‘Oh, I’m fine now,’ he said carelessly. ‘Don’t worry about me.’ As he slid out of the booth, though, his expression turned serious. He leaned over Olivia, his dark eyes intent. ‘Don’t worry about Ivy, either,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her tonight. I promise.’
‘Your muffin!’ Holly announced a moment later. ‘Absolutely designed to make anyone feel better.’ As she slid into the booth across from Olivia, she looked around curiously. ‘What happened to Broody Boy?’
‘You mean Brendan?’ Olivia felt a snap of irritation at the nickname, but she told herself not to mind. After all, Brendan was Ivy’s boyfriend, and Holly had every reason not to be thrilled with Ivy right now. ‘He’s off to meet Ivy,’ she said, and then moved on quickly before any awkwardness could spring up between them. If there was one person she did not want to discuss with Holly right now, it was her twin. ‘How has your day been?’
‘Oh, I haven’t done much.’ Holly shrugged. ‘I did take a wander to the mall after I got your text, though, and I saw the book-signing queue. It was quite long, which was good – I want those books to be popular.’
‘Of course.’ Olivia smiled warmly as she picked up her muffin. Thank goodness. Holly was voluntarily telling the truth about going to the mall. Maybe she had her reasons for lying in the first place. Anyway, it certainly wasn’t the worst lie anyone had ever told.
But why hadn’t Holly mentioned speaking with the writer? In fact, S. K. Reardon had told her off quite sternly, but Holly didn’t look at all upset about it now.
Something isn’t right about this. Olivia set her muffin down without taking a bite, as discomfort twisted through her. She started to open her mouth to ask more – but then she looked at her friend’s cheerful expression and the words dried up in her mouth. Not now.
She’d seen how Holly tended to react when under stress. Holly had a serious habit of freaking out when she thought she’d upset people. And Olivia couldn’t bear to have Holly angry at her too. She needed friends so badly, at the moment. Because Ivy . . .
Olivia swallowed hard, remembering how Ivy had stalked away from her at the mall. She’d never seen her twin so angry at her before.
Who knew what Ivy would do next, in her current mood? For all Olivia knew, Ivy might even decide she wanted to go back to Wallachia Academy. Why would she want to stay in Franklin Grove when she was so upset at her twin?
Even if Ivy didn’t leave again, there was one truth about vampires that neither twin could change. We might have been born on the same day, but Ivy will live much longer than me, Olivia thought, with a lump in her throat. We’ll grow apart, no matter how hard we try not to.
‘Well?’ Holly said. Gesturing at the cakes on the table between them, she grinned. ‘What are you waiting for? We need to eat them before the icing melts!’
‘Of course,’ Olivia said, and stretched her lips into a smile. ‘Let’s not waste time!’
Chapter Eight
Despite the neon-bright colours that Ivy’s grandparents wore, the atmosphere at the Vega household that night at dinner was as sombre as a tomb. It’s like someone put a stake through our collective hearts, Ivy thought.
‘I cannot believe we still have no clues to this blagger’s identity!’ the Countess exclaimed. Her steak sat on her plate, uneaten. Out of habit, she reached up to her ear with shaking fingers as if to play with her dangling earrings, but they weren’t a part of her undercover outfit. ‘After all our detective work and disguises . . .’
‘I’m sure you’ll find something soon,’ Lillian said soothingly. ‘Surely they can’t stay anonymous for much longer, not in this day and age.’
‘That’s what the Queen said.’ The Countess looked even more miserable.
Her husband shuddered. ‘We phoned Her Majesty before dinner. She was not best pleased by our failure so far.’ He took a quick, automatic look at his wrist, where his gold watch usually sat. His wrist was bare. Ivy saw his shoulders slump. ‘We’ll simply have to work even harder tomorrow.’
Ivy felt her grandparents’ unhappiness like a thick cloud of gloom hovering over the table. Even Charles had been subdued. He hasn’t said a word about the wedding all evening ! If Ivy hadn’t caught him sneaking peeks at a floral catalogue under the table, when the Count and Countess weren’t looking, she would have been seriously worried about him too.
She slid a glance at her twin’s unhappy face. Olivia was barely even pretending to eat her meat-free pasta. Her body was rigid with tension, all because of Ivy’s plan.
After the most recent blog entry, just an hour earlier, the entire vampire community had gone into full-on panic.
‘Tonight,’ the blogger had written, ‘a major development in our investigation will take place. Some of the vampires’ most important secrets will be revealed very soon !’
It had only taken five minutes from that blog posting for Ivy’s grandparents to impose a curfew on every Franklin Grove vampire. They’d stood over Ivy at her computer as she sent the batsqueak alerting the entire community that none of them was to leave their home tonight. Even the Blood Mart was shutting up shop for the first time in its history.
When Olivia looked up from her plate, Ivy had to look away. She couldn’t make eye contact with her twin, not now. If their grandparents found out what she was planning to do tonight . . .
‘Well,’ said Charles, as Horatio appeared to clear away their plates. Sliding out the floral catalogue from underneath the table, he looked around hopefully. ‘Perhaps we could take just a few minutes to discuss . . .?’
Lillian put a hand on his arm to cut him off, looking at his parents’ weary faces. ‘I think maybe it would be best for us all to have an early night.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the Countess. She sighed heavily, looking older than Ivy had ever seen her before. ‘This day cannot be over soon enough.’
It hasn’t even begun, Ivy thought. But she only nodded and forced a yawn, even as anticipation buzzed through her skin. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now too.’
‘Good night,’ Olivia said. She kissed both grandparents on the cheek. ‘I’d better go home now.’
‘Wait,’ Ivy said. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’