I glanced back into the crowd as a woman with a huge ornate turban moved past me. The soft feathers trailing from the silk folds slapped me in the face and I shrank away for a mere second. And in that second, Vlad suddenly appeared beside me.
“Let us go in. I should not want to keep the Baroness waiting,” Vlad said. He did not bother to explain his absence.
Andrew did not seem to notice that Vlad had emerged from the very air to stand behind us and I was glad for it. I did not want Andrew to even suspect that truth about our true natures.
On the arms of my brother and Master, I entered the ornate theatre of the Dosza Palace. The guests were quickly seated in the plush high-backed chairs as a small orchestra warmed up. The Baroness spotted us and smiled delightedly. Holding up one hand, she beckoned us.
“Come, come, my darlings!
I took in the down-scaled version of an opera house with its fine velvet draperies and ornate architecture. It was nothing compared to the opera houses I had visited in my travels across Europe, but it was quite nice in its quaintness. Obviously, the Baroness was quite pleased with her little opera company for she was in a state of great excitement.
There were no grand balconies for the elite to sit in high above the lesser peoples. Instead, the Baroness had a section in the front set apart for herself and her honored guests. It was here that Vlad led my brother and me. We were seated in the most wonderfully ornate and comfortable chairs and I set my fan on my lap. Sitting between my brother and Vlad, I watched with keen interest as the Baroness took the chair next to Vlad.
Leaning across my husband, she whispered breathlessly to me, “You will love this opera, my darling. It is the life of Vlad Tepes.”
My eyes narrowed beneath my veil as I glanced quickly at Vlad. Just what did the Baroness know of him? He sat beside me, stoically staring up at the darkened stage. The servants were busy extinguishing some of the candles for a darker atmosphere. I reached out and touched Vlad’s hand. He looked at me, smiling slightly. Covering my hand with his other hand, I knew he would give me no answers.
With great flourish, the composer stepped forward to describe his masterpiece. He was a small man with a very large head and hands. His eyes were too small, his nose far too large, and he seemed to almost spit his words out as he spoke. Obviously nervous, he hesitated in mid-sentence, only to repeat what he had already said.
“This opera is about…my opera…is about Vlad Tepes,” he started in a trembling voice. He cleared his throat and seemed to concentrate on enunciating every word as carefully as possible. “Vlad Tepes was a great man…a great man…in his time...a great man…”
My gaze slid toward Vlad and I saw that he was not only amused, but also incredibly pleased. As the composer forced his words out, explaining that Vlad Tepes had helped force the Turks out of Europe, Vlad nearly glowed with pride.
“And tonight…this night…among us…is another great man…among us…a descendent of a great man…Vlad Tepes…Count Vlad Dracula.”
The Baroness stood up quickly, cutting off her fumbling musician. “I wish to dedicate this wonderful opera to my dear friends, Count and Countess Dracula of Wallachia.”
There was a polite smattering of applause and the Baroness beamed with joy, her gaze falling to Vlad. He returned her smile with his own darkly sensual one.
Mihjaly Mikszath bowed and turned toward the orchestra awaiting his cue. Flamboyantly, Mihaly lifted his thin arms and the musicians straightened in their chairs. With the suddenly movement of his arms, the music swelled up in a dark wave.
It was the longest two hours of my vampire life. The opera was horrible. The music was overwrought and jolting. The notes seemed to assault my ears and jar me to vivid wakefulness if I dared to begin to doze off out of boredom. I am quite sure not one person dozed, not even in the back row. The opera singers were good enough, but the music did them no favors. The set was dark, brooding, and tasteless. I especially thought the backdrop of thousands of impaled Turks were far too vivid and grotesque.
The story was simple enough. Vlad was sent as a child by his father to be hostage to the Turks and was forced to endure terrible suffering until he finally made his way home to begin to fight for the freedom of his kingdom. He had suffered from betrayal after betrayal and he was merciless to his enemies. There was a small scene that was supposed to be a love story, but Cneajna had told me the truth. I knew that Vlad’s mortal wife, Ilona, had never held his passion. In the end, Mihaly tried to create a happy ending. Vlad was supposedly beheaded offstage as the music reached an ear piercing crescendo. Then, much to my horror, when the actor portraying Vlad emerged from behind the curtains, he was clad as a saint. As the music soared dramatically, the actor climbed up on a set of narrow stairs to what was supposed to be heaven. Two very bored looking women stood dressed as angels waiting for him at the pearly gates. As they took the actor playing Vlad into their arms and the curtain fell, I could barely hear Vlad chortling under his breath.
To my surprise, the room erupted into applause. The Baroness moved to clutch my hand tightly and gave me an enthusiastic smile. “It was magnificent, was it not?”
I looked toward Andrew, who raised an eyebrow at me. He was obviously just as unimpressed as I was. As the guests rose up into a standing ovation, my brother and I reluctantly joined in. We were both on the verge of hysterical laughter and it took all our willpower to maintain our composure.
Vlad was positively radiant over the whole production. I thought he was far too obvious with his brilliant smile and triumphant expression.
I whispered in his ear,” You are supposed to be your own descendent, remember?”
“Vlad took my hand, kissed it, and whispered back, “And as his descendent, I am a proud man.”
I rolled my eyes beneath my veil. ‘You were a butcher.”
Vlad grinned, flashing his deadly, white canine teeth. “I was a hero.”
The Baroness made a great show of praising her awkward composer and called the opera company onto the stage. The Baroness swept toward me and before I could even react, the Baroness led me up the steps to the stage. Vlad followed, along with Andrew. I found myself confronted with a receiving line of all the performers and I raised my eyebrows beneath my veil. I felt rather like royalty.
For nearly thirty minutes, I greeted all the opera performers, the musicians, countless stagehands and finally the composer himself. From the reek, it was obvious he had rushed back stage to calm his nerves with a bit of liquor.
“Countess Dracula, it means so much…so much…to me for you to be here...so much,” Mihaly said breathlessly, and then kissed my gloved hand over and over again.
“You do very interesting work, sir,” I responded.
“Thank you, thank you!”
“I enjoyed it tremendously. You really captured the essence of the man that was Vlad Tepes,” Vlad said to the trembling man.
Mihaly gulped visibly as his hand began to shake even more. “Sir, my mother was from Wallachia and my family has told stories of Vlad Tepes for generations. To meet his descendent is the greatest of honors.”
“He actually completed a sentence,” Andrew whispered in my ear.
I hit him with my fan.
The Baroness took Vlad’s arm and I noted a certain possessiveness in the Baroness’ eyes. Andrew was busy trying to find a way to escape and was oblivious to the subtle change in the atmosphere. I felt a chill flow over me. The Baroness spoke in excited melodic tones, but I could see how her gaze continually flicked toward Vlad.
Coyly, I took Vlad’s arm, drawing him to me. “She knows about you, does she not?”
Vlad lightly kissed my lips through my veil and whispered to me, “Do as you were told. Go mingle.” His eyes were dark and warning.
I raised my chin, drew away, and went to my brother.
It was just the beginning of a very eventful night.
Chapter 28
The Journal of Lady Glynis Wright – Continued
After the opera there was a wonderful spread of food, that I pretended to eat from, as well as lots of laughter and dancing.
“Oh, the Baroness’ parties always last until dawn. I believe she abhors the daylight,” a woman said as we sat side by side watching the dancers in the ballroom.
“Truly? I assume there is no Baron or is he out of town?”
“The Baroness has been a widow since one month after she married. Her husband died suddenly and left her all his wealth. She has never bothered to remarry, even though many a man has tried to woo her,” the woman with the bright canary turban responded snidely, innuendo dripping from her voice.
“It must be difficult to live alone,” I said lightly.
“I am sure it is,” the woman responded with a coy smile.
As the night moved on in glorious fashion, not one guest seemed interested in departing. There was much food, drink, dancing, and lively conversation. I drifted about the room for a time on Vlad’s arm, recounting our fabricated tale of my family’s demise and his heroic rescue of me from the river. We explained the veil away by the excuse of my mourning. It was a dramatic story that enthralled all who listened to it. After awhile, the gossips were recounting my tale throughout the party.
Vlad soon left my side to speak with Sir Stephen. I noticed that my family’s betrayer stayed far away from me, which was rather wise. I was feeling a bit agitated. As ridiculous as it may sound, I was very much annoyed by the Baroness’ possessive behavior toward Vlad. His attention toward her did not just feel like a betrayal of me, but of my vampire sisters as well.
By the furtive glances and the many whispered conversations taking place all around me, I knew I was the main topic of conversation. I cut a mysterious figure in my black gown and lace veil, and I quite enjoyed all the attention.
The dancing was festive and the conversations boisterous. I moved through the outer edges of the dance floor, dropping in to chat with the different groups of guests. Andrew and Dr. Baum were well on their way to getting very inebriated with a group of men at the far corner of the room, the thick smoke from their cigars hovering lazily over their heads.
I slipped into the shadows behind a marble pillar and stood watching the gay dancing of the younger guests. To my disgust, Vlad had disappeared with the Baroness. I had not noticed, until the shock of their disappearance had reverberated throughout the room. Everyone obviously believed that the Baroness was Vlad’s mistress. I was beginning to believe it myself. I also began to wonder if the Baroness was a vampire, but I was undecided. The Baroness was beautiful, but lacked that special aura of a vampire. Of course, if she was a very young vampire and not very strong, perhaps she would appear more human.
I heard Maria’s gay laughter nearby. “Oh, please do not say such things. Count Dracula departed with my husband and the Baroness to discuss business.”
At this, I pouted a bit. Vlad could have at least pretended to be a faithful husband by not causing such a ruckus, but Maria seemed to be doing her best at diffusing any titillating rumors.
I felt a chill pierce through my body, and I looked about curiously. I sensed someone was watching me and my flesh prickled in response. No one stood near me in the shadows, so my gaze swept over the lighted room. Leaning against the cold marble of the pillar, I attempted to discreetly search out the new presence that seemed to be growing in the room.
The party was still in full swing, loud laughter echoing throughout the room as the orchestra played on. The women in their stiff, ornate gowns glided over the marble floor on the arms of their well groomed partners, swinging first this way then that. I studied every face and shadow, searching desperately for the dark power that had suddenly made itself known.
To my growing sense of horror, I felt the power near my brother. I moved out of the shadows and along the edges of the dance floor. I could almost feel it drawing me in, pulling me closer. My brother’s back was to me and Dr. Baum was seated near him, laughing affably. Moving just a little faster, I drew close to my brother and reached out to touch his arm.