"It's hard, you know, without a mirror," I commented anxiously in Alexander's room as I awkwardly tried to glue my fake fangs onto my teeth. The soundtrack to Kissing Coffins was blaring in the background. "Are they straight?" I flashed him a sexy vampire smile.
"Wow!" he said, impressed. "Are you sure they are plastic?" He touched them with his fingers. "They look so real."
"Be careful. They aren't dry," I snapped. "Why are you so nervous? It's just a movie."
"But it's not. I have something to tell you. Promise you won't be mad at me."
"Okay. Does it involve another guy?"
"Yes, but not in the way you think. Jagger's still in Dullsville."
"How do you know?" he asked, shocked.
"I just saw him," I confessed.
"Where?"
"Outside the Mansion with Trevor."
"Trevor? That's the last person he should be talking to."
"Well, I saw Jagger the other night, too, at my house. But he warned me that if I told you, he would tell everyone about you."
"He was at your house?" he asked angrily. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," I assured him. "But he plans to, tonight, at the drive-in. Trevor told Jagger it was built on sacred ground and Jagger persuaded Trevor to show him where it was. Before, Jagger wanted me just to get even with you. Now I just think he wants me for himself--unless he is convinced that I have already been taken."
"But--"
"I'll need you to convince him."
"But that means--"
"Just like Vladimir saves Jenny in the movie. It will be so romantic."
"I don't know if I can." "You have to. We have no other choice."
I gave him a reassuring kiss. "It will be okay. Trust me."
I fluffed my hair. I spun around and modeled my outfit. "How do I look?"
"I like you as a blond," he said, half distracted.
"And you look like Vladimir," I complimented him, as I smoothed his dark suit and straightened his black cape.
"You look just like Jenny," he said.
"But I want to see for myself."
I grabbed my purse off his bed, opened it, and reached inside, searching for Ruby's compact.
Alexander pulled at his stomach. "I don't feel so well."
"You're just nervous. I promise you, it will be okay."
"I really don't--"
"Wait a minute," I said, scrounging for a peppermint.
"What's that?" he asked, repulsed when I offered it to him.
"It's just a mint," I answered. "Don't they have them in Romania? It settles your stomach."
"Get it away from me," he said, refusing the mint and stepping away.
Then I smelled something odd coming from inside my purse.
I stuck my hand inside, and buried underneath my wallet and a huge wad of tissues was the cause. "Oh no! It's my garlic powder," I said, holding the plastic container toward him. The lid had opened.
"Put that away!" he said, holding his stomach.
"I'm sorry!" I said, fumbling and stepping away from him.
"Farther. Like in Utah!"
"I didn't mean to--" I apologized.
His ghost-white face grew even more gaunt with every breath he took.
I opened the attic window and threw the plastic container as hard as I could, far into the night sky.
Alexander was still stepping back from me, his breathing getting heavier.
"I'll throw my purse out, if I have to."
But he said nothing as he gasped for air.
"Jameson!" I called, but the Kissing Coffins soundtrack was playing too loudly for anyone to hear.
I ran out of the bedroom and down the attic steps. "Jameson!" I cried. "Jameson!" I didn't hear a sound as I barreled through the second floor. I flew down the grand staircase. Why did he have to live in such a big house?
I burst through the kitchen door and found Jameson putting dishes into the dishwasher.
"Alexander!" I gasped. "He was exposed to garlic! Call nine- one-one!"
Jameson's eyes grew even buggier than usual, making me even more terrified of the tragic state of the situation. But then he collected himself and opened a cabinet door. Lying on the shelf was an antidote. Jameson handed me the shot.
"You must give it to him in his leg," he ordered.
"I must?" I said, shocked.
"By the time I climb those stairs, Miss Raven, it may be too late."
I grabbed the shot from his slender hand and ran.
My heart raced as I took off up the grand staircase, doubtful I would get to Alexander in time.
I rushed into the room to find Alexander lying on his back on his bed, his skin turning blue and his eyes growing vacant. His breath was shallow.
I remembered watching Pulp Fiction. A nervous John Travolta wound up his arm and slammed a shot into Uma Thurman's arrested heart. I wondered if I could be so brave.
I placed a shaking hand on Alexander's thigh and raised the shot. "One. Two. Three." I bit my lip and jammed the injection into his leg.
I waited. But Alexander didn't move. How long did it take? Was I too late?