The Vampire Club by Scott Nicholson, J.R. Rain

Rice, you’ve got an autographed hardback of your latest vampire bestseller?”
    With an explosive burst, Juan was up. He swayed as he looked around drunkenly. And I should add that it was the best kind of intoxication—the rich, sweet, enduring love of vampires.
    Juan sat down on the nearest tombstone, apparently too dazed to even speak. He seemed to be lost and very confused, as if prior events had eluded him, and I suspected they had. His head, though, occasionally jerked around as if he was searching for somebody. Who, exactly, I could only wonder.
    The professor and I stepped into the pit.
     
     
     
    Chapter Twenty-four
     
     
    It was like digging for a buried treasure—except I knew in my gut the chest would be empty.
    That thought ran through my mind as I heaved a heavy load of dirt aside. However, my knowing I was digging at nothing wasn’t wasted energy, for there was a plan brewing in the professor’s larger-than-normal head, and this was obviously part of it. The dirt was dirty and I was soon as filthy as could be. And as the professor and I penetrated the earth, Buddy paced the perimeter of the pit, grumbling occasionally, like a watchman circling a citadel on his nightly rounds. Off in the distance Juan found a tombstone to sit on rather disrespectfully.
    And somewhere, many tombstones down, Janice and Dial huddled together. I caught only a faint image of their entwined bodies in the darkness, looking like a deformed zombie having just arisen from its supposed eternal grave. Or maybe it was just the low moans that gave me that impression.
    My nerves were working overtime, for at any moment I expected to see the bad guys come pouring out of the woods and put an end to our midnight dig. I was also very tired, and pissed-off at my so-called friends, jealous as hell over Dial, overly curious as to what was actually buried in Devil Child’s grave. Yep, that just about covered it. And that’s when I knew I needed some cheering up.
    Still digging at the grave. Perhaps a merry tune? Why the hell not? I opened my mouth, intending to let fly with whatever song was bottled up.
    Out it came. Up from the murky depths of swirling lyrics and catchy ditties. The tonality took form at the farthest reaches of my conscious mind. I was beginning to suspect what it might be, and could only wonder why this song. Then in a burst of inspiration, the music took hold of me. I raised my head and sang out:
    “ The Love Boat...Loooove. It’s just wuuuhh....”
    I held my arms wide, in a state of utter glory and happiness as I sustained the warbling note. My voice emanated from deep within. I felt an incredible release from binding emotions of all types: anxiety, anger, horniness.
    It was not my conscious mind singing, for this voice, this emotion, this peace, I realized now, could not come from the conscious level. I was singing from the soul, singing loud. “...the Love Boat blah blah blah.”
    In my bliss and harmony with the universe, I was aware enough to notice the professor had set aside his shovel and was singing with me. Then Buddy dropped into the pit and put his arm around my shoulders, belting it out in a surprising sweet soprano. Juan appeared next, apparently recuperated from whatever catatonic state he went through, and slid in with us.
    And there we were, the male core of The Vampire Club, singing the tune to The Love Boat as if we didn’t have a care in the world.
    And suddenly, and most unwillingly, I was pulled out of my reverie, like a fighting salmon with a hook through its face. My eyes cleared and my head focused, or maybe it was the other way around. I could hear the others singing loudly; something, however, had pulled me out of my deep bliss. And, of course, that something was actually a someone and that someone was an idiot named—yep, you guessed it—Dial Toen. God I hated the ring of that name.
    He was shouting above the voices: “ Because , Janice. It’s stupid. They’re stupid.”
    They were