Эллен Шрайбер - Vampireville

I tried to peer in the back window, but the curtains were drawn. The license plate's county sticker was from Hipsterville—the town a few hundred miles away from Dullsville where the Coffin Club was and where I first encountered the nefarious Jagger.

The license plate read: I BITE.

"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice asked.

I nearly jumped out of my boots.

I turned around to find Billy Boy and Henry standing right in front of me.

"I told you it was for real," Henry proudly proclaimed.

"Wow. It is freaky," Billy Boy remarked. "But why is it parked in the woods?"

"I don't know. I discovered it yesterday on my way home from math club," Henry replied.

"Is there a body inside?" Billy Boy asked, nervously trying to peer into the back window.

"No. But I think we could arrange that," I said.

Billy Boy backed away from the macabre mobile.

"Have you seen anyone driving it?" I inquired.

Henry shook his head.

"You still haven't told me why you are out here," Billy Boy charged.

I fingered the garage door opener in my hand. And then it hit me.

There was only one person I knew in Dullsville who could help me whittle down my search—one person who could figure out how to use a garage door opener to unlock his locker or even unbolt his bedroom door. And his five-foot-two-inch nerd body was standing right in front of me.

"I found this," I said, showing Henry. "I'm sure the person who lost it would like to get their car out—or back in."

"You want to know which door it is so you can break in," Billy Boy alleged.

"I wouldn't be breaking in if I had the opener, now would I?" I snarled. "Besides, I'm not a thief. It's my civic duty to return it to its rightful owner."

"Let's see it," Henry said like a jeweler inspecting a precious stone. "This is an Aladdin. I'd say one out of ten homes use this manufacturer. It's the same kind we use."

"You do?" I asked curiously.

"Yes. And this one looks familiar."

"You've seen it? Can you tell me which homes might use them?"

"I was missing one the other day," he said, wrinkling his face in thought. "Hey—" Henry lived in a five-bedroom Colonial-style house just up the road. I'd visited his house once before, when Becky and I were in need of accessories for our Kissing Coffins outfits. Henry supplied us with fangs, blood pellets, and scars.

I imagined bloodthirsty vampire twins anxiously waiting in coffins in his family's garage as he innocently played with fake blood and fangs above them in his bedroom.

"This couldn't be it," I said protectively, and immediately grabbed back the opener.

"But I swore—" "Are your parents home?" I asked.

"No, they went to San Diego for a medical convention."

My heart stopped pulsing. "Did they plan their trips through Armstrong Travel?" I asked.

"They booked their tickets online," he answered, confused.

"Then who is home with you?"

"Our housekeeper, Nina," he continued.

"Do you want Raven to be your babysitter?" Billy Boy teased.

Then my thoughts turned serious. Behind that mechanical shield of wood might lie two sleeping teen vampires.

"I'll walk you to your house," I said. "You can never be too careful these days."

I followed the two nerds up the steep road to Henry's house. When we reached his driveway I saw the three-car garage attached to his home. And then, a few yards back, sat another two-car detached garage.

One garage wasn't good enough? I thought as we approached Henry's house.

"I'll tell Mom you are doing your homework inside Henry's," I said. "You should stay indoors today trading your Pokemon cards or whatever it is you do. It's supposed to rain."

"I told you she's weird," Billy Boy whispered as the two went inside.

I waited for a moment, walked my bike halfway down the driveway, then quietly doubled back.

I rested my bike against the side of his brick house.

Since Henry was staying with Nina, I assumed the attached garage, with the comings and goings of a preteen and a hardworking housekeeper, was too exposed for a hiding vampire. But I peered into it anyway. I saw a vintage Rolls and shelves of tools.

Now that Henry and Billy Boy were safely inside the house finding square roots, I ran to the detached garage. I took a deep breath and aimed the door opener.

I pressed the silver button.

Nothing happened. The door didn't budge. The opener didn't click.

I pressed it again.

The door remained still.

"It's not for that," Henry said as he and Billy Boy came out of the house.

I jumped back.

"I open it this way," Henry said, and stepped on a WELCOME HOME mat.

The garage door began to open.

"No! Cover your eyes!" I cried, and put my hand out in front of them as if my lanky arm could block them from seeing two coffins.

It was too late.

The garage door slowly opened like a creaky coffin lid. My heart stopped beating.

I could barely open my eyes.

Then I saw them. Not one but two silver BMWs, both emblazoned with red Dullsville Middle School "I'm the proud parent of an honor student" bumper stickers.

I went inside the garage and looked around, underneath, and inside the back of the luxury vehicles.

"What is wrong with you?" Billy asked. "You're not used to cars without skulls and crossbones?"

"Well, if this doesn't open the garage," I argued, now fatigued and angry, "what does it do?"

We followed Henry into his gigantic backyard, which was the size of a football field, complete with a mosaic-tiled patio, an Olympic-size pool, and a million-dollar flower garden.

He aimed the opener toward the house and pressed the button. Suddenly floodlights, scattered around his property, illuminated the already sunlit backyard.

"Nina gets freaked out when she house-sits," Henry stated. "She claims she sees shadows and things moving in the backyard. I keep the lights on when my parents are out of town. But since I lost it, it's been pitch-black back here."

I didn't understand. What did this have to do with Jagger? Why was he returning for it? Or was he making sure it was still there?

I walked past Henry's pool and garden and into his backyard to see what he needed to illuminate. The huge field was wasted on a boy who was more interested in throwing around scientific theories than footballs.

Then I saw it. In the far corner of the yard— at least sixty yards from where we stood—was an A-framed treehouse. "That is perfect!" I exclaimed.

"I used to spend a lot of time out here until my dad built me a lab in the basement—now I'm down there more," Henry said. "He just bought me a telescope to entice me outdoors and into the treehouse again, but it's still in the box in my room."

"Yeah, it's been forever since we've been up here," Billy Boy added.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to a rope with a rusty pulley dangling from one of the massive branches.

"It's a principle similar to one used in canal houses in Europe," Henry said behind me. "I had it installed to lift up furniture."

Or coffins? I wondered.

"Want to take a look?" he asked proudly.

I still had the protection of the sun's rays and the unyielding curiosity of a cat, but if I rode to the Mansion and waited for Alexander to wake up, then Jagger and Luna would be rising, too. The moon was ticking. My heart was pounding. First I had to make sure Henry and Billy Boy were far away from the treehouse.

"How about putting together that telescope your dad bought you?" I suggested.

Henry's face lit up as if I'd just invited him to see a private screening of Lord of the Rings. "I didn't know you were into astronomy," he said.

Billy Boy looked at me skeptically. "She probably just wants to look in your neighbor's windows."