She didn't move. Her eyes weren't even open.
"I think I'm having a panic attack."
"Great!" I said, rolling my eyes. "You can't do this!" Maybe I should have brought Nerd Boy. "Becky?"
"I can't!"
"All right, all right! Slide down." We both slithered down the iron gate on opposite sides. The iron bars separated us, but not our friendship.
"I hope I didn't spoil everything," Becky said.
"Hey, at least you gave me a ride."
She smiled appreciatively. "I'll keep an eye out here."
"No, go on home. Someone may see you."
"Are you sure?"
"It was fun hanging around with you," I joked. "But I gotta go now!"
"I hope you find everything you're looking for."
Becky drove off to the safety of her plaid couch and I continued on, minus one detective. I was the RBI--Raven Bureau of Investigation. I had to put an end to these rumors. And if they were more than just rumors, the world had to know.
The only light came from the curtained attic window. I could hear the faint wailing of an electric guitar, as I tiptoed around the side of the house. Fortunately, I didn't hear the sound of barking dogs. I found my favorite window. There were no boards or bricks, and the broken window had been replaced. If they fixed one thing in this Mansion, why did it have to be this particular window? I scrambled around and checked the other windows. They were all locked. Suddenly I noticed something catching the moonlight. I crouched over and lying by a bush was a hammer, and next to the hammer was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It was a window, propped open with a brick. A caulking gun and putty were still sitting on the ledge. Someone had been working here and left their mess to dry. I kissed my new friend--the helpful brick--with my hand. Thank you, brick, thank you!
It was a much tighter squeeze through the window this time. I'd eaten a lot of candy since I was twelve. I sucked in and pushed and pulled and grunted and heaved. I was through. I was in! I high-fived the air, the dark musty dusty basement air that filled the Mansion dungeon.
My flashlight guided me around crates and old furniture. I saw three rectangular objects leaning against the wall, covered with blankets. Paintings? My flesh tingled with anticipation as I grabbed the corner of the blanket and slowly pulled it back. I gasped. A face with two frozen eyes stared back at me. It was a mirror!
I clutched my racing heart. A covered mirror? I pulled the blankets off one after the other. They were all mirrors! Gold framed, wood framed, rectangular and oval. It couldn't be! Who covers their mirrors? Only vampires!
I continued to search the basement. I uncovered china dishes and crystal goblets, not the kind of glasses I was used to drinking from. Then I found a box that was labeled ALEXANDER'S WATERCOLORS, filled with drawings of an estate just like the one I was standing in.
There were other paintings, too: Spider-Man, Batman, and Superman. And a version of the big three together: Frankenstein, the Werewolf, and Count Dracula.
I started to put them into my backpack, but I had promised Becky I wouldn't take anything. So I took out my camera and took a photo instead.
I found a dusty rolled parchment with a faded family tree. There were long unpronounceable names of duchesses and barons going back centuries. And then at the bottom--Alexander. But no dates of births--or deaths!
Finally I uncovered three crates marked, SOIL. They had Romanian customs stamps on them.
As I made my way toward the stairs, I tripped over something covered with a white sheet. This was what I had come for--it had to be a coffin. The object was the right size for a coffin and sounded like wood when I tapped my knuckles on it. I was as afraid as I was excited. I closed my eyes and yanked the sheet off. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes wide. It was only a coffee table.
I replaced the dusty sheet and carefully walked up the creaky stairs. I twisted the glass door handle and pushed, but to no avail. I pushed again with all my might, and the door suddenly burst open. I went flying into the hallway.
Portraits of a silver-haired man and woman lined the hallway, along with some wild paintings that could have been van Goghs or Picassos. I'd have known for sure if I had ever paid attention in art. I felt like I was in a museum, except there were candles and not fluorescent lights.
I tiptoed into the living room. The furniture was art deco. Very stylish. Huge red velvet curtains hung over the windows--the windows I had once waved a red baseball cap through. I could hear the Smiths pulsing through the ceiling.
I looked at my glow-in-the-dark Swatch. It was already eight- thirty. Time to leave. But I paused at the bottom of the grand staircase. I couldn't go upstairs. It would be ultra-risky. But I had to see everything. When would I ever get a chance like this again?
The first room I entered was a grand study, books upon books, the Sterlings' very own library. But no librarian, thank goodness. "Just came to check out Crime and Punishment" would not go over very well with Creepy Man. I peeked quickly into the other rooms. I had never seen so many bathrooms on one floor. Not even a football stadium had so many. A small guest bedroom was surprisingly spartan with a single bed. The master bedroom had a canopy bed with black lace curtains dripping around the columns. There was a vanity, but no mirror! Little combs and brushes and nail polishes. Shades of black, gray, and brown. I was about to look into the closet when the music suddenly stopped. I heard footsteps overhead. I slipped down the stairs fast. I didn't look back and made sure not to lose my footing and stumble or fall like those girls do in Friday the 13th movies. Fiddling with the door locks, my fingers shook uncontrollably, like those foolish horror-flick girls. I was making way too much noise. As I tried to unlock the top bolt, I saw the bottom bolt turning from the other side.
I ran down the hallway, but hearing footsteps coming from that direction, I doubled back and headed into the living room. There wasn't time to open the windows, so I threw myself behind the red velvet curtains.
"I'm back," I heard Creepy Man call in his thick Romanian accent. "Wexley's will be delivering tomorrow as usual. I'm going to retire now."