Free Vampire Island by Adele Griffin Page B

blood-filled mosquitoes and ticks whenever she could, and as a result her tongue and gums were a deeper, more violent shade of red. Also, Maddy now could move in small tornado bursts, faster than a human eye could follow. These days, she was so speedy that she no longer bothered taking the bus to P.S. 42—but was always there before it pulled up.
    Now this trick. Clear eyes. Exclusive to purebloods.
    Whenever Hudson thought he should mention Maddy’s metamorphosis to their parents, something stopped him. His instinct told him that he and Maddy were in this together. If he was meant to be a Protector, then he needed his sister’s Predator help.
    The lunk added his lunch to the stack in front of Maddy, who worked so rapidly that Mrs. Westenra, the fifth-grade teacher and today’s lunchroom monitor, was not disturbed in her chat with head chef Mr. Lin about his knockout chili-lime salsa. Within minutes, Maddy had unclung every sandwich, sorting food from its wrapping into two sticky piles in front of her. “You see this plastic?” she asked. “Every day I watch you kids carelessly toss it into the regular garbage. I am fed up. Where does it belong?”
    Hudson raised his hand. Maddy pointed a bladed finger on him.
    “The blue recycling bin?”
    “Correct, young Crudson. Kids, you better make friends with the environment. Or else,” threatened Maddy, redirecting her finger to accuse the whole group.
    “Or else what?” asked Duane.
    “Or else! The environment will punish you! It will usher in awful weather! Like ice ages, hailstorms, and droughts. Cannonballs made out of pure stinking pollution will smash down from the sky!” Maddy’s speech was causing blue veins to stand up in her neck. “Worst of all,” she continued, “I’ll be watching you. Even when you’re asleep.” Then she threw back her head and cackled, long and low.
    Hudson frowned. He thought the cannonballs and the cackling were a bit much. Also, Maddy should not have called him Crudson.
    “I think you’re from my nightmares,” whimpered the freckled redhead girl. Which made Hudson feel bad. That girl, whatever her name was, the paper waster, was actually pretty sweet.
    “Can we eat now?” asked a kid.
    Maddy nodded. Hands slowly reached into the giant sandwich pile, reclaiming their food.
    “But if I catch any of you mis-tossing your cling wrap, I will impose a small torture and a hefty fine, and I will write a letter to the Vice President of National Penalties. If you end up rotting in the clink, it’s your own wasteful fault. Later, warts.” With a parting hiss, Maddy whisked away.
    For a moment, the table was spellbound.
    The redhead girl broke the ice. Head held high, she walked all the way to the end of the table. As far from Hudson as she could get. A few other kids, after grabbing back their ham-and-cheeses or peanut-butter-and-jellys, did the same.
    Soon Hudson and Duane sat alone.
    Duane sighed as he swallowed a fish stick. “Sending in your scary sis was a bad call, Hud,” he said.
    “History has taught us to rule by force, fines, and fear,” explained Hudson. “That’s how citizens are traditionally protected.”
    “All I can say is I’m glad I buy hot lunch,” answered Duane. “Even when it’s rubbery old fish sticks.”
    Throughout the rest of the week, Hudson the Protector was quietly comforted to see that his class took more time to separate their regular trash from recycling. While these same students weren’t very friendly to him, Hudson and Orville agreed in their late-night talks that being a Protector was not a popularity contest. The more Hudson concentrated on beautifying the New World, the more vividly he remembered the Old, when creatures understood recycling—back when there was no word for it. And the more Hudson thought about being a Protector, the stronger his bat-self became. He now could transform for over an hour per night, and as a bat he could fly higher and faster than ever before. Almost at