I spotted the bartender, Romeo, but neither my barmate nor I attracted his attention.
Romeo responded to every wave of a ten-dollar bill but continued to ignore us. When he passed by for the hundredth time, I leaned over the bar and grabbed his tattooed arm.
Since Alexander and Jameson had been mum about all things Maxwell, I thought this was my chance to get some inside scoop. Did Jagger go back to Romania? I asked. Romeo, holding a beer in each hand, glared at me. The mention of Jagger`s name gave him pause. Like Primus and Poison, he didn`t recognize me.
Who wants to know? he asked suspiciously.
Raven. Is he in town? Or did he go back to Romania?
Raven...Your name sounds familiar.
I realized I shouldn`t have let Romeo know I was looking for Jagger. I wasn`t a regular clubster; I was the girlfriend of Jagger`s nemesis. Alexander had already reunited Valentine with him. Now it appeared as if I was stirring up trouble. How could I have been so stupid?
I`ll have a Medieval Massacre, and the lady will have--, my barmate began.
I`ll be right back, I said, knowing I wouldn`t return.
It was time to call it a night. I`d lost Primus and Poison. I`d been asking about locations of nefarious vampires. And I was an underage girl alone at a bar. I`d better arrive at Old Town before this black-fingernailed Cinderella turned into a pumpkin.
Fatigue set in as I headed for the entrance doors. It was starting to hit me that when I`d woken up this morning, I was in Dullsville. I began to feel dizzy as I pushed and squeezed my way through the fog-filled club, my safety pins getting tangled on other clubsters` chains. When I glanced up, I`d reached a wall that was unfamiliar but had a coffin-shaped door. I tried to open it, but it was stuck. I turned the knob and pushed my body against it.
The door flung open and I stumbled into a barely lit area. It took me several steps before I realized that instead of exiting into the street, I had entered a dimly lit corridor.
I would have turned back, but I heard music (different from the song being played in the Coffin Club) pulsing from the other end. Perhaps it was coming from Jagger`s apartment--the very one he had shown me when I visited the club on my last trip. It would take only a moment for me to find out. A single overhead na**d bulb lit the cryptic corridor, and graffiti lined the cement walls like an urban overpass. When I reached the end of the corridor, I discovered another smaller tunnellike path, with arched stone walls and a very narrow, steep staircase that plummeted into darkness. I let the rusty handrail go untouched and crept down the stairs. They led to a single wooden dungeon door. Written in bloodred spray-painted letters was: DEAD END.
Was this someone`s office? Or perhaps another entrance to the apartment Jagger had been living in?
I pressed my ear to the coffin-lid door. I could hear a mixture of music and voices.
I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door, but it wouldn`t budge. I heard some voices behind me and the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. It was a dead end--I had nowhere to go. I knew at any moment I might be kicked out of the club and perhaps Hipsterville altogether--if I lived to tell.
Two guys with the complexion of corpses, one blond, one redhead, confronted me. Can`t get in? the blond one asked.
I forgot my key, I said flippantly.
It`s okay, I have mine.
He unclipped a skeleton key swinging from a chain attached to his studded belt.
Getting in is easy, the blond said.
That is, if you make it past Dragon, his friend retorted.
But getting out is harder, the blond warned.
I didn`t know what lay on the other side or why a key was required to unlock the door. I`d also never heard of a guard shielding the inside of a door. The coffin lid creaked open. We stepped into a dark and dingy foyer where we were greeted by a monstrous-looking bouncer the size of a small dinosaur. Black fabric hung behind him like at a car wash, blocking any view of what he was guarding.
The bouncer`s head was shaved, and inked on it was the head of a dragon, its reptilian wings breaking out of his white tank top and wrapping his Terminator biceps. I didn`t dare ask to see the bottom half of the fiery dragon.
The two corpselike guys showed him their keys, walked through a slit in the fabric, then disappeared.
Where is yours? he grumbled.
He has it, I said, pointing to the guy I`d followed in. Please, they`re waiting for me.
He paused, inspecting me to see if I was worthy of passing. I`d flashed him my best Don`t make me ask to see the manager face when the door opened again and a group of clubsters, draped in black and sporting white fangs, entered.
Next time, keep it on you, he said. Otherwise you`ll be banned.