The Coffin Club (Vampire Kisses 5)

I`m visiting my aunt Libby here in town, I said, relieved to see the bony butler. I wanted to tell Alexander, but there wasn`t a way to let him know. I seriously think it`s time you and Alexander got cell phones.

Please come in. It will be dark soon.

The smell of sweet potatoes filled the high ceilings of the rustic kitchen. Jameson was preparing dinner, or, in Alexander`s case, breakfast. Will you be staying? he asked in his thick Romanian accent.

I`d love to, if it`s not a problem.

There is always room for you at our dinner table.

My heart melted at Jameson`s kindness. I was dying to press the bony man for information on what they`d been doing in Hipsterville and why they had rented the manor house, but that would have to wait because there was something of more importance resting somewhere in the estate.

Can I see Alexander? I asked anxiously.

Jameson, wearing oversized brown oven mitts, opened the door of the old-fashioned oven and pulled out a tray of aluminum-foil-covered sweet potatoes. Behind him, the dirt-stained window stared at me like a hotel oil painting--poking through intermittent clouds was the setting sun.

You know Alexander prefers to sleep during the day, he reminded me.

Of course...I just thought...

Well, it is quite a surprise you have arrived, he said, politely entertaining me. I`m sure Alexander will be very pleased you are here.

I hope so! How long do you and Alexander plan to stay here? I asked.

Jameson paused, then appeared distracted. Did I set the table? he wondered.

I am sorry to drop in on you like this, I apologized. Can I help you set it?

That won`t be necessary, Miss Raven. Why don`t you sit and relax in the study. Alexander will come down soon.

May I take a quick peek around?

Of course, but stay on the first floor. I didn`t have time to clean the other rooms today, he said.

If the first floor`s appearance was Jameson`s idea of cleaning, I could only imagine what the second floor was like. Dust balls clung to every corner, and cobwebs hung from the antique crystal chandeliers. The estate was far too grand for one creepy man to vacuum. The manor house was at least ten degrees colder than the Mansion and far emptier. The floorboards were uneven and watermarked. I wandered in the hallway; the walls were empty of portraits and the wallpaper was faded and patched with stains. All rooms and walls were bare, including what must have been a parlor and library. The only exception was the dining room, where a long rectangular stone table sat in the middle of the room, antique black velvet chairs at each end.

Jameson had warned me to remain on the first floor as if he were Glinda the good witch telling Dorothy to stay on the yellow brick road. From the foot of the grand staircase, I could only see a royal blue curtained window at the end of the first flight. I wondered what lay past the two flights out of view above me. Figuring I only had a moment before Jameson began setting the table, I crept up the once regal staircase. Like Dorothy, I betrayed the path.

Chills danced down my spine as I snuck through the narrow and lonely hallway. I opened door after door, revealing empty bedrooms and closets, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous and vacant space. Where the Mansion`s rooms were filled with furniture, books, and antique mementos, the manor house`s rooms were stripped of any memories. The only room that showed any sign of life was at the far end of the corridor. Its contents: a single bed and a cedar dresser. I presumed it was Jameson`s living quarters.

When I softly shut the Creepy Man`s bedroom door, I noticed something dangling in the hallway ceiling above me. A short, wiry piece of white rope hung from a square door overhead. It was out of arm`s reach, but with a good jump I might have been able to grab it. I knew I should go back downstairs, but that went against my true nature.

The first time I jumped, I didn`t even reach the cord. The second time, my fingers touched it. Finally, on the third try, I caught the cord between my fingers. With all my might, I quickly pulled the rope and snapped it securely in the palm of my hand. The door slowly creaked down toward me and a staircase folded out like a fire escape in a New York City alleyway. Surprisingly the wooden steps seemed to be in relatively good condition. Perhaps the former tenants didn`t see the need for a darkened attic hideaway.

I quietly ascended the stairs, curious to examine what lay at the top. A glow from the second floor shone like a small spotlight, illuminating a portion of the attic. A musty smell filled the gymnasium-sized room. The attic, like the rooms below, appeared bare. Alexander`s easel, art supplies, and mattress were nowhere to be found. A single ray of sunlight peeked through a circular window in the far end of the sloping attic walls. I tiptoed over and noticed an unpainted plain old oak armoire beneath the window. I tried to open its doors, only to discover they were locked. Perhaps the skeleton key was hiding in the attic somewhere with real skeletons. I glanced around, trying to adjust my vision in the darkness. It was then I saw something shrouded in the shadows--a black room divider. I crept over to the corner of the attic and peered behind the six- foot-tall wooden screen.

I could barely make out a night table and a pewter candlestick with a half-melted white candle. Behind it stood an easel with a covered painting, art supplies scattered beneath. Then I noticed something familiar on the nightstand staring back at me. It was the picture Alexander had painted of me and kept on his nightstand at the Mansion. There next to the tiny table was a single black coffin.

I was standing alongside my sleeping vampire boyfriend. I pressed my ear to the cold coffin lid. I could barely hear what I thought to be breathing. My heart raced with his every breath.

I knew the sun was setting because the cast of light from the attic window was slowly shrinking. It only took a few minutes for it to dwindle to the size of the nightstand. Finally it was as thin as a pencil, then it was gone.

A small amount of light still appeared from the open door in the attic floor. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the new illumination.

Just then I heard someone stirring inside the coffin.

I stepped back, and the heel of my boot snagged against a tiny nail protruding from the bottom of the screen. For several moments, the room divider and I teetered back and forth. I was about to cause a major commotion. I regained my balance and managed to return the screen upright and steal myself behind it. I peered through a tiny crack between the ruler-sized boards, my heart racing even harder now.

The top of the coffin lid began to creak open ever so slowly toward me, leaving me unable to see inside until it reached a ninety-degree angle. I didn`t see fingers, a hand, or anything opening it, nor could I make out anything--or anyone--behind it. I peeked around the screen.