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.
It was then I saw a sleepy Alexander staring right at me.
Startled, I screamed.
He paused. His chocolate-colored eyes turned bloodred. “Raven!”
I tried to catch my breath and regain my composure. “I didn’t mean to scare you—or myself,” I apologized.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked.
“I came to see you—”
Alexander stepped out of the coffin barefoot, wearing a black T-shirt and black boxers. He paused by the nightstand. He didn’t run to me and scoop me up in his arms. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.
“I thought you’d be glad to see me,” I said. It took all my strength not to hug him.
“I am, it’s just—” Alexander stood awkwardly. He fixed his hair with one hand and straightened out his clothes with the other.
“Are you upset I’m here?” I asked. “I couldn’t wait another day.”
“I just woke up,” he said self-consciously, wiping one eye with the back of his hand. “I would have preferred a little warning.” His stern demeanor then softened. He looked sexy, his long hair tousled and his clothes still askew. Even in the darkness Alexander lit up the room. A warm smile overcame his sleepy face.
“I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe,” I said, daring to run to him.
“Me too,” he said, now gazing down at me. He brushed my hair away from my cheek, pulled me into him, and swept me up in his arms. I hugged him around his neck, and my black-fingernailed hands coursed through his silky black hair. He leaned into me and kissed me, passionately, like I’d dreamed about night after night since he left the Mansion. Alexander took my neck in his mouth, like a wolf would a swan. The sharp edge of his teeth slid against my skin, then he suddenly pulled back.
“Miss Raven? Miss Raven?” Jameson called from below.
Alexander let me down. His red eyes faded to their natural brown. He seemed shaken, but I held his hand reassuredly. I knew I was safe in his arms.
“She’s up here with me, Jameson,” Alexander answered.
“I thought she might have gotten lost. Dinner is ready.”
“I was just on my appetizer,” he whispered to me with a wink.
“Desserts are even better,” I said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
I felt as tiny as a Polly Pocket doll in a Barbie Dream House as I sat alone at the limousine-length table in the stately and stark mile-high-ceilinged dining room. A black lace tablecloth was draped over the stone tabletop, and a single candelabra flickered as the centerpiece. The macabre table was set with Wedgwood china plates, sterling silver cutlery, and crystal goblets—everyday settings for my vampire boyfriend. The Madison family ate this fancy only once a year, when my grandmother dusted off her china and made Christmas dinner; otherwise it was strictly Pfaltzgraff.
My combat boots grazed the patched wooden floor as I anxiously swung them back and forth underneath the table, impatiently waiting for Alexander’s entrance. I was hoping a ghost would float by to keep me company, but no specters arrived. Soon I sensed a familiar presence behind me, followed by hands caressing my shoulders.
I felt two lips press against my neck. I grew so hot I thought I’d melt the ice cubes in my crystal goblet. The ends of Alexander’s midnight-colored hair were still damp from a quick shower and brushed against the back of my bare shoulder. He smelled heavenly with the sweet scents of Drakkar and Irish Spring.
“I shouldn’t have barged in on you like that,” I apologized as he stood next to me. “You are a much better sport than I am,” I added. “I’m not sure how I would have reacted if I woke up and found you watching me.”