Rating: M for Very Dark Adult Themes
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own the rights to Dracula
Brief Summary: A mix of book and movie set forward 80 years A young musician finds passionate unconventional love in 1960's Madrid.
Dinner Music
Chapter one
Things aren't always what they seem to be.
The chill of lifelessness was like a gray haze of London fog in 1897, the last year of my normal life. Blood, red as encircling polished strings of rubies in a Maharaja's crown, dripped drop by slow, agonizing drop into a glistening viscous pool collecting on the stone floor. His clawed fingers, sharp and cold, caressed over my naked flesh.
The stage was set, the night was young and what I wouldn't give for a good stiff drink . . .
Music as sweet as any decanted late fall wine flowed through out the room. Mesmerizing those in attendance as surely as any crystal fob swung arch by hypnotizing arch before the eyes of the unknowing, but this crowd knew their enchanter, reveled in his youthful exuberance and drank up the nectar of his talent like parched men in the Sahara desert during a sand storm. The attention was flattering, of that there was no doubt, but Rafael Bartolomi was playing for only one person in the audience that night. He coaxed exquisite sounds from the strings of his violin, teasing softly, weeping in desperation, and then boldly declaring in notes rather than words his infatuation with the woman who sat in the very last row of chairs, as far from the stage and the violinist as the physical distances of the room would allow. He was like a moth to the flame that will burn it to ash in his attraction to her.
It was ever her spot to listen when she graced his concerts, always the farthest away. She was his friend, his confidant, beautiful as a moonlit, star studded sky, beyond earthly words in his eyes, but only those things and never more no matter how much he might have desired otherwise. He stole occasional glances her way; gauging his performance by the way she listened. Tonight was good, her eyes were closed and she swayed in the chair almost imperceptibly as a snake before its charmer, as if she were dancing to the music in her mind.
As the last notes fell away the room held its breath, all those transported by the music collected themselves and with a soft sigh of regret for the end began to clap. The murmur of approval akin to the hum of busy bees on a summer afternoon swelled as a wave on the ocean, hands reached to shake his, pleasantries were exchanged. Rafael glanced slyly in the woman's direction; she still sat, her face turned in his direction, a soft smile rose on her lips, approval in her countenance.
'Meet me outside.' She mouthed to him and rose almost more gracefully than was humanly possible, gliding from the room.
It took more time than he expected to finish with the well wishers, he worried she might leave. Just as he was finally able to make his exit a distinguished looking older man stepped from the shadows of the vestibule.
"Senor Bartolomi," he called.
Rafael turned and recognized the associate of the Countess Maria Pamona de Fallacci. The man bowed slightly and held out a card, a card of silk with raised gold lettering announcing a high and rarified status.
"The Countess wishes your presence tomorrow at her villa, to play a dinner engagement. She is much taken with your abilities and feels her guests would be equally charmed. There will of course be adequate compensation."
The last words were spoken with just the right hint of distain for the vulgarity of speaking of money, Rafael grinned to himself; he was young and not yet so popular that he had the proper disregard for income or coin of the realm. He was also American by birth, living in Madrid only a few years, finding the habits of old moneyed aristocracy quaintly amusing, at times tiresome.
"May we expect you?" The servant continued. "We dine at nine; we will want you to arrive by eight."
"Yes, please tell the Countess I will be honored." He bowed slightly to the man and turned to exit the club.
She was waiting on the far side of the street, leaning casually against an iron lamp post. The soft glow of the old gas light favored her, casting warmth to her cameo pale, perfectly beautiful face and spun gold hair. The black "City Paris" cashmere swing coat (oddly purchased in the city of the same name) she wore hid the shape of her slight, model thin figure. When he finally stood beside her, he was reminded again of just how tall she really was, for some reason from a distance she always looked small and vulnerable. But there was nothing vulnerable about her assured haughty look reserved for the rest of mankind, or the welcoming smile she gave only to him. He leaned to kiss her and got her cheek as usual; not that he hadn't tried for the lips many times with less than stunning success. With her usual sinewy grace she turned her face at the last moment presenting a cool, alabaster cheek for his affection. Only the first time had she needed to stare him down when he made further attempts. He still remembered that look, as wintry as the coldest day in Montana where he'd grown up on a ranch with horses and cattle.
"A lovely concert Rafael," She said quietly. She liked this boy very much, it would be sad to have to give him up eventually as she'd had to give them all up. His music made her feel different, transported from what she was, his talent was great, better than she had seen in a score of years. He belonged in the great concert halls of Europe, and he'd get there one day barring anything unforeseen, she'd see to it.
"What are your plans for tomorrow night?" He asked and she turned from her reverie to question him with an inquiring look. "I have been engaged by the Countess de Fallacci to play for her dinner guests, would you come with me?"
He noticed the slightest hesitation in her step on the sidewalk cobblestones that had been laid three centuries earlier, the tightening of her thin white hand on his arm, when he looked into her eyes there was wariness.
"What?" He questioned. "Whatever is wrong?"
She turned back to their destination and kept walking.
"For God's sake, Nicki, what the hell is the problem?" He was annoyed now, she knew her silence was making it worse, but it required a moment for her to frame her response. Should she warn him away, or just go with him to protect him from all the inherent dangers of an evening in Villa Fallacci. He was so painfully young with all of youth's brash daring; it would be hard to dissuade him.
"Nicki!" His strong musicians hand clamped hard on her coat covered arm and she instinctively jerked away.
They both stopped in unison facing each other.
"If she likes my work, it will be a chance at other engagements." Rafael tried to explain exasperated beyond all reason.
Nicki reached out and laid a slim, flower delicate finger gently against his pursed lips silencing the protest. She stepped closer.
"I don't like it; many strange things are said about what goes on in that place. But I will go with you my friend, because I would not see you alone there."
Rafael grinned, taking the opportunity to draw his distracted partner into the circle of his arms pulling her closer. "I'm a big boy; I can handle a few decadent aristocrats."
She didn't smile at his words, if only it were a few decadent aristocrats she wouldn't care, but the Countess' acquaintances were far from harmless, they were harmless like a basket of vipers.
"Come on." He chided loosening his grip and starting to walk again in the direction of his apartment. "It's cold out here, your hands are like ice, and we can discuss it inside."
To be continued
