Vampire Kisses - The Coffin Club Part 6

I sauntered through the catacombs, heading away from the noisy dance floor.

?I have your stereo cranked.?

?You'll have to turn it down. I don't want my neighbors to complain.?

?Of course. I'll turn it off as soon as we hang up.?

?Are you having a good time??

?Can you talk louder?? I asked, holding my other ear closed with my index finger.

?Are you having fun? I'm sure you're bored to tears.?

?It's not too bad,? I bellowed back, continuing to walk.

?I wish you had come to cla.s.s with me. Our teacher was from Kenya. He was truly amazing.?

?Don't worry about me. I'm having a great time by myself,? I said truthfully.

?What? I can't hear you.?

?I'm having a great time,? I shouted as a few clubsters dressed in cosplay outfits pa.s.sed me.

?Cla.s.s will be letting out shortly. I'll see you soon.?

?Take your time, Aunt Libby.?

?What??

?You don't have to rush on account of me.?

?I can't hear you. We'll talk when I get home. See you soon.? She hung up before I had a chance to stall her departure.

It was imperative that I beat Aunt Libby home.

I dropped my cell in my purse and realized I'd lost my sense of direction. Was the Dungeon dance floor to the right or the left? I had a fifty-fifty chance of making the correct choice. Naked bulbs lit the way through the stone tunnel, and a few more catacombs splintered off. I'd been so focused on my conversation with Aunt Libby that I hadn't made any mental directional notes. I needed a trail of bread crumbs.

I noticed some skulls lining the tunnel like a kitchen border. I didn't remember seeing them when I was talking on the phone, but then again, I wasn't looking.

The tunnel was dimly lit and confining. The stone walls leaned as if caving in on me as I paced in indecision.

I heard some voices and laughter coming from one end, so I followed them. Cautiously I crept through the catacombs, trying not to trip on the uneven terrain. The winding tunnel dumped into a small room. THE COVE. A dozen or so clubsters, their backs to me, were listening to what I thought might have been a stand-up comic. I was curious why they chose to listen instead of jamming on the dance floor.

But this was no ordinary blue-jean-wearing comedian. He wore a dark hoodie, pulled over his head, obscuring his deathly pale face, and he wasn't making the crowd laugh.

?The Dungeon should take a new direction. Why hide in obscurity when there is so much more we can do?? he challenged. Catching the glare of a single stagelight was a gold skeleton key dangling from a black lanyard around his neck like a backstage pa.s.s to a rock concert.

?I agree. Why deny who we are?? a girl asked, a snake wrapped around her neck like a mink stole.

?That's why this club is so important, so we can be ourselves,? another began.

?But the Dungeon is a secret and safe place we can call our own.?

?Isn't it time we make ourselves known?? the snake whisperer argued, caressing the reptile. ?Many of us are becoming frustrated remaining hidden.?

?But many others feel safer among ourselves,? one clubster admitted.

?We don't get along with outsiders,? another said.

?Maybe it's time that we try,? a girl in the front row said.

?So we can be like them and lose our ident.i.ty?? another asked.

The tension grew from both sides. The speaker held his hands up. ?Calm down. We must all be united.?

A guy hanging next to me asked, ?What do you think??

All at once the group was staring straight at me. The snake, still coiled around his owner, hissed.

?I think it's time for me to get back to the dance floor!?

I stole my way back into the once deadly tunnel. My eyes didn't have a chance to adjust to the darkness and I b.u.mped into a pair of girls. I stiffened but was too tired for a barroom brawl.

?Excuse me,? I said. ?Do you know the way back to the dance floor??

The girls, unlike the Pradabees at Dullsville High, weren't confrontational. Instead I felt a warmth and friendliness emanating from them.

The two girls appeared to be my age. One wore an indigo blue corset dress, while the other sported a baby doll dress and thigh-high silver-laced boots. Their purple-hued vampy makeup dramatically accentuated their Draculine features. One had long red curly hair and the other's jet black hair was straight as a blade.

?Follow me,? the girl in the corset dress directed, linking our arms. ?I'm Onyx, and this is Scarlet. What's your name?? She flashed a gorgeous smile, revealing a tiny black onyx jewel embedded on one of her fangs.

?Wow-where did you get those?? I began. ?They look so real.?

She flashed her fangs again. ?It is. We can totally get yours done, too.?

I was taken aback. Onyx was referring to the jewel, while I was referring to her fangs.

?How do you find your way around the club?? I asked.

?It took us an eternity,? Scarlet replied.

Before I knew it, I'd made it safely to the center of the club, two new friends in tow.

?Thank you so much,? I said. ?Now I'll be on my way-?

Their bright expressions turned sallow. ?Don't you want to dance??

Here I was hanging out with two of the coolest girls I'd ever met-when I'd been excluded by cliques my whole life. It was thrilling to be immediately accepted as myself. And I didn't know when I'd get a chance to come to the Dungeon again.

?Okay, one song!? I relented.

We thrashed around and giggled like we'd been best friends since childhood. I envisioned what life would have been like for me if Scarlet and Onyx had grown up in Dullsville. We'd have sleepovers during the day, paint our nails by moonlight, and gossip in the graveyard.

We rocked so hard, I thought my fake tattoos were going to fall off. The vampire theme was taken to the extreme in the Dungeon. Clubsters writhed together as if drinking in each

other's souls. As l.u.s.tful guys' lips lay on giddy girls' necks, it was unclear where one clubster began and the other ended.

I was intoxicated by the music, the dangerous feel of the club, and my acceptance by Scarlet and Onyx. Then I noticed the time. ?I really have to go.?

?Already? But we can dance until dawn,? Scarlet offered, tossing her luscious thick red curly hair off her shoulder.

?I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone.?

?Is he dreamy?? Onyx asked.

?Is he like us?? Scarlet prodded.

I was too embarra.s.sed to say I was meeting my aunt.

?I'll give you my number.? Scarlet opened my purse, pulled out my cell, and punched in a ten-digit number. ?Call whenever you want, except during the day. My parents despise being woken up.?

She hugged me hard, as did Onyx.

I hated to leave. Besides being with Alexander, I was having the best time of my life. I was reluctant to leave my discovery of the Dungeon behind.

When I stepped off the dance floor I noticed my boot had come unlaced. I hobbled off to one side, avoiding any clubsters who might trip over my long shoestrings. I had kicked up my boot on a chair and leaned on the archway for support when I sensed someone's piercing gaze.

Buried in the shadows of a small cavelike lounge, I could barely see the silhouette of a person sitting alone. Curious, I inched forward. From a safe distance, I peered through the darkness. A candelabra perched on the table gently illuminated the figure. First I saw motorcycle boots, crossed at the ankle, resting on the dirt floor, then tight black leather pants, like cellophane. I could see the sleeves of his motorcycle jacket, his chain, and his studded arms folded. I stepped a tiny bit closer and leaned into the ray of light. Purple hair flopped over black sungla.s.ses. He seemed to be staring straight at me. It took a moment, but I broke his binding gaze and retreated into the safety of the shadows, or so I hoped.

Why was the motorcycle guy checking me out? And sitting alone like he was waiting to hold court?

I felt strangely drawn to him. His stare was magnetic.

Several rough-looking clubsters approached him-but instead of greeting him like one of the guys by slapping him on the arm or high-fiving him, they all nodded and entered the small chamber, sat down at the table around him, and waited for him to speak.

I desperately wanted to hear their secret conversation and get a handle on who or what this biker was all about.

?He doesn't have any idea about what vampires truly need,? one clubster told the biker.

?I think it's time we do something,? another said.

?Before he ruins our plans,? a third added.

The purple-haired biker leaned in, out of earshot.

The cagey guys were listening to him so intently, I could tell they were as entranced as I was. If the biker was these barbaric clubsters' leader, I could only imagine that I'd encountered someone twice as dangerous as Jagger and Valentine.

I felt my heart race again throughout my body when I realized my cell phone was vibrating. Aunt Libby again. Everyone, except for the biker, turned and glared at me. But the rock star biker dude remained still. It was as if he knew I had been standing there the whole time.

I quickly headed for the archway leading back to the dance floor when all at once someone was standing in front of me, blocking my way.

I took a breath and looked up. His purple hair flopped down, seductively, over his Ray- Bans. His stern, hypnotic gaze bore through the dark lenses. There was something powerful about the mysterious stranger. He smelled like Obsession and towered over me in his thick motorcycle boots.

?How did you get in?? he asked in a heavy Romanian accent.

?Do you own the club??

?No, but I might.? His leather jacket crackled as he folded his arms. ?I haven't seen you before.? His head lowered and it appeared he was checking out my neck. ?I suspect you don't belong.?

I fiddled with my earring, covering my smooth, bite-free neck with my palm. I felt slightly intimidated by him, but it didn't prevent me from talking back.

?How would you know?? I challenged.

His gla.s.ses and hair cast a shadow over his face, making him hard to read. I wasn't sure if he broke a smile. By his body language, I knew he was serious. ?It is best that you leave.

Membership to our club comes at a very high price. But perhaps I can explain more over a drink.?

?No thanks. I already have a boyfriend.?

?Then he is a very lucky guy,? he complimented me. ?My name is Phoenix Slater,? he said, extending his hand and grabbing mine. ?And you are??

?Leaving,? I said, pulling my hand away.

I had made it halfway to the Dungeon door when he slithered his arm around me. Angry, I spun around but wasn't prepared for who I now confronted. Staring back at me were one metallic green eye and one ice blue eye. Jagger Maxwell.

I gasped. It had been a few months since I'd seen Alexander's nemesis up close and personal.

Jagger looked exactly the same-white hair with red tips, as if they'd been dipped in blood. Three silver rings pierced his left ear, and a tattoo on his arm read POSSESS. He was holding the dark hoodie.

He closed in on me like a spider to a fly.

?What are you doing here?? I asked, moving back.

?What are you doing here?? he demanded, slithering close.

?I thought you were in Romania.?

?I thought you were in Alexander's arms.?

?I came here to see-?

?Yes?? He watched my lips intensely, waiting for my response.