Chapter I

A night at the opera


"Going to the opera, like getting drunk, is a sin that carries its own punishment with it."

Hannah Moore


"Ich weiß es selber nicht,…"

Grey eyes were scanning the audience….

"…warum man gleich von Liebe spricht,…"

…taking in the fascination of the people in front of them…

"…wenn man in meiner Nähe ist,…"

….flirting subtly with the men in the first row…

„…in meine Augen schaut und meine Hände küsst…"

….enchanting everyone in the room male and female alike.

High over the crowd in an opera box with fantastic view over the hall sat two men. Both were entranced with the performance but for slightly different reasons.

The one on the right looked even in white tie like the business man he was. Richard Graham, fifty-seven years old, his brown hair greying at the temples, did not care much for opera. In fact he wasn't even very musical. The reason why at the moment he could be found at the Parisian opera house was a simple one. His wife was the one performing on stage. And while he could not tell the difference between a mezzo and a tenor he always liked to watch her when she was singing. They had fallen in love with each other when she had only been sixteen years old meeting the first time when he had designed her father's country house. Three years after that they had married, shortly before their son arrived. Now, thirty years later he still couldn't take his eyes off her.

"…in meinen Adern drin, da rinnt das Blut der Tänzerin…"

Entirely different was the gentleman next to him. He did not take notice of his business partner as he had closed his eyes. His hearing heightened he listened to the high notes his long-time acquaintance was producing. No one could sing Léhar as she could and as he let the melody take over his senses he marvelled how such a petite woman could produce such great music.

He was an intriguing man of pale skin and long raven hair held together by a gold clip at the back of his head. This, as well as the small gold whoops adorning his earlobes gave him a touch of exotic and although he was not even standing at the moment his person demanded respect.

One could not say if it was the proud way he held his head or the poised stance with which he was sitting in his chair but he practically oozed elegance and dignity.

Count Vladislaus Dragulia, named after his rather infamous ancestor or so he told, was the personification of aristocracy.

.meine Augen sie locken und glüh'n…

The nearing end of the song made him open his eyes. They were of a strange ice-blue colour that seemed to cut through the air. Nothing could escape them.

.meine Lippen sie küssen sooooo heeeeeeiiiiiiß!

The last clear notes reached into every corner of the hall. After that: silence. The small woman on the stage looked at her audience as if to say: "Well. What do you think? Haven't I done this nicely?"

And then thunderous applause shook the room as the people stood, screaming "Bravo!" and "Da capo!".

The two men in the opera box seemed unaffected by the spectacular below them. They just looked at each other silently, abandoning their seats and moving out of the box into the still deserted corridors to the staircase. Down and down they went their destination the catacombs below the opera. Still not speaking they arrived at the door leading to the cellars. Bustling and voices could be heard and when they stepped through the frame they found themselves in between lots of people. Backstage always was a mess after a performance and so they moved quickly through the crowd finally standing in front of another door, a sign reading "Cordelia Graham."

"I think she will be with us in some minutes. Let's make ourselves comfortable."

One last curtsy. Then the petite figure of the soprano vanished behind the curtain where she was greeted with enthusiastic applause.

"A wonderful performance!"

"I had tears in my eyes."

"Good God I wish I had your voice."

On and on they went praising her on a job well done crowding her while she was trying to catch her breath. Finally she could shake herself loose from them wandering down the halls to her dressing room. It would be the last time she would use it and this thought filled her with some sorrow. Lightly tracing the sign with her name on it she sighed. No going back now. And so she entered the room.

Upon her entrance both men stood. Silently she took them in. Her sweet, slightly sturdy significant other whose figure betrayed most observers in thinking that his mind was sturdy as well, a fact that often worked to his advantage in business. And then the Count next to him, standing at least one head taller if not more.

His tails practically screaming "custom made", expensive Italian leather shoes on his feet his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. And as always he looked as if he could buy the world just with one snap of his fingers. Which probably was possible if he so desired. It had to be a sin to possess such charisma and be so devilishly attractive at the same time, Cordelia pondered. It was a good thing that she loved her husband.

"Darling. It was wonderful!" Richard had been moving towards her, kissing her cheek gently.

"As if you have noticed one word I have been singing!" She could not help but tease him knowing that he only attended so he could watch her.

"But dear how can you say that. I always take notice of your words." he tried to defend himself.

"Really? Then pray tell what have I been singing?"

"Something in German?"

Oh it was hopeless. With a laugh on her face she turned to her other visitor who had patiently stayed behind while her husband had greeted her. Now he stepped closer, bowing over her offered hand brushing soft, dry lips lightly against it.

„Sărut mâna Cordelia (1). Please let me compliment you on a magnificent performance. The world of opera is going to loose one of his greatest stars now that you retire." He sent her a dazzling smile, his Romanian accent just adding to his charms. Yes a good thing that she loved Richard, indeed.

"Thank you Count. You know how much I value your opinion. But please have a seat, both of you. We still have some time before I am expected at the aftershow party." She motioned to the seating group the men had occupied before her entrance and after they had returned to it she choose a seat next to her husband.

"So how has your business been going this morning? Everything went well I hope?" The simple question brought a crease between Richards's eyes.

"As a matter of fact it hasn't. My secretary forgot to pack the blueprints for the house. So I have to get back here next week so that we can finish the first planning."

"Oh my. Is this true?" she looked to the Count who just nodded his confirmation. Although he did not show it she knew that he most certainly was angered about the delay.

She had met him after one of her performances. Cordelia had been an opera singer for almost all of her life. First she had an engagement at the Metropolitan later at the Parisian Opera. But as she reached her mid-thirties she did not want to do whole operas anymore. There were so many beautiful songs and she craved to sing them all. So she decided to perform for people who liked to hear opera songs but not wished to go to all of the pieces. It became an instant success and now after ten years, five CD's and more concerts than she could count later she had decided to retire. One should stop when one has the most fun. And she really looked forward to seeing her family more.

Five years ago after a show in Bangkok she had been presented to the Count by a colleague. He was an avid admirer of beautiful music and seemed to be quite taken with the woman in front of him. They had talked the whole night and after the party had ended they had parted with the promise to stay in contact.

She met him again after another one of her performances and when he told her that he wanted to sell one of his houses she had introduced him to her husband.

Richard Graham, director of a successful firm that designed, constructed, bought and sold houses and properties, was only too glad to get such a customer. Until now he had done three big business deals with the Count who was very satisfied with the service "Graham & Woods" provided. Because of this he had decided to let them plan and build a country estate for him in France. Everything had gone well and today they had wanted to go over the blueprints when Richard had to discover that his secretary forgot to pack them. It really was annoying.

The two men thought back to this morning once more when Cornelia's voice drew them back to the present:

"Well I have an idea. On Saturday we will have a huge party at our estate on Long Island. Why don't you accompany us back to the US on Wednesday evening and join us for an extended weekend. You and Richard could go over the blueprints and do some more planning and at the same time you could enjoy a few days at the country and one of our, if I might say so, rather famous parties. Don't you agree with me honey, wouldn't it be wonderful?" She turned to her husband.

"This is a brilliant idea. And if I remember correctly Count I did invite you before to have a look at our gardens. This invitation still stands and it would be an honour to have you with us for the next weekend. That is, if you can spare the time, by no means we want to intrude on you." he finished respectfully.

They did not get an answer at first. The man occupying the couch next to them seemed to think about their offer rather deeply. After five minutes he spoke piercing them with those blue eyes of him:

"Well I had some appointments later this week but I can rearrange them. Your invitation is too good to not accept it. And yes Richard I have wanted to see your gardens for quite some time now. So why not?"

To say that Cordelia was pleased would be an understatement.

"How marvellous. I will tell our estate manager", here she changed a sly look with her husband "first thing in the morning. So do you want to take the plane on Wednesday or are you going to join us later?"

He smiled at her open display of happiness.
"I'd rather meet with you at your estate on Thursday. But why don't we postpone those arrangements. We still have three days. "

With those words the matter was closed and they talked about this night's performance till it was time for Cordelia to change for the aftershow party. The Count left first because he wanted to meet with some other people first before joining them once more at the soiree.

The moment his steps couldn't be heard anymore Richard turned to his wife.

"Spill."

She grinned at him.

"I really don't know what you are talking about." Without even a glance she went to her wardrobe looking for the outfit she was going to wear tonight.

"Deli." Richard leaned back making himself comfortable while his wife was getting dressed. "Please. You do not offer invitations just like this although I must say he is a decent fellow and I have invited him myself to have a look at the gardens. But for an extended weekend and when a party is thrown nonetheless? And then your look when you mentioned our 'estate manager'? So what are you up to?"

Cornelia's grin widened.

"Well don't you think he is a rather charming man? One can't know what will happen after an evening of dancing." She could hear him laughing. So he had understood her. Never underestimate the connection between a couple married for such a long time.

"You want to set them up? You do know of his reputation don't you?"

His wife just waved his concerns aside.

"Every man will change when in love."

Richard Graham couldn't help it. He just had to laugh once more over the antics of his beloved opera singer.

"She is going to kill you when she finds out." He didn't say if. The object of their conversation was bound to find out eventually.

But Cordelia just smirked at him once more.

"We'll see darling, we'll see."

--O--

On Tuesday evening Count Vladislaus Dragulia better known as Dracula sat at the desk in his hotel suite. It was high time that he got his own estate in France. He hated hotels. They could never provide the service he was used to through his servants.

At least he did not need to be cautious when he wanted to feed. In a big city like Paris a death per month did not look suspicious. And he was careful enough not to leave hints that would point to the presence of a vampire. This would be difficult at the countryside.

Which brought him back to the matter at hand and the talk with Cordelia and Richard on Sunday. An invitation to Long Island. How delightful. He wondered what had the woman possessed to make such an offer. They did not know each other that well despite their first name basis and him being one of her husband's clients.

"Mikhail!"

The instant he called a middle-aged man with short cropped black hair appeared beside him.

"Master?" His valet bowed low.

"I'm going to take a journey. Pack for an extended weekend."

"Certainly master."

The servant had already arrived at the door leading to the bedroom when the Count's voice stopped him.

"Ah yes and I'm going to attend a party. Pack something suitable for this as well."
"Yes master."

Left alone once more he returned to his pondering.

After Van Helsing had destroyed him or, better yet, his body he had expected to find himself in hell. Imagine his surprise when he had arrived at a desert of some sorts no demons or even Lucifer in sight. Not having something other to do he had wandered the sandy dunes, up and down and up and down nothing in sight but sand. He couldn't even fly to see if there was something other than sand. All he could do was to walk.

After what seemed years to him he had been bored out of his mind. Sitting down on top of a dune he had finally lost his temper.

"Well? Is this all? Where is the hellfire? The tortures? Is this is all you can do after I have died a second time now?" he shouted to no one in particular.

"If you just have me to wander this sand pit you could have let me stay on earth. At least I've had something to do then."

After that last statement he had been knocked out cold awakening later on the chilly stone floor at Castle Dracula. Because of the state the remains of Frankenstein's machine had been in he could make out that he had been wandering this desert for at least twenty years. The century had changed as had the manners of the people.

First he had some problems regarding some of the more modern inventions but he managed. The greater problem was that all of the vampires he had sired before had been destroyed when Van Helsing had bitten him.

So he had to start anew. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. What a waste of time. But then the two World Wars certainly worked to his advantage. Men and women were desperate when they looked into the eyes of death and many took him up on his offer regarding immortality.

Until now he had not only created his normal amount of servants for his household again but also a society of, well, undead. Cordelia wanted to show off with her party? Hah. She should come to one of theirs. He really would like to see her speechless because of the grandeur expelled. The only problem was that she most definitely would not stay alive till the end of the evening. There was always at least one of his kind who became hungry.

So offering an invitation was out of the question also because of the fact that most people did not know about them. Mortals. Never seeing what was right in front of them the Roman Holy Order being an exception.

So far there had been twelve attempts to kill him once more. They had tried everything but this time even werewolf venom did not seem to help which had been a most welcome surprise for him. He still remembered the shocked face of the last assassin they had sent when the young man realized that the venom did not kill him. Oh how he had played with the boy relishing the taste of his angst. He had toyed with him for about six hours till he finally devoured him. One of the best feeds he had ever had.

His latest rebirth without doubt worked well for him. The resistance against the venom was one thing. Then there was the matter regarding the sun. He had been able to move in broad daylight before but the sun had always pained him almost unbearably. Now he just felt a dull pain behind his eyelids. If he stayed in the shadows wearing sunglasses he could sit outside on a bright summer's day for hours.

Hell, he did not even need his coffin anymore at least not every day. It was enough if he confined himself into the icy depths twice or thrice a month.

Whoever had resurrected him he owed them. He now truly was the King of Vampires. Nothing could destroy him at least not that he knew of it. And when he did not know the Order did not know either. Oh they were trying of course, their members working furiously on a solution. Well, in any case it was a method to generate new jobs.

He enjoyed dabbling in various businesses surrounding himself with finery and antiques and doing whatever he desired having not even taken a bride this time. He had enough women at his disposal but not one met his standards regarding an eternal companion. But there was no need for hurry he had every time he wanted. And in this "life" he would make sure to get a bride with more common sense than what would fit into a teaspoon. One couldn't say he was not learning from mistakes.

The ring of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. He could hear his Valet picking up the speaker, talking quietly.

"Master it's the reception area. There is a call for you from the USA, a Cassandra Graham."

Cassandra Graham? A relative of Cornelia's or someone else? Well he would hear soon enough.

Motioning to Mikhail that he could tell the lobby to put the call through he stood up. Another thing he hated in hotels. The telephones had wires.

With a grimace regarding his homeless "French" state he took the speaker from his valet.

"Yes?"

"Count Dragulia I presume?" A woman's voice, soft and melodious met his ear. The evening got better by the minute.

"The one and only."

"My name is Cassandra Graham I'm the daughter of Cordelia and Richard Graham. Please excuse my late call but my parents just informed me that you would be joining us for an extended weekend." So it was a relative. And a close one at that.

"This is correct Miss Graham. Has a problem ocurred?"

"Of course not Sir. I just wanted to ask if you have any wishes regarding your stay with us?"

This took him by surprise.

"Wishes?"

"Yes. Concerning the food or the room maybe?"

How unexpected.

"No Miss Graham I'm afraid I can't think of a thing. A room facing north would be nice but is by no means a must."

"This won't be a problem Count. A room facing north it is. If you have any other requests don't hesitate to call me. I've written down the number on the papers with the directions to the estate which I have faxed to the hotel."

"How thoughtful of you." Could she make out the slight irony? If she had she did not show it.

"Regarding the matter of the party I'd also like to inform you that black tie is sufficient. Gloves are optional but I would not recommend them as we're going to have a buffet."

"Thank you Miss Graham. Is there anything else you would like to notify me about?"

"No Sir. As you have told my parents already that you would drive yourself and don't need to be picked up by our chauffeur I don't see any other subject that could be discussed."

They ended the call after some polite goodbyes.

The Count went back to the seat he had occupied before deep in thought because of the last ten minutes.

What a respectful young woman. She had even called him "Sir". It was a nice change many females he had met throughout the last years were too absorbed in themselves to even notice how rude they were at some times. They could take a page out of Miss Graham's book. From her manner of speaking and the reason of her call one would assume that she ran a hotel and an expensive one at that.

Well the next weekend was going to be interesting.


What do you think? I would love to read your opinions….

The song at the beginning is Lehars "Meine Lippen sie küssen so heiß" (My lips kiss so hot). If you don't know it maybe you'd like to check out the version on youtube. I have kindly provided the link ;)

http/ www (dot) youtube (dot) com (/) watch?vqpwBQ2Fbow0

Don't mind Rieu at the beginning of the video and her trying to dance. It gets interesting at 00:56. I just love her voice. This is the voice I think Cordelia could possess.

(1) Sărut mâna means I kiss your hand. An act of courtesy if you will…

Thank you for reading ;)

Roux Barcelone