But I had to admit, the immortal world was intoxicating to me. It had all the draws of the mortal world, with the edge and darkness that I so desired. Though I couldn’t completely shake off that dream I’d had a few nights ago. At this point, I had the best of both worlds. I didn’t have to make a decision to become anything different from what I already was. Even though it was under false pretenses, I was accepted into the Dungeon as myself. If that changed, I wasn’t sure the Underworld would be so enticing after all.
All of Hipsterville was asleep except for those clubsters in the Dungeon, dancing and drinking, and one lone vampire, Alexander Sterling. I missed him and hated that I was unable to be by his side throughout his long nights. I hungered for Alexander to hold me safely in the warm night air, underneath the moonlight by tombstones in a far-off cemetery, naive to the troubles of the underground vampires. I dreamed of a time before I knew of the Dungeon, Jagger, or Phoenix.
Wasn’t it enough just to deal with the trials and tribulations of dating a vampire?
I had one mission when summer break began—to see Alexander. But once again, my curiosity had led me off my path and straight into a labyrinth of danger.
I was learning even more about Alexander’s complicated world—without him.
10
Picture Perfect
The Hipsterville Art Festival, according to Aunt Libby, was an event showcasing regional artisans dating back to the founding of the town. It was quite a to-do. Five blocks of Main Street, with its quaint boutiques and coffee shops, were cordoned off, allowing patrons and sellers to walk freely in the road without fear of being run over by an old Accord covered with DAVE MATTHEWS, SAVE THE RAIN FOREST, and PETA stickers. Sellers traveled in from neighboring states to peddle their original handcrafted wares. Bright blue and red booths lined the streets, displaying and selling everything from pottery to purses. The early-evening fresh air smelled deliciously of sizzling steak, barbecue, and grilled corn on the cob. Kids enjoyed face painting while adults entered raffles to win prizes from microwaves to a brand-new car.
At the north end of the festival, a jazz band played by a fountain with a statue of the town founder. Elderly and young Hipstervillians alike relaxed in sun chairs, tapping their feet to the lively tunes.
Normally, Aunt Libby was known to be late to every event, dinner, or meeting. Tonight, she was so excited to see her new beau, she was showered, dressed, redressed, and ready to go an hour before our scheduled meeting—at the fountain just after sunset. Not only was I eager to see Alexander, I was going on a double date with adults. Aunt Libby and I anxiously waited by the jazz band for our dates to arrive.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Alexander,” I exclaimed to my aunt.
“Me too,” she said, giving me a familial squeeze. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you think of Devon. I want your honest opinion. I haven’t been the greatest judge of character in my life. However, I think this one is a keeper.”
Aunt Libby kept a rhythmic beat by shaking her hips, her floral sundress flowing and her dangling earrings swinging. If I’d been standing by my mother, I would have been horrified. But I was excited to see my aunt so free-spirited and happy, and I found myself unexpectedly rocking.
The sun seemed to be still over the bell tower in the distance.
“I wonder if I jumped up and down if it would make the sun set any faster,” I said to my aunt.
I scanned the festival crowd, filled with hipsters, granola heads, goths. Couples of all ages, shapes, and sizes were milling about. Children running, holding balloons, or being pushed in strollers were enjoying the fair.
I glanced among the eclectic crowd, imagining Alexander thriving in the sunlight instead of the moonlight. I watched several cozy couples, hand in hand, wishing it could be Alexander and me.
Before I knew it, dusk had overtaken Main Street. The gaslights illuminated the streets like nineteenth-century London. I remarked to Aunt Libby how lucky we were that the rainy days had departed and the clouds had disappeared for the night of the festival.
A handsome man with two cotton candies (one pastel pink, the other baby blue) appeared out of the crowd and approached us. My aunt was helping a toddler reshape his balloon animal and was unaware a man was standing by our side.
“You must be Raven,” he said. Aunt Libby’s ears perked up and she swung around.
“Devon!” my aunt called, returning the animal to the toddler.
Devon was a dashing older gentleman with graying hair and a square jawline. He had piercing eyes and wore designer jeans, Bjorn sandals, a linen sport coat, and a gold earring. He appeared lean and fit, like he spent most of his days jogging to Wild Oats.
My aunt, powerful and independent, appeared to turn to mush in Devon’s presence. She seemed to be entranced by him, just like an unsuspecting audience member is riveted by a hypnotist.
Then I began to question…no, he couldn’t be…The spell he had my aunt under—was it love or something more Underworldly? After all, Hipsterville was experiencing an increasing population of vampires. And he was unusually pale for an earthy-crunchy type and happened to show up just after sunset.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned around and saw my favorite Nosferatu.
“Alexander!” I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze.
I wanted Alexander to dip me back and press his fang-filled mouth on my neck, but instead he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek—an appropriate display of affection in front of my aunt and her date.
“I’d like you to meet Alexander. This is my aunt Libby and Devon.” I was so proud to show him off to my aunt. She’d never known me to have a boyfriend, since I never had one. I suddenly felt grown up.
“He’s so adorable!” Aunt Libby gushed as if Alexander weren’t standing right in front of her.
“You are even more beautiful in person,” Alexander kindly complimented her.
The two men shook hands and I watched them closely. I had my suspicions about Devon, and I wondered if I could sense anything by their interaction. But there was nothing unusual in their introduction.
The four of us set out to stroll through the festival. My aunt and I shared our cotton candy with our dates. Alexander and I walked hand in hand while Aunt Libby hung on Devon’s every word. We moseyed in and out of the booths, modeling and pointing at anything and everything we fancied.
Two girls, one dressed in a long corset gown, the other in a My Chemical Romance T-shirt, leggings, and checkered flats, entered a booth ahead of us. It was Scarlet and Onyx.