“Who?”
“Did you see a bald man here last weekend?” I repeated.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“He may have been wearing a gray cloak.”
“Who?”
“The man I’m asking about!” The music was so loud, even I couldn’t hear myself.
“Ask Romeo at the bar,” he hollered back.
“I already did!” I grumbled.
As I returned to the bar, I spotted a dark-haired guy in jeans and a charcoal gray T-shirt leaning against a Corinthian column on the dance floor.
I pushed past the clubsters, my heart beating full force. “Alexander?”
But on closer inspection, I was confronted with a twenty-something wearing a BITE ME T-shirt and reeking of alcohol.
Frustrated, I headed back to the bar once again.
“That wasn’t him,” I said to Romeo. “The guy I’m talking about made a phone call from the Coffin Club.”
Romeo turned to his Elviraish counterpart, who was placing a tip into her bra.
“Hey, this girl’s looking for a bald guy who came to the club the other night,” Romeo said. “He made a phone call from here.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds familiar,” she said.
“Really?” I perked up.
“I remember because he asked to use the phone. No one asks anymore. Everyone has a cell.”
“Did he tell you where he was staying?”
“No. He just said thank you and gave me a twenty for handing him our phone.”
“Was he with anyone?” I asked, eager to receive news of Alexander.
“I think I saw him hanging out with a guy in a Dracula cape.”
“Alexander?” I asked excitedly. “Was his name Alexander Sterling?”
Romeo looked at me as if he had recognized the name, but then turned away to wipe down the bar.
“I didn’t have time for introductions,” Elvira said. She turned away from me and waited on a guy dressed in leather waving a twenty.
Jameson had been here! And possibly Alexander, in the cape he had worn on the last night I saw him.
I looked around the club for any signs that might help me find him. Maybe Alexander found this place completely bogus. Was this club just full of outcast goths like me, or were any of them real vampires? Then I remembered the way to spot a true vampire was by not looking at them.
I reached into my purse and pulled out Ruby’s compact. Every fanged clubster around me reflected back. I had to think of another plan. I replaced the compact and headed for the door.
Suddenly I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.
I turned around.
“I think I know who you want to see,” Romeo said.
“You do?”
“Follow me.”
I hung close to my gothic usher, half exhilarated, half terrified.
He led me up the spiral staircase to the balcony. A shadowy figure sat on a coffin-shaped couch, a large goblet and a candelabra before him on a round coffee table.
The mysterious figure glared up at me. I felt a sudden chill. I could barely whisper, “Alexander—”
The lone figure pulled the candelabra close, illuminating his features.
It wasn’t Alexander.
Instead, sitting in front of me was a cryptic-looking teen, his cadaverous yet attractive face almost hidden beneath dripping white hair with red ends, as if they had been dipped in blood. Three silver rings pierced his eyebrow, and a pewter skeleton hung from his left ear. His seductive eyes pierced through me, one metallic green, the other ice blue. The whites were filled with spiderwebbed veins, as if he’d been awake for days. His skin was the color of death. His fingernails were painted black, like mine, and he wore a tattoo on his arm, which read POSSESS.
It took all my strength to turn away from his intoxicating gaze, as if I were trying to break an unearthly spell.
“You look disappointed,” he said in a seductive voice, forcing me to gaze back at him. “You were expecting to meet someone else?”
“Yes. I mean…no.”
“Hoping for someone to bond with for eternity? Someone who won’t run away from you?”
“Aren’t we all?” I snapped back.
“Well, I just may be your man.”
“I think Romeo was confused,” I said. “I was looking for someone who made a phone call from here. An older, bald man.”
“Really? He doesn’t seem your type.”
“I was obviously mistaken—”
“One person’s mistake is another man’s destiny. I’m Jagger,” he said with a piercing glare that made my blood boil. He stood and offered a pale hand.
“I’m Raven, but—”
“You are looking for someone who can help you fulfill your darkest desires.”
“No, I was looking for…,” I began naively.
“Yes?” Jagger asked, with a cunning smile.
Something didn’t feel right. Hadn’t Romeo already told him who I was looking for? Intuition overcame me. Jagger seemed too eager to hear me name someone.
“I’ve really got to go,” I said, clutching my purse close like a shield.
“Please, join me.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the couch. “I believe we have a lot in common.”
“Maybe next time…I really have to go—”
“Romeo, get the lady a drink,” Jagger commanded. “How about a Death Sentence? It’s the club special.”
Jagger inched toward me and gently stroked my hair away from my shoulder.
“You’re quite beautiful,” he said.
I avoided his gaze and clutched my purse in my lap while he continued to eye me. I sensed that this seductive good-looking goth was no more my friend than Trevor.
“Listen, you have been—” I began, trying to stand up, when Romeo returned with two goblets.
“Here’s to new blood,” said Jagger with a laugh.
I hesitantly clinked my goblet with his. He took a long gulp, then waited for me to do the same. With a guy this nefarious, I could only imagine what the drink might have been laced with.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said, standing up.
“He’s not like you think he is,” he said.
I paused, almost frozen. “I don’t know who you are talking about,” I replied, and turned to leave.
“We’ll find him together,” Jagger said, and rose from the couch to block my path.
He winked at me, and then grinned, revealing sharp vampire fangs that glistened in the candlelight. I stepped back, and then realized that in the Coffin Club everyone had fangs.
There was only one way to confirm who or what Jagger was.
“Okay. I’ll give you my number,” I said, turning away from him. I reached into my purse and sheltered the compact from his view. “Just let me find my pen.”
My fingers shook as I opened Ruby’s compact and angled it in his direction. I closed my eyes and hesitated. I took a deep breath and opened them.
But Jagger had already disappeared.
6
Dracula Delivers
I returned to the Village Players Theater just in time for curtain call. I hurried backstage, where I was greeted by a worried Lucy in the dressing room.
“I didn’t see you in the audience!” Aunt Libby said in a tone that resembled my mother’s.
“Aren’t you supposed to be concentrating on the show?”
“How could I concentrate when all I saw was your empty seat?” she snapped.
“A woman next to me kept falling asleep on me,” I fibbed, “so I moved to the back row. But you were wonderful!”
“So you did see it,” she responded, relieved.
“Of course!” I gave her a big squeeze. “Wild vampires couldn’t pull me away.”
I fiddled through her makeup kit while she greeted a few fans in the hallway. I couldn’t shake my encounter with Jagger from my head. Had I met a second Dracula? Or was Jagger just some tattooed teen thirsting for a date?
“You ha
ve to meet Marshall,” Aunt Libby called when she returned to the dressing room.
I was peeking beneath the window shade at a lone figure lurking in the darkened alley by the Dumpster.
“Raven!” Aunt Libby called.
I turned around to face the Village Players version of Dracula—a malnourished, overpowdered, middle-aged man with slicked-back, gelatinized gray hair, ultra-red lips that resembled Bozo the Clown’s, and oversized press-on fingernails. He wore a traditional satin cape.
How could an overaged, uncharismatic man play the sexy, seductive Dracula? He must have been a good actor.
“I’d like to introduce you to your biggest fan,” Aunt Libby told him.
My mind was still on the figure lurking outside. “Aunt Libby, we really should—” I began.
“I’ve come to suck your blood!” Dracula said in a ghoulish voice, lunging at me.
I had to keep from rolling my eyes.
There was a time not too long ago when meeting an actor who played Dracula in a professional production would have been the highlight of my existence. I would have become a gushy groupie in his presence and kept his framed autograph on my bookshelf. Now it was more like meeting a shopping mall Easter Bunny.
“Libby has told me so much about you,” Dracula continued.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “We were just—”
“Come, sit down,” Aunt Libby suggested, offering a folding chair to the ghoulish lead.
“Your aunt tells me you are obsessed with vampires,” he said, draping his cape over the chair and sitting down.
Actually, I’m dating one, I wanted to say.
“Have you been to the Coffin Club?” he asked me.
“She’s too young,” Aunt Libby reminded him as she sat in her dressing-room chair and began taking off her makeup.
“Have you?” I asked eagerly.
“Yes. For research purposes only.”
“Did you see anything unusual?” I inquired, like a gothic Nancy Drew.
“Everything there is unusual.” He laughed. “Kids walk around wearing medieval cloaks and vampire teeth, with metal spears piercing through their eyebrows and lips, and amulets of blood hanging from their necks. I think I was the only one there above thirty. Except for one other man.”
“Older than you?”
“Well, stranger, if you can imagine.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know. He stuck out, too. But not in the way I did. He could have played Renfield.”
“Creepy Man?” I blurted out. “I mean, was he creepy?”
“Well, I guess he was.”
Unfortunately it must have been this dime-store Dracula, and not Alexander, whom Elvira had spotted talking with Jameson.
“He was quite eccentric,” Marshall continued. “He asked if I was aware of any abandoned mansions in the area. Dark, secluded, near a cemetery, with an attic.”
“Are there any? I love old mansions.”
“I confessed I was starring in Dracula,” Marshall said proudly, “and I’d been to the Historical Society to research mansions and local cemeteries. I explained to him that he was better off going to the Historical Society than a real estate agent.”
Dracula got up to leave. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
I could still see the figure creeping outside through the partially covered window. When I turned to look at Aunt Libby as she thanked Marshall for his visit, I could see their reflections in the long mirror, as well as the reflection of the window through which I’d been peering. The alley appeared empty. But when I turned back to the window, the figure was still there.
Alexander?
I quickly headed for the door, pushing past the exiting Dracula.
“Raven,” Aunt Libby scolded.
“I’m sorry,” I began. “I think I saw one of your fans outside. I’m going to see if they want to meet you!”
I rushed outside, past a smelly Dumpster, some discarded antique chairs, and stage scenery. Fire escapes hung from overhead.
When I came to the other side of the dressing-room window, the figure had already gone.
Disappointed, I looked around for any signs. The alley was empty of people. A glistening object on the cracked blacktop underneath the window caught my eye.
On closer inspection, I saw a pewter skeleton earring lying next to a puddle. I’d vaguely remembered seeing someone wearing an earring just like this. But Alexander wore studs. Then it hit me—it had been Jagger.
I checked all around me, making sure the coast was clear. I picked it up, stuck the earring in my purse, and ran back inside the theater.
Aunt Libby and I walked to her car with some of the other cast members. With each step, I couldn’t help but feel as if someone was watching me.
I looked up and spotted a small dark object dangling from the telephone wire above the alley.
“Is that a bat?” I asked as she unlocked my door.
“I can’t see anything,” she said.
“Over there.” I pointed.
Aunt Libby squinted. “I’m sure it’s a bird,” she commented.
“Birds don’t hang upside down,” I said.
“You’re creeping me out!” she hollered, and swiftly raced around to her side and got into the Beetle.
Could it be Alexander? Or were my suspicions right about Jagger?
As my aunt started the car, I looked back at the wire, which was now bare.
“What are you doing?” Aunt Libby asked, back at her bachelorette pad, as I turned on all the lights. “Are you paying for the electric bill this month?”
She followed behind, turning them off.
“We have to keep them on,” I declared.
“All of them?”
“Didn’t my dad tell you? I’m afraid of the dark.”
She glared at me in disbelief. “This from a girl who has sleepovers at cemeteries?”
She had a point. But I couldn’t tell her my most secretest of all secrets. “The show really spooked me,” I said instead. “You gave such a realistic performance, I’m afraid I could be bitten at any moment.”
“You thought I was that believable?” she asked, surprised.
I nodded eagerly.
“Well, I prefer candlelight,” she said. She lit some votives and placed them throughout the living room. Her apartment began to smell of roses and flickered with shadows of Italian masks.
Had I really met a second teen vampire? Maybe Jagger had been afraid I’d spotted his unreflected image in my compact. He might have been spying on me in the alleyway, or watching me as he hung from a telephone wire. I took a deep breath, realizing I was no better than an overreacting gossipmonger like Trevor Mitchell. I should be spending my time planning my continuing search for Alexander instead of pointing fingers to a white-haired goth’s mortal existence. Jagger could have dropped his earring on his way home from the Coffin Club. The lurking figure could have been a clubster, weaving back and forth by the Dumpster after having a few too many Executions.
I picked up Aunt Libby’s Lava lamp phone and called my parents.
“Hello?” Billy Boy answered.
“It’s me. Are Mom and Dad home?”
“They’re next door, visiting the Jenkins’s new baby,” he replied.
“They left you alone?” I asked, ribbing him.
“Give it a rest.”
“Well, don’t touch my room! Or anything in it,” I warned, wrapping the telephone cord around my fingers.
“I’ve already read one of your journals.”
“You better be kidding!”
“‘Alexander kissed me!’” he said in a girlish voice. Then I heard him leaf through pages.
“You better—”
“‘Trevor was right,’” he continued. “‘Alexander really is a vampire.’”
I froze. How had Billy Boy gotten hold of one of my journals?
“Close it right now!” I cried. “It’s not a journal. It’s a story I’m writing for Engl
ish class!”
“Well, you have a lot of spelling mistakes.”
“Right now, Nerd Boy! Shut it or I’m coming home and melting all your computer games!”
“Calm down, spaz. I’m in my room, leafing through my NASA book,” he confessed. “You think I want to go in your messy room? I could be missing for days!”
“I knew that,” I said, with a sigh of relief. “Well, tell Mom I called.” I was amazed how accurately Billy Boy had guessed the contents of my journal. Maybe he should perform crystal-ball readings at the Coffin Club.
“Oh, someone called for you,” he remembered.
“Becky?”
“No. It was a guy.”
I held my breath. “Alexander?”
“He didn’t leave his name. When I said you weren’t home, he hung up.”
“Did you check the caller ID?”
I waited an eternity for his response.
“Out of area,” he finally answered.
“If he calls again, ask who it is,” I demanded. “And then call me immediately!”
Aunt Libby was munching on carrots dipped in hummus while sitting on the floor on a purple corduroy pillow. I was too distraught to eat.
“So tell me about your boyfriend,” she asked, as if reading my thoughts.
“Well, he’s a goth like me,” I answered, beginning to tell her the part of Alexander’s identity that wasn’t secret. “And he’s delicious!”
“What does he look like?”
“Luscious, long midnight hair. Deep, dreamy eyes. He’s taller than me, about your height. Thin, not malnourished, but not beefy like he has to be in a gym twenty-four-seven. I just can’t believe he left,” I added, remembering the farewell note.
“He left you?”
“No, I mean he left for spring break.” I scrambled, trying to cover my mistake. “To visit his family.”
“I’m glad you found someone special you can identify with. It must be hard for you growing up in that town.”
I appreciated that Libby understood what it was like to be different. Because she felt more comfortable in Hipsterville, maybe Alexander had found a place where he felt more comfortable, too.