Home > Fangs for the Memories (My Sister the Vampire #13)(2)

Fangs for the Memories (My Sister the Vampire #13)(2)
Author: Sienna Mercer

Ivy was glad she had her face hidden, because she was feeling very un-vampire-y tears welling up in her eyes. OK, no sappiness. She took a deep breath and stepped back, making a show of looking around. ‘Hey, where’s Horatio?’

‘I don’t know.’ The Countess frowned. ‘Where is Horatio?’

Olivia giggled. ‘Um . . .’

Smiling, Charles shook his head and pointed. ‘We should have known.’

The Count and Countess’s vampire butler was two doors down on Undertaker Hill, stalking Ivy’s neighbour Mr Galloway around his car, which was covered with soap suds.

‘What in the name of darkness is he doing?’ demanded the Count, his grey moustache bristling.

Ivy’s lips twitched into a grin. ‘Do you really have to ask?’

Mr Galloway’s voice drifted down the street. ‘But I told you, I really don’t need any help washing my car!’

‘Let me, sir.’ Horatio pinched the sponge from their neighbour’s hands with his vampire strength. ‘I must insist.’

Ivy cringed as she saw the outraged expression on Mr Galloway’s face. He stepped forward threateningly. ‘Look, you . . . Hey!’ His mouth dropped open as he leaned in to watch Horatio sweep the sponge around with professional precision. ‘How are you doing that?’

‘It is a special, spiralling, counter-clockwise technique – I invented it myself !’ Horatio coughed modestly and stepped back to demonstrate. ‘You see? Much more effective!’

‘Well, I’ll be . . .’ Mr Galloway’s scowl transformed into a smile as he saw the gleaming paintwork. ‘That actually is impressive!’

‘Thank you, sir. And now, if you’ll allow me . . .’ Smiling with quiet pride, Horatio straightened and removed his jacket. ‘There is some serious work to be done here. Although . . .’ He paused. ‘Yes, this would be much easier if we use some of my special, homemade turtle wax.’

Mr Galloway choked. ‘Your what?’

‘I have some just here, in the car.’ Frowning with concentration, Horatio hurried over to the hire car that he would be driving back to the airport. He opened the boot . . . then paused, suddenly looking anguished.

Uh-oh, Ivy thought. She didn’t often see the dignified butler lose his cool! She sidled up to him as discreetly as she could, glancing down into the boot. Unsurprisingly, the luggage was arranged like a 3D puzzle, every suitcase perfectly placed. He certainly can’t be upset about his packing!

‘Is everything OK?’ she whispered.

Horatio shook his head, still gazing with obvious desperation at the jigsaw-like stack of luggage. ‘If I’m going to use my special turtle wax, I’ll have to take it out of my suitcase,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘But my suitcase is beneath the Count and Countess’s luggage – at the bottom of the boot.’

‘Uh . . . so?’ Ivy shrugged. ‘Can’t you just dig it out and then re-pack?’

Horatio turned on her with a look so appalled, it actually rivalled Olivia’s expression the time Ivy had suggested Olivia wear a paisley skirt with her plaid blouse.

Ivy blinked and stepped back. ‘Or . . . not?’

Horatio pointed at the boot with a finger that trembled. ‘Look at that, Miss Ivy.’

‘Er . . .’ Ivy shrugged again. ‘All I see is packed suitcases.’

‘No . . .’ Horatio shook his head with obvious disappointment. ‘What you see are perfectly packed suitcases!’ A look of rapt passion spread across his face as he continued. ‘This is the Platonic ideal of suitcase-packing! They can be easily removed from the boot once we reach the airport, yet they are secure enough that no damage will be incurred to any items while driving. I have dreamed my whole life of managing to pack with such precision, such perfection.’

‘Oh.’ Ivy gulped, looking again at the suitcases. ‘Um. Oh, the, er . . . tectonic ideal. Right. Sorry I didn’t realise. Should I take a picture?’

‘There is no need.’ Horatio shook his head. ‘I will never forget the day I displayed such excellence in my craft. I couldn’t. And I planned to tell my fiancée, Helga, all about it once I had returned to Transylvania.’ His expression crumpled. ‘But I cannot if I must destroy it before we even leave for the airport!’

‘And speaking of which . . .’ The Countess was suddenly standing beside them, giving him a stern look that made Ivy take another step back. When her grandmother looked like this – confident, powerful and seriously scary – it was suddenly easy to remember that she was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world.

‘We are taking a commercial flight, Horatio,’ the Countess said, sounding as if the word ‘commercial’ was actually painful on her tongue. ‘That means that we are on someone else’s timetable.’

Oops. From the tone of her grandmother’s voice, Ivy could tell that wasn’t something the Countess was used to . . . and she obviously did not like it.

‘Of course, Madam.’ Horatio’s shoulders slumped as he turned back to Mr Galloway. ‘I do beg your pardon, sir,’ he called, ‘but I shan’t be able to use my special turtle wax after all.’ His voice trembled with emotion. ‘You cannot possibly know how much I regret this. I will post some to you the very moment I return home, however. Such a fine vehicle deserves only the best. If only –’

‘Oh, Horatio!’ Ivy couldn’t wait any longer. She threw her arms around the tall butler, overcome by affection. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’

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