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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."

18 Final Farewell

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."

"But how do you know Jagger is there?"

"I checked. He was just hanging out at the Coffin Club."

"Then they are closer than I thought," he said, relieved. "That's great news."

As we reached the doorway, and the nerd-mates hopped down the front steps and out to Jameson's waiting car, I gazed up at the moon as it slowly became blanketed by a hazy cloud.

It hit me what Alexander had just revealed to me. He'd have to take Valentine to Hipsterville—now.

I knew I had a grave situation on my hands.

"When I come back tomorrow at sunset, you won't be here, will you?"

Alexander said nothing.

I turned and saw Billy Boy and Henry getting into Jameson's car.

My heart felt like a silver bullet had just penetrated it.

"You'll be leaving tonight…when Jameson returns."