Stage Fright (Bit Parts) (20 page)

“Really?  Then get rid of Victor.  I want him gone
now
!”  Marcella dropped her voice.  “You should have let me get rid of him when I had the chance.”

“Don’t say that!  Not even in jest.”

“I’m not joking.  We both know that he’s not here because of any damn play.”  There was a soft whisper of fabric against fabric.  “You could get Isaiah to kill him for you.  You’d have no blood on your hands.”

I fought to keep my breathing even and my fingers from clenching.  It wasn’t enough to ruin Isaiah’s life, Marcella wanted him to do her dirty work as well.  If only I had a stake!

Hedda hushed her.  “You know I should turn you over to the Stuyvesants for even saying such a thing,” she murmured.  “It’s treason.”

“You’d never turn against me, my love.”  The last two words carried a sour whiff of irony.  “Would you?”

When both women fell silent, I risked slitting my eyes open.  To my embarrassment, the vampires were entwined in a passionate kiss.  That explained why Marcella was Hedda’s favorite, and why I couldn’t go after her.

The room’s mustiness finally caught up with me, and I sneezed explosively.  The women broke apart as I sneezed again.

So much for pretending to be unconscious.  I sat up, realizing I’d been lying on a dealer table.  Blackjack, as a matter of fact.  To my surprise, I wasn’t in a subterranean vampire dungeon, but some kind of gaming room.  Blue velvet drapes covered the walls.  A long, leather-padded bar filled one side of the room, and a small stage and parquet dance floor took up the other.  Green-glass lamps hung above several pool tables.  “Where am I?” I asked.

“Under Mercury Hall,” Hedda said.  “Are you familiar with the term ‘blind pig’?”

“Isn’t that where they used to sell alcohol during Prohibition?”

Her smile widened.  “Very good.  At one time, people from all over the city came here to drink and gamble.”  She ran her hand lovingly over the wooden edge of the gaming table.  “It was quite popular back in its day.”

The musty room needed a good airing, but it was elegant in a Roaring Twenties kind of way.  “It’s actually nicer than upstairs,” I said.

“I believe you’re right.  Martin thinks the grungy look suits the younger clientele better, but I prefer more sophisticated surroundings.”

I swung my legs over the table, and carefully felt my neck.  To my relief, there were no raised lumps, nor was I plagued by queasy, light-headed feeling I’d had at the Cipher.  Apparently, Victor hadn’t fed on me.

Marcella, who had remained silent during our exchange, stood at the end of the bar with her back to me.  Her black hair had been left naturally curly, but gathered in an elegant up-do that exposed her graceful neck.  The lacy bodice of her red peignoir dropped low between her shoulder blades, and her legs were covered with yards of filmy material.  The effect was both old-fashioned and sexy.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my room,” Marcella said flatly.  Keeping her back to me, she swept one of the blue curtains aside and disappeared behind it.  Hedda’s mouth tightened at her lover’s rudeness, but I was glad.  If Marcella had faced me, I couldn’t have hidden my hatred.

Relieved that Marcella was no longer in the room, I moved from the dealer’s table to one of the padded barstools.  Hedda took a seat at one of the lower tables.  “So you were the stage manager for
County Dracula
,” she said.  When I nodded, she smiled.  “Tell me, what do you think of my little Bleak Street Theatre?”

“I love it,” I said.  “It’s beautiful and elegant.”  It also had the power to restore my shine.  Not that I would tell
her
.  “They don’t build places like that anymore.”

“Indeed they don’t,” she agreed.  “The chandelier alone took two years to construct.  It cost me thousands, and that was back in 1833.  It’s called a five-tiered wedding cake chandelier because it looks like an upside down wedding cake.  I think it was worth every penny, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Definitely.”

Her eyes grew distant.  “In its glory days, the Bleak drew crowds in the thousands.  Getting tickets required months of planning.  We did eight shows a week.”

“Eight!”  My head ached to think of what the stage manager’s job must have been like.

 “It’s hard to imagine now, isn’t it?”  She smiled sadly.  “Once talkies became popular, live theater attendance dropped to half of what it had been.  Nowadays, I worry that theater is a dying art.”  Her expression clouded even more.  “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep the Bleak Street’s doors open.”

The poor ticket sales for
County Dracula
had made me worry about the same thing.  “Maybe it’s the plays.”  Since we were growing friendlier, I risked being more candid.  After all, honesty had worked with Victor.  “I mean,
County Dracula?  The Scent of Ketchup?
  The titles alone are enough to drive away audiences.”

Hedda stiffened.  “You didn’t like them?”

“Some of
County Dracula
wasn’t too bad.  But
The Scent of Ketchup?
  Seriously?”

She didn’t move, but if looks could kill, I’d just witnessed my own murder.  “
I
wrote that play,” she said.

Oh.  Shit.

I put my hand to my neck, already feeling the tear of her fangs.  One, repetitious prayer played in my head:
Please oh please oh please, don’t let her kill me!! 
“I didn’t see it,” I confessed.  “I shouldn’t judge a play by its title.”

To my relief, she relaxed the tiniest bit.  “You wouldn’t be the first one to criticize it.”

“Tom Wiggins didn’t like it either?”

“Wiggins.”  She sniffed.  “That
critic
wouldn’t know a work of art if it pissed on his foot.”

The surprise of her crude language drew a nervous giggle out of me.  Hedda relaxed a little more.  “No, it wasn’t only Wiggins who panned it.  My ex-husband was equally displeased.”  She shook her head sadly.  “I wrote that play from my heart, but he called it a public humiliation.”  Then the fire in her eyes rekindled, and she tilted her chin.  “I don’t care.  Sometimes, stories need to be told.  Even if the truth hurts.”

Despite its wacky name, I suddenly wished I’d seen
The Scent of Ketchup. 
If it had the power to get someone so angry, it must have had some redeeming qualities.  I wondered if it was possible to still get ahold of a script.

“Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I do stage experimental theater.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but at least it takes risks!  I’m sick of plays that spoon-feed their audiences!  Enough with the Broadway musicals about superheroes and TV shows.”  She sagged the tiniest bit.  “I’d give anything to discover the next Beckett or Ionesco.  Or even the next Neil Simon.  Just
someone
with a little talent.”

Victor’s name was on my lips, but I sealed them before it could fly out.  The last person I wanted Hedda to remember right now was the vampire she was trying so desperately to please.  I didn’t want her handing me over to him like a welcome-to-the-neighborhood cake.

She patted my hand.  “I have really enjoyed our little chat.  You have no idea how happy I am to find a young person so passionate about theater.  You give me hope for the future.”

I returned her smile.  I’d never expected to find a kindred spirit with a vampire.  “I’m so grateful that you keep the Bleak Street’s doors open.”

“I intend to keep them open for as long as I can.”  Her eyes clouded.  “Although that may prove difficult given Victor’s visit.”

“He seems to think it’s a waste of money.”  I shrugged.  “Which is strange since he’s a playwright.”

She arched a perfect eyebrow.  “True, he once wrote a play, but since then, his interests have changed.  Now, his concerns are strictly financial.  His and my ex-husband’s both.  The two of them working together are a formidable force.  Anyway,” she continued, becoming brisk, “Victor is quite taken with you.  He told me that you’ve regained your shine.”  She tilted her head, examining me.  “Although, I admit I don’t see it.”

In the wake of my fainting spell, all of the energy I’d siphoned from the Bleak Street’s crystal had drained away.  I counted that as a good thing.  The less brilliant I was around the vampires, the better.

Hedda waited a moment before saying, “In any case, Victor is determined to have you.  Now, you have a choice to make.”

The smile dropped from my lips.  The connection I’d felt with Hedda vanished.  She was a bloodthirsty, soul-sucking vampire.  I couldn’t allow myself to forget that.  “Either I do what he says, or you’ll turn me into a rogue?”  I hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but the words slipped out.

“Of course not!  Victor and I are both very civilized.”  Her voice softened.  “But I understand why you’re suspicious.  You were hurt by one of our kind, weren’t you?”

“
Two
of your kind, actually.  I was attacked at the Cipher Theatre.”

Her eyes briefly glowed red before returning to violet.  “I’m truly sorry, but rest assured, your attackers were punished.  No one within the boundaries of my grieve feeds without permission.”

What about Marcella, I wondered sourly.  “I can’t imagine why anyone would willingly allow a vampire to…you know.”  I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought.

“Feed on you?”  Her eyes glittered.  “My dear, the act between me and my beloved blood partners is a far cry from what happened to you.  It’s the difference between being raped and making love.  The act may be the same, but the intent is not.”

I squirmed as I envisioned Hedda feeding from her cadre of artists.  I didn’t care if it was pleasurable; I’d never permit it.

“Did Victor explain what he would give you in return for your shine?” Hedda asked.

I flushed.  “I fainted before we got to that part.”  After Isaiah had helped me unlock the door in my mind, I’d promised myself that I’d never faint in fear again.  Yet a single touch from a vampire had dropped me.  If Isaiah found out, he’d regret ever calling me brave.  “It doesn’t matter, though; I’m not interested.”  I searched the blue draperies wondering which one hid the exit.  The sooner I left, the better.

“Victor intends to make you the director of his new play.”

I started to protest that directing was Charles’s job then remembered the terrifying scene in the theater.  Of course Charles had been fired.  He was lucky to leave Mercury Hall with his neck intact.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m still not interested.”  My legs were tense, ready to spring out the door.  If only I could find it!

“The director’s job isn’t the only thing Victor can give you.”  Hedda reminded me of an overeager realtor trying to close a deal.  “He could put you on the stage in any city you wish.  New York.  London.  What would you like, Cassandra?”

“Nothing,” I said firmly.

If she was impatient, she didn’t show it.  She glanced at herself in the mirror above the bar.  To my surprise, her reflection was as strong as mine.  She pursed her lips in a pretty pout and swept her dark hair over her shoulder.  Her violet eyes met mine.  “How old do I look?”

Gulp.  Talk about being on dangerous ground.  Since being candid had made her angry before, I shaved ten years off my real guess.  “Twenty-five?”

Her eyes narrowed as if she knew I was lying.  “Most will say thirty-five, but thank you.  At any rate, in reality, I’m over three hundred.  In that time, I watched Sarah Bernhardt perform at the Theatre de la Ville.  I looked over the shoulders of Chekov and Wilde as they penned their masterpieces.  I saw the very first production of
The Glass Menagerie
.”

I was honestly impressed.  “That’s amazing!”

“Vampires remain ageless forever, of course, but a vampire’s kiss could keep you young and beautiful for a very long time.”

Eternal youth without becoming a vampire.  With it, I could always play the ingénue.  Aging, the actress’s curse, would never touch me.  It was a prize that most actresses would kill for.

Hedda’s eyes brightened.  She knew she’d finally touched a nerve.  “My blood partners benefit every time I feed from them.”

Her
blood partners?  I blinked, suddenly free from the beautiful web of lies she’d been spinning.  “What about Charles or Martin?  No offense, but neither of them is young.”  Or attractive.

Realizing her mistake, Hedda hissed.  Immediately, she slipped the warm smile back on her face.  “Charles would have died of lung cancer or cirrhosis of the liver years ago if I hadn’t prevented it.  Martin is a diabetic who’s never relied on insulin.”

Okay, so she was half lying.  She’d prolonged their lives, but not their youth or their looks.  Then I frowned, remembering Luquin Astor.  The man had looked like death on two legs.  Suddenly, my eyes widened.  He’d aged, but not because Hedda had been drinking his blood.  “I’d like to keep my soul, thank you very much.”

Hedda’s eyes glowed red.

I hopped off the barstool, hoping to find the door before she stopped me.  “I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can’t go through with it.”

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

“No.”

She eyed me coldly.  “I’m deeply disappointed, but I will hold to the rules of my grieve.  And I’ll make sure that Victor respects your wishes as well.”  She crossed the room and held aside the curtain that had been hiding the door.

I hurried past her, hoping Victor’s moral convictions were as strong hers.

Victor waited on the other side of the door.  Seeing me, he licked his lips.  “Well?”

“Well, nothing.”

We stood in a cramped, dank space that smelled of damp newspapers.  Naked light bulbs cast weak light and created dark shadows.  Rows of shelves stacked with worn cardboard boxes formed a claustrophobic hallway.  At the end of the aisle, a set of wooden stairs led to a battered door.  And freedom.

“Won’t you at least consider it?” he begged.  “Please.”  He reached out to touch my face.

Slapping his hand was like striking a brick wall, and I yelped in pain.  He grabbed my injured hand and pressed it to his waxy lips.

“Don’t touch me!”  My face burned, and my body trembled.  I hated him.  And his stupid pirate clothes.  And Charles for dragging me into the middle of this mess.  And the Bleak Street.  And the Cipher, too.  My anger made me stronger, but reckless.  Ignoring the rational voice in my head, I lifted my chin, purposely baring my neck.  “I don’t care how long you keep me down here, I’ll
never
be your blood partner!”