"It's not written on your forehead, is it?" he teased.
As he led me to an unknown destination, he walked with an air of confidence and determination I hadn't seen before.
We arrived at the entrance to Dullsville's cemetery.
"Remember when Old Jim took our tickets at the carnival, he accused you of sleeping at the cemetery?" he asked.
"But I wasn't," I defended. "I haven't done that in months!"
"I know. So if it's not you, then who do you think it is?" he asked. I answered like an eager student. "Jagger."
"Trevor is safe for the night--but we're not." Then he paused. "You better stay outside the cemetery," he warned, changing his mind about our plan. "It's sacred ground and you would be in danger."
"You mean you bring me to the scene of the crime and don't let me dust for fingerprints? Or at least leave any?"
"You'll be safe only if you remain on the outside." He tenderly brushed my hair away from my face.
As Alexander climbed over the gate, I reluctantly stayed behind. I anxiously dug my boot into the wet grass, feeling as if I were being left out of the adventure of a lifetime. What could I accomplish by staying behind? Alexander and I could cover more terrain if there were two of us searching the graveyard. Besides, if Jagger still thought I was a vampire, it would be more natural for me to be standing inside a cemetery than outside one.
I could barely see Alexander's shrinking silhouette in the distance. Then I quickly climbed the gate and jogged after him.
I ran among the tombstones, as quiet as a wandering ghost following Alexander's shadowy figure.
As I approached him, I realized the figure I was running to was a monument.
I didn't see Alexander anywhere.
"Alexander?" I called.
I wondered where he could have disappeared to so quickly. He must have turned behind the caretaker's shed.
I raced around to the back of the shed, but all I saw was an abandoned shovel.
"Alexander?" I called again. I continued to walk in the direction of the baroness's monument. Maybe Alexander was paying his respects to his grandmother as he searched the graveyard. When I approached the monument, however, the only thing visiting the stone memorial was a curious squirrel.
I walked on. Underneath a weeping willow tree, I saw a newly dug grave. I carefully walked toward it when I noticed a familiar pattern of dirt. Gravediggers make piles, not circles. I tiptoed closer. Jagger's stickered coffin could be lying inside, Jagger himself sitting on top, waiting for a mortal to be lured into his trap. I took a deep breath and peered down.
The grave was empty. No stickered coffin. No fang-toothed teen of darkness.
Where was Jagger? And more important, where was Alexander? I was standing in the middle of three acres of sacred ground. I'd picnicked alone a million times at Dullsville's cemetery, feeling as comfortable as if it were my own home. Tonight, though, I realized I'd perhaps made the biggest mistake of my life. Alexander had been right when he told me to stay outside the cemetery's gates. If Jagger was lurking in the shadows, he could easily sink his fangs into me before my true love had a chance to realize I was no longer standing by the graveyard's entrance.
My heart began to throb. My blood pressure soared.
I did have some mace, but I wasn't sure it would work against teen vampires.
I stuck my hand in my purse and clutched the container of garlic powder in my sweaty fingers and tiptoed through the tombstones.
"Alexander?" I whispered.
The howling wind was the only audible sound.
I turned around and could barely see the entrance to the cemetery. If I ran at top speed, I could reach the safety of the gate, though I wasn't sure I could outrun a flying vampire bat. There was no other choice.
I took a deep breath, but as I took my first step, a strong hand bore down on my shoulder.
"Let go!" I cried.
I turned around to pry it off with one hand and aim the garlic container with the other.
"Don't!" a voice shouted.
I froze.
"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked sternly. "I told you to wait by the entrance."
"But I found something--an empty grave encircled with dirt."
"I did too," he said. "And I discovered something else."
I followed Alexander toward the back of the cemetery to a lone, dead sycamore. A brown package was sitting at the foot of the tree. Alexander picked up the package and held it in front of me. In crooked handwriting was marked: Jagger Maxwell.
The upper-left-hand corner was stamped: COFFIN CLUB.
It was the nocturnal gothic club where I'd first encountered Jagger.
The box had been ripped open, as if severed with razor-sharp teeth. Alexander pulled back the flaps and showed me the contents. It was a vampire's treasure chest: a box full of crystal, pewter, and silver amulets, filled with the sweet red nectar vampires crave. Fresh off the necks of the Coffin Club clubsters, who I'd seen wearing their blood as innocent charms, these vials now in turn were serving as a teen vampire's nourishment.
"Without a Coffin Club to hide in," Alexander explained, "Jagger could be chased out of town quickly. He couldn't make his presence known. This was his only means of survival."
Alexander eyed the amulets like a child eyeing a gumball machine. Instead of returning the box underneath the tree, he stuck it in his backpack.
"Should we wait here until he comes back?"
Alexander grabbed my hand. "He's not coming back."
"How do you know?"
"There is only one empty grave. He needs two now."
As we quickly walked through the cemetery, I imagined Jagger sitting underneath the dead tree, secluded in the back of the cemetery, waiting for Luna to arrive from Romania. He would be tipping back several amulets, like the tiny bottles of liquor anxious travelers sip on airplanes, while he plotted her visit and their next location.
"Shouldn't we continue searching for Luna?" I asked Alexander as we approached my house on our way back from Dullsville's cemetery. I wasn't ready for my vampire hunting to end.
But instead of walking hand in hand with Alexander, his hands were buried in his pockets. He seemed unusually cold and distant.
"I think your cemetery searching days are over," he said sternly.
"You're mad at me for not listening?" I asked, sincerely concerned. Alexander stopped and turned to me. "You put yourself in grave danger. I only want you to be safe."
"But if Jagger thinks I am a vampire, I was safer in the cemetery," I said, attempting to cozy up to him.