I returned to the Village Players Theater just in time for curtain call. I hurried backstage, where I was greeted by a worried Lucy in the dressing room.

"I didn't see you in the audience!" Aunt Libby said in a tone that resembled my mother's.

"Aren't you supposed to be concentrating on the show?"

"How could I concentrate when all I saw was your empty seat?" she snapped.

"A woman next to me kept falling asleep on me," I fibbed, "so I moved to the back row. But you were wonderful!"

"So you did see it," she responded, relieved.

"Of course!" I gave her a big squeeze. "Wild vampires couldn't pull me away."

I fiddled through her makeup kit while she greeted a few fans in the hallway. I couldn't shake my encounter with Jagger from my head. Had I met a second Dracula? Or was Jagger just some tattooed teen thirsting for a date?

"You have to meet Marshall," Aunt Libby called when she returned to the dressing room.

I was peeking beneath the window shade at a lone figure lurking in the darkened alley by the Dumpster.

"Raven!" Aunt Libby called. I turned around to face the Village Players version of Dracula-- a malnourished, overpowdered, middle-aged man with slicked-back, gelatinized gray hair, ultra-red lips that resembled Bozo the Clown's, and oversized press-on fingernails. He wore a traditional satin cape.

How could an overaged, uncharismatic man play the sexy, seductive Dracula? He must have been a good actor.

"I'd like to introduce you to your biggest fan," Aunt Libby told him.

My mind was still on the figure lurking outside. "Aunt Libby, we really should--" I began.

"I've come to suck your blood!" Dracula said in a ghoulish voice, lunging at me.

I had to keep from rolling my eyes.

There was a time not too long ago when meeting an actor who played Dracula in a professional production would have been the highlight of my existence. I would have become a gushy groupie in his presence and kept his framed autograph on my bookshelf. Now it was more like meeting a shopping mall Easter Bunny.

"Libby has told me so much about you," Dracula continued.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "We were just--"

"Come, sit down," Aunt Libby suggested, offering a folding chair to the ghoulish lead.

"Your aunt tells me you are obsessed with vampires," he said, draping his cape over the chair and sitting down.

Actually, I'm dating one, I wanted to say.

"Have you been to the Coffin Club?" he asked me. "She's too young," Aunt Libby reminded him as she sat in her dressing-room chair and began taking off her makeup.

"Have you?" I asked eagerly.

"Yes. For research purposes only."

"Did you see anything unusual?" I inquired, like a gothic Nancy Drew.

"Everything there is unusual." He laughed. "Kids walk around wearing medieval cloaks and vampire teeth, with metal spears piercing through their eyebrows and lips, and amulets of blood hanging from their necks. I think I was the only one there above thirty. Except for one other man."

"Older than you?"

"Well, stranger, if you can imagine."

"I didn't mean--"

"I know. He stuck out, too. But not in the way I did. He could have played Renfield."

"Creepy Man?" I blurted out. "I mean, was he creepy?"

"Well, I guess he was."

Unfortunately it must have been this dime-store Dracula, and not Alexander, whom Elvira had spotted talking with Jameson.

"He was quite eccentric," Marshall continued. "He asked if I was aware of any abandoned mansions in the area. Dark, secluded, near a cemetery, with an attic."

"Are there any? I love old mansions." "I confessed I was starring in Dracula" Marshall said proudly, "and I'd been to the Historical Society to research mansions and local cemeteries. I explained to him that he was better off going to the Historical Society than a real estate agent."

Dracula got up to leave. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

I could still see the figure creeping outside through the partially covered window. When I turned to look at Aunt Libby as she thanked Marshall for his visit, I could see their reflections in the long mirror, as well as the reflection of the window through which I'd been peering. The alley appeared empty. But when I turned back to the window, the figure was still there.

Alexander?

I quickly headed for the door, pushing past the exiting Dracula.

"Raven," Aunt Libby scolded.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I think I saw one of your fans outside. I'm going to see if they want to meet you!"

I rushed outside, past a smelly Dumpster, some discarded antique chairs, and stage scenery. Fire escapes hung from overhead.

When I came to the other side of the dressing-room window, the figure had already gone.

Disappointed, I looked around for any signs. The alley was empty of people. A glistening object on the cracked blacktop underneath the window caught my eye.

On closer inspection, I saw a pewter skeleton earring lying next to a puddle. I'd vaguely remembered seeing someone wearing an earring just like this. But Alexander wore studs. Then it hit me-- it had been Jagger. I checked all around me, making sure the coast was clear. I picked it up, stuck the earring in my purse, and ran back inside the theater.

Aunt Libby and I walked to her car with some of the other cast members. With each step, I couldn't help but feel as if someone was watching me.

I looked up and spotted a small dark object dangling from the telephone wire above the alley.

"Is that a bat?" I asked as she unlocked my door.

"I can't see anything," she said.

"Over there." I pointed.

Aunt Libby squinted. "I'm sure it's a bird," she commented.

"Birds don't hang upside down," I said.

"You're creeping me out!" she hollered, and swiftly raced around to her side and got into the Beetle.

Could it be Alexander? Or were my suspicions right about Jagger?

As my aunt started the car, I looked back at the wire, which was now bare.

"What are you doing?" Aunt Libby asked, back at her bachelorette pad, as I turned on all the lights. "Are you paying for the electric bill this month?" She followed behind, turning them off.

"We have to keep them on," I declared.

"All of them?"

"Didn't my dad tell you? I'm afraid of the dark."

She glared at me in disbelief. "This from a girl who has sleepovers at cemeteries?"

She had a point. But I couldn't tell her my most secretest of all secrets. "The show really spooked me," I said instead. "You gave such a realistic performance, I'm afraid I could be bitten at any moment."

"You thought I was that believable?" she asked, surprised.

I nodded eagerly.

"Well, I prefer candlelight," she said. She lit some votives and placed them throughout the living room. Her apartment began to smell of roses and flickered with shadows of Italian masks.

Had I really met a second teen vampire? Maybe Jagger had been afraid I'd spotted his unreflected image in my compact. He might have been spying on me in the alleyway, or watching me as he hung from a telephone wire. I took a deep breath, realizing I was no better than an overreacting gossipmonger like Trevor Mitchell. I should be spending my time planning my continuing search for Alexander instead of pointing fingers to a white-haired goth's mortal existence. Jagger could have dropped his earring on his way home from the Coffin Club. The lurking figure could have been a clubster, weaving back and forth by the Dumpster after having a few too many Executions.

I picked up Aunt Libby's Lava lamp phone and called my parents.

"Hello?" Billy Boy answered.

"It's me. Are Mom and Dad home?" "They're next door, visiting the Jenkins's new baby," he replied.

"They left you alone?" I asked, ribbing him.

"Give it a rest."

"Well, don't touch my room! Or anything in it," I warned, wrapping the telephone cord around my fingers.

"I've already read one of your journals."

"You better be kidding!"

" 'Alexander kissed me!'" he said in a girlish voice. Then I heard him leaf through pages.

"You better--"

" Trevor was right,'" he continued. " 'Alexander really is a vampire.'"

I froze. How had Billy Boy gotten hold of one of my journals?

"Close it right now!" I cried. "It's not a journal. It's a story I'm writing for English class!"

"Well, you have a lot of spelling mistakes."

"Right now, Nerd Boy! Shut it or I'm coming home and melting all your computer games!"

"Calm down, spaz. I'm in my room, leafing through my NASA book," he confessed. "You think I want to go in your messy room? I could be missing for days!"

"I knew that," I said, with a sigh of relief. "Well, tell Mom I called." I was amazed how accurately Billy Boy had guessed the contents of my journal. Maybe he should perform crystal-ball readings at the Coffin Club.

"Oh, someone called for you," he remembered. "Becky?"

"No. It was a guy."

I held my breath. "Alexander?"

"He didn't leave his name. When I said you weren't home, he hung up."

"Did you check the caller ID?"

I waited an eternity for his response.

"Out of area," he finally answered.

"If he calls again, ask who it is," I demanded. "And then call me immediately!"

Aunt Libby was munching on carrots dipped in hummus while sitting on the floor on a purple corduroy pillow. I was too distraught to eat.

"So tell me about your boyfriend," she asked, as if reading my thoughts.

"Well, he's a goth like me," I answered, beginning to tell her the part of Alexander's identity that wasn't secret. "And he's delicious!"

"What does he look like?"

"Luscious, long midnight hair. Deep, dreamy eyes. He's taller than me, about your height. Thin, not malnourished, but not beefy like he has to be in a gym twenty-four-seven. I just can't believe he left," I added, remembering the farewell note.

"He left you?"

"No, I mean he left for spring break." I scrambled, trying to cover my mistake. "To visit his family." "I'm glad you found someone special you can identify with. It must be hard for you growing up in that town."

I appreciated that Libby understood what it was like to be different. Because she felt more comfortable in Hipsterville, maybe Alexander had found a place where he felt more comfortable, too.

"Aunt Libby, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

"Do you believe in vampires?"

She laughed. "I thought you were going to ask about sex."

But I was serious. "Do you?"

"I once dated a guy who kept a vial around his neck. He claimed it was blood, but it smelled like strawberry Kool-Aid."

"Did he creep you out?"

"Actually the ones who claimed they weren't vampires scared me more," she teased. "We should get some sleep. We've both had a long day," she said, blowing the votives out and putting the carrots away. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, giving me a squeeze.

"Me, too."

As soon as Aunt Libby went into her bedroom, I tiptoed through the apartment and turned the other lights back on, just to be safe. I climbed onto the futon, pulled the covers over me, and closed my eyes.

Suddenly I felt a shadow on me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I imagined Alexander standing over me with flowers, begging my forgiveness for leaving so abruptly. But then I realized it could be Jagger, about to plunge his fangs into my neck.

I opened my eyes slowly. "Aunt Libby!" I shouted with relief.

"Still spooked?" she asked, standing over me. "You can leave the living room light on."

Libby turned all the other lights off and returned to her bedroom, unaware I was trying to protect her from a tattooed teen of darkness. I pulled the covers back over my head, but still felt as if someone were watching me. I tried to calm myself by thinking of Alexander. I recalled lying in the grass with him, in the backyard of the Mansion, staring at the stars, our fingers intertwined.

I heard a scratching sound coming from the kitchen. I was probably the only girl in the world who hears a scratching sound and hopes it's a mouse. I imagined myself back at the Mansion, the dark sky brightened by luminous clouds above us, the smell of Drakar cologne in the air, and Alexander kissing me. But when Alexander spoke into my ear, all I heard was that scratching sound.

I decided to confront it and walked toward the kitchen in my black socks. A white mouse running across my feet was the least of my issues.

I switched on the kitchen light. The sound seemed to be coming from outside.

I peeled back the curtain above the sink, expecting to see Jagger's ghost-white face staring back. But it was only a tree branch swaying against the window in the wind.

Just to be safe, I opened my Tupperware container and placed a clove of garlic on the windowsill above the futon.