jackson’s agent – Olivia’s too,
some
of the time. ‘She says that Jacob Harker’s going to be producing the film version of the trilogy. He wants to know if
I’m interested.’

Olivia let out a snort of pure surprise. ‘Isn’t the main character a guy in his mid-forties? I know you’re a great actor, but I’m not sure even
you
could pull
that off!’

Jackson laughed, his face breaking into the megawatt grin she’d seen on a zillion different magazine covers. ‘No, I’d be playing the role of the main character’s son, who
dies at the very beginning – but haunts him all through the first movie.’