The Coffin Club vk-5

by Эллен Шрайбер

  I bit my black lip and held my breath.

  Then, at the screen door, Jameson appeared.

  Alexander’s butler struggled to see me through the glare of the mesh door.

  “Jameson, it’s me, Raven.”

  “Miss Raven?” he asked, confused. He opened the door. “It can’t be you. What are you doing here? In the backyard?”

  I jumped to my feet, dusted off my miniskirt, and raced up the uneven steps toward the Creepy Man. Jameson wrinkled his pale forehead.

  “Miss Raven, I’m surprised to see you here. But pleasantly, I might add,” he said with a skinny-toothed smile.

  “I’m visiting my aunt Libby here in town,” I said, relieved to see the bony butler. “I wanted to tell Alexander, but there wasn’t a way to let him know. I seriously think it’s time you and Alexander got cell phones.”

  “Please come in. It will be dark soon.”

  The smell of sweet potatoes filled the high ceilings of the rustic kitchen. Jameson was preparing dinner, or, in Alexander’s case, breakfast.

  “Will you be staying?” he asked in his thick Romanian accent.

  “I’d love to, if it’s not a problem.”

  “There is always room for you at our dinner table.”

  My heart melted at Jameson’s kindness. I was dying to press the bony man for information on what they’d been doing in Hipsterville and why they had rented the manor house, but that would have to wait because there was something of more importance resting somewhere in the estate.

  “Can I see Alexander?” I asked anxiously.

  Jameson, wearing oversized brown oven mitts, opened the door of the old-fashioned oven and pulled out a tray of aluminum-foil-covered sweet potatoes. Behind him, the dirt-stained window stared at me like a hotel oil painting—poking through intermittent clouds was the setting sun.

  “You know Alexander prefers to sleep during the day,” he reminded me.

  “Of course…I just thought…”

  “Well, it is quite a surprise you have arrived,” he said, politely entertaining me. “I’m sure Alexander will be very pleased you are here.”

  “I hope so! How long do you and Alexander plan to stay here?” I asked.

  Jameson paused, then appeared distracted. “Did I set the table?” he wondered.

  “I am sorry to drop in on you like this,” I apologized. “Can I help you set it?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Miss Raven. Why don’t you sit and relax in the study. Alexander will come down soon.”

  “May I take a quick peek around?”

  “Of course, but stay on the first floor. I didn’t have time to clean the other rooms today,” he said.

  If the first floor’s appearance was Jameson’s idea of cleaning, I could only imagine what the second floor was like. Dust balls clung to every corner, and cobwebs hung from the antique crystal chandeliers. The estate was far too grand for one creepy man to vacuum. The manor house was at least ten degrees colder than the Mansion and far emptier. The floorboards were uneven and watermarked. I wandered in the hallway; the walls were empty of portraits and the wallpaper was faded and patched with stains. All rooms and walls were bare, including what must have been a parlor and library. The only exception was the dining room, where a long rectangular stone table sat in the middle of the room, antique black velvet chairs at each end.

  Jameson had warned me to remain on the first floor as if he were Glinda the good witch telling Dorothy to stay on the yellow brick road. From the foot of the grand staircase, I could only see a royal blue curtained window at the end of the first flight. I wondered what lay past the two flights out of view above me. Figuring I only had a moment before Jameson began setting the table, I crept up the once regal staircase. Like Dorothy, I betrayed the path.

  Chills danced down my spine as I snuck through the narrow and lonely hallway. I opened door after door, revealing empty bedrooms and closets, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous and vacant space. Where the Mansion’s rooms were filled with furniture, books, and antique mementos, the manor house’s rooms were stripped of any memories. The only room that showed any sign of life was at the far end of the corridor. Its contents: a single bed and a cedar dresser. I presumed it was Jameson’s living quarters.

  When I softly shut the Creepy Man’s bedroom door, I noticed something dangling in the hallway ceiling above me. A short, wiry piece of white rope hung from a square door overhead. It was out of arm’s reach, but with a good jump I might have been able to grab it. I knew I should go back downstairs, but that went against my true nature.

  The first time I jumped, I didn’t even reach the cord. The second time, my fingers touched it. Finally, on the third try, I caught the cord between my fingers. With all my might, I quickly pulled the rope and snapped it securely in the palm of my hand. The door slowly creaked down toward me and a staircase folded out like a fire escape in a New York City alleyway. Surprisingly the wooden steps seemed to be in relatively good condition. Perhaps the former tenants didn’t see the need for a darkened attic hideaway.

  I quietly ascended the stairs, curious to examine what lay at the top. A glow from the second floor shone like a small spotlight, illuminating a portion of the attic. A musty smell filled the gymnasium-sized room. The attic, like the rooms below, appeared bare. Alexander’s easel, art supplies, and mattress were nowhere to be found. A single ray of sunlight peeked through a circular window in the far end of the sloping attic walls. I tiptoed over and noticed an unpainted plain old oak armoire beneath the window. I tried to open its doors, only to discover they were locked. Perhaps the skeleton key was hiding in the attic somewhere with real skeletons. I glanced around, trying to adjust my vision in the darkness. It was then I saw something shrouded in the shadows—a black room divider. I crept over to the corner of the attic and peered behind the six-foot-tall wooden screen.

  I could barely make out a night table and a pewter candlestick with a half-melted white candle. Behind it stood an easel with a covered painting, art supplies scattered beneath. Then I noticed something familiar on the nightstand staring back at me. It was the picture Alexander had painted of me and kept on his nightstand at the Mansion. There next to the tiny table was a single black coffin.

  I was standing alongside my sleeping vampire boyfriend. I pressed my ear to the cold coffin lid. I could barely hear what I thought to be breathing. My heart raced with his every breath.

  I knew the sun was setting because the cast of light from the attic window was slowly shrinking. It only took a few minutes for it to dwindle to the size of the nightstand. Finally it was as thin as a pencil, then it was gone.

  A small amount of light still appeared from the open door in the attic floor. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the new illumination.

  Just then I heard someone stirring inside the coffin.

  I stepped back, and the heel of my boot snagged against a tiny nail protruding from the bottom of the screen. For several moments, the room divider and I teetered back and forth. I was about to cause a major commotion. I regained my balance and managed to return the screen upright and steal myself behind it. I peered through a tiny crack between the ruler-sized boards, my heart racing even harder now.

  The top of the coffin lid began to creak open ever so slowly toward me, leaving me unable to see inside until it reached a ninety-degree angle. I didn’t see fingers, a hand, or anything opening it, nor could I make out anything—or anyone—behind it. I peeked around the screen.

  It was then I saw a sleepy Alexander staring right at me.

  Startled, I screamed.

  He paused. His chocolate-colored eyes turned bloodred. “Raven!”

  I tried to catch my breath and regain my composure. “I didn’t mean to scare you—or myself,” I apologized.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked.

  “I came to see you—”

  Alexander stepped out of the coffin barefoot, wearing a black T-shirt and black boxers. He paused by the n
ightstand. He didn’t run to me and scoop me up in his arms. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.

  “I thought you’d be glad to see me,” I said. It took all my strength not to hug him.

  “I am, it’s just—” Alexander stood awkwardly. He fixed his hair with one hand and straightened out his clothes with the other.

  “Are you upset I’m here?” I asked. “I couldn’t wait another day.”

  “I just woke up,” he said self-consciously, wiping one eye with the back of his hand. “I would have preferred a little warning.” His stern demeanor then softened. He looked sexy, his long hair tousled and his clothes still askew. Even in the darkness Alexander lit up the room. A warm smile overcame his sleepy face.

  “I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe,” I said, daring to run to him.

  “Me too,” he said, now gazing down at me. He brushed my hair away from my cheek, pulled me into him, and swept me up in his arms. I hugged him around his neck, and my black-fingernailed hands coursed through his silky black hair. He leaned into me and kissed me, passionately, like I’d dreamed about night after night since he left the Mansion. Alexander took my neck in his mouth, like a wolf would a swan. The sharp edge of his teeth slid against my skin, then he suddenly pulled back.

  “Miss Raven? Miss Raven?” Jameson called from below.

  Alexander let me down. His red eyes faded to their natural brown. He seemed shaken, but I held his hand reassuredly. I knew I was safe in his arms.

  “She’s up here with me, Jameson,” Alexander answered.

  “I thought she might have gotten lost. Dinner is ready.”

  “I was just on my appetizer,” he whispered to me with a wink.

  “Desserts are even better,” I said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  I felt as tiny as a Polly Pocket doll in a Barbie Dream House as I sat alone at the limousine-length table in the stately and stark mile-high-ceilinged dining room. A black lace tablecloth was draped over the stone tabletop, and a single candelabra flickered as the centerpiece. The macabre table was set with Wedgwood china plates, sterling silver cutlery, and crystal goblets—everyday settings for my vampire boyfriend. The Madison family ate this fancy only once a year, when my grandmother dusted off her china and made Christmas dinner; otherwise it was strictly Pfaltzgraff.

  My combat boots grazed the patched wooden floor as I anxiously swung them back and forth underneath the table, impatiently waiting for Alexander’s entrance. I was hoping a ghost would float by to keep me company, but no specters arrived. Soon I sensed a familiar presence behind me, followed by hands caressing my shoulders.

  I felt two lips press against my neck. I grew so hot I thought I’d melt the ice cubes in my crystal goblet. The ends of Alexander’s midnight-colored hair were still damp from a quick shower and brushed against the back of my bare shoulder. He smelled heavenly with the sweet scents of Drakkar and Irish Spring.

  “I shouldn’t have barged in on you like that,” I apologized as he stood next to me. “You are a much better sport than I am,” I added. “I’m not sure how I would have reacted if I woke up and found you watching me.”

  “I know exactly how you would have reacted.” Alexander made a Godzilla-like monster face and we both cracked up knowing he was right.

  Alexander moved his chair and place setting next to mine. Jameson entered the room pushing a squeaky-wheeled metal cart carrying a covered sterling silver serving tray. He removed the lid to reveal two sizzling, dripping red steaks.

  “I took the liberty of cooking yours medium-well,” Jameson said, serving me. “I assumed you didn’t like yours as rare as Alexander’s.”

  I glanced over at Alexander’s plate. The barely cooked strip steak was almost floating in a pool of blood.

  “Mine is perfect,” I said with an oversized grin.

  “Isn’t it a nice surprise that Raven has come to town?” Jameson asked, spooning out steaming-hot buttered peas.

  “It’s the perfect way to wake up,” Alexander said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Will there be anything else?”

  “I think we are fine,” Alexander stated.

  I scooted my chair even closer to Alexander’s. I couldn’t believe that my boyfriend, who had been so far away for so many days, was now by my side. All the pain I’d felt in the last month or so disappeared.

  Alexander seemed ravenous as he tore into his bloody steak. I was reminded each time I was in Alexander’s company that I was truly dating a vampire. He had just woken up, while I, on the other hand, had been awake for more than twelve hours. Upon awakening, my boyfriend craved blood the way I craved a caramel latte.

  There was so much I wanted to ask Alexander I didn’t know where to begin. As we continued to cut into our steaks, I pried for the info I’d missed over our time apart.

  “Is Valentine here? What have you been doing? When are you planning on coming home?” I babbled.

  “Slow down,” he said, tapping my hand.

  “Tell me about Valentine. Is he okay?”

  “Yes, Valentine is fine. He returned to his family.”

  I paused, waiting to hear more. But Alexander just winked and took a bite of his sweet potato.

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  Where Becky and I would begin retelling a juicy event by “setting the scene,” followed by a description of clothing and dialogue, finishing with “overheard gossip” and our biased commentary, Alexander would simply provide one-word answers. How was I supposed to get a nitty-gritty fleshed-out story this way?

  “Is Valentine here or in Romania?” I continued to pry.

  “Romania, I guess.”

  “Did you see Jagger?”

  “Yes.” Alexander went back to cutting into his meat.

  “You did? What did he say? Was he threatening? Where did you meet? In Hipsterville’s graveyard?”

  “I showed up at his apartment at the Coffin Club. I have to admit, he was surprised,” Alexander began. “When he lifted the door open, he saw only me standing before him—Valentine was hanging by the elevator. Jagger was primed for an encounter, his fists clenched, his fangs flashing. But when he saw Valentine next to me, a wave of relief overcame him. I’d never seen him like that. Jagger was so happy to have Valentine safe I think all the blood rushed out of him.”

  “Wow, you really are a hero,” I gushed.

  “It was obvious Jagger had mixed feelings that I was the one who had returned Valentine to him. He’s spent so much time seeking revenge on me for not having a covenant ceremony with Luna he didn’t know how to respond. For the first time I can remember, Jagger and I weren’t rivals.”

  “I wish I’d been there to see it,” I said.

  He clutched my hand.

  “After he hugged his brother,” Alexander continued, “Jagger extended his hand to me. It was then that I knew a truce was formed—between him and me and our families. Returning Valentine safely was more important than completing any covenant ceremony.”

  “Do you think you guys will be friends now?”

  Alexander shook his head. “Sadly no. We’re polar opposites and don’t have much in common. But now that things are peaceful between the two of us, it’s probably best for him and me not to see each other for a while so we can keep it that way.”

  Alexander took a drink from his goblet.

  “I am really glad you are here,” he said quietly.

  “I am too!”

  We locked eyes. For a moment it was as if we were the only two people in the world. Billions of people were shopping, driving, living, but the only person I was aware of was the gorgeous guy staring back at me.

  Alexander leaned over and gently kissed me. I was so lost in his kiss, I didn’t realize my sleeve was sitting in my dinner.

  “Here, let me,” he said, dabbing his napkin in his water glass and brushing off the butter stain.

  “Can’t take me anywhere,” I joked. “So, when will you be returning to Dullsville?” I hinted. �
�Tomorrow? Next week?”

  “I just have one more thing to take care of. It shouldn’t take much longer. I promise. Believe me, it’s lonely not being around the people you care about most.” Alexander gently smiled at me. I felt a twinge of sadness for him. In Romania he had his family. In Dullsville he had me and Jameson. But here in Hipsterville, he and Jameson were all alone. “How is your family?” he politely asked.

  “Billy Boy misses you like crazy. You’re like a hero to him.”

  “When I return to Dullsville, we’ll have to take him to a science fair or a screening of the original Star Wars.”

  I laughed. “See? That is why you’re so special. You think about doing what he likes to do rather than doing something I’d like to do—like dragging him to a rave.”

  Alexander smiled.

  “And Becky?” he continued. “Is she still dating Matt?”

  “I think she’s picking out her wedding dress as we speak. I’m sure she’s counting down the days until graduation so she can elope.”

  Alexander laughed. “And you? Are you anything like Becky?” His gaze was so deliberate, it nearly bore through my soul.

  For once I was speechless. I was as much of a giddy and googly-eyed girly girl as Becky ever was. But I couldn’t confess that I was weak-kneed in an “I’d tattoo your name on my heart if only my parents would let me” way. I had to appear at least remotely sophisticated.

  Alexander, however, was waiting for my response.

  “Did you hear that there are crop circles popping up in town?” I asked.

  Alexander put down his fork. “Where did you learn that?”

  “It’s all over the news. Do you think it’s aliens?”

  He paused. “I guess it could be…”

  “Well, my aunt Libby and I had a major discussion about it. Guess what my theory is.”

  “Practical jokers?”

  “I think it’s vampires, signaling the whereabouts of other vampires.”

  Alexander’s eyes widened and he choked on his water.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded his head and covered his mouth with his napkin.

  “It makes perfect sense,” I continued. “Who else is up at night while most mortals sleep? And who can see the circles better than bats flying over the horizon?” I said.