Dance with a Vampire (Vampire Kisses 4)

"No, you guys are great," I assured my parents. "I just think he'd be upset to know we were so close and didn't include him. How about Alexander and I just run over and pick him up?" I suggested. "It's only a few blocks away. We'll be back before our dinner arrives."

"He's having his own party," my dad said. "Right now they are probably exchanging prime numbers."

"Well, if that's what you really want, Paul," Mom said.

"All right, I'll get him," my dad said resignedly, putting his napkin on the table.

"No--I want to," I said, standing up before my father could. "Alexander's never been to the library." My dad looked at me suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not sneaking off to a rave?"

"In this town? No, but if I find out about one, you'll know where we are," I said with a wink.

Chapter 3 Dead Tree Forest

Alexander and I set off to do something I never thought I'd do: crash a Math Club party.

My vampire boyfriend held my hand as we hurried through the strip mall parking lot, across a two-lane side street, and around a gas station. We were briskly walking past the small wooded area next to the library when we heard something off in the distance. It was the sound of a dog howling.

We stopped in our tracks. Hair stood up on the back of my neck. The dog howled again.

Dead Tree Forest, as I called it, was a two-acre undeveloped property with thick brush and foliage surrounding an inner layer of decay. The trees reached out for the sun and rain in vain; all that remained were wooden skeletons. Sometimes on the weekends I'd get my research from the library and do my homework among the rotting oaks and maples. There were more dead trees than live ones, but the heavy brush made it difficult to see through to the streets once inside the woods.

In the seventies it was rumored that the woods were a haven for drunken motorcycle gangs. Others claimed no one was ever heard of coming out of the woods at nighttime alive. Streetlights illuminated the darkened exterior, casting an eerie glow.

"Maybe Valentine is in there," I wondered aloud. "Can you see him?"

"I can see in the dark, but I don't have X-ray vision."

"Valentine could be searching for more than a tree house-- perhaps a meal? What if he plans to pounce on my brother the moment he walks out of the library?"

The dog howled again.

Alexander looked at me as if he, too, was uncertain about what lay in the woods--or rather who.

"All right," he said valiantly, and proceeded toward the trees.

Now I was concerned for us. I clutched my boyfriend's arm.

"Wait," I warned. "Who knows what he'll do. Maybe we should just head for the library."

"You do realize he is eleven," Alexander said to me.

"But the same blood that runs through his veins also runs through Jagger's and Luna's. He isn't like any other eleven-year-old. Plus, you know better than I do what he is capable of."

"You're right," he agreed, putting his hand firmly on my shoulder. "That's why you are staying here. If I can talk to Valentine, we can put this whole thing to rest. I'll be right back."

Alexander pulled back a branch and disappeared into the brush.

I waited for a moment, my heart pounding with anxiety. I couldn't see anything from my vantage point. I wouldn't be hurting anyone if I poked my head in to get a better view.

I pulled a branch back and crept inside the thick brush. The foliage blocked out much of the streetlight and I could barely see the skinny trees before me. I guided myself around them with an outstretched hand in the faint moonlight.

The wind whistled through the barren trees. I passed a creepy white broken fence with only a few pickets left, leaning like aging tombstones. I managed to carefully step over a few stumps, downed branches, and fallen trees.

I couldn't see Alexander anywhere. I could hardly make out the woodpiles, rocks, and discarded mattresses that were before me. Just then I heard a branch snap.

I spun around.

"Alexander?"

I didn't feel the familiar presence of my boyfriend. I turned back around and cautiously crept forward.

It was impossible to tell where I was. I studied the ground to see if I'd made tracks, but the hardened dirt and dead grass showed no signs of combat boots. I stepped once more, not knowing if I was going toward the street or farther into the woods.

The dog howled another time. Its cries seemed stronger. Was it howling at Valentine--or my own true love?

"Alexander--where are you?"

I remembered my parents were waiting for us at the Cricket Club. Alexander and I were supposed to return before the meals reached the table. We would have been back before the fish and chips arrived if I hadn't diverted us into the woods.

"Alexander!" I called again.

Then I realized if Valentine was here, my continued shouting was calling attention to my location. I heard a fluttering in the trees above me. I could barely see what looked like two frightened squirrels racing up a branch, running away from a winged creature. It looked like a bird, but then the moonlight illuminated its small, mouselike face. This was no bird--it was a bat. It hovered in place intently, then headed straight for me.

I raised my arm to cover my face.

"Alexander!"

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and saw the creature fly overhead, through a break in the trees, into the night sky. Then it disappeared.

A hand fell hard on my shoulder.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I turned around.

"I told you to stay outside on the sidewalk," my boyfriend scolded.

"Was that you?"

"Was what me?"

"That bat?"

"What bat?" Alexander plucked a few twigs out of my hair and shirt, which I now knew he could easily see in the dark, and grabbed my hand. "Let's get your brother," he instructed softly.

As Alexander led me back through the woods, I glanced up at the moon, wondering what, or maybe who, I'd just seen.

Chapter 4 Library from Hell

Dullsville's library was a freestanding two-story brick building with white colonial columns, built in the late nineteenth century.

My favorite memories of visiting the library were during Halloween. The librarians did their best to make it scary and fun. They'd decorate the shelves with cobwebs, dangle plastic spiders from computers, and place "terrorific" authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, and Mary Shelley on display. I'd be greeted at the door by a witch and later check out a book from a werewolf.

However, today wasn't Halloween and I was going to be checking out more than literature. Alexander and I breezed through the automatic doors and past the "Used Books" drop box, the table of upcoming events, a cart of returned books, and the circular information desk.