Even for Ivy Vega.
Chapter Seven
Olivia may not have had any vamp powers, but she had competed in the state cheerleading competition three times, and that meant she had a few special skills of her own. She stared up at the impossibly high oak tree. Its branches stretched over the Lazar family grounds. It was the perfect spot to scout for locations for shots of the wedding reception . . . just so long as she didn’t look down.
Olivia straddled the tree trunk and inched her way up until she reached one of the solid lower branches. From there, she caught hold of the next limb up, moving from bough to bough like she was climbing a rickety ladder. When she reached a branch near the top of the tree, she hiked her leg over and leaned her back against the knotted trunk.
Her feet dangled as she lifted the viewfinder to study the landscape. The first half of the wedding reception was to be held outside, beneath the sparkling Transylvania stars, before the guests went back into the ballroom to dance the night away. The whole day was going to be a fairytale come true – only this fairytale came with vampires. The tables had been draped with garlands of pink-and-cream flowers. A silk awning billowed over the table where Tessa and Alex would sit for the wedding dinner, and a band was setting up to one side, their gilt chairs decorated with huge cream satin bows. I’m so glad Lucia changed her plans, she thought. All it took was a nudge in the right direction.
Olivia snapped a few test shots, double-checking the digital screen after each one to see which angles were working best. She scooted further out along the branch, but then it dawned on her: I’ll hardly be able to climb up here in the fabulous gown I’ll be wearing! Not that she’d ever tested it, but Olivia didn’t think pink chiffon and rough tree bark would go together very well.
The branch swayed beneath her and she dug all ten fingernails into the tree until the bough stopped moving. Panting, Olivia smacked herself on the forehead. What was wrong with her lately? Was she so desperate to avoid thinking about Jackson that she would risk life and limb climbing a stupid tree? She needed to get it together. She clutched the trunk and lowered herself on to a branch below.
Crack!
Olivia felt rotting bark crumble beneath her feet, and she slipped down. She managed to grasp a sturdier branch above her, clutching it with her fingertips. Her feet swished wildly through thin air. She looked up at the branch she was holding for dear life.
Don’t panic, Olivia. Do not panic. She squeezed her eyes shut. Too late – she was totally panicking. Her arms started to shake and her fingers were aching with the strain of holding on. I could really use a dose of that super-strength about now! Where was her sister when she needed her? Olivia tried to adjust her grip, but her hand slipped and her stomach virtually jumped into her mouth. Down she plummeted.
‘Heeeeeeeelp! Ooof!’
She landed in a clumsy heap on the ground, cradling her camera to her chest. How utterly great, she thought. I try to stay busy and I wind up nearly killing myself! Olivia stretched her arms and then her legs, flexing her wrists and ankles. She’d had enough practice tumbling from the top of a cheer pyramid to manage not to break any bones. At least she could be thankful for that, and the camera was still in one piece.
Something in the grass prickled her shins, and Olivia scooted back. She looked down at the spot where she had landed. She was up to her ankles in exotic plants with green, ivy-like vines and furry white blossoms. Almost instantly, her skin started to itch. She leaned down to scratch, but the itching was getting worse by the second. She straightened up to get out of reach of the devilish plants, but then she noticed that she was bang in the middle of a crop; there was another metre’s worth of plants between her and the clear grass.
It was time for Olivia’s cheerleader skills again. She took two steps back, squared her shoulders and catapulted herself into the air, performing a perfect somersault before landing free and clear of the plant beds.
As she dusted off her clothes, Helga the Greenhouse Lady appeared at her side. ‘My dear, are you all right? I saw you fall into the . . . into the . . . Oh, no!’ She was staring at the crushed bed of plants at the base of the tree.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to damage them. It was an accid–’
But before Olivia could finish, Helga grabbed her round the waist and slung her over her shoulder! ‘I don’t care what you’ve done to the plants, it’s what the plants have done to you!’ she gasped.
‘Wha– what’s going on?’ Olivia cried as the woman broke into a run. Her body jiggled painfully against the gardener’s collar bone. Helga was racing back to the greenhouse with her as cargo! All she could do was watch the scenery go by as if in fast-forward. Helga pushed through a glass door, which grazed Olivia’s hair as it slammed shut behind them.
‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ Helga muttered under her breath, setting Olivia down on a metal table covered with various garden tools and bags of loose soil. ‘I have just the thing for you.’
For me?
Olivia stared open-mouthed at the high-tech greenhouse surrounding her. Artificial rain poured down from shiny, silver trays over rows of lush plants, complete with a soundtrack of rolling thunder. A miniature blimp buzzed around a track, sprinkling coloured fertiliser, and Olivia listened as giant, metal turbines mixed mulch in the corner.
Meanwhile, Helga bustled around, opening cabinets and grabbing colourful bottles. Olivia wanted to tell her that she wasn’t actually worried at all, but the woman seemed so concerned that Olivia thought it might be best to leave her alone.
‘I’ve only just started working here.’ Helga sniffed a purple bottle. ‘So I don’t quite know where everything is kept yet.’ She opened another steel cabinet and peered inside. ‘Ah, here it is!’ Helga wetted a strip of gauze with yellow liquid from a silver jar and began scrubbing Olivia’s legs with it.
‘Oh my goodness!’ Olivia looked down at her legs. Now she saw why Helga was worried. Her legs had changed colour from tanned to an angry red. A mass of swollen lumps had risen up on her shins. ‘What happened to me?’ she asked. While Helga scrubbed, Olivia scratched, but nothing could stop the terrible itching that was crawling up the length of her legs. Ew, a rash! She hoped it wasn’t contagious.
‘You got yourself caught in a crop of Bloodbite Nettles,’ Helga told her. Olivia groaned – even the name of the plant sounded painful! Helga wetted the gauze again and continued rubbing.
Olivia wanted to tell Helga that she was sorry about crushing the nettles, but all that came out was a long wheezing breath. She reached for her throat. Her lungs felt raw and swollen. She couldn’t speak. She waved her hands wildly at Helga.
‘Oh dear.’ Helga cleared the table of gardening tools. ‘Lie down.’ Olivia obeyed. ‘Yes, put your legs up, that’s right. Unfortunately, Bloodbite Nettles can have this effect.’
I wish those things had come with a warning label, thought Olivia, her chest heaving.
Helga rested an icy vampire hand on Olivia’s forehead. ‘Just lie very still and this will pass.’ Olivia blinked twice in response.
The greenhouse door was flung open and in burst Horatio. ‘I was washing the car and saw you rush in with Olivia. Miss Olivia, are you OK?’