“Alexander! Jameson!” I yelled with all my might.
Just then, the next-door neighbor opened his back door and stepped onto his deck. He was built like a professional wrestler.
“Hey! You kids back again?” he called over.
“What’s going on, Hal?” a petite woman asked, following him out of the house.
“I told you, kids are playing in that house next door,” he said to her. “I’m calling the police!” he yelled, and pulled out a cell phone from his back pocket.
I scurried down the tree, wanting to avoid being placed in a full nelson or, worse, handcuffs. Plus, I didn’t want law enforcement to arrest Alexander and Jameson or force them to find another home—and this time it might be Romania.
When I reached the bottom branch, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a rustling of the dark curtain in the attic window.
I quickly stepped back to get a better view.
But the curtain was still.
Suddenly, a chocolate-colored Doberman pinscher sprinted out of the neighbor’s house, down the deck stairs, and scratched against the brown picket fence that ran parallel to the manor house.
Afraid the dog would wriggle his way through the skinny spaces between the boards and devour me like Kibbles ’n Bits, I took off around the other side of the manor and tore down the road to the bus stop.
I boarded the westbound number seven, taking a seat in the back behind a college-aged couple. I was excited to find that Alexander was indeed in Hipsterville. I imagined that he was painting portraits in a spooky cemetery. Searching a haunted mansion for furniture to decorate his attic room. Or maybe he was out for a night flight.
I was still confused why Alexander had come to Hipsterville. It was a small town with eerie abandoned manors, and with enough goths and artists to be hidden among. What else did it offer a lone vampire?
The couple seated in front of me began making out, oblivious to the other staring passengers.
I saw their reflections in the bus window. I wondered if they knew how lucky they were. Two humans who could share their nights and days together. Take pictures. Sit in the sun. Then I realized those were just small sacrifices I’d make to be with Alexander again.
The bus approached the Village Players Theater, and I disembarked with several other passengers. I walked alone down the alley toward the back entrance of the theater, conjuring excuses I could tell Aunt Libby and my parents so I could stake out the manor house for the next few nights until I made contact with Alexander. I saw a figure lurking behind the Dumpster.
“I hoped to find you here,” a deep voice said, stepping out to block my way.
I froze. It was Jagger. I held my purse close; inside was my Mace and, possibly more important, my container of garlic.
“I have information that may be of interest to you.”
“Information?” I asked skeptically.
“About Sterling,” he said, with a knowing glance. “Isn’t that who you are looking for?”
Shocked, I inched back. I knew where Alexander was staying, but I didn’t know where he was. The promise of any new leads on Alexander’s whereabouts made my heart pulse in overtime. Plus, my curiosity about Jagger’s identity still lingered. I had to know how he knew Alexander.
“I can help you. I’ve known him for an eternity,” he said with a grin.
I glanced back at the Village Players Theater. If I went back inside, I was guaranteed to have a safe night with real unreal vampires. Or I could just wait for Alexander outside the manor house—unless he and Jameson spotted me and left for another town. Then I was guaranteed to never see my Gothic Mate again.
“You better tell me everything you know,” I said, clutching my purse to my side. “Otherwise—”
“You are free to go whenever you like,” he reassured me.
I stood still as Jagger began walking down the alley. Curiosity eating away at me, I decided to catch up to him. I followed Jagger down the street and toward a back entrance to the Coffin Club.
He led me into the warehouse and down a darkened hallway to an empty freight elevator. The rickety door shrieked out in pain when he shut it. Instead of pushing the button for the Coffin Club, he pressed the “B” button.
The elevator slowly lowered to the basement, screeching as if it were a coffin descending into hell.
“I thought we were going to the Coffin Club.”
The elevator stopped. Jagger opened the door and held it for me as I stepped into a corridor.
He followed behind me so closely I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. We walked down the narrow hallway, the walls adorned with graffiti and the cement floor cluttered with discarded chairs and boxes. The dance floor music pulsed above. When we reached what looked like a wide storage-room door, I could hear the elevator slowly grind its way back up to mortal level. Jagger lifted the metal-gray door above our heads to reveal a windowless apartment.
I stepped inside.
“Welcome to my dungeon,” he said.
Dozens of medieval candelabras filled the spacious apartment.
And then I saw it. In the far corner lay an open coffin, adorned with gothic band stickers like a mortal teen’s skateboard. Dirt encircled the coffin like a walled city.
My eyes grew wide. “So you are…,” I began, but could barely speak.
“Oh, the coffin,” he said. “Cool, huh? I got it at a vintage store.”
“And the dirt?”
“Saw it in a vampire mag. Creepy, huh?”
I didn’t know what to think. Even Alexander slept on a mattress.
“It’s really comfortable. Want to give it a try?” he asked with sexy eyes.
“I’m not tired.”
“You don’t have to be.”
Jagger confused me. I couldn’t figure out if he was a vulpine vampire or just a goth-obsessed teen like me.
I looked around for any other unusual clues—but everything was unusual. Maps were spread out on the floor. The cement walls were decorated with gravestone etchings.
Next to the radiator an aquarium, without water, was filled with rocks.
His kitchen counter and sink looked as if they had remained untouched. Metal cabinets were missing their doors. I was afraid to think what was in the refrigerator—or, rather, who.
“You are the first girl I’ve ever brought down here,” Jagger confessed.
“I’m surprised. You must meet a lot of girls at the Coffin Club.”
“Actually, I’m new to town. Just like you. Visiting.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “How do you know I’m visiting?”
“It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out. Someone as goth as you would be a regular at the club. Romeo had never seen you before.”
“Uh…I guess you’re right.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” I replied. “I want to know—”
Jagger walked over to the aquarium. He placed his hand inside and pulled out a huge tarantula.
“I just bought him. Would you like to pet him?” he asked, stroking the potentially poisonous spider as if it were a sleeping cat.
Normally I would have loved to pet a tarantula, but I wasn’t sure of Jagger’s motive.
“Where’s your big-screen TV?” I asked, noticing the lack of televisions or computers.
“I find them offensive.”
“So you don’t watch movies? You’ve never even seen the original Dracula?” I hinted. “Nosferatu? Kissing Coffins? Someone as goth as you would seem to have the lines memorized.”
“I would rather experience life than be a voyeur.”
He returned the spider to the aquarium. I dug my hand into my purse.
“You left this behind,” I said, and revealed the skeleton earring in my hand. He smiled brightly as if I were reuniting him with a long-lost friend.
As he took the charm from my hand, his fingers lingered, gently touching my palm, sending chills through my
veins. It took some strength, but I withdrew.
“Now that this has been in your possession, it is even more special to me,” he said, placing it back in his ear. “Can I give you a reward?” he asked.
“You can tell me about Alexander.”
“Shall I tell you? Or should I just show you,” he asked, stepping toward me.
“Tell me,” I said, defiant. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“Maybe yes,” he said with an inviting smile. “Maybe no,” he said with a wicked grin.
“Forget it, I’m outta here.”
“I know him from Romania,” he said quickly.
“Have you seen him in America?”
He shook his head, his white hair flopping over his blue and green eyes.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“What if I do? How much is it worth?” he asked, licking his lips.
“You don’t know, do you?” I challenged. I backed away from him, stepping on a map.
“But you know quite a lot,” he argued.
I pulled my purse close.
“You knew enough about my Romanian friend to come to the Coffin Club and ask for him,” he said, approaching me again.
“I don’t know anything—”
“Then why do you want to find him?” he whispered softly in my ear as he gently stroked my hair off my shoulder.
“I must have been mistaken—” I said, looking away from his gaze, wanting to run, but not being able to move.
“Really?” he whispered. “He made you feel like his breath was yours,” he said, circling me, his words landing softly on the back of my neck.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I lied, my heart pounding in my chest.
“That your flesh and his are one,” he said, as his lips gently caressed the nape of my neck.
I could barely speak, my heart racing, the map crinkling underneath my boot.
He stepped close in front of me, his eyes piercing through my own, and gently touched my onyx necklace.
He leaned into me and kissed the top of my chest. He whispered, “That you are just a kiss away from being bonded with him for eternity.”
I could barely breathe. My heart raced as he held me.
“Get off!” I cried, wedging my arms between us and pushing him away.
A map tore underneath my boot. Jagger tried to pierce me with his gaze, but I stared down at my feet. It was a map of Hipsterville. The cemeteries were highlighted in yellow, with several crossed out in black marker.
Then I noticed, lying a few feet away on the floor, the other maps—neighboring towns of Hipsterville and Dullsville. Cemeteries were highlighted and crossed out in black.
I glanced up at Jagger as he tried to lock his blue and green eyes with mine. He gently grabbed my hand like he’d done in the Coffin Club. “We can find him together,” I recalled him saying. Then I remembered the note I’d found in Alexander’s room—“HE IS ON HIS WAY!”
I backed away from Jagger and reached into my purse. It was worth a shot. My fingers shook as I tried to pry open the container of garlic.
The container’s suction was like Super Glue. I struggled with the lid when Jagger stepped toward me.
I raced out the door and ran down the hallway. I pressed the elevator button and glanced back. Jagger stepped through his doorway and began running down the hall after me. I could hear the screeching elevator above me, but it was nowhere to be found. I looked up. The number “3” lit up; “2” lit up. “G” lit.
“Hurry! Hurry!” I mumbled, pressing the button repeatedly.
I could hear Jagger coming closer. Suddenly the “B” lit up, and the elevator stopped in front of me. I pulled the rickety door to one side and jumped in. I used all my strength to pull the accordion door shut just as an angry Jagger stepped in front of the elevator.
I darted back, away from the door, as his gaze caught me. He reached out for the door, realizing I hadn’t yet pushed a button. I quickly pressed my finger against the “G” button.
As the elevator began to lift, I leaned against the wall, away from him. “I hope you find him,” I heard Jagger call. “Before I do.”
“What are you doing here?” Aunt Libby asked when she found me peeking underneath the shades in her dressing room after curtain call. “I called you at intermission, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I must have been in the shower,” I rambled. “But I wanted to see you.”
“You did? That’s so cute!” she said, wiping off her makeup.
“I’m having such a fabulous time. But I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“I have to go back home tomorrow.”
“So soon?” she asked, putting down her makeup sponge.
“I know,” I whined. “I don’t want to leave, but I still have tons of homework to do.”
“When I was in school, spring break was just that—a break.”
“And I’ll need to leave early. Before sunset.”
“Still afraid of the vampires?” she teased.
The truth was, I wasn’t sure—I didn’t know who or what Jagger was. The one thing I was sure of was that he was following Alexander.
It was just moments ago that I had barely escaped Jagger’s lair. If I attempted to find out Jagger’s reason for his search, I might be putting myself—and, more important, Alexander—in danger.
Now that Jagger was following me—outside the theater yesterday and waiting for me in the alley tonight—I knew if I returned to the manor house, or anywhere I thought I might find Alexander, I would lead Jagger right to him. Although it broke my heart, I had no choice. I would have to leave Hipsterville.
9
Bus Stop Blues
Aunt Libby and I sat together on a wooden bench outside the Greyhound bus station waiting for the eight o’clock to pull in. There was only one bus each day out of Hipsterville, and it departed just as the sun was setting.
I looked forward to returning to Dullsville and hopefully Alexander, but I was sad to leave Aunt Libby. I enjoyed our visit together, and I really admired her. She had followed her dream of being an actress and in the process lived independently, with her own style, tastes, and view of life. She saw me as unique and special, instead of as a freak. And most important, she treated me like I was normal.
I’d also miss the excitement of Hipsterville, knowing there was a place like the Coffin Club for goths to hang out and dance, and Hipsterville’s Hot Gothics—a store where I could purchase gothic clothes, spiked jewelry, and body tattoos.
Libby put her arm around me, and I leaned my head on her shoulder as the bus pulled in.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Aunt Libby,” I said, squeezing her with all my might before I climbed aboard the bus.
As I walked down the aisle, I opened my compact to check the other travelers. After everyone reflected back, even a gothic couple snuggling in back, I chose a seat next to the window. Aunt Libby waved to me as we waited for the bus to leave. I could see in her eyes that she would miss me as much as I’d miss her. She kept waving as the bus drove off. But as soon as the station was out of sight, I breathed a sigh of relief. The nefarious, mysterious, feud-seeking shock-goth Jagger was now behind me. Hopefully, a new plan to contact my handsome Gothic Prince Alexander was before me.
The bus ride back to Dullsville was painfully long. I called Becky from my cell phone, but she was at the movies with Matt. I jotted notes about my encounter with Jagger in my Olivia Outcast journal, but writing gave me motion sickness. I imagined why Jagger was searching for Alexander—maybe it was a feud between the two families over the baroness’s Mansion—but it only made me worry about my boyfriend. I dreamed about reuniting with Alexander, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about the maps Jagger had lying on his floor.
It seemed like an eternity until the bus finally pulled into Dullsville’s bus stop. I even hoped against hope that Alexander would magically be waiting for me, but instead I was greeted by Mom
, Dad, Billy Boy, and his nerd-mate Henry.
“You’re leaving already?” my dad asked after we arrived back home and I dropped my suitcase off in my room. “We want to hear more about your trip.”
I didn’t have time for my parents’ well-meaning questions. “How did you like Aunt Libby? What did you think of her performance in Dracula? Did you like eating tofu sandwiches?”
I wanted to go to the place where I did my best thinking.
“I have to see Alexander!” I said, shutting the front door behind me.
I raced to the Mansion and found the iron gate ajar. Out of breath, I hurried up the long, winding driveway and noticed something peculiar—the front door was also ajar.
Maybe he’d seen me from the manor house attic window and followed me back to Dullsville.
“Alexander?” I called as I walked inside.
The entranceway, living room, and dining room were as I’d last seen them, covered and empty of paintings.
“Alexander?” I called, walking up the grand staircase. My heart beat wildly with each step.
I whisked through the second floor and up Alexander’s attic steps. I reached his bedroom. I could barely breathe. I gently knocked on his door. “Alexander, it’s me, Raven.”
No one responded.
I turned the knob and opened the door. This room also looked like I’d last seen it, bare except for a few remaining items. But on his unmade bed lay a backpack. He had come back.
I picked up the rustic black bag and hugged it. I knew it would be rude to look through the backpack, especially if Alexander suddenly walked into the room. But I couldn’t help it.
I set it back on the bed and began to unzip it when I heard a noise coming from the backyard.
I looked outside his attic window and saw a candle flickering in the gazebo. A bat was hovering above the roof.
I took off, bolting out of his room, down the attic stairs, around the second floor, and down the never-ending staircase.
I flew out the front door and raced around to the backyard.
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