The Coffin Club vk-5

by Эллен Шрайбер

  “You shouldn’t be snooping around. I can escort you out.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I heard someone say from the other side of the room. Jagger was standing at the apartment’s main entrance. “Raven is an old friend. And I’ve known her boyfriend for an eternity.”

  Both vampires were blocking the exits—the one that led back to the club and the one that led to a hallway. (I’d remembered coming down the dimly lit corridor when I first visited Jagger’s apartment.) The room was windowless and there were no other exits. I had no way to escape.

  I didn’t know which vampire to side with. I wasn’t fast enough to whisk by them or strong enough to bulldoze through them. Either one could easily tear into my flesh with a single bite.

  I did something I never thought I’d do. I tore off and hid behind Jagger Maxwell.

  I chose the company of the nefarious but familiar Jagger to the foreign leather-clad stranger.

  “She has such good taste,” he said brazenly to Phoenix. And with that Jagger shut the door to his apartment and to Phoenix.

  I wasn’t sure why Jagger was being nice to me. Perhaps he felt he had an obligation to Alexander since he’d returned his sibling safely to him. But ultimately Jagger was untrustworthy. It was only a matter of time before Jagger flashed his fangs or verbally threatened me as I followed him down the dimly lit corridor to a freight elevator. But instead of challenging me, Jagger calmly led me through the desolate hallway, without incident, like a knight guarding its queen. I was shocked. He was honoring his truce with Alexander. Apparently their reconciliation was as meaningful to him as it had been to my boyfriend. I was almost disappointed when I got inside the elevator, alone, without having been confronted. I guess I had made the right choice after all. Still standing in the hallway, Jagger began to shut the rickety door. As it creaked closed, something swooped underneath and fluttered so close above my head, I had to duck.

  When I recovered, I noticed a bat hanging upside down from the ceiling. Its beady black eyes were looking dead straight at me.

  A single bulb illuminated the elevator like a B horror flick. I quickly pressed a button marked “C.C.”

  Jagger glared back at me with his mismatched mesmerizing eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your visit. You never know. You may want to join forever,” he said with a wicked grin.

  The elevator screeched as it slowly ascended from the depths of the Dungeon to club level and then ground to a stop.

  I quickly opened the heavy elevator door and spotted the indoor entrance to the Coffin Club. I made my way inside just as the bat flew off overhead.

  Safely back at Aunt Libby’s apartment, I sat up on her futon and scribbled in my journal, the streetlight casting a glow on my comforter. My aunt was fast asleep, but I felt like I’d just guzzled an extra-tall chocolate toffee latte.

  I had so many quandaries buzzing through my mind. I wasn’t sure why I was pulled toward Phoenix, just as I’d been to Trevor and Jagger. It wasn’t the same way I’d been attracted to Alexander, but Phoenix sparked my curiosity, and I was intrigued to know why he was similarly drawn to me. I was also worried about the situation of the club. If Phoenix took over, what would that mean for my new friends? The girls might have a secure place for all eternity—safe and free from the possible persecution of mortals. With Jagger in charge, would it mean that Hipsterville would have a known vampire presence? It irked me that Jagger was so power hungry that he would risk the welfare of his own kind. His actions went against everything Alexander believed in. Alexander wanted to blend in the mortal world as mortal, while Jagger wanted to be feared by others—to gain popularity and notoriety. I understood Jagger’s yearning to be known. It wasn’t in my nature to remain hidden in the shadows—but there was one big difference—I wasn’t a vampire. I wasn’t a danger to anyone. And since I was beginning to immerse myself in a community of vampires—the life I’d always dreamed of—I had to wonder if this new world was that different from the world I already belonged to. The Dungeon was being pulled in two directions, just like any mortal community. Mortals and immortals might not be that different after all.

  But I had to admit, the immortal world was intoxicating to me. It had all the draws of the mortal world, with the edge and darkness that I so desired. Though I couldn’t completely shake off that dream I’d had a few nights ago. At this point, I had the best of both worlds. I didn’t have to make a decision to become anything different from what I already was. Even though it was under false pretenses, I was accepted into the Dungeon as myself. If that changed, I wasn’t sure the Underworld would be so enticing after all.

  All of Hipsterville was asleep except for those clubsters in the Dungeon, dancing and drinking, and one lone vampire, Alexander Sterling. I missed him and hated that I was unable to be by his side throughout his long nights. I hungered for Alexander to hold me safely in the warm night air, underneath the moonlight by tombstones in a far-off cemetery, naive to the troubles of the underground vampires. I dreamed of a time before I knew of the Dungeon, Jagger, or Phoenix.

  Wasn’t it enough just to deal with the trials and tribulations of dating a vampire?

  I had one mission when summer break began—to see Alexander. But once again, my curiosity had led me off my path and straight into a labyrinth of danger.

  I was learning even more about Alexander’s complicated world—without him.

  10

  Picture Perfect

  The Hipsterville Art Festival, according to Aunt Libby, was an event showcasing regional artisans dating back to the founding of the town. It was quite a to-do. Five blocks of Main Street, with its quaint boutiques and coffee shops, were cordoned off, allowing patrons and sellers to walk freely in the road without fear of being run over by an old Accord covered with DAVE MATTHEWS, SAVE THE RAIN FOREST, and PETA stickers. Sellers traveled in from neighboring states to peddle their original handcrafted wares. Bright blue and red booths lined the streets, displaying and selling everything from pottery to purses. The early-evening fresh air smelled deliciously of sizzling steak, barbecue, and grilled corn on the cob. Kids enjoyed face painting while adults entered raffles to win prizes from microwaves to a brand-new car.

  At the north end of the festival, a jazz band played by a fountain with a statue of the town founder. Elderly and young Hipstervillians alike relaxed in sun chairs, tapping their feet to the lively tunes.

  Normally, Aunt Libby was known to be late to every event, dinner, or meeting. Tonight, she was so excited to see her new beau, she was showered, dressed, redressed, and ready to go an hour before our scheduled meeting—at the fountain just after sunset. Not only was I eager to see Alexander, I was going on a double date with adults. Aunt Libby and I anxiously waited by the jazz band for our dates to arrive.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Alexander,” I exclaimed to my aunt.

  “Me too,” she said, giving me a familial squeeze. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you think of Devon. I want your honest opinion. I haven’t been the greatest judge of character in my life. However, I think this one is a keeper.”

  Aunt Libby kept a rhythmic beat by shaking her hips, her floral sundress flowing and her dangling earrings swinging. If I’d been standing by my mother, I would have been horrified. But I was excited to see my aunt so free-spirited and happy, and I found myself unexpectedly rocking.

  The sun seemed to be still over the bell tower in the distance.

  “I wonder if I jumped up and down if it would make the sun set any faster,” I said to my aunt.

  I scanned the festival crowd, filled with hipsters, granola heads, goths. Couples of all ages, shapes, and sizes were milling about. Children running, holding balloons, or being pushed in strollers were enjoying the fair.

  I glanced among the eclectic crowd, imagining Alexander thriving in the sunlight instead of the moonlight. I watched several cozy couples, hand in hand, wishing it could be Alexander and me.

  Before I knew it, dusk had overtaken Main Street.
The gaslights illuminated the streets like nineteenth-century London. I remarked to Aunt Libby how lucky we were that the rainy days had departed and the clouds had disappeared for the night of the festival.

  A handsome man with two cotton candies (one pastel pink, the other baby blue) appeared out of the crowd and approached us. My aunt was helping a toddler reshape his balloon animal and was unaware a man was standing by our side.

  “You must be Raven,” he said. Aunt Libby’s ears perked up and she swung around.

  “Devon!” my aunt called, returning the animal to the toddler.

  Devon was a dashing older gentleman with graying hair and a square jawline. He had piercing eyes and wore designer jeans, Bjorn sandals, a linen sport coat, and a gold earring. He appeared lean and fit, like he spent most of his days jogging to Wild Oats.

  My aunt, powerful and independent, appeared to turn to mush in Devon’s presence. She seemed to be entranced by him, just like an unsuspecting audience member is riveted by a hypnotist.

  Then I began to question…no, he couldn’t be…The spell he had my aunt under—was it love or something more Underworldly? After all, Hipsterville was experiencing an increasing population of vampires. And he was unusually pale for an earthy-crunchy type and happened to show up just after sunset.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  I turned around and saw my favorite Nosferatu.

  “Alexander!” I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze.

  I wanted Alexander to dip me back and press his fang-filled mouth on my neck, but instead he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek—an appropriate display of affection in front of my aunt and her date.

  “I’d like you to meet Alexander. This is my aunt Libby and Devon.” I was so proud to show him off to my aunt. She’d never known me to have a boyfriend, since I never had one. I suddenly felt grown up.

  “He’s so adorable!” Aunt Libby gushed as if Alexander weren’t standing right in front of her.

  “You are even more beautiful in person,” Alexander kindly complimented her.

  The two men shook hands and I watched them closely. I had my suspicions about Devon, and I wondered if I could sense anything by their interaction. But there was nothing unusual in their introduction.

  The four of us set out to stroll through the festival. My aunt and I shared our cotton candy with our dates. Alexander and I walked hand in hand while Aunt Libby hung on Devon’s every word. We moseyed in and out of the booths, modeling and pointing at anything and everything we fancied.

  Two girls, one dressed in a long corset gown, the other in a My Chemical Romance T-shirt, leggings, and checkered flats, entered a booth ahead of us. It was Scarlet and Onyx.

  I left Alexander at the pottery booth, approached the girls, and tapped them on the shoulder.

  Simultaneously they turned toward me. I realized I didn’t have an explanation for Alexander or Aunt Libby as to how I knew these two goth girls. In one moment Onyx and Scarlet would be giving me a huge hug and I would have to explain the origin of our acquaintance. They obviously didn’t go to Dullsville High. They weren’t distant relatives. And explaining I’d met them at a vampire club was most especially not going to fly.

  But when our eyes met, their expressions appeared vacant.

  “Have we met?” Scarlet asked.

  My heart dropped. I felt the same feeling I had in school when I was five and tried to play kickball with catalogue cutout neighborhood kids and they took the ball from me and went inside. For the last two nights I’d partied with these girls, and we’d instantly bonded like we were old friends. I had clearly been mistaken. Then it hit me. They were fearful of my revealing their identity.

  “I thought you were someone else,” I said knowingly, but still saddened.

  “We get that all the time,” Scarlet said.

  The girls eyed Alexander, who was now catching up to me.

  Onyx gave me a quick wink before they turned and walked away.

  “Who was that?” Alexander asked, grabbing my hand.

  “I think I saw her at the Coffin Club,” I said truthfully.

  “Speaking of which, what did you do last night?” he asked.

  “Well, you’ll never believe it.”

  “You went to the Coffin Club!” he exclaimed.

  “How did you know?” I asked, bewildered.

  He pointed to the faded bat on my hand.

  “Oh, that…” I said.

  “Raven, I’d asked you not to go. I don’t want to appear like an overprotective boyfriend, but…Promise me you won’t go back.”

  “It’s not as sinister as it sounds,” I defended. “I went with Aunt Libby. In fact, it was her idea.”

  Alexander seemed surprised yet relieved.

  “Did I hear someone say ‘the Coffin Club?’” My aunt, a few feet away from us, spun around and proudly displayed her black fingernails. “We had the best time ever! We drank Insane Asylums. I felt at least ten years younger.”

  Alexander smiled. I could tell he was imagining my aunt trying to conjure up ghosts at the bar.

  “Maybe we should go,” my aunt suggested to Devon. “Have you been?”

  I waited desperately for Devon’s answer. Though he was older than the combined ages of two average clubsters at the nightspot, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d checked it out.

  I was intrigued to hear his response.

  “There’s supposed to be an underground club inside. A real vampire hangout.” He laughed.

  Alexander and I locked eyes.

  “We didn’t see that when we were there,” my aunt admitted. “Sounds like fun.”

  “It’s just something I heard,” he said to me.

  How would Devon know about the vampire hangout? I could only fathom he must have visited it himself.

  We continued on and passed a booth with blown-glass ornaments and figures.

  “We’ll catch up to you,” I called to my aunt, and pulled Alexander inside.

  Alexander studied the artisan blowing glass into a tiny elephant.

  “I have strong suspicions about Devon,” I whispered.

  “What do you suspect?” he asked, mesmerized by the flaming torch.

  “That he’s a…” Then I turned his face toward mine and mouthed the word vampire.

  Alexander laughed and returned to watch the artisan sculpt the tiny trunk.

  “It’s possible,” I persisted.

  “Yes it is.”

  “See? Then you believe me! Devon doesn’t like to have his picture taken, and Aunt Libby says his stares are hypnotic. He didn’t show up until after sunset, and now he’s talking about vampire clubs.”

  “So what if he is?”

  “Then we have to warn her.”

  All at once Alexander wasn’t interested in the sculpture. “You don’t want your aunt dating a vampire?” His midnight eyes couldn’t hide the sadness inside him. I was making Alexander feel that same awful feeling I’d felt when Scarlet didn’t acknowledge me or when my classmates ostracized me. After all, Alexander was a vampire, and I’d just told him I didn’t want my own aunt dating someone of his kind.

  “I didn’t mean…” I said, reaching out to him.

  “But you did,” he argued flatly.

  “No—that’s not what I meant.” Then I realized I had meant it. My eyes welled up with tears.

  Alexander led me away from the crowd and in between two booths. He sidestepped a puddle of Coke while I despondently plunged right into it.

  He brushed away a tear that had trickled down my cheek.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” I began. “I’d never—”

  “I know,” he said, then continued in a soft voice. “Raven, you have reason to be concerned. It’s not like dating someone outside your religion, class, or comfort zone. Vampires by nature are deadly to mortals. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since we met.”

  “That’s why I said what I did. But you aren’t like that. So maybe
Devon isn’t, either.”

  “First of all, we don’t know what Devon is or isn’t.”

  “If he is and he’s like you, then it would be awesome!”

  “Or he could be like Jagger. That’s why I’m protective of you. Don’t you understand?”

  “But Alexander, there are vampires who are just like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I was ready to tell Alexander everything about the underground club when Aunt Libby interrupted. “You have to see this painting,” she said, grabbing my arm. “You won’t believe it!”

  Unrelentingly she dragged me through the crowd, weaving in and out of festival-goers until we finally stopped at a booth in front of the firehouse.

  On an easel, beside a painting of a vase full of flowers, was a picture of me. Dressed in my scarlet and black corset prom dress, wearing lace gloves, and carrying a black parasol, I was standing outside the Mansion. Three bats hovered around me—one with green eyes, a smaller one with blue eyes, and one with one blue and one green. Up behind me at the attic window, the curtain was slightly pulled back and a silhouetted figure watched over me.

  In the corner of the painting was a big blue ribbon.

  “This looks exactly like you!” Aunt Libby remarked.

  Devon examined it, then me. “It certainly does.”

  “It is me!” I exclaimed.

  “Who painted this?” Aunt Libby asked the festival volunteer. “We have to find this person.”

  “There was no information on the artist. Usually they attach a picture, website, and bio. But the artist must have wanted anonymity.”

  “It looks flawless, like a photograph,” my aunt observed.

  “We’ve been getting inquiries and requests to buy it all day.”

  “You can’t sell it,” my aunt began, “until we find out more about it.”

  “It does bear an uncanny resemblance to you,” the volunteer commented. “Do you know any artists?”