Vlad had disappeared from my side at some point and I could not help but wonder if it was my Master that she was looking for.
A tall, lean man approached the Baroness dressed smartly in the household uniform. He was in his late thirties and intriguingly handsome with a long, slightly craggy face. His observant dark gray eyes flickered toward me as he leaned in toward his mistress. His words were indistinct but his accent was clearly British.
The Baroness nodded her head and the man quickly disappeared into the crowd. The Baroness turned to face her guests and held out her arms, immediately gaining the attention of her guests.
“Dear friends, the opera is about to begin. Let us depart for the theater and enjoy the wondrous music of my newly discovered composer, Mihaly Mikszath!”
The Baroness whirled about and the servants flung open the doors to a long hall that evidently led to the theater. The crowd surged forward, and I gripped Andrew’s arm tightly as we were swept along.
“Where is your husband?” Andrew whispered in my ear.
I glanced about, my gaze sweeping over the wave of excited guests. The dark menacing form of my Master was nowhere to be seen. As the gaily dressed guests swept past me, I searched every face.
With a sudden shock of emotion, I realized that I was desperate to find Vlad. I felt quite alone and almost lost without him. Unbelievably, without his guiding glances, I was unsure of what to do next. A fierce anger rose up within me as I rebelled against my anxiety. I immediately made up my mind that I would not be dependent on him. I was a vampire that needed no Master.
“I do not know where he went,” I finally said to my brother.
“Mayhap he crept off with Sir Stephen,” Andrew ventured. “I have not seen him either. I saw Maria, but not her husband. Probably talking business at a party. ”
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.