I wasn’t sure what Sebastian’s opinion of Dullsville would be. It certainly wasn’t London, Paris, or Lisbon. He, like Alexander, had been to places I’d seen only in Armstrong Travel’s brochures.
As we sauntered down Main Street, past the courthouse, fine restaurants, and trendy boutiques, I held my crimson-streaked head high, knowing that I was in the company of two vampires and that glaring Dullsvillians weren’t aware of their true identity.
I had to admit we were a motley crew. Sebastian sported his wild dreadlocks, shining rings, and snake tattoos.
Alexander was gorgeous in his studded leather jeans and white T-shirt, while I danced around the sidewalk in a dark knit hat, torn black-and-red minidress, and midcalf lace-up boots.
Townspeople, decked out in their designer jeans and Kate Spade bags, avoided us as if we were the stars of a freak show. But I loved it! I felt triumphant being surrounded by what I thought was normal. Though
Dullsvillians gawked at us, I sensed that most of them were staring at me, wondering who I thought I was, drawing such negative attention.
“That’s it,” I said when we reached the Main Square’s fountain. “That is our bustling metropolis.”
“This town is really quaint,” Sebastian remarked.
“Yes, different from what you are used to, I suppose. Instead of the Eiffel Tower, we have a ten-foot-tall bubbling fountain. And instead of the Roman Colosseum, we have Dullsville High’s stadium.”
“No, I like it. I can see why Alexander and his grandmother moved here.”
“You do?” I asked. “Did you know Alexander’s grandmother?”
“I never met her. She moved here years ago and rarely came back to Romania to visit. But I hear she was a wonderful woman.”
“I hear that, too.” I squeezed Alexander’s hand tightly.
“So…,” Sebastian continued as we passed Shirley’s bakery, “where does one go in this town for a bite?”
“I can treat you to some ice cream,” I offered. “Shirley’s has the best in town.”
“That’s not what I was referring to…,” Sebastian said.
“Then what exactly were you referring to?” I pressed. It wasn’t every day a girl from Dullsville got to hang out with two sexy vampires.
“Where are the babes in town?” he said, licking his fangs. “I mean besides you, of course.”
I wasn’t sure if Sebastian was serious about finding a meal in the form of a girl. Even though he was
Alexander’s best friend and surely benign, he was a true-blooded vampire.
“Probably at home studying or shopping at the mall,” I finally said.
“No bars?” he asked.
“None that you’d like or that we could get into.”
“So where do you two go for fun?”
“The cemetery,” I answered.
“There are girls there?” he asked, surprised.
“Not living ones,” Alexander said.
We all laughed.
“Yeah, I guess not,” Sebastian said.
“I figured you’d love cemeteries,” I said. “Alexander does.”
“Sebastian would rather hang in an Internet café,” Alexander told me.
It was not the atmosphere I’d imagined Alexander’s best friend—much less a vampire—preferring. But perhaps I rushed to judge him, as so many of the students at Dullsville High judged me.
“Well, there’s one right there,” I said, pointing across the street to Javalicious.
Sebastian perked up. “Let’s grab some coffee.”
“All right,” Alexander said.
Great, I thought. Here I was hanging out with two hotties from the Underworld, and we were going to sit in a mundane coffee shop?
“And we’ll sip it by the tombstones,” Sebastian suggested as if reading my mind.
Happy and giddy, I linked arms with Alexander, and the three of us headed for the shop.
I tried to pay for two jumbo-size caramel mochas with whipped cream and one hot chocolate, but Alexander insisted on treating us. He beamed like I hadn’t seen before, basking in the company of his two best friends.
An elderly couple sharing a pot of tea seemed preoccupied by our presence.
“Dude, did you see her checking me out?” Sebastian teased as Alexander dropped a few dollars in the tip jar.
The woman rose and made her way toward us.
“I think she heard you,” my boyfriend said, taking his hot chocolate.
“I do like older women,” Sebastian whispered, “but this one is using a walker.”
The woman slowly approached Alexander, who towered over her. The demure lady had two circles of soft blush on her powder-white skin. Alexander politely stepped aside, assuming she was going to order.
She was quick to grab his hand. “Are you the Sterling who lives in the Mansion on Benson Hill?” she asked.
The two baristas ceased brewing and the entire shop of coffee klatches eagerly listened.
Alexander looked as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. No one in town had ever talked to him before. Even though the elderly woman wasn’t threatening, we were still uncertain of her motives.
“Uh…yes,” he finally replied.
“We have a Sterling painting hanging in our home. I bought it at the art auction last month. We were told it was by an up-and-coming Romanian artist. Is the artist a relative of yours?”
“Yes, a very distant one—” Sebastian interjected before Alexander had a chance to speak.
I was surprised by Sebastian’s remark, especially since it wasn’t true.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. Alexander was too humble to speak up. “Alexander’s the artist,” I announced proudly.
My boyfriend glared at me and shook his head.
“But you are so young,” the woman complimented. “It couldn’t be you.”
“It is!” I said, glowing. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
“My husband would love to meet you…,” she said, referring to the older gentleman seated at her table. “If you have a moment…”
“Uh…I appreciate that—” Alexander began politely.
“Perhaps another time,” Sebastian interjected again. “We really should be going.”
Like a savvy media handler, Sebastian whisked us away from the woman before she could ask any more probing questions.
“See, I told you Alexander attracts the ladies,” Sebastian lamented. “If only she were sixty years younger.”
Sebastian was leaning against an already tilting tombstone while Alexander and I were nestled together on a cold cement bench.
“This town is relaxing,” Sebastian commented, gazing at the stars. “Besides that curious woman, no one really bothers you. You could hide out here forever and no one would notice.”
“I think they notice,” I corrected. “And most of the people do bother me.”
“Not when I’m around,” Alexander said.
“True. I’m lucky; I have a bodyguard.” I took a sip of coffee. “Speaking of bodyguards…Why didn’t you guys talk to that couple? I figured you’d want to tell everyone about your paintings.”
“It’s probably best not to…,” my boyfriend said.
“You don’t have to be humble,” I told him. “But I must confess it is an endearing quality.”
I rested my head on Alexander’s shoulder, and he gently stroked my hair.
“In this case, it’s survival,” Sebastian said. “Would you like Alexander to be run out of town?”
“Of course not,” I said, sitting up.
“Then he can’t become the next Picasso,” he added.
“But he sold his paintings to half the town,” I challenged. “They are bound to wonder who painted them.”
“Yes, and then they’ll be asking questions. Who is this mysterious artist that lives on Benson Hill? Why does he live by candlelight? Why does he sleep in a coffin?”
“I wasn’t planning on telling them what he is, just who he is—an amazing artist,” I defended. “You know that, Alexander.”