Vampireville

by Ellen Schreiber

  I rode up Tyler Street and turned into number 1455. The Witherspoons lived in a beautiful yellow-shuttered Victorian-style home with an attached three-car garage.

  I quickly snuck up their driveway.

  I checked out my surroundings to make sure there weren’t any nosy neighbors eyeballing me. When I saw I was in the clear, I aimed the opener at the door. I took a deep breath and pressed the silver button.

  The door didn’t move. I pressed it again.

  Nothing happened. This couldn’t be!

  I tapped it over and over. Still, the door remained fixed.

  I ran to the front of the house and pressed my face against the carport’s yellow-shuttered window. The garage was empty of cars and coffins.

  I stormed down the driveway to retrieve my bike and checked my Hello Batty watch. I had only a few more hours left of sunlight until this hunter would become the hunted.

  I held the door opener in my hand. Which garage did it belong to?

  Frustrated, I decided to return home, wait until sunset for Alexander to awake, then confess I hadn’t made any Underworldly discoveries. I coasted down the winding road, heading for a shortcut through the Oakley Woods.

  I began riding over the bumpy terrain, but then I saw something odd. Sticking out from behind a large pile of wood chips was a vintage hearse!

  I pulled my bike up alongside the ghastly car. The circa 1970s Cadillac midnight mobile was beautiful; it had a sleek, long black hood with a silver bat ornament, white-walled tires, a black carriage adorned with a chrome S-shaped insignia, and black curtains. On the left rear quarter panel was a decal of a white skull and crossbones.

  I hopped off my bike and peered into the driver’s seat, where I could see restored shiny black vinyl upholstered seats and a tiny white skeleton hanging from the rearview mirror.

  I tried to peer in the back window, but the curtains were drawn. The license plate’s county sticker was from Hipsterville—the town a few hundred miles away from Dullsville where the Coffin Club was and where I first encountered the nefarious Jagger. The license plate read: I BITE.

  “What are you doing here?” a familiar voice asked.

  I nearly jumped out of my boots.

  I turned around to find Billy Boy and Henry standing right in front of me.

  “I told you it was for real,” Henry proudly proclaimed.

  “Wow. It is freaky,” Billy Boy remarked. “But why is it parked in the woods?”

  “I don’t know. I discovered it yesterday on my way home from math club,” Henry replied.

  “Is there a body inside?” Billy Boy asked, nervously trying to peer into the back window.

  “No. But I think we could arrange that,” I said.

  Billy Boy backed away from the macabre mobile.

  “Have you seen anyone driving it?” I inquired.

  Henry shook his head.

  “You still haven’t told me why you are out here,” Billy Boy charged.

  I fingered the garage door opener in my hand. And then it hit me.

  There was only one person I knew in Dullsville who could help me whittle down my search—one person who could figure out how to use a garage door opener to unlock his locker or even unbolt his bedroom door. And his five-foot-two-inch nerd body was standing right in front of me.

  “I found this,” I said, showing Henry. “I’m sure the person who lost it would like to get their car out—or back in.”

  “You want to know which door it is so you can break in,” Billy Boy alleged.

  “I wouldn’t be breaking in if I had the opener, now would I?” I snarled. “Besides, I’m not a thief. It’s my civic duty to return it to its rightful owner.”

  “Let’s see it,” Henry said like a jeweler inspecting a precious stone. “This is an Aladdin. I’d say one out of ten homes use this manufacturer. It’s the same kind we use.”

  “You do?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes. And this one looks familiar.”

  “You’ve seen it? Can you tell me which homes might use them?”

  “I was missing one the other day,” he said, wrinkling his face in thought. “Hey—”

  Henry lived in a five-bedroom Colonial-style house just up the road. I’d visited his house once before, when Becky and I were in need of accessories for our Kissing Coffins outfits. Henry supplied us with fangs, blood pellets, and scars.

  I imagined bloodthirsty vampire twins anxiously waiting in coffins in his family’s garage as he innocently played with fake blood and fangs above them in his bedroom.

  “This couldn’t be it,” I said protectively, and immediately grabbed back the opener.

  “But I swore—”

  “Are your parents home?” I asked.

  “No, they went to San Diego for a medical convention.”

  My heart stopped pulsing. “Did they plan their trips through Armstrong Travel?” I asked.

  “They booked their tickets online,” he answered, confused.

  “Then who is home with you?”

  “Our housekeeper, Nina,” he continued.

  “Do you want Raven to be your babysitter?” Billy Boy teased.

  Then my thoughts turned serious. Behind that mechanical shield of wood might lie two sleeping teen vampires.

  “I’ll walk you to your house,” I said. “You can never be too careful these days.”

  I followed the two nerds up the steep road to Henry’s house. When we reached his driveway I saw the three-car garage attached to his home. And then, a few yards back, sat another two-car detached garage.

  One garage wasn’t good enough? I thought as we approached Henry’s house.

  “I’ll tell Mom you are doing your homework inside Henry’s,” I said. “You should stay indoors today trading your Pokémon cards or whatever it is you do. It’s supposed to rain.”

  “I told you she’s weird,” Billy Boy whispered as the two went inside.

  I waited for a moment, walked my bike halfway down the driveway, then quietly doubled back.

  I rested my bike against the side of his brick house.

  Since Henry was staying with Nina, I assumed the attached garage, with the comings and goings of a preteen and a hardworking housekeeper, was too exposed for a hiding vampire. But I peered into it anyway. I saw a vintage Rolls and shelves of tools.

  Now that Henry and Billy Boy were safely inside the house finding square roots, I ran to the detached garage. I took a deep breath and aimed the door opener.

  I pressed the silver button.

  Nothing happened. The door didn’t budge. The opener didn’t click.

  I pressed it again.

  The door remained still.

  “It’s not for that,” Henry said as he and Billy Boy came out of the house.

  I jumped back.

  “I open it this way,” Henry said, and stepped on a WELCOME HOME mat.

  The garage door began to open.

  “No! Cover your eyes!” I cried, and put my hand out in front of them as if my lanky arm could block them from seeing two coffins.

  It was too late.

  The garage door slowly opened like a creaky coffin lid. My heart stopped beating. I could barely open my eyes.

  Then I saw them. Not one but two silver BMWs, both emblazoned with red Dullsville Middle School “I’m the proud parent of an honor student” bumper stickers.

  I went inside the garage and looked around, underneath, and inside the back of the luxury vehicles.

  “What is wrong with you?” Billy asked. “You’re not used to cars without skulls and crossbones?”

  “Well, if this doesn’t open the garage,” I argued, now fatigued and angry, “what does it do?”

  We followed Henry into his gigantic backyard, which was the size of a football field, complete with a mosaic-tiled patio, an Olympic-size pool, and a million-dollar flower garden.

  He aimed the opener toward the house and pressed the button. Suddenly floodlights, scattered around his property, illuminated the alr
eady sunlit backyard.

  “Nina gets freaked out when she house-sits,” Henry stated. “She claims she sees shadows and things moving in the backyard. I keep the lights on when my parents are out of town. But since I lost it, it’s been pitch-black back here.”

  I didn’t understand. What did this have to do with Jagger? Why was he returning for it? Or was he making sure it was still there?

  I walked past Henry’s pool and garden and into his backyard to see what he needed to illuminate. The huge field was wasted on a boy who was more interested in throwing around scientific theories than footballs.

  Then I saw it. In the far corner of the yard—at least sixty yards from where we stood—was an A-framed treehouse.

  “That is perfect!” I exclaimed.

  “I used to spend a lot of time out here until my dad built me a lab in the basement—now I’m down there more,” Henry said. “He just bought me a telescope to entice me outdoors and into the treehouse again, but it’s still in the box in my room.”

  “Yeah, it’s been forever since we’ve been up here,” Billy Boy added.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a rope with a rusty pulley dangling from one of the massive branches.

  “It’s a principle similar to one used in canal houses in Europe,” Henry said behind me. “I had it installed to lift up furniture.”

  Or coffins? I wondered.

  “Want to take a look?” he asked proudly.

  I still had the protection of the sun’s rays and the unyielding curiosity of a cat, but if I rode to the Mansion and waited for Alexander to wake up, then Jagger and Luna would be rising, too. The moon was ticking. My heart was pounding. First I had to make sure Henry and Billy Boy were far away from the treehouse.

  “How about putting together that telescope your dad bought you?” I suggested.

  Henry’s face lit up as if I’d just invited him to see a private screening of Lord of the Rings. “I didn’t know you were into astronomy,” he said.

  Billy Boy looked at me skeptically. “She probably just wants to look in your neighbor’s windows.”

  I glared at my brother.

  “And we’ll need maps of the constellations,” I added. “And don’t forget charts and any diagrams you might have.”

  “There are quite a few constellations you can see in the daylight.”

  “We’ll be able to see more clearly when the sun sets. So take your time. Don’t come out here until you have everything ready. I’ll wait here.”

  As soon as the two nerd-mates reached the back patio, I started to climb the thick wooden ladder that led up the tree, the boards creaking underneath my combat boots.

  I stepped onto the uneven treehouse deck.

  The wooden door slowly creaked open.

  If Jagger and Luna were hiding here, then I realized why Jagger left the door opener at the factory. If Henry continued to use it to illuminate the treehouse, Jagger and Luna risked being discovered and scorched by the light.

  When I opened the wooden door, I expected to find the coffins I had been searching for.

  Instead I saw a run-down 3-D version of Dexter’s Laboratory. On a folding lab table sat dusty beakers, petri dishes, and a microscope. The periodic table and a photosynthesis chart were taped to the slanting walls.

  The treehouse interior was divided by a black curtain. I slowly pulled it back.

  What I found took my breath away. Hidden in the shadows of the sloping wooden wall was a black coffin adorned with gothic band stickers, encircled in dirt. And resting next to it was a pale pink coffin!

  I’d dreamed about a moment like this all my vampire-obsessed life, never to believe it would actually come to fruition. This was my chance to witness up close and personal a modern-day Nosferatu in his natural habitat. And with Luna, the moment was even more meaningful, because she, once human, was now a vampiress. I was looking firsthand into a world that I’d always envisioned being part of.

  I crept toward the pink casket, hoping for a peek at what it was like inside. It was as fashionable as it was spooky. The once mortal Luna was now living in the Underworld next to her twin brother. I wondered if she regretted her decision.

  I tiptoed over to Jagger’s coffin. I gently touched the wooden top with the tip of my fingers. I held my breath and pressed my ear to the lid. I could hear the faint breathing of someone who was in a heavy stage of sleep. And then I heard him stir.

  “Raven!” yelled Billy Boy.

  I jumped back.

  “Where are you?” he shouted.

  I raced out of the room and promptly closed the curtain.

  Billy Boy, with rolled-up maps under one arm, was fiddling with the microscope. “If you think this place is cool, you should see his basement.”

  “I’ve seen enough petri dishes to last me a lifetime. Let’s go.” I pulled my brother by the sleeve of his striped Izod T-shirt and led him to the treehouse door.

  Even though I had daylight protecting me, I glanced back, expecting Luna and Jagger to somehow be following me.

  We reached the bottom of the creaky ladder to find Henry carrying the telescope.

  “Let’s take this over to our place,” I said, grabbing the telescope. “This treehouse isn’t up to code.”

  “But my dad just—”

  “Speaking of your dad, I think you should stay at our house for the week,” I said to Henry.

  My brother and his nerd-mate’s eyes perked up. “Seriously. You shouldn’t be in this huge house without your parents. And I’m sure Nina could use a vacation.”

  “That’ll be awesome. Your parents won’t mind?” Henry asked politely.

  “Pack your briefcase, and not another word,” I ordered as we headed for his house.

  7

  Lost and Found

  Shortly after dusk I put on my Emily the Strange sweatshirt hoodie and secured Henry’s garage door opener safely inside the pouch pocket. I raced to the Mansion and tore up the broken cement stairs to the front door and anxiously rapped the serpent knocker.

  Alexander opened the door. I was greeted by my handsome boyfriend, standing in a black-and-white bowling shirt and black jeans with hanging silver chains, wearing a smile that could melt any sixteen-year-old vampire-obsessed goth. Before he even had a chance to say hello, I blurted out, “I’ve got major news. I’ve found the coffins!”

  “That’s awesome! Where?”

  “I’ll show you,” I said, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the Mansion and toward the Mercedes.

  Alexander drove me to the edge of the Oakley Woods, and we hopped out of the car. “Jagger’s hearse was right here,” I said, pointing to a pile of wood chips.

  We followed fresh tire marks leading out of the woods, which turned into muddy tracks heading up the street.

  “They must have left in the hearse. If we move quickly, we can remove the coffins.”

  Alexander parked the Mercedes outside Henry’s house and we crept through the backyard.

  “There it is,” I said proudly, pointing to the treehouse.

  Alexander and I watched for any signs that Jagger and Luna might still be inside. There were no candles flickering, or movement from the white-curtained windows.

  “This is the pulley Henry used to hoist his furniture into the treehouse,” I whispered, holding the dangling rope. “Jagger must have used it, too. This is how we’ll get the caskets down.”

  “Stay here,” Alexander said. “If you see anything, don’t hesitate to take off. I can handle myself.”

  I glanced around. “But—”

  When I turned back, Alexander was gone.

  Once again Alexander was protecting me. Didn’t he know we could move the coffins quicker if we both helped? I searched around the tree and found no signs of Luna or Jagger.

  I tiptoed up the ladder and entered the treehouse.

  “What are you doing up here?” Alexander asked. “I thought we had an agreement.”

  “We did. But I missed you,” I s
aid, giving him a quick hug. “Besides, I’ve been up here before and I can show you around.”

  Alexander shook his head, went to the window, and peered out.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said. “Where are they hiding? In the petri dishes?”

  “No, silly.” I pulled the black curtain open.

  The darkened room was different from what I’d seen a few hours earlier—the coffin lids were open!

  I peeked into Luna’s casket. It held a neatly made pink satin comforter with a black lace border, a pink faux fur pillow, and a black Scare Bear plush.

  The gravestone etchings Alexander and I had seen at the linen factory lining the rustic elevator were now tacked up to the slanting treehouse walls. The antique candelabra and pewter goblet Jagger had used at Dullsville’s cemetery during his attempted covenant ceremony were resting on the floor. A black duffel bag and a Little Nancy Nightmare backpack were shoved in the corner. Next to them was an open box from the Coffin Club, loaded with blood-filled amulets from the mortal clubsters—the only way for the pair to survive without drawing attention or blood from Dullsville’s mortals. Then I noticed a blood-red party-size cooler. I knelt beside it and fingered the edge of the white Styrofoam lid. What was being chilled inside? Packets or bottles of blood? Transplanted organs? A human head? I took a breath and began to lift the lid.

  “Raven!” Alexander said.

  I almost jumped out of my own pale skin.

  “I need you to hold the door open for me,” Alexander whispered. “I’ll have to drag the coffins through.”

  “Let me help you,” I offered.

  “I’ll do it,” he said, always the gentleman. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  Alexander started to close Jagger’s coffin lid when we heard voices coming from outside.

  “That might be Henry and Billy Boy,” I said. “We can’t let them up here.”

  “Stay here. I’ll divert them.”

  I hid in the shadows and, naturally curious, began to further search the teen vampires’ hideout. A plastic end table was turned into a goth makeup counter. I examined Luna’s neatly arranged pink and black eye shadows, gray lipsticks, and mud-colored glosses. I opened a small bottle of Cotton Candy nail polish.