Dance With a Vampire (16 page)

“No!” I cried.

Valentine opened his mouth wide and began to bear down on my brother’s wrist.

I shined the flashlight on Valentine’s face. His green eyes turned crystal white, then bloodred.

Valentine let out a horrible yell and withdrew his grip from my brother’s wrist. He covered his face from the light and recoiled into the shadows.

Valentine lay in the cave, appearing more ghastly than ever, his lips blue and his skin paler than a corpse’s.

“Valentine’s not moving,” I said. “I think I…”

Alexander scooped the limp vampire up in his arms. Billy Boy was visibly shaken. I held his trembling hand and led him back through the cave.

When we reached the entrance, Billy grabbed his bike while Alexander and I put Valentine in the car.

As Alexander laid the weary Valentine on the backseat, the preteen vampire struggled to open his eyes.

“I tried,” Valentine whispered to Alexander, “but I couldn’t do it.”

“Try to save your breath,” Alexander warned.

Valentine clutched my boyfriend’s arm. “When I spent the night at Billy’s and read his blood in search of my siblings, I found out something else instead. Billy was peacefully dreaming about his family; his mother, father, and Raven. I couldn’t take him away from that.

Jagger and Luna were right to exclude me. I am not like them after all.”

Alexander placed a warm blanket around the boy and I sat with him as he laid down, his breathing labored.

Billy Boy disassembled the front wheel from his bike, and Alexander helped place it in the trunk. I joined my brother in the passenger seat of the Mercedes.

“I got you this,” Billy Boy said, handing me a bat-shaped rock he’d found in the cave. “I thought you’d think it was cool.”

Mortal or vampire, Valentine and Billy Boy were just like any other boys their age—

desperately fighting to be seen by their older siblings as anything but a child.

When Alexander, Billy Boy, Valentine, and I arrived back at Benson Hill, Henry was waiting for us on the uneven steps of the Mansion.

As if on cue, Jameson opened the heavy Mansion door. Alexander carried Valentine up the grand staircase as the nerd-mates and I followed into the foyer.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Henry exclaimed.

“And spooky. There must be dozens of ghosts in here,” my brother added.

Jameson directed Henry, Billy Boy, and me to wait in the parlor while the creepy man busied himself in the kitchen.

The parlor was the same as always—a simple desk, a shelf of dusty books, and a few antique Victorian chairs.

“There isn’t much to look at in here besides dust,” Henry observed. “I’d love to take a tour of the Mansion.”

“That isn’t possible right now.”

My brother plopped in a chair while Henry opened a few ancient books that didn’t appear to have been touched since the Mansion had been built.

“Why isn’t Alexander taking him to a doctor?” Billy Boy asked.

“It’s hard to explain,” I answered.

“Henry and I are members of the chess, math, and astronomy clubs. I think if it’s a concept you understand, we can comprehend it too.”

I groaned. “Alexander can help Valentine out more than a doctor can. It’s something about being from Romania.”

Jameson, carrying a tray of bottles filled with red liquid, hurried up the grand staircase.

The boys looked at each other incredulously.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Billy Boy asked Henry.

“I’m surprised we didn’t figure it out sooner,” the nerd-mate replied.

“We were looking at the wrong subject!” Billy Boy said. “Now it all makes sense.”

“Not only will we get an A,” Henry concluded, “but we may get a scholarship to MIT.”

“What are you two talking about?” I asked.

“Our subject for Project Vampire,” Henry replied matter-of-factly. “He’s lying upstairs.”

“Are you crazy?” I asked.

The two boys pulled their chairs toward mine and leaned in to me like they were about to divulge a major secret.

“The truth lies in the proof,” Billy Boy pronounced. “One, I saw a green-eyed bat hanging outside my room. Valentine has green eyes.”

“Two,” Henry chimed in. “Valentine was looking for my treehouse. Then one day, hanging on a limb we found blood-filled amulets.”

“Three,” Billy Boy added. “Valentine is from Romania.”

“Four, he was living in a cave.”

“Five,” my brother continued. “Valentine’s deathly allergic to garlic.”

“Six,” Henry added. “He tried to have us become blood brothers.”

“Seven, he tried to bite me,” Billy Boy argued.

“I tried to bite you last year!” I countered.

Billy Boy stopped and geared up for his verdict. “We think Valentine is a vampire.”

“That project has gone to your head.” I laughed.

“Then this won’t matter,” my brother challenged, extending his hand toward his nerdmate’s backpack. “Henry…”

The wunderkind unzipped his navy blue sack. He held out a small rectangular mirror.

“When Valentine comes down,” Billy Boy said, “then we’ll see. Or we’ll observe what we don’t see.”

The boys stared at me proudly like two nerdy Sherlock Holmeses.

I was floored. Billy and Henry, the nerd-mate super-sleuths, were on the cusp of proving that Valentine was indeed a real vampire.

I’d been spending the last few weeks trying to keep Valentine away from the boys for their protection. Now I’d have to keep the nerd-mates away from Valentine and Alexander—for the vampires’ safety.

“Why don’t we take a look around this mansion,” Henry said, rising.

“Why don’t we not,” I ordered, pointing to the Victorian chair. “Here—read this,” I said, handing him a fifty-pound book on Stonehenge, pyramids, and UFOs. “Maybe this will help you conclude that Valentine is an alien.”

After the boys exhausted themselves by perusing old dusty books, Henry busied himself playing games on his cell phone.

“In the cave,” my brother began, “I heard you call me Billy. Not Nerd Boy. Not Billy Boy.”

“So, what of it?”

“I know you are capable of calling me by my real name.”

“Your real name is William. Is that what you want me to call you?”

“How about plain old ‘Billy.’”

“Fine. From now on,” I said, “it’s ‘Plain Old Billy.’”

My brother wrinkled his nose at me, then shook his head. “My turn,” he said, reaching for Henry’s phone.

The two boys watched
Star Trek
on Henry’s cell while I peered out the window into the moonlit night. I began to piece together Valentine’s motive for arriving in Dullsville.

According to Valentine, he turned up in town to look for his siblings. He’d been hoping to find Jagger and Luna still there. When Valentine found it empty of coffins, he searched the treehouse for clues to their whereabouts.

There Valentine must have found Jagger’s hidden tombstone etchings that I had come across earlier. But what was it about the etchings that would provide a clue to Jagger and Luna’s location?

I remembered Valentine and Billy Boy holding them when I discovered Valentine in my brother’s room.

“Billy, didn’t you and Valentine search the Internet for the location of Valentine’s gravestone etchings?” I asked.

“Yes, one was from Romania and one from the cemetery here in town, but not the one you showed me in the cave. You busted into my bedroom when we were about to do a search.

Why?”

Instead of answering, I turned to my brother’s nerdmate. “Henry—does your cell phone log on to the Internet?”

The geeky techno wizard rolled his eyes like I was so yesterday.

“Just for kicks,” I began, “would you search for the name Maria Maxwell?”

Henry quickly got online and tapped in the name of Valentine’s great aunt to the hundredth degree.

I waited for the cybergeek’s response.

“There is a Dr. Maria Maxwell in Spokane. She has a Web site. Do you want to look?”

“Any other listings?” I asked.

“A Maria Maxwell completed the Chicago Marathon in October 2001.”

“Too young.”

“A Maria Maxwell who wrote a children’s book.”

“In 1800?”

“No, in 1976.”

“Try using the birth date we found on the etching. Maybe she’s buried in a small town in Romania.”

“Maria Maxwell,” he said as he typed. “1844.”

We waited for a moment, but it seemed like an eternity. The
tick tock
of the grandfather clock looming in the hallway loudly drummed to the throbbing rhythm of my own heartbeat.

“Here is a link for the standard news archives— obituaries—nineteen twenty-two—”

“Let me see,” I said anxiously.

Henry angled the phone so we could both read the tiny screen.

It read: “Maria Maxwell. Born in the small town of Sighisoara, Romania. Immigrated to America and settled in Greenville Village, where she lived out her ninety-eight years. Loved by all. Beloved aunt to ten nieces and nephews, all of whom remain in Romania.”

“Where is Greenville Village?” I wondered aloud. “Scroll up to the city’s newspaper.”

Then Henry showed me, plain as day on the small cell phone screen.

It was the Hipsterville
Ledger.

Finally, I heard the morbidly slow shuffling of Jameson’s footsteps plodding down the grand staircase. I caught up to the butler in the hallway on his way to check in on us in the parlor.

“How is Valentine?” I asked the creepy man.

“He’s coming along, Miss Raven. I gave him some Romanian smoothies. Alexander is attending to him. How are you and the boys?”

Henry and my brother poked their heads out the parlor doorway.

“We’re fine.”

“Can I use your phone?” I asked.

“Of course you may. There is one in the study.”

I didn’t want to use Henry’s cell and have any traces of my call linked to his phone. The boys were on to Valentine’s identity enough as it was without my help.

“Would you boys like some smoothies?” Jameson asked politely as he headed for the parlor.

All I could think of were the bloodred Romanian smoothies I saw him carrying up to Valentine. “Make them American ones,” I suggested seriously.

The nerd-mates eagerly followed Jameson into the kitchen, eyeing the portraits and lit candles in the hallway.

Once in the study, I found an antique phone sitting on a grand oakwood desk. I picked up the heavy black phone, which had a cord and dials instead of push buttons and a battery.

I stuck my index finger into the round number one, steered it to the right, and let go, then watched it dial back. I had only nine more numbers to go.

My finger shook as I continued to dial.

The phone connected and the other line began to ring.

And ring. And ring.

C’mon, pick up!

The other end answered. I could hear the gothic-rock pulsating sounds of the Caretakers.

“Coffin Club. Romeo speaking.”

I paused and took a deep breath.

“Romeo? Is Jagger there?”

There was silence on the other end. I was certain Romeo would say no or, worse, hang up.

“Jagger just left. He should be back in an hour,” he replied.

I’d found Jagger! I couldn’t believe it! Valentine was right—Jagger hadn’t returned to Romania.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Romeo continued.

“Yes,” I answered, then said, “tell him it’s his aunt Maria.”

Henry and Billy Boy were playing chess on Henry’s cell phone and I was leafing through
Historical Romania
when a haggard Alexander finally appeared in the drawing room, minus his prom suit jacket.

I raced over to my worn-out boyfriend.

“How is Valentine?” I asked.

“He’s resting,” he assured me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“And you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, relieved.

“Is he all right?” Billy Boy inquired.

“Yes,” Alexander replied. “We reached him in time.”

“What was wrong with him?” Henry asked.

“He was dehydrated. Jameson whipped up some smoothies and now he’s rejuvenated.”

The boys eagerly eyed each other.

“Can we see him?” Billy Boy asked.

Henry held the mirror in his hand. “Yes. We’d like to take a look at him.”

I gave Alexander a knowing glance. “The boys think Valentine is a vampire.”

Henry and Billy Boy appeared embarrassed.

“Maybe you guys are getting dehydrated too,” Alexander mused.

“We shouldn’t disturb him,” my boyfriend continued. “But he wanted me to tell you both he said thank you.”

“We’d really like to see him,” Henry insisted.

“It’s getting late,” I stated. “Billy was already grounded once this week.”

“Jameson will take you all home,” Alexander said.

“Cool!” my brother said, and high-fived his friend.

I paused. Prom night was over? While the rest of Dullsville High partied into the wee hours, I was being sent home. I understood the nerd-mates needed to be tucked into bed, but me?

“All of us?” I tried to clarify.

While Billy Boy and Henry collected their things, Alexander pulled me to the side. He leaned against the grandfather clock.

“I’m sorry your prom night had to end this way.”

“The night has just begun,” I said.

“You are right. My night has just begun. Valentine can no longer search for Jagger and Luna on his own. I must find them for him. I’ve spent the last six months evading the Maxwells.

It’s ironic; now I’ll be the one who’s seeking them out.”

“I think I know where Jagger and Luna are,” I said proudly.

“You do?” he asked.

“Hipsterville.”

“How do you know that?”

“That is where his aunt, Maria Maxwell, is buried. Henry and I searched on the Internet.”