An Erie Operetta (4 page)

“If I have to pinch you to keep you awake, I’ll do so,” Mikel warned somewhat playfully. I waved off his concern and sipped delicately at the bubbly in my hand. The flute was fine crystal. It sang like an angel when tapped with a fingernail. A youngish cat and her mate moved past, their plates heaped with sushi. We mingled. We schmoozed. We made an hour’s worth of small talk with shifters as well as high-ranking coven members. I was slightly tipsy when the paddleboat horn sounded again. The grate of ship sliding against dock rocked through the boat. I turned to Mikel. He smiled down at me. The doors opened. We stepped out onto a long wooden dock illuminated with a hundred lanterns.

“Our carriage will be waiting,” Mikel said. I nodded in understanding. The cold was bracing after the humidity of so many tightly packed bodies in the ship’s lounge. I inhaled to clear the overlap of perfume and cologne from my nose. We wasted no time in finding the Lupei carriage. It was a huge black and red carriage attached to four ebony steeds pawing at the cobblestone street.

“You higher breeds and your need to cling to the past,” I said with a shake of my head as I climbed inside.

“It’s not all of us,” Mikel replied, sitting down beside me on a velvet-covered seat. “I would be just as happy to use a limo, but protocol must be adhered to. One does not arrive at the Osterman Opera House in anything less than a four-horse. It is simply not done.” He mimed one of the old puma matriarchs we had chatted with during the boat ride. The way he wrinkled his patrician nose was quite adorable. I wanted to kiss him passionately, for his humor always appealed, but I didn’t. Dave and Eddie had seen us exchange goodbye pecks, but nothing more than that. I patted his thick thigh instead as I chuckled at the impersonation. The Halfling driver cracked a sharp-sounding whip. The carriage jerked as the horses took off into the night.

“Where exactly is the Osterman located?” I asked as we bounced along a road much older than I. I knew that the opera house had been named after Oliver Osterman, one of the first of our kind to settle along the shores of Erie. Aside from that, I knew little, as it was intended. If we lessers knew nothing of the excesses of the aristocracy then we would not grow envious. Or so the elders had thought. Fools, the whole lot of them.

“If I told you I would have to kill you,” the alpha replied. I turned my head to look deeply into his eyes. I quickly saw the humor.

“Funny,” I said with a practiced eye roll. I removed my speckled glasses to dry them with my handkerchief.

“I try. Actually, I’m not sure of its exact whereabouts. I do know we’re travelling north, but aside from that I couldn’t say. Personally, I never cared to find out when I was younger. My father and mother were avid operagoers who dragged my sister and I along to ensure we had culture to counteract our bloody natures. Thankfully, as I matured, I grew to love the classics.”

Mikel grew wistful, as he always did discussing his family. I knew enough to let him work out the taking of his sister’s life in his own way. I did lean my head on his shoulder as I wiped my spectacles. He placed a kiss to my hair then fell into silence.

“So,” I said to Dave and Eddie as I inspected my lenses, “you two are rather quiet. Did one of the cats get your tongues?” I snorted at my own wittiness.

“We don’t fit in,” Dave mumbled. I squinted at the two men across from us through highly smudged glasses. They looked miserable.

“Of course you do. You look quite dashing,” I said as I rubbed a lens with more vigor. “Also, you’re part of the Lake Erie pack. That gives you both standing far above what I have. Why, any wolven mama would be proud to mate her bitch pup to either one of you.”

They were saved from having to reply by the slowing of the carriage. Cursing my need to wear glasses, I shoved the smeared spectacles back onto my face. The driver opened the door. Mikel waved off the man in fine red and black livery. I stepped down cautiously, not wanting to fall flat on my face in front of the famous Osterman...

“By the elders,” I gasped when I lay eyes on the opera house. It was an exact replica of the Vienna State Opera in Vienna, Austria, right down to the Grecian facade that I’d seen pictures of online. Eddie nudged me off the fold-down steps. I stumbled slightly as we were jostled quickly ahead to make room for the next carriage in the queue. I found my tongue was rather tied the whole way to the Lupei family box. We climbed marble stairs illuminated by massive crystal chandeliers. We went through huge public rooms on each floor.

I nodded at people as I moved along at Mikel’s side. He was more gracious and far less impressed with the interior than I was. I glanced back at the other two in our party. Eddie and Dave were like two golems behind us. Large, looming, stone creatures that showed no emotion. We were shown into our box by a thin Halfling man in a black tuxedo with red carnation lapel decoration.

There were four upholstered chairs in the spacious box. I walked to the balcony. Looking around I saw hundreds of individual boxes tiered up one row above the other. Seven rows total. Down below were seats as well.

“Who sits down there?” I asked leaning over to try to see if I recognized anyone. Mikel tugged me by the tails back to my seat.

“Those would be used for standing room only for the lessers, but that privilege was revoked a hundred years ago. Don’t look at me that way, Templeton,” the big wolf snapped. “I had nothing to do with the decision to omit the lesser breeds from this house. Can we not have a fight over such things for one night?”

“I wasn’t going to fight, I was just curious.” I sniffed regally and picked up one of four sets of opera glasses a Halfling server brought in on a silver platter. “Good evening!” I smiled at the man. His dark Elvin eyes widened, then he backed through the curtain of our box as if I had sprayed him in the face.

“You really shouldn’t engage them, Templeton.” Mikel sighed, leaning back in his seat to stare down at the stage through his glasses. “They might be punished if they’re seen talking too freely with the patrons.”

I lowered my opera glasses from my regular glasses to gape at my man.”Disciplined? That’s outrageous! I was merely trying to be--”

“Yes, I know, you were merely being you. Can you stop being you for a while?” Mikel implored. I huffed as I scanned the various boxes like the nosy striper that I am. “And stop spying on the others.”

“Well this is turning into quite the outing,” I grumbled then stared at the stage. The lights dimmed. The curtains flew back. The orchestra took their places. I was quite pleased to see that every musician was female. How inspiring! Upon closer looks, the entire cast seemed to be female as well. Kudos for a small step forward. Mikel was saying something but the first strains of music covered his upset.

I lost all traces of umbrage as soon as I heard the voice of Adelphe Panagakos, the coloratura soprano who was playing the Queen of the Night. I had never heard a voice so perfect. She was quite impressive to behold.

The woman was made-up garishly to portray her part, but her beauty was apparent even under the theatrical make-up. Her long, raven hair was pulled up into an intricate coif. She had stunning violet eyes, plump lips, exquisite cheekbones, and a darling little button nose. The soprano was a substantially-built woman who used her plus-sized charms well. The white and black costume she wore was cut low to display her enormous breasts.

I glanced at Mikel as the Germanic opera played out. He was engaged but not overly so. I could not say the same for Dave and Eddie. They were spellbound. I poked Eddie in the side. The badly scarred lycan sat in his seat, his eyes glued to the Queen of the Night as she moved around the stage in her billowing gown and flowing headpiece. Dave was nearly as bad. My jab to his ribs did make him turn to look at me with dull eyes.

“I think your pups are smitten,” I whispered to Mikel. He smiled, his teeth vibrant white in the soft candlelight.

“As am I,” he replied, his large hand settling on my thigh in the darkness. The rest of the first act was hard to follow, what with Mikel rubbing the inside of my thigh throughout. I was so hard by the time the lights came up I could barely stand. Neither could the two young wolves at my right. Both stared down at the empty stage. It took a gruff bark from Mikel to bring them out of the web of a stellar performance. I waved the three lycans on. There was no way I could go hob and nob with a pulsing erection pushing against my fly. Mikel chuckled at my predicament.

“I don’t find it humorous at all, you tease,” I said as they left the box. Mikel paused long enough to squeeze my shoulder.

“I’ll bring you some punch,” he said, letting the velvet curtain drop behind him. I wiggled around in my seat, trying to move the thumping hard-on to one side then the other. Nothing felt comfortable. I vowed that stud of a wolf would pay with a night spent tied to the posts. The mental image of that made my cock leap. Okay. I had to stop thinking about Mikel naked on our bed with his delectable ass in the air. I wet my lips. Then shook my head soundly.

“Enough!” I exhaled strongly. “Just look at the people coming and going,” I said to myself, and did just that. I spied on the rich as they moved from one box to another. The curtain was drawn on the stage so there was nothing to look at there. I peered over the edge of the box, my opera glasses firmly plastered to my spectacles. What a shame that the seats below were empty. I wager a good many people would love to attend... what ‘s this?

I rose from my seat to lean further over the side of the balcony. About twenty rows back, a person was lying on the floor. How odd. I took a moment to mull over what I had seen. Then I leaned even further over the side of the balcony. My erection was deflating, thank the elders. I stared at the sleeping man. Yes, I was sure it was a man. He was in a black tuxedo and was quite sizeable. Perhaps not as large as a lycan, but a big man nonetheless. He had light hair, sandy blond if I had to guess, although the candlelight was making it difficult to see in the shadows under the...

I sat back quickly. My rump nearly missed the seat. I gathered my wits then lifted the opera glasses to my spectacles once more. With trepidation, I stood up then leaned outward. Heart pounding in my chest, I located the man lying on the floor then moved the glasses up a fraction to rest on his face. It was sickly pale, the skin drawn tightly over the skull underneath. There was no doubt that the man was quite dead, and had been for quite some time, to be so mummified in appearance. My heart leaped neatly from my chest into my throat. Rogues had struck again! I lowered the opera glasses to the rail of the balcony, straightened my jacket, then yelled at the top of my lungs.

Five

Yes, I am well aware of what shouting “FIRE!” in a crowded theater will do. I admit I acted in fear. Truly, the panic that erupted after I shouted “ROGUE KILL!” wasn’t even in my realm of belief. The opera house became a testament to unholy terror. You could smell the horror on the air. Magical folk freaked the hell out. Granted, with all the murders of late, freaking out was a justifiable response. But was hauling me down to the ground floor by my neck really needed? I gave Mikel a sour glower when I was finally released within ten feet of the corpse. I covered my nose quickly, but oddly enough, the husk of a body gave off no odor.

“Have you lost all common sense, Templeton?” Mikel growled at me. Thank goodness a large portion of the orchestra chipped in to help with crowd control. Now the only people who remained inside the opera house were the cast, musicians, and the Lake Erie pack. And one skunk shifter, of course. “If you ever do such a foolish thing again I will place you over my knee and paddle you soundly.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he thought that would really be a punishment, but there were others nearby, so I just tried to look as contrite as a meager office worker could look.

“Edward, take my cell phone. See if you can find a signal. I don’t care if you have to go to the roof, just find a bar then call the head of the elder counsel to inform them that... what is it now, Templeton?!”

I lowered my poking finger. Gracious, someone was a putrid puppy all of a sudden.

“The body doesn’t stink,” I pointed out. Mikel looked at me as if I had spoken Martian. I folded my arms over my chest. “The dead body. It doesn’t smell bad. Isn’t that abnormal?”

Mikel looked around me to the body then pinned Edward with blistering golden eyes. “Edward, Stop ogling the soprano and do as I told you.”

“Yeah, sure, right away,” Eddie replied. He went, but it was not without countless looks of longing over his wide shoulder at Ms. Panagakos as she hummed an aria while fanning herself. I stepped to the side to allow the senior agent of the OTTER tracking department to do his thing. Mikel kneeled down beside the cadaver and rolled it over. I grimaced at the dried up shell of a being.

“It has no smell,” Mikel said. I rolled my eyes to the domed ceiling. “It’s a fresh kill, not even cold yet.”

I stopped being a wiseass. My gaze flew to Mikel. He had his hand shoved into the shirt of the dead man.

“That can’t be right,” I said. “I mean, surely a rogue killed him weeks ago. Look at how sunken in he is.”

“He’s been drained,” Mikel announced as he stood up. Dave padded back and forth anxiously, casting bizarre looks at the cast waiting on stage. That announcement made us all inhale in alarm. “No, not drained of blood. . . at least, I don’t think that’s the case. I saw or smelled no vampiric signs.”

A collective exhalation of relief escaped us all. If there is one group that is feared above even the lycans, it is the vampires. Yes, wolves can rip out your innards then use them for streamers but they cannot control your mind. That is one of the greatest fears all mystical folk have, and none more so than the werewolves. The history of vampire and lycan is a terribly bloody one. Werewolves cannot abide being made into pets. Vampires take great joy in making lycans jump through hoops and fetch sticks. The two races are notorious for the steeping hatred they carry for each other.

So imagine the look on Mikel’s handsome face when one of those most hated of creatures arrived on a cold blast of winter air. The sleek bat soared over our heads, then transformed into one of the most bewitching men I had ever seen. Tall, elegant, raven hair cut rather modernly -- “emo” as the kids would say -- with eyes as blue as a mountain stream, the undead one looked us all over as if we were nothing more than slugs and he a shaker of salt. The vampire reached up to lift a shock of silken black hair from his brow. There, resting on his forehead, was a glowing gem of pure light set in a platinum band pressing tightly against his high brow.