“But the legends still crop up,” Sophia pointed out.
“I know,” Ivy agreed, “but it’s like vampires telling their kids that babies are delivered by bats. That isn’t true either.”
“Anyway,” Sophia said, “a vampire and a human getting together in that way is forbidden.”
“What do you mean?” asked Olivia.
“The Second Law of the Night,” Sophia answered. “A vampire is never to fall in love with a human.”
“Maybe our parents broke that rule, and that’s why they put us up for adoption,” Ivy suggested.
Sophia considered this and then nodded. “If the coffin fits . . .” she agreed.
“Isn’t there some way we can find out for sure?” Olivia wondered.
Ivy thought for a second. “Have you ever tried talking to your adoption agency?”
“My mom and dad tried to get more information from them a few years ago,” Olivia told her. “The only thing in the file was a copy of that note I told you about this morning. Do you know anything about your adoption?”
Ivy shook her head. “All I know is that I was left at a special vampire adoption agency that placed me with Charles Vega, bachelor. I know my name, where and when I was born, and that my parents wanted me to have the ring. End of story. Whenever I ask my dad about it, he just says”—she imitated his smooth baritone—“ ‘You must look to the future, my Ivy, not back to the past.’ ”
Olivia and Sophia both chuckled.
“I used to think he was right,” Ivy said with a shrug, “but now I feel like I have to know about my past.” Ivy heaved a great sigh. All at once, she’d made up her mind. “I’m going to talk to someone at the vampire adoption agency.”
Olivia leaned forward. “You can do that?”
“I can try,” Ivy said. “If we were able to find each other, maybe we can find our biological parents, too!”
Chapter 6
Just before seven on Wednesday morning, Ivy was already dressed for school in a jagged black skirt, a dark red top, and a black crocheted sweater. She hastily grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, dumped some Marshmallow Platelets in it, and pulled the milk from the fridge. She plunked it all down on the breakfast table and switched on the TV, just in time to catch the opening credits of The Morning Star, which consisted of Serena Star’s smiling face superimposed on the Statue of Liberty.
“Today,” the announcer’s voice said, “Serena Star digs deeper into what’s wrong with Franklin Grove!”
What’s she going to dig up today? Ivy thought nervously, but her curiosity was immediately thwarted by a commercial break. By the end of the third commercial, which featured a seriously annoying dancing bottle of detergent, she was squirming with impatience.
Finally, The Morning Star came back on, and Ivy cranked up the volume. Serena appeared to be lying in a dentist’s chair, today wearing a camel-colored skintight suede suit. Behind her stood a dental assistant in pink scrubs, smiling awkwardly. Serena sat up. “Good morning, America. I’m Serena Star.
“Welcome back to my ongoing investigative report on Franklin Grove, where this past Sunday, a thirteen-year-old boy named Garrick Stephens climbed out of a coffin during a funeral. Since then, an alarming portrait of this town has come to light—and it’s filled with darkness.” Serena raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “There’s only one word to describe today’s story: FANGTASTIC!” The word appeared in huge letters beside her head, and Ivy rolled her eyes.
“This is Monica Messler, a dental hygienist here in Franklin Grove. Why don’t you tell America, Miss Messler, what you just told me about Garrick Stephens?”
Monica Messler cleared her throat nervously. “He was in here last week,” she said, “inquiring about getting a set of fake vampire fangs.”
“Shocking!” cried Serena Star, her eyes wide. “Did he say what he wanted these vampire fangs for?”
Monica Messler shook her head. “I guess he’s seen too many horror movies.”
“Or perhaps,” Serena said, looking into the camera meaningfully, “he’s obsessed with vampires. And it appears he’s not the only one in Franklin Grove.” She turned back to her subject. “Miss Messler, have any other strange young people—commonly known as Goths—been in here making unusual requests?”
“I don’t think so,” Monica Messler replied.
“Are you sure?” pushed Serena Star. “Not even a girl named Ivy Vega?”
At the mention of her own name, Ivy dropped her spoon. Serena Star was checking up on her on national TV!
“Well,” said Serena knowingly, after Monica shook her head, “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”
Serena stood up from the dental chair and stepped toward the camera. “America, I, Serena Star, have uncovered a secret society of mysterious families in this sleepy town. They wear black clothes and heavy makeup. They keep themselves to themselves, rarely mixing with normal people. Why? Because they hide a truly menacing secret, and fake vampire fangs barely scratch the surface!
“But I won’t rest until I find out everything this vampiric cult is hiding.” She leaned forward. “Because the Star of truth must sh—”
Ivy flipped off the TV set and stormed into the kitchen. She was clearing away her breakfast bowl, when her dad walked in with the newspaper.
“Good morning,” he said.
“As if!” Ivy snapped.