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.