Эллен Шрайбер - The Coffin Club

It seemed like an eternity before I spotted the black Mercedes driving down the tree-lined street. Alexander opened the car door for me and I ran to his side. After a quick smooch and a honk from a minivan waiting behind us, I climbed into the car and we drove off.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as we headed through downtown and up a long and winding hill.

“We haven’t been able to spend time exploring town, so I thought I’d take you to a place where we could,” said Alexander.

Alexander continued to motor up the winding road, which was so steep at times that it seemed as if we were driving at a right angle. At the top of the hill sat a bell tower that pointed to the heavens. He turned into the cracked black-topped lot, avoiding several potholes, and parked.

“This is the bell tower I saw when Aunt Libby and I were waiting for you at the art festival!”

The white-painted bell tower was a historic landmark dating back to the 1800s. It was simple in its design with an observation deck and working clock. The paint was chipping and the roof was in disrepair. An oversized sign, placed by an old well a few yards away, apologized to visitors for the inconvenience of the ongoing renovation.

Alexander and I crept on the cracked sidewalk, stepping over plastic sheets and discarded nails. A stick, wedged in the front door, kept it slightly ajar.

Back in Alexander’s company, the Underworld, Dullsville, and the Dungeon were distant memories.

Once inside, we climbed three flights of stairs that led to the bell tower door. I held on to Alexander’s hand and followed him through the door and up a seemingly never-ending spiral staircase. When we finally ascended to the top, we were so high above the town, I thought I could reach out and touch the stars.

An enormous copper bell hung from a cast-iron A-frame beam. I touched the rusty bell, which was weathered and tarnished. There wasn’t a cord or a hired bell ringer in sight. The bell must have weighed a quarter ton, and even if I worked out regularly, I wouldn’t be able to make it ring.

“What if the bell automatically chimes?” I asked Alexander. “It’ll be deafening.”

“Not this antique,” he said, tapping his hand against it. “It hasn’t rung in years. Look.” He showed me a bird’s nest and cobwebs in the cast-iron tresses.

Alexander directed me around the bell. Awaiting us was a lit candelabra, votives, a black lace tablecloth set before the archway. His backpack looked full of goodies.

“This is beautiful!” I hugged him with all my might. I held Alexander’s hand as an anchor as I inched a safe distance to the archway and peered out. I’d spent several nights buried underneath the lowest depths of Hipsterville. This night I’d spend the evening at its highest point.

It was breathtaking. The yellow stars filled the night sky and twinkled as if they were winking at us. We had a panoramic view of Hipsterville. The town looked like a miniature layout found in a retail display window—the kind with tiny lights, trees, and cars.

I leaned against Alexander, my arm wrapped around his waist and his around my shoulder, as we gazed out into the picturesque evening.

“I think I see Aunt Libby’s apartment,” I said, pointing to a group of town houses.

“I think I can see into her window,” he said, teasing me. “Even I don’t have that kind of vision.”

“Well…I think that’s her apartment.”

“But your aunt Libby lives in that part of town,” he said, nodding toward an area of homes a few miles over.

I had no sense of direction.

“Well, I know over there is Main Street. And there’s a park, the train station, and the art museum,” I said, proudly gesturing to obvious places of interest.

“Did I tell you you are the most beautiful tour guide I’ve ever seen?” He picked me up and spun me around and gave me a passionate kiss. When he set me down, not only did the bell tower spin, but so did the town.

I latched on to him until I was steady.

“I wanted to bring you to a place where we could explore all of the town together in one evening,” Alexander remarked.

“This is perfect!” I agreed.

We unpacked our dinner, specially prepared by Jameson. Alexander tore into his grilled steak sandwich and gulped down his red drink while I broke off pieces of French bread. I was so distracted by the beautiful night, fresh air, and my handsome boyfriend that I had little appetite.

I marveled at how much Alexander enjoyed his food.

“Maybe I’ll cook for you someday,” I offered.

“Really? You know how?”

“I’m great at mac and cheese and steak fries. Or I can prepare a mean bowl of cereal.”

Alexander beamed. “I may have to take you up on that.”

Then I rested my head against his lap as he sipped his bottle of thick liquid.

When we’d finished and cleaned up, we leaned against an archway, a safe distance from the ledge but in full view of the town. I sat back, entranced, watching Alexander against the sparkling lights of Hipsterville.

Each time Alexander took me on a date, it was more spectacular than the one before. He spent as much time thinking about and preparing for our dates as he did creating one of his paintings. My heart would skyrocket with the touch of his hand, or an unearthly kiss. At the same time, I was comforted knowing there was no place on earth I’d rather be than by his side.

“I have something for you,” he said, digging into the backpack.

I imagined him presenting me with a small jewelry box—perhaps a ring—or a larger gift, such as a bouquet of dead black roses.

Instead he handed me a flat package, the size of an envelope, neatly wrapped in black lace.

I tore the fabric off the package in wild anticipation of its contents. It was a one-way bus ticket to Dullsville.

“Aren’t you excited?” he asked, beaming as bright as the stars above us.

“Sure…”

He seemed disappointed with my reaction. “I thought it was what you wanted. Jameson and I have already begun packing.”

“It is…But you’re still here. Aunt Libby. And the—”

“The what?”

“Uh…the…summer. Freedom.”

“We’ll spend summer at home. Together.”

“You’re right. It’s the best gift ever,” I said, giving him a kiss.

When I was finally delivered the news I’d been waiting to hear since Alexander left Dullsville, I wasn’t as pleased as I’d imagined. Alexander couldn’t return to Dullsville now, when the Dungeon was on the brink of upheaval. I’d just begun hanging out with Aunt Libby, and I longed to dance and gossip until dawn with Scarlet and Onyx. And I was desperate to know what was going to happen to Jagger and Phoenix. I wasn’t ready for it to end.

Alexander was set on leaving. There wasn’t any way for me to stall the departure. Or perhaps there might be one way…I’d have to play the Coffin Club card.

If I told Alexander about the Dungeon, he’d be forced to have me show him and delay our departure. I was assured of at least a few more days, or rather nights, of us inspecting the underground club. Maybe it was time I told him everything.

“I’ve heard that Devon was right,” I suddenly said. “There is a vampire club here!”

“It’s just a rumor. You believe gossip?” he challenged.

“What if it is true? Don’t you think we should stay and check it out?”

Alexander placed his hand on mine. “Our trip here is over. We both got what we came for. Valentine is out of Dullsville and safely back in Romania. And you and I are together.”

“But—”

“Let’s enjoy our last evening here,” he said. He made sure we did, too, by placing his pink lips on my black ones.

When Alexander playfully nibbled on my neck, it made me think of one more thing.