Chapter 15 – Waiting for Something Better
That night at dinner I had the wonderful privilege of both Dracula's and Valdemar's presence. They did not eat but were content to sip away at blood; something I found quite repulsive, considering I was trying to digest my food. Valdemar was silent most of the time, leaving Vladislaus and I to do almost all of the talking. We got into a heated debate about the sanity of Edgar Allan Poe, but before we had the chance to rip out each other's throats, Valdemar interrupted.
"I believe we still need to decide on the music choices for the ball," he said, his usual flowing voice frail and timid.
"I have taken care of that," Vladislaus said indifferently, as he traced the outer rim of the wine glass with his finger. "No need to worry."
"Very well," said Valdemar, like he was ignoring the fact that I was in the room. "What have you decided on, my Lord?"
"A few simple pieces, nothing special. But I made sure they will suit the occasion perfectly," the count said, with a hint of sarcasm.
"Pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen, but the hour is late and I do not wish to stay any longer. So if you'll excuse me, I must be leaving." I stood, careful not to look at either one of them.
"I will accompany you then," the count said, setting down his glass of blood. "Valdemar, if you would be so kind to alert Havard that his service is needed to clean up."
Vlademar nodded and went to the kitchen.
Vladislaus took my arm and we exited the dining hall, passing through the enormous library like it was a brief walk in the park. As we climbed the stairs, I got the feeling that there was something the count wanted to tell me, but that he was holding himself back. When we arrived at my room, rather quicker than usual, he bid me good-night and kissed my forehead. I wasn't going to let him leave that quickly, though.
"Why is it that sometimes it's easy to find my room, and other times, it isn't?" I said, placing my hand on the doorframe so he could not exit without answering. It was a dangerous move, but I was willing to take the risk.
"What will you do for me if I tell you?" he said, his voice rising suggestively.
"Let you go," was my simple answer. I hid a grin.
"This castle has a mind of its own. Everyone is at its mercy, except for me. You never know where the passages might lead," he said with a satanic chuckle. "Now can I go?"
Surprised that he was playing along with me, I nodded and let him by. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and turned around slowly, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Pleasant dreams, Isabelle."
The following day I was resting in my room reading Beowulf when Vladislaus walked in, looking extremely smug about something. When he saw me sitting in the corner, my eyes trained on the engrossing words, his expression quickly changed.
"Why are you not ready?" He asked, tearing the book away from me and flinging it on the table. "We leave in two hours."
"For what?" My mind was still in Beowulf.
"The opera," he said impatiently. "The Italian opera."
"Oh my God, you're right!" I said, reprimanding myself for my forgetfulness. "What should I wear?"
Without waiting for an answer, I raced to my closet, rummaging through the racks like my life was depending on whether I found an appropriate dress. To my relief, he did not watch my struggle; but instead withdrew a beautiful red gown with black lace trim.
"I think you would look ravishing in this," he said, a trivial amount of humor in his voice. It was a little bit too revealing for my liking, but I didn't have time to argue.
"Fine. Leave so I can get changed," I said, pushing him out the door in the most unladylike fashion.
The dress was very elegant, and rested on my forearms. It cut down low in the front, and the fabric was tight, which made me feel I was shut up in a corset. I hate corsets.
"Dracula, how in heaven's name do you expect me to wear this?" I said, flinging open the door to glare at him. He merely raised his eyebrows.
"You will have to do something with your hair," was his vague reply.
"Considering there are so many mirrors in this castle," I said sarcastically.
Vladislaus sighed and snapped his fingers. My hair was brushed away from my face by some invisible force, coming to rest at the nape of my neck in an elegant bun.
"Very nice," I said absentmindedly. "I didn't know you were in the hair-styling business."
He took my arm rather roughly and led me down the hallway. I could tell he didn't like being late for things, especially operas.
"We are taking horses," he said, as we passed through the music room, out to the balcony. "I hope that it does not cause you any discomfort."
"Can you still remember how to ride?" I said, ignoring his aristocrat comment.
"Yes," he snapped bitterly. "I can."
He snapped his fingers and suddenly we materialized outside. The air was cool, but not unpleasant. Valdemar was standing with three horses; one I recognized as Jovan. The stallion was wearing a sidesaddle, which told me that I would be the one riding him. My heart fluttered and I looked over at Dracula to ask if it was true. He read my thoughts.
"Yes, you get to ride him. He has taken a liking to you, I'm afraid. But we don't have much time." He walked over to a dark chestnut stallion and took the reins from Valdemar's hands. "You will follow behind us," he told the inferior vampire commandingly.
Jovan approached me and bent down so that I could mount him more easily. "You're such a sweet horse," I purred in his ear. I heard Valdemar murmur under his breath, but I ignored him.
Vladislaus swung elegantly on to the chestnut and Valdemar followed, struggling to get his bay mare to stand still. She didn't seem to like him.
I hid a smile and mounted Jovan. "Where to?" I asked, looking over at Vladislaus.
He grinned, his black eyes flashing. "Jovan knows the way."
We started down a long winding trail that led through some dense woods. Jovan was a dream to ride; his stride was long and fluid, and he kept his balance perfectly. It was like gliding on water.
Vladislaus seemed intent on letting Jovan lead, so I did not guide the horse but just sat on him quietly, admiring how beautiful the woods looked. The last bout of snow had melted, however, the trees were still covered with some dew. It gave the forest a glazed appearance.
We rode in silence, although the quietness of the atmosphere was too uncanny for my comfort. I grabbed hold of Jovan's long mane and stared straight ahead, trying in vain to see an opening that would lead us out of the woods.
Jovan sauntered into a canter, and the other two horses followed suit. We were moving quickly, but it didn't seem like we were covering much ground at all. The trees all looked exactly the same; they bore a similar, menacing appearance that did not help my present mood. Vladislaus and Valdemar appeared unconcerned.
Finally we broke out of the forest and into Bucharest. It was a mesmerizing town, and I couldn't help feeling drawn to it. Everyone looked up at us with reverence in their eyes, and as we turned onto a long, narrow street that would lead us to the opera house, a young boy emerged from a baker's shop and stopped dead when he saw Jovan. He broke into a smile and watched the horse with admiration. Jovan held his head high, pricked up his ears, and started to prance, like he was a Lipizzaner stallion from Austria. I grinned back at the boy, but the fragile spell was broken when Vladislaus trotted ahead, his mouth set in a firm line.
The opera house was a rather small building, but as I dismounted, I realized it only looked like that from the back of Jovan. It was a grand structure, carved out of marble, and a dozen steps led to a series of doors that were engraved in the marble. Two regal columns supported the base, and famous Italian composers were inscribed on the sleek surfaces. If that was put there professionally or was done by an amateur I cold not fathom.
"Here," Valdemar said, handing the reins of the horses to a stable boy, who in turn led them to the stables. We made our way up the stairs. Before we passed through the doors, Vladislaus took my arm. Valdemar sulked in behind us.
It was even more breathtaking inside. The walls were freshly painted, and a hint of gloss graced the mahogany surface, which reminded me of candy for some absurd reason. On the ceiling was a painting of the archangel Michael. A blue sword was blazing in front of him, embedded in the thick hide of a serpent. I couldn't help but chuckle and wonder what Vladislaus thought about the painting.
We rushed along, went up another flight of stairs, and then traveled down a long hallhway lined on the left with doors. There was a man standing in front of each door; obviously they were the people who took our tickets. Vladislaus had gotten excellent seats, it seemed.
He stopped at the last door, handed the tickets to a young man dressed in blue, and we entered the small viewing box. It was apparent that the three of us had the box to ourselves. Vladislaus gave me a program and I sat down in between him and Valdemar. The view from the balcony was exceptional and I realized it must have cost Dracula a fortune to get these private seats.
I opened the program to the first page, aware that Vladislaus was watching my every move. To divert his attention, I said, "Do you know any of the people in the opera?"
He nodded, turned a few pages, and pointed at a man with dark hair. "Dorian Irving," he said. "He has the lead role of Radames." He pointed at another picture below Dorian's. "Gerald Grayson. He is the high priest, Ramfis."
"Are they both… well… you know… vampires?" I asked, looking at Dorian's picture. His complexion was fair, but not white. He didn't look like a vampire.
"No. They are not. I only know them because I come to the opera house often, and just by chance I happened to meet Gerald, who in turn, introduced me to Dorian. If you'd like, I can take you backstage after the performance."
"I would love it!" I said enthusiastically. He smiled and patted my arm.
"I thought you would."
We waited in silence for a few minutes, watching the people file in to the orchestra seats below us. Soon, the lights started to dim and the orchestra began to play. I concealed a grin of excitement and shifted in my chair, my eyes glued to the elaborate red curtain that blanketed the vast stage. At any moment it would rise, and the opera would begin.
Author's Note: I've had this chapter written for a very long time, and I think it is fair to post it for you. Chapter 16 has yet to be thought up, so I think you can look for it around the first/second week of August. Thank you to everyone who has taken his/her time out to review. It means so much!