Olivia grinned. “You’re welcome.” She laughed.
Sophia turned to Ivy. “How about we give our honorary Goth here a proper tour of Franklin Grove?”
“Killer idea,” Ivy agreed.
As the three of them strolled through the center of town, Ivy ticked off all the stores that were vampire friendly for her sister. “Gool’s Autobody, Shredders Convenience, Red Mark Cleaners—”
“Don’t forget the Juice Bar,” Sophia interrupted.
“They really mean it when they say ‘blood’ oranges,” Ivy acknowledged. “Tranzil Pharmacy . . .” she continued.
“Wait,” said Olivia. “That can’t be one. It’s where my mom goes.”
“It’s not all black-and-white, Olivia,” Sophia told her. “Lots of stores serve bunny customers up front, and then have a vampire place in the back. Our community is fully integrated—it has been for more than a hundred years. We’re your doctors, your lawyers . . .”
“Your movie stars,” Ivy put in.
“Who?” Olivia cried. “Which movie stars?”
Sophia turned abruptly. “We could tell you, but then we’d have to bite you,” she said with a mischievous grin.
Olivia skipped over a crack in the sidewalk. “So what can vampires do that other people can’t?” she asked.
“Ah, let us count the ways,” Ivy said dramatically. “Superhuman strength.”
“Superior agility,” Sophia said in a high British accent.
“A keen sense of hearing,” Ivy added.
Sophia flourished her arms. “Classical beauty.” Ivy and her friend both batted their eyelids.
Then Ivy gestured across the main square. “See that guy sitting on the steps of the post office?”
“Uh-huh.” Olivia nodded.
“He’s been sitting there for nearly one hundred fifty years.”
“You’re not serious!” cried Olivia.
“You’re right, she’s not, but he is really old.” Sophia chuckled.
Ivy was surprised by how much fun it was to initiate her sister into the vampire world. She’d never had a chance to explain all these things before.
“So,” Olivia asked, “what’s the deal with the aging thing? Do you live forever or not?”
Sophia looked at Ivy. “You answer. You’re younger.”
“Only by four months,” Ivy protested. She turned to Olivia. “Remember how those scratches on my arm healed last week? That’s the key. We call it RSH, rapid self-healing.”
Olivia nodded.
Ivy went on. “We grow at the same rate as humans until we reach adulthood—”
“College.” Sophia winked.
“—and then we start aging very slowly.”
“My dad’s two hundred twelve years old,” Sophia said, swinging jauntily around a lamppost.