Read Online Monster High 4: Back and Deader Than Ever by Lisi Harrison - Free Book Online Page A

Uncle Vlad’s blue-and-white-checked shirt was covered by a navy apron.
    Lala sat up and pulled off her black satin sleep mask. “Huh?” The menagerie of stray animals jumped down to the rug.
    Vlad was hunched over her coffin-canopy bed, shaking the frame.
    She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock by her bed. It was blinking 12:00. “What happened?” she groaned as her balding mouse, Smoked Buddha, darted under the bed before she let the bat in. “What time is it? Why didn’t my alarm go off?”
    “Your father’s tanning bed blew a fuse. Again. All the power went out. Again.”
    It was hard to believe he would greet her at the breakfast table like a normal father. Hard to believe he had slept in his coffin last night. Hard to believe they would be looking at each other in the flesh and not in high-def. Unless…
What if I dreamed him too?
    “Vite, vite!”
Vlad opened the heart-shaped windows and let Count Fabulous in. The bat, dressed in miniature flight goggles and pink glitter-specked faux-fur wing covers, flapped to his perch and assumed his upside-down position. Lala removed his night gear, slipped a tiny satin sleep mask over his eyes, kissed him good day, and then flopped back down. “Ugh! I was having the best dream.”
    “Well, now you can have the best time getting dressed. Make like
DWTS
and get a move on,” he said on his way out the door.
    Lala kicked off her pink-and-black satin duvet. Her father had been home for four days, and her pets were still acting as if he were going to eat them for lunch. The day before, she had to carry Teeny Turner down the stairs and force her outside. Apparently the pooch preferred to wee on the carpet rather than riskrunning into Mr. D… as if he’d actually suck the blood of a
stray
. If only they knew who they were dealing with. “Your father feeds on only the finest breeds,” he loved to say.
    He also loved to pressure her about the future, but so far he hadn’t said a word. What if the strays were right? Maybe he had finally lowered his standards. Maybe he was ready to act like a bat and just hang.
    Lala wiggled into a red cashmere pullover, black leggings, and knee-high boots. All the other girls were wearing tank tops and summer dresses, but when she’d tried a plum cotton cardigan, she’d spent the entire day shivering. She brushed her fangs and applied a quick spray of lily-of-the-valley perfume. A swipe of clear lip gloss and a coat of mascara, and this vamp was ready for an old-fashioned family breakfast.
    Pungent beef smells filled the lower level of the house and were now making their way upstairs. Still, nose to perfumed wrist, Lala managed to push through. Probably some weird blood sausage or kidney pie thing her dad had imported from Europe. The thought made her empty stomach churn. Still, dry heaves were a small price to pay for having him back in her life.
    “Morning, Daddy!” Lala called, entering the black-and-white kitchen. Uncle Vlad insisted on a checkerboard floor and bright marble countertops to avoid chopping his fingers off—an inevitability if he were forced to slice and dice in the dark. Mr. D eventually gave in. When it came to cuisine, Vlad called the shots. A reasonable compromise for gourmet, her father said. Lala plugged her nose. How much for a giant fan to suck out the meat smell?
    “I don’t want excuses; I want results,” her father said, rising from the leather office chair he had obviously relocated to thebreakfast table. He always looked like a Hugo Boss model: dark, gelled, and dressed in a fitted suit at places to which others wore sweats. “If he can’t raise the funds by Monday, I’m going to—” He glanced at Lala and then switched to Romanian.
    “Hi, Daddy,” Lala tried again. As she reached for his cold hand, he held up a finger and continued his high-decibel conversation while beating the keys of his laptop. Embarrassed, she grinned at Musclavada, the dark-suited bodyguard standing nearby. Muscles