The Knaveheart's Curse (5 page)

Maddy flushed. Dakota had told Lisi they were fake friends. So why was she pretending to care if Maddy was feeling better?
No way was she going to call or write back. Instead, she hit delete. Fast.

SECOND THOUGHTS . . . AND THIRDS . . .

M
addy!” her mother sonic-hollered. “Phone!”
Whoa! Stop the presses—who’d be phoning her? Dakota, maybe?
Maddy took advantage of the fact that her whole family was in the kitchen sharing a melon cup breakfast to slide down the banister from her attic all the way to the first floor. She hit bottom on her bottom in under ten seconds, nice!
“Hello?”
“Madison Livingstone!” boomed a voice. “Please come over for a brief visit. Your opera cape is ready. You won’t be disappointed, so I suggest you bring your payment.” Click. The caller had hung up before Maddy could get a word in.
But she knew who it was.
Maddy smiled. It had been a few days since her Lullaby fiasco, and she was ready for something wonderful to happen to her.
She ran back upstairs and fished in her hamper for some not-quite-dirty but still pleasingly smelly clothes and rounded up her walking cane, hat, sunglasses, her outgrown sneakers since she’d lost her other pair at Lullaby, and, finally, her von Krik necklace before taking to the street.
“Bye, everyone! I’m having breakfast at Susanality’s,” she yelled as she ran out the door. Thank goodness for imaginary friends. Although, Maddy decided, a real one would have been plenty okay, too. Guess not this summer.
Another hot day. In three blocks she was out of breath, but using the cane was fun. It clopped so loud that people stepped out of its way.
She used the cane to rap on the door of the tailor’s shop.
A window screeched open as Carlyle looked down from above. “Mademoiselle Livingstone, I presume?”
“Here I am!
May I
have my cape?” Maddy upped her politeness by using a British accent. British people always sounded so polite.
Carlyle disappeared, and the door buzzed. Maddy bounded inside and up the stairs, panting with excitement.
“Normally I don’t like to be too hospitable, because it gives the wrong impression of me,” said Carlyle, “but you look rather dehydrated. Would you like a glass of water?”
“Sure.”
She drank three glasses before she saw it.
“Ooh!” The finished cape, hanging from a mannequin dummy, was capital
S
Splendid.
“Lucky you’re so short and a cape pattern is so simple,” said Carlyle as he swirled the cloak off the dummy. “It took two yards of cloth and four hours of effort. But your sneakers look shabby for this cape. I suggest a trip to the Elcris Shoe Emporium.”
“No, thanks,” said Maddy. Yick, those Elcrises were everywhere.
Carlyle flung the cape over Maddy’s shoulders.
As the fabric settled in a purple velvet column from Maddy’s neck to feet, a long-lost sensation rippled through her. Yes, this was how she was supposed to feel. When the Livingstones had fled to the New World, they’d left too much of their familiar culture behind. Maddy loved her modern, New World comforts, but the cape whisked her back down the dim halls of Old World memories, reminding her of what she’d once been.
Powerful and predatory.
“Perfect,” she said, hopping off the pedestal and fishing out her von Krik necklace for payment.
“Ahh!” Carlyle reached out and grasped it. “Exquisite!”
Maddy frowned. Perhaps it was the way the beads winked at her, as if they knew a secret, but something didn’t feel right about relinquishing so rare a treasure.
Was it foolish to give up the only prize from the ashes of pureblood vampire Nicola von Krik?
She had taken the necklace because it was pretty and because it was vampire loot.
But what if it meant something more?
What if it could help her slay Knave Nine?
Carlyle seemed to sense Maddy’s hesitation. His hand swept the necklace into the sewing table’s drawer, which he shut with a bang.
“Fun, fun, but now all’s done.” His fingers cinched Maddy’s arm as he escorted her from his shop. “You’re a funny little elf, but don’t come back unless I invite you,” he said, slamming the door.
Standing outside the tailor’s shop, Maddy’s heart raced with doubts.
“Here you go.” A man, striding past, had stopped and dropped something into the glass of water that Maddy was still holding since Carlyle had rushed her out so quick.
“What the . . . ?” She held up the glass. A quarter rested on its bottom.
Then she got it. She’d been standing on the curb so silently, in her hat, walking cane, cape, and sunglasses, that the man had thought she was a blind person. He had mistaken her drinking glass for a change cup.
Intriguing. Maddy smiled as she fished out and pocketed her quarter.

BLIND GIRL’S BLUFF

A
few days later, Maddy slid into the booth at the Candlewick Café, where Lexie was sharing a Garden of Diva smoothie plus bee pollen boost with her best friend, Pete.
From the starry brightness in Lexie’s eye and the hang of Pete’s head, Maddy suspected it was a kiss-and-make-up smoothie. Over this summer, Lexie and Pete had been in a lot more fights and make-ups than usual.
Sometimes Maddy thought their quarrels had to do with the fact that recently Pete had become a hottie. And hotness, as everyone knows, tends to bring out a lot of emotions.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“You haven’t missed anything. Zelda’s just about to go on.” Lexie pointed to the back of the restaurant, where a high stool and stand-up microphone had been placed.
“I’m surprised you’re here at all, Madness. I didn’t think you were into acoustic.” Pete yawned and stretched. Now that she knew Pete was a werewolf, it made sense to Maddy why—when the moon was on the wane—he got tired so easy.
“Wake up, Pete. It’s only lunchtime.” Maddy snapped her fingers in front of his face. He was only here because Lex had dragged him. Truthfully, Maddy wasn’t at the Candlewick to listen to guitar music, either. She had bigger fish to fry.
All week, Maddy had been making tons of money from her great new scheme—pretending to be a blind beggar. Maybe she’d even earned enough to buy back the von Krik necklace from Carlyle.
Maddy knew the Candlewick was risky territory. For one thing, it was too close to home, and Maddy also had a hunch her parents wouldn’t approve of her scheme. But now that she was here, in the presence of so many kind-hearted vegans, Maddy knew she’d be able to rake in some good moola.
She decided to work the room a little bit before the show. She stood, hobbling and tapping.
“Oops, I’m sorry!” Maddy exclaimed as she bumped into a man carrying a bowl of tofu turkey stew, the house specialty.
“No,
I’m
sorry,” said the man. “Maybe it was
I
who jostled
you
. Here.”
“Thanks.” Cool, a dollar. Maddy tapped herself back to her seat. She waited for the next person to pass by before she jumped up and stumbled into her.
“Careful, honey,” clucked the woman. “Poor thing. Your parents should get you a guide dog.”
“That’s what I’m saving up for.” Maddy sighed. The woman looked sad and gave Maddy all the loose change in her coin purse. Yes!
Maddy rammed into a few more people, collecting their donations, until her sister signaled her over.
“Enough, already, Mads.” Lexie reached up and snatched off Maddy’s sunglasses. “That is a totally inappropriate summer job.”
“Besides, it’s an insult to real blind people, who would prefer not to be thought of as charity cases,” said Pete. “And you can’t just smash against strangers all afternoon and scoop up their pity money—”
He stopped.
Guitar in hand, an extremely tall and willowy green-eyed girl with curled-at-the-ends auburn hair had slid up onto the high stool that marked the performance space. She tested the mike and waved to a table up front. Maddy craned her neck. The Elcris family—bleh! They were way too everywhere.
“That’s Zelda!” Lexie clasped her hands. “Don’t we look alike?”
“Eh.” Maddy could see it. All the parts of Lexie that didn’t look like Maddy—such as Lexie’s noodly limbs and plushier mouth—were mirrored in Zelda.
But Lexie’s excitement irritated Maddy. Zelda wasn’t Lexie’s twin or even her sister. Maddy was. And in a summer when it had been next to impossible to make a friend, Maddy had been relieved that sisters didn’t get a choice. They
had
to be friends. Even if one of the sisters pretended to be blind or gave away the other sister’s clarinet. Sisters were forever linked. That was a rule. Or at least, Maddy had always counted on it being a rule.
“Ooh, I hope she sings ‘The Rose’—the most tragic ballad in pop history.” Lexie sighed.
Zelda pulled a black guitar pick from behind her ear and strummed a few chords. “Just want to give a shout-out,” she said in a husky, accented whisper. “Thanks, everybody, for coming to support the arts.”
She strummed her guitar and played a few songs. She had a near-perfect voice, Maddy decided. And aside from having musical talent, she
was
a lot like Lexie. Was it the earnest way she sang those doomed songs? Was it how her green eyes seemed to flash both at and through the audience?
When she was finished, everyone burst into loud applause—though the Elcrises were loudest of all.
“Thanks.” Zelda smiled with the confidence of someone who was used to praise. “At my next concert, I’ll be sharing the stage with my newest star student, Lexie Livingstone, who is also my dear friend.”
“Oh my gosh.” Lexie started to hiccup from excitement. Pete thwopped her on the back.
“So come over to Dolly World,” said Zelda.
More clapping.
“Dolly World?” Maddy scrunched her nose. “Isn’t that a department store?”
“Shh!” Pete put a finger to his lips. “An artist has to start somewhere.”
After her last song, “The Rose,” which Zelda dedicated to Lexie, the lanky teen enjoyed a final round of applause before she tucked her guitar pick back behind her ear with a flourish and loped up to their table.
“Here,” said Zelda. She handed her guitar and pick to Lexie. “You can borrow it this week for practice.”
Maddy tried to roll her eyes at Pete, but he was concentrating on being supportive, and so he just looked away.
After Zelda had gone, Lexie turned to Maddy. “Outrageous, isn’t it? Zelda’s exactly like me!”
“Not really. She’s Danish and you’re Plain-ish.”
Lexie frowned. “You’re so negative, Maddy.”
Maddy fumed. She leaned back and dropped her Blind Girl’s Bluff glasses over her eyes so her sister couldn’t see the hurt in them. Of course she was feeling negative. And sour, and jealous. Why didn’t Lexie get it? It was as if this Zelda had put a kind of spell on her sister. Maddy wished she could put a friendship spell on someone.
As it was, her Day of Friendship with Dakota had been a disaster.
And Susanality wasn’t even a real person.
Was Lexie rejecting Maddy, too?

DOLLY WORLD

F
or the occasion of Lexie’s concert, Maddy had decided to stay in her Blind Girl’s Bluff costume—sunglasses, hat, cape, and cane—though she had mostly stopped looking to profit from her fake blindness. She’d made enough money. All she needed now was the courage to approach Carlyle and get that necklace back. She suspected it wouldn’t be easy.
The three siblings plus Pete strolled down Fifth Avenue to where Dolly World took up almost an entire city block. Inside, it smelled like chocolate and peppermint and tinkled with music that chimed from a lighted carousel in the middle of the concourse. Dozens of moms, dads, grand-parents, and babysitters were being led by squealing girls and boys, all shopping for dolls and doll merchandise.
Of which there was plenty.
Much too much.
“This place is more like a Dolly Universe!” Hudson whistled.
Maddy stared. From floor to ceiling, dolls stared back at her. Shelves and shelves of china, cloth, and plastic dolls. Baby dolls, girl dolls, grown-up lady dolls. All sizes, all skin tones. Dolls with auburn hair, blond hair, Afros, bun-headed, cornrowed, braided, bald. Dolls in every costume from bikinis to snowshoes. Hundreds of pairs of glass eyes, all on Maddy.
“‘Dreamscape Dolly Theater.’” Maddy read the words off the directory. “It’s on the second floor. Escalators up, thataway.”
“How awesome that Lexie was asked to perform in a concert,” mentioned Pete as they reached the theater and filed into folding chairs. “Even if it’s only a concert for dolls.”
“Think about it. Dolls don’t have functioning ears,” Maddy reminded. She’d heard Lex practicing earlier this morning, and she’d brought earplugs.
“Yeah, she can’t be that good so soon, right?” Hudson wrinkled his nose. “In fact, it seems impossible that somebody who’s been practicing for only two weeks—and who doesn’t even own her own guitar—would be pro enough to play a concert.”
“The important thing is to be supportive,” said Pete.
Maddy nodded and stuck her earplugs in.
Moms and dads and girls and boys and dolls quickly filed in. It wasn’t long before she saw the Elcris family slinking into the front row. Ugh. Maddy slouched down. Those Elcrises were inescapable. When Adam twisted around in his seat, Maddy bared her fangs. That set him straight again.
A few minutes later, lanky Zelda slouched to the front of the stage and said some things that earplugged Maddy couldn’t hear. But she clapped along as Lexie came out and perched on the high stool and began to strum a few chords.
At first, Maddy didn’t realize what was happening. Energy was rippling through the room. People were smiling. People were nodding and tapping their feet. People seemed to be . . .
enjoying
themselves.
Maddy popped out her plugs. Wait a minute. Lexie sounded gorgeous.
“Bravo!” Everyone clapped and whistled.
Instead of looking abashed, Lexie twirled Zelda’s guitar pick behind her ear and allowed the adoration to wash over her as if she’d been performing in public her whole life.
Not a very Lex-ish reaction, thought Maddy. She was practically preening. Never had her sister seemed so foreign to her. Hudson looked taken aback, too. “It’s like she thinks she’s royalty,” he murmured.
After the concert, Lexie hadn’t lost her smug air. It wasn’t even fun to congratulate her. “Yeah, I’m probably a better musician than Mom and Dad,” she said with a little yawn. “Also, I think I feel like walking home by myself today. A true artiste needs some alone time.”
“No problem, seeing there’s not enough room on one sidewalk for you, us, and your swollen head.” Hudson looked peeved.
They all watched Lexie cruise off.
“I wonder what’s got into her?” Pete’s voice cracked, as it sometimes still did when he became emotional but didn’t want anyone to know.
“She’s being pretty flouncy, though.” Maddy’s heart upticked. What was wrong with her sister?
At the corner, Maddy watched as Lexie nearly banged into a streetlight. When she turned, she stubbed her toe against a fire hydrant.
“Sorry, doggie,” said Lexie as she patted the hydrant’s top.
Was Lexie losing her sight?
And had her jeans always stopped so high above her ankles? Or was she growing taller? Also, as her hair caught the sun, it seemed to be lighter. In fact, it appeared almost reddish.
When she wasn’t pretending to be blind, Maddy had the sharpest eyes in the family. She knew they weren’t playing tricks on her. But Maddy decided to keep her fears quiet. After all, there could be lots of explanations. Lexie was having a growth spurt. Lexie was tinting her hair to Zelda’s more-exciting auburn. It was pointless to jump to dramatic conclusions—such as the one that kept buzzing in Maddy’s head, insisting that the mysterious Zelda had cast some kind of spell on her sister.
“Ole Hex is just going through a stage,” Maddy reassured Pete as they trailed Lexie from a distance. “Girls can get like that. Even the most ancient and eternal ones.”