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

completely unaware that I was watching from knee level, for I was deep in the pit, but still watching them nonetheless.
    “ They’re my friends, you bonehead, and I thought they were yours, too!” Janice said, drawing away from him a little but not letting go of his hand.
    “ They are, honey. I just don’t see the fun in singing the theme song to The Love Boat in the middle of the night in the middle of some dead guy’s grave.”
    “ Some dead guy?”
    “ I mean the vampire—ah, screw it, let’s join them.”
    They squeezed in at the end, and I watched as Dial draped one of his mammoth arms around Juan’s narrow shoulders, and he was soon belting out The Love Boat theme at the top of his lungs. I could see Janice’s angelic face in the moonlight. She was singing as loudly as anyone, but her stare was pinpointed coldly at Dial. She was pissed and I was feeling quite chipper myself.
    Ha! Just let those soul-sucking VVV vampire hunters figure this one out! We vampire lovers have a bond that goes deeper than the wedge that the vampire hunters had tried so passionately to hammer between us. The heartless bastards!
    We had been energized and our souls replenished by the gift of music. Soon, however, the magic wore out, found its place on the wind, and was swept away to Fantasy Island. Our voices dwindled, with an occasional rise from someone who wished to keep the fire lit, but it was a lost cause.
    We spilled out of the pit, tired and dirty. Some of us, however oozed out more slowly than others. I reached down and helped the professor out. “You okay, big guy?”
    “ As good as Columbus on his forty-sixth day at sea before discovering America.”
    “ And how did he feel on the forty-sixth day at sea before blundering into Central America?”
    “ Like I feel now.”
    “ A mysterious circle to be pondered and dwelled upon,” said I thoughtfully. “But I’ll bet he felt pretty good the day he blundered.”
    And from behind me I heard Dial whisper to Janice: “What the hell are they talking about? Why doesn’t Professor L just say he’s feeling fine or good or okay like a normal person?”
    Janice hushed him up quick. The professor stood straight, stretched his chest, and said, “Nothing like exercising the old lung muscles.”
    “ Had they been muscles instead of organs, I couldn’t have agreed more,” I said.
    “ Just a minute, young man,” the professor said, looking past my shoulder. I turned and saw Dial moving away with Janice tucked securely in his arm. “Our shift is up. It’s your turn.”
    Janice sprung from Dial’s sturdy arm and into the pit. Before Dial could even utter a word, she had already commenced digging. To me, his sudden smile seemed wooden.
    “ Looking forward to it,” he said with that same forced expression.
    He dropped slowly into the pit and began digging on the opposite end, careful not to gouge Janice with the tip of his shovel. That would have been a romance killer, for sure.
    “ C’mon,” the professor said to me. “I have a story to tell you.”
     
     
     
    Chapter Twenty-five
     
     
    The professor and I headed deeper into the graveyard, my satchel clutched against my hip.
    Soon, on either side, shrubbery rose up and formed a sort of womb-like tunnel. Only a few splotches of moonlight made its way through the entwined branches, and I was very aware of the almost complete blackness into which we traveled.
    The professor stopped me with a rather badly timed swipe of his arm. I touched my now-bleeding lower lip. “What are we doing?” I asked.
    “ We’re waiting.”
    “ For what?”
    A distant and heavenly voice shrieked excitedly: “We found the casket, everybody!”
    “ For that,” said the professor.
    Excited, I turned to head back down the tunnel. The professor swiped at me again. This time he bloodied my upper lip. “Hold on, Andy.”
    “ But they found the casket.” My mind was whirring, buzzing, in an utter high at the prospect of perhaps finding the