Stake Out! - Sienna Mercer My Sister the Vampire

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know!’ Olivia nodded. ‘I was so shocked, but I still managed to bluff. I said, “What vampires?” But then he asked me, hadn’t I seen his chirps?’

      Ivy was already twisting around to her computer to load Jackson’s BirdChirp account. BirdChirp was an online social networking group that almost everyone had an account with, from A-list stars to people as normal as the twins. Well, if you can call us normal, Ivy thought, remembering all the scrapes they managed to get into.

      ‘What were his chirps?’

      ‘He said there’s this funny blog that’s become a bit of a viral hit . . .’ Olivia’s voice trailed off as Ivy clicked Jackson’s latest link and a new web page flashed up. Its header made Ivy immediately feel her skin prickle with sweat.

       Vampires . . . in Franklin Grove !

      ‘Oh no,’ Olivia whispered. She slumped on to Ivy’s coffin-bed.

      Ivy couldn’t speak. She scrolled down the web page, horror sending chills across her skin as she read.

      ‘If you think vampires only live in horror stories or Transylvania, think again. They’re here, they’re in the heart of America, and they’re walking the streets of Franklin Grove. Don’t believe us? Then get your teeth stuck into our weekly update on vampire sightings that will make your BLOOD run cold . . .’

      Ivy stared at the screen, reading the same words over and over again. ‘Jackson’s been chirping about this?’

      ‘And millions of people follow him,’ Olivia said softly.

      ‘No wonder the blog’s gone viral.’ Ivy felt sick as she looked down at the hundreds of comments listed under the most recent entry. ‘At this point, it’s practically an Internet disease.’ Especially where vampires are concerned.

      ‘What are we going to do?’ Olivia said.

      Ivy stiffened her shoulders. ‘We’ll take our own Internet action,’ she said. ‘We have to get on the Vorld Vide Veb and send a batsqueak.’ It was the VVV equivalent of a BirdChirp, and Ivy couldn’t think of any faster way to spread the message among vampires. ‘We have to alert our whole community about the danger.’

      Olivia nodded, looking determined. ‘They’ll have to keep an eye out for this blogger, whoever it is.’

      ‘And be careful not to do anything too vamptastic.’ Ivy grimaced. ‘No more super-powered games of Frisbee, I guess.’

      ‘Not unless you can all control your strength.’ Olivia got up from the bed and stood beside Ivy. ‘But it’s going to be OK. Now that we know what’s going on, you guys can protect yourselves.’

      ‘That still doesn’t answer the real question . . .’ said Ivy, staring at the signature at the end of the blogger’s post.

      ‘Your brave reporter in the heart of Franklin Grove.’

      Ivy shook her head. That could be anybody – literally. It was time to focus. ‘How does this blogger know the truth about vampires?’

      ‘And why does he or she want to expose them?’ Olivia asked.

      ‘I don’t know,’ Ivy said. ‘But I know one thing for sure.’ She folded her arms, glaring at the blog on her computer screen as if she could laser it with her eyes. ‘It’s lucky I came back when I did.’

      No matter how hard she tried, Olivia couldn’t make her nerves stop being so . . . nervy. The wistfulness in Jackson’s tone as he’d talked about their perfect time in Hollywood, back when she’d really believed that they would be together forever . . . What with that and the vampire blog to deal with, she felt as jumpy as a real bunny.

      There was only one thing for it: baking!

      ‘Come on!’ she said. She led Ivy downstairs into the kitchen and pulled out two aprons from a drawer. ‘I want to test out a few recipes. Nothing major. I just don’t want to mess up at the party tomorrow. Here –’ She pushed one of the aprons into Ivy’s hands. ‘This one’s for you.’

      ‘Wow . . .’ Ivy looked down at the apron she’d been given, made of black denim with studs running along the hem. ‘It’s perfect!’ Then she looked up and frowned at the apron Olivia was fastening around herself, which had a pink gingham ruffle around the hem and a sweetheart-shaped pocket. ‘Actually, so is yours.’

      ‘It really is, isn’t it?’ Olivia tied the straps with a bow. Neat and tidy and perfect. If only my life could be the same ! She brushed her hands together. ‘Now –’

      ‘Just a minute,’ Ivy said. ‘First, tell me how come we have two perfectly suited aprons just lying about in my kitchen, when we’ve never done any baking here before? How do I know you’re really my sister, and not some body-snatched doppelganger?’

      Olivia felt her skin heat up in a blush as she gave a nervous giggle. She knelt down quickly to hide her face as she rummaged through the pots and pans. ‘Lillian’s mom came to stay for a weekend and brought her sewing machine. That’s where the aprons came from. No big deal. I mean, she is going to be our step-grandmother.’

      ‘Aha . . .’ Olivia could tell Ivy hadn’t missed the blush. ‘Talking of Lillian, it’s time for you to come clean about those cakes you made.’

      Oops ! ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Olivia said. But she already had a guilty grin tugging at her lips.

      ‘Come on,’ Ivy said. ‘I don’t care what Holly claimed – you did not make those cupcakes on your own. I’ve seen you in the kitchen – you look more lost than me in an organic food store!’

      Olivia grinned. ‘OK, I confess,’ she said, and stood up, holding a stack of measuring cups in her hands. ‘Lillian may have spent some time in the kitchen with me and Holly. But that’s why Holly was being so nice about my baking – she knows how bad I was to start with.’ Seeing Ivy’s face twitch, she rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Ivy! Give the girl a break. She was just trying to be kind.’

      ‘Whatever.’ Ivy gave an unconvincing smile. ‘You know, I’m still feeling pretty tired and frazzled after everything that happened at the Academy. I guess it must be making me grumpier than usual.’

      Olivia opened her mouth to joke: Do you really think that’s possible ? But on seeing Ivy’s face, she stopped herself.

      If anyone had the right to be cranky at the moment, it was Ivy.

      By the time their bio-dad came home an hour later, both girls were covered in flour and licking out the bowls as they waited for their cakes to finish baking. When he stepped into the kitchen, Olivia winced, expecting him to sigh and complain about the mess. Charles Vega was nothing if not immaculate at all times.

      ‘Don’t worry . . .’ she began.

      But he was too busy muttering to himself to hear her. ‘Butter icing or cream-cheese icing? Butter icing or cream-cheese icing ?’

      ‘Um . . .’ Olivia turned to Ivy, her eyebrows raised. Ivy had grown up with Charles. Maybe she understood the question.

      Ivy only shrugged. ‘Dad? We were just making –’

      ‘Fantastic!’ Charles’s eyes lit up as he spotted the cupcakes in the oven. ‘You girls are thinking about the wedding catering already!’

      This time it was Ivy’s turn to say, ‘Um . . .?’

      ‘Why, you’re almost as organised as I am.’ He beamed proudly at them both, not even seeming aware of the mess.

      ‘Dad, we need to talk to you,’ Ivy said, and from the look in her eye Olivia knew she was going to tell him about the blogger. ‘We have a big problem.’

      ‘Not

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