A Vampire in the Opera
Complete Summary:
One woman and three men: one who desperately needs her, one who truly loves and cherishes her, and one who wants to make her his eternal bride.
Count Dracula escapes London and flees to Paris, searching for someone new to fill the void in his life. Being the man of high society that he is, Dracula attends the Opera Populaire's opening performance of Hannibal. There he sees Christine Daae. The Prince of Darkness becomes enthralled by her voice, never before had he heard a voice that could captivate him so. He sets out to make Christine his and his alone, but the Count soon discovers that Christine is already under the spell of another…
A/N: Welcome to my first Phanfiction! Please feel free to tell me what you think by way of reviews! This is a retelling of the movie/ musical with a crossover element: Dracula! I am using the classical Dracula and his original story, with some things taken from the old Bela Lugosi movie. Feel free to envision Dracula as Gerry though, I know I will! Having two Gerrys in one story can't be all bad, can it? Anyway, there may be Kay references along the way as well as elements from the original Leroux novel. Also, the characters' appearances and the settings will be based on the movie, just so you know. Ok, I've babbled enough. It's time for the curtain to rise!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or Dracula. I wish I did, but alas…
Ch.1: Arrival
Ahhhh, night!
Dracula awoke from his daily slumber right as the sun set; it was like clockwork for him. The rich, loamy scent of his native Transylvanian earth stirred around him as he opened the lid of the box. The Prince of Darkness paused before climbing out, savoring the smell as he would a fine wine or fresh blood. Finally acquiescing to the fact that he must get up, Dracula stepped out of his bed and onto the floor of his new home. His servant had done well. The tomb was large enough to house his soil filled coffin and few possessions, but not too large to attract suspicion. He had learned his lesson in London; seldom did Count Dracula make a mistake twice.
Dracula dressed quickly into his evening suit, frowning at the wear and tear his clothes had received during his flight from London. I will have to see to some new suits soon, he thought, fingering a small hole in the coat sleeve, Perhaps my servant knows a tailor of good repute. I will look to that later, though. The night is young, and I have not had a proper meal in days!
Donning his hat and cape, Dracula unlocked the heavy iron door and stepped out into his first Parisian night.
The predawn glow was alight in the east when Dracula returned to his home, a dim orange glow touching the tallest of monuments in the graveyard. Upon reaching his tomb, a short, wiry man appeared from the shadows and knelt at Dracula's feet. "My master bids, and I come," he said humbly in a slightly rasping voice.
Dracula looked down at the small man bowing before him. This one is much better than that sniveling Renfield I dispatched in London, he thought. Jacques knows the proper respect!
At a sign from his master, Jacques stood, his short stature emphasized by Dracula's height. "You have done well, my servant," said the vampire, his voice pitched to the tone which enslaved the simple man's mind. "This is the perfect spot for my resting place."
"Thank you, master."
Dracula nodded in return. He seldom gave compliments; it was smart of the man to acknowledge that fact. Reaching inside his coat, Dracula retrieved an envelope and held it out to Jacques. The man took it quickly and pocketed it without question. "I have some errands for you today," said Dracula. "The instructions and money are inside that envelope; use as much as you need."
"Yes master."
"Go now, the dawn is nearly upon me. Report back to me tonight."
Jacques bowed away, rasping, "As you wish, master" as he left.
The Prince of Darkness surrendered to the day at last, locking himself away inside the tomb. He moved mechanically through his routine, undressing and storing his clothes carefully before opening the soil filled coffin, but he was actually suppressing an eager excitement. His first night out had proved promising. As he lay inside the dark security of the coffin, Dracula recounted the night's events with relish.
Paris was certainly not London! Here people walked the streets late into the night, poor were crammed into untidy slums, and prostitutes seemed to call from every corner. A vampire will never starve here!
But Dracula did not enjoy hunting the poor and desperate; there was no challenge at all. The street women practically threw themselves in Dracula's path, so eager were they to please him. Starving as he was, Dracula did accept one of their offers, but it was hardly satisfying. Killing a woman who was willing to take him to bed was far too easy. No, Dracula preferred a proper hunt, a prey that was much more difficult to catch. With this in mind, Dracula turned his path to the heart of the city, the place where the wealthy gathered.
What a sight it was! Picturesque monuments lined the stately roads, and flocks of well dressed men and women fluttered here and there in carriages and handsome cabs, most seemed to be going in one direction. Curious, Dracula followed on foot. He knew the upper crust in any society thoroughly enjoyed gathering for certain events to bolster their social standing. He, himself, had done so many times in London, attending the opera and calling on certain individuals. Of course, Dracula's intentions had been much different, but the principle was the same.
Dracula saw the carriages' destination long before he ever reached it. The opera house was more massive than anything he had ever seen, even bigger than his castle back in Transylvania. Yes, it has to be an opera house; nothing else draws so many of these preening and fawning fools in a big city, Dracula thought. It does not even look like there is a show tonight!
It was true. There was no performance that night. The well-to-do were simply using the area as a meeting place before heading off somewhere else. Dracula was not concerned with this though. He was imagining the number of people who would attend a performance, the number of worthy prey. This place would be an ideal hunting ground, but first Dracula had to know its name!
Striding purposefully across the final street that separated him from the opera house, Dracula approached a young man who appeared to be waiting for someone. "Excuse me monsieur," said the Count in flawless, though heavily accented, French, "what do you call this magnificent building?"
The young man gave Dracula a look somewhere between surprise and confusion and replied, "The Opera Populaire, or simply the Opera; it is the largest in the city."
"Merci," was Dracula's only response. He tipped his hat to the young Parisian and left, mulling over his plans for this city. Opera Populaire is it? This place will do very nicely. I must have Jacques purchase a season ticket for me.
Dracula passed a billboard advertising the gala performance of Hannibal; it was taking place the very next night. Tomorrow then, Opera Populaire, tomorrow I shall see just what you have to offer.
Surrounded by Transylvanian earth, sated and content, Dracula finally slipped into sleep. The last thought he had brought a thin smile to his pale lips. Perhaps I shall find a woman worthy to be my bride…
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Have a comment or suggestion? Please leave a review! I would love to know what you think!