There it was again. She sat up. Ivy was already halfway out of the room, muttering, ‘No, no, no!’ Her sister tugged on the ends of her wild, slept-on hair. ‘No!’ she repeated.
‘Now what?’ asked Olivia, rubbing her face to try and wake herself up properly.
What was going on?
Chapter Nine
Gooonnnnnggggg!
Ivy plugged her fingers into her ears as the metallic vibrations echoed through the castle. She had thought she was having a nightmare. She pinched herself, but the resounding noise still rang out. It’s . . . it’s . . . She suddenly recognised the sound. The gong! That could mean only one thing in Transylvania; she had learnt that at the Academy. A duel!
Ivy peered out of the bedroom door. ‘Is there really another duel?’ she shouted over the head-splitting racket. ‘And, if so, what silly argument is it over this time?’
‘What on earth is going on?’ cried Olivia, as she scrambled down from the top bunk.
‘I’ll go check it out,’ said Ivy, hastily tugging jeans on over her nightgown.
‘Right behind you – well, sort of!’ Olivia called as Ivy sprinted from the bedchamber and out of the castle on to the grounds. Even at full-speed, Olivia would have no chance of keeping up with a worried vampire!
Outside, the lush grass was wet and dewy under Ivy’s toes. She spotted Vincenzo on the lawn. Of course, he would be the cause of all this commotion. He’d thrown his cape over one shoulder and he was standing with open arms, his face tilted up towards the castle. ‘Karl Lazar!’ he called through cupped hands. ‘Karl Lazar! Come out!’ Ivy’s heart skidded to a stop. ‘Let’s settle this feud the old-fashioned way.’ Vincenzo beat his fists against his chest.
A servant wearing white linen trousers and a billowing shirt beat the gong again. Ivy waited, holding her breath. She hoped her father would ignore Vincenzo. Surely her dad wouldn’t do something as barbaric as enter a duel. But then the massive doors of the castle swung open and Charles appeared in the archway.
Ivy’s dad strode out, looking dignified in black trousers and a red silk shirt. Had the whole world gone batty? Olivia and Lillian followed closely behind him. Lillian was pulling the sash of her silk robe tight. Her porcelain face was screwed up with worry. Ivy didn’t blame her. This was a terrible substitute for a wake-up call.
‘Dad!’ Ivy tugged on his sleeve as he passed her. ‘You can’t fight about this,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t fight.’
Lillian, resting a hand on his shoulder, piped up. ‘Really, Charles, this is ridiculous. You can’t honestly take him seriously.’ She pointed at Vincenzo, who now seemed to be imitating a chicken pecking around the front lawn.
‘Are you scared, Charles? Are you not enough of a vampire to follow vampire tradition?’ Vincenzo was playing to the crowd that was slowly starting to gather out in front of the Lazars’ home. The sunlight peeping over the castle roof was dazzling and the dry breeze gusting at their backs smelled of summer. Everything felt out of place for a duel. This was supposed to be the setting for Tessa’s wedding day, not some macho death-match between two vamps old enough to know so much better!
Charles shook both Lillian and Ivy off, his jaw set. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not living in the Middle Ages.’
Olivia sidled up to Ivy and reached out for her hand, which Ivy took and tried not to crush.
From all over the castle, servants and courtiers streamed out on to the lawn. Ivy groaned. They looked just as excited as the students had at Wallachia. But this was her father, not some dumb kid fighting over the rules of a stupid sport.
Vincenzo pointed a long finger at Charles. ‘You embarrassed me in front of my niece.’
Charles casually placed his hands in his pockets, laughing. ‘I embarrassed you? I believe you embarrassed yourself by turning up looking like you were going to a fancy-dress party as Peter Cushing.’
‘Who’s Peter Cushing?’ whispered Olivia.
‘No idea,’ Ivy whispered back.
Her dad narrowed his eyes. ‘You have always caused problems, Vincenzo,’ he continued, approaching the pony-tailed vampire slowly. ‘Ever since we were at school, you’ve refused to grow up and act your age. What are you now, over two hundred years old? And yet you would rather play-act the scary villain than be a proper uncle to your niece, or a friend to me when I needed you.’
‘I – that’s not fair. I . . .’ Vincenzo scratched his cheek and shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Charles interrupted his sputtering. ‘No, what isn’t fair is that you make every major event about you.’ He circled Vincenzo. ‘My wedding, even your niece’s – they become one big Vincenzo Show!’
‘I do not !’ Vincenzo pivoted in place, keeping his eyes on Charles. ‘I mean, they do not!’
‘Enough is enough, Vincenzo.’ Charles folded his arms.
‘But . . . but . . .’ Then like a car with no petrol, Vincenzo stopped, dropping his greasy head. He clasped his hands together behind it, the way Ivy had seen boys at her school do when they missed an easy free-kick on the football pitch.
‘You’re right, my old friend,’ Vincenzo said at last. ‘Of course you’re right – I came out here to make it up to Tessa and to try to do the right thing, but look at me. I’ve made a mess of everything all over again.’