Эллен Шрайбер - The Coffin Club

I pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

I paused. The night, the view, and Alexander were all gorgeous. I was in the arms of a very real vampire—one whom I loved and who loved me back. I’d also spent several days surrounded by other vampires. I’d met new friends, like Onyx and Scarlet, and was given a glimpse of their world. It wasn’t ghastly or deadly after all. I wondered if several days were in fact enough for me when I could be living in it for eternity.

And if I were to be turned, what a romantic time and place to have it done. But really…was I ready?

“Nothing’s wrong,” I finally answered. “I was just wondering.”

“About what?”

“About me…becoming like you.”

He pulled back and appeared cross.

“I’m just saying. You’re here, I’m here, the moon is full.”

“Really. It’s that easy for you?” he pressed skeptically.

“I think you think I won’t be able to handle it.”

“You have a romantic view of my world. Probably like I do of yours.”

“But I know more about your world than you think.”

“I’m not your typical vampire….”

“You’re not typical in any way. You are one of a kind. It’s just that…I want you to consider me as part of your world.”

“I do already. From the moment I met you.”

Alexander was dreamy, his face framed against the sparkling moonlight.

He was right. I was so concerned with living in another world, I wasn’t appreciating the one we were in together.

I smiled and fell into his arms.

“When you turn me,” I began, “will we have a covenant ceremony? Will we invite friends? Or will you just hold me, on a perfect night like this?”

“Well. All I need to do is start here.” He took my fingers and kissed them, then worked his way up my hand and forearm. My flesh tingled as he continued to kiss up my arm and the nape of my neck. “Then lean in…”

Suddenly Alexander’s eyes turned red and he looked away. “It’s time to go,” he said.

“Already? But we just got here.”

“We’ve been here for hours. It’s getting late,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to—”

But Alexander had already slung his backpack over his shoulder and taken my hand. “I have a lot to do before I leave.”

“Can I help you pack?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes like a child.

“That won’t be necessary. Jameson is very organized.”

I wasn’t ready for us to separate and there was nothing I could say to change his mind. Before I knew it we were standing outside Aunt Libby’s apartment.

“So when I see you next,” Alexander began, “you’ll be outside the Mansion’s gates, just like the painting.”

“I will.”

Alexander kissed me long. “I’m glad you came to visit me.”

It felt like I needed a crowbar to pry me away. My heart began to sink as he let me go.

I held the bus ticket in my hand. I’d gotten everything I’d come for—to reunite with Alexander and to finally know he was returning to Dullsville.

“Thank you again for my present,” I said.

Alexander waited for me to safely enter my aunt’s apartment. Once inside, I attempted to replace the key ring in my purse. Something sparkled—a long, old-fashioned, golden key. It was the Dungeon skeleton key.

The whole time Alexander had been in Hipsterville, he had been painting a picture of me outside the Mansion. During our separation, he’d been thinking about me living in Dullsville as much as I’d been dreaming about him on my trip.

And now, as I held the skeleton key in my hand, I was thinking about one more place—an empty tomb overtaken by dancing vampires deep below Hipsterville’s new club.

Alexander was right. It was time to leave Hipsterville. But if, in fact, I’d be boarding a Dullsville-bound bus without promise of seeing or visiting a true vampire club again, I had to see the Dungeon one last time.

13

The Dungeon

Aunt Libby’s fifteen-year-old navy blue Schwinn was no sexy Harley Night Rod. The tires were low on air, the handlebar was missing a rubber handle cover, and the back wheel squeaked with every revolution.

I peddled through Hipsterville and coasted down Main Street, steering around discarded trash left over from the festival. I locked the Schwinn to a bicycle rack outside the library, a block south of the vampire club.

I was hoofing down the sidewalk when I heard a motorcycle whizzing through an alleyway. I followed the sound, which seemed to be coming from behind the buildings. I wandered off the beaten path to a lit alleyway outside the Coffin Club, where I spotted a hearse parked next to a Dumpster. The car was familiar—a vintage black Cadillac with a silver bat hood ornament, whitewall tires, skull and crossbones on the left rear panel, and a skeleton hanging on the rearview mirror. The license plate’s county sticker was from Hipsterville and the license plate read: I BITE. It was Jagger’s.

Past the oversized garbage can, I glimpsed a rider with a black helmet parking his bike in the alley. I crept over as silently and quickly as a daddy longlegs. When the rider took off his helmet, he spun around. The shadows blocked him, but I appeared in full view.

Even in the shadows, I could tell he seemed surprised by my arrival.

Phoenix headed toward me, gravely concerned. “There may be trouble inside the bar tonight,” he warned.

“Trouble? That’s my middle name.”

“I’m serious.” He placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. “I strongly suggest you go home.”

He glared down at me, brooding behind his sunglasses, his dark purple and black hair flopping seductively over them.

I had a feeling that if I stayed, there might be more trouble outside the club.

I nodded reluctantly.

Phoenix slipped into the Coffin Club through the back alley entrance. I was surprised he hadn’t parked in the VIP spot and sauntered into the club like a leather-clad prince. Maybe there was going to be a fight inside the club tonight and he wanted to make a quick getaway. I lagged behind him, and as the door began to close I stuck my foot inside the frame. The door was heavy as it slammed on my boot. I limped inside.

I saw purple locks bobbing a few feet ahead of me before they disappeared through a door. I hobbled into the darkness, doing my best to keep up, but kept a safe distance so I would go undetected. All of a sudden I was descending a steep staircase and standing in front of a dungeon door with the spray-painted words DEAD END.

I uncovered my Coffin Club bracelet, poked in my purse for my key chain, and anxiously fumbled for the skeleton key. An equal amount of fear and excitement coursed through my veins. The key shook in my unsteady hand, but I managed after a few tries to stick it into the lock and swiftly turn it.

The door creaked open.

Dragon examined me as I whisked past him and slipped through the slit in the curtain.

The Dungeon was spectacularly alive. Clubsters were buzzing, dancing, tipping back goblets, and partying as if it might be their final time at the club. The devilish and decadent catacomb chambers were packed full of fang-toothed goths, punks, and emos. Perhaps it would be the last time I’d see Scarlet and Onyx, if they forgave me for recognizing them as they were going unnoticed in the mortal world.

But as I milled through the crowd, an even darker mood began to wash over the club like draining blood. I spotted members in white T-shirts with the black word POSSESS, in homage to Jagger’s tattoo, having private meetings, whispering, and passing messages.

“Raven!” I heard a familiar girl’s voice call. It was Onyx. Her hair was styled in long pigtails, with spiderweb bows. She and Scarlet raced over to me.