Stage Fright (Bit Parts) (29 page)

I smiled tightly.

“What’s that you have?” Andrew asked, nodding at my lap.

I realized that I was still holding the envelope.  It was made from thick, brown paper and carried a red, wax seal.  I’d been so upset that I’d forgotten to return it to his box.  “A little keepsake from the great Charles Corning,” I said sourly.  I tossed the envelope into the backseat without bothering to open it.

As Andrew pulled out of the lot, I pressed my cheek against the cold glass of the passenger window.  Good-bye dear Bleak Street, I thought.  Rest in peace.

Chapter Twenty

This time when Andrew walked into Mercury Hall, he crouched low to the ground and kept his hands protectively in front of his neck.  His wide eyes tried to scan every part of the lobby at once.  When a car horn blared outside, he jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.  Despite my glum mood, I snorted a laugh.

Looking sheepish, Andrew straightened from his defensive crouch, but kept his hands at his neck.  “Isn’t this where Victor hangs out?  The one Charles wanted me to be nice to?”

Since Victor was a vampire, I didn’t trust him entirely, but he had shown restraint the day before.  Besides, we were right above Hedda’s personal quarters.  No vamp in his right mind would dare attack us here.  “Stick tight to me,” I said, “and you’ll be fine.”

On the drive between the Bleak and Mercury Hall, I’d finally come up with a Plan B.  It wasn’t a great plan since it involved being indebted to Victor, but at this point, I was desperate.  I
had
to have protection from Marcella.

As if I’d summoned him with my thoughts, Victor walked into the lobby.  “Cassandra!”  For once, he dressed more sedately: black shirt, black dress pants and a white tie.  He held my edited copy of
16 Voices
in one hand and a pair of reading glasses in the other.  I wondered if he’d started on the screen play yet.  “I see that you’ve brought a friend.”

“Victor Stuyvesant, Andrew Blodgett.  Andrew, Victor is the
16 Voices
playwright.  Victor, Andrew’s my best friend.”

At the name, Andrew swallowed nervously, but because he was always civil, he cautiously held out his hand.  For a moment, I worried that Andrew’s shine would captivate Victor the way Charles had expected it to, but to my relief, Victor remained politely aloof.

“I caught your final performance in
County Dracula
,” Victor said, shaking his hand.  “Nicely done.”

“Thanks,” Andrew said, warming a bit.  “I keep hearing how amazing
16 Voices
is.”

Now, it was Victor who thawed.  “Thank you.  But as Cassandra keeps telling me, only
parts
of that play are amazing.”  He gave a rueful shake of his head.  “You were right yesterday.  I wrote most of this play when I was still…” he glanced at Andrew “…a student.”  He lovingly stroked the script’s cover.  “I labored over every word, and I often felt like I was breathing life into the characters.  It was creation of the purest sort, and my deepest desire was to see it staged.”

“What happened?” I asked.

He snorted, coming out of his reverie.  “My father convinced me that writing plays was for fools, and I decided to please him by getting a business degree.  While a young assistant, I caught the eye of one of the Stuyvesant executives, and he made me his… ” another glance at Andrew, “…personal secretary.”

The innuendoes were all unnecessary since Andrew knew exactly what Victor was talking about, but neither of us admitted to it.

Victor continued.  “I worked for my employer as long as I could.  Once I could no longer give him what he needed, he could have
fired
me.  Luckily, I was too good at finance to let go.”

The offhand way he said that gave me a chill.  If Victor hadn’t been a financial genius, he would have been tossed aside the minute his soul ran out.  No wonder Victor was warming to Hedda’s credo of not taking a human’s shine without their permission.  He’d been there himself.

“In any case, I’m glad you’re here, Cassandra.  I can’t make heads or tails out of your notes!”  Victor opened to a page and thrust the script at me, showing off the red ink I’d scattered across the page.  He was right; my handwriting was terrible.  “I need you to translate this for me.”

My instinct was to tear into him for spoiling
16 Voices
and ruining the Bleak Street.  I loved the play as much as I loved the old theater, and having him take them away infuriated me.  However, my tirade would have to wait until after I got what I’d come for.  “Before I do anything,” I said, “I want to make a deal with you.”

Victor’s face went slack with surprise.

“Not
that
kind of deal,” I said quickly, guessing his thoughts.  “I won’t be your, uh, personal secretary, but I do want to trade the Jaguar for something else.”

Victor looked hurt.  “You didn’t like the car?”

“The car is amazing, but what I really want is the chandelier from the Bleak Street.  Give me that, and I swear I’ll make your script
shine
.”

To my relief, my carefully-picked word had its desired effect.  Victor’s eye lit up.  “I’ll make a few calls and have it to you by tonight.”

Yes!  I clenched my fists in victory.

 “In fact, you’re welcome to keep both the car and the chandelier.”

I shifted uneasily.  Becoming more indebted to the vampire than was strictly necessary seemed like a bad idea.  “It’s gorgeous, but I can’t accept it.”

Andrew shook his head.  “This guy gives you a Jaguar, and Marcella brings you a bloody jacket.”

The moment the words were out of Andrew’s mouth, Victor went from soulful artist to hardboiled killer.  His razor-sharp glare returned, and his voice was edged with steel.  “What did you say?”

 “Nothing!” I said.  “Andrew only…”

“SILENCE!”  Victor turned to Andrew.  “Tell me what happened.”

While I fumed, Andrew threw me a silent apology and explained everything, including the dead real estate agent.  “Marcella went after me and Cassie.”

Victor’s eyes blazed like bloody-red rubies.  “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked.

Even though the vampire’s rage wasn’t directed at me, I trembled.  “Fine.”

Victor held up his finger.  “Don’t worry.  Marcella will
not
bother you again.”  He retreated from the lobby as swiftly and silently as a gust of wind.  The only reason I knew that he’d gone downstairs to Hedda’s blind pig was because the door to the basement stood open.

“You said that on purpose, didn’t you?” I demanded.

My friend shrugged and looked away.  “Maybe.”

“Andrew!”

“Cassie, that
thing
has access to your house.  She can come in any time she wants!”

That
thing
was also Isaiah’s sister and Hedda’s lover.  If Hedda
was
covering up for her lover, even Victor couldn’t protect us.  “Let’s go,” I muttered.  Then I remembered the silver cross I’d lost the day before.  Until I had my hands on the Bleak Street’s chandelier, I needed every bit of protection I could get.  I doubled back into the theater.  Andrew followed.

My eyes swept the floor, looking for a glint of silver.  “I lost my necklace in here yesterday.  Hopefully, no one swept it up.”

Andrew immediately helped me look.  “I don’t think anyone’s swept this floor since Hendrix played Woodstock.”

We split up.  I went to the right, and Andrew headed left.  Even with the lights on, the house was dim.  To see anything, I had to stoop so far over that I was nose-to-trash with crumpled tissues and crushed paper cups.  The only silver I found was a gum wrapper.  “See anything?” I asked.

A sudden gust of air blew my hair out of my face.  Chairs and tables were tossed into the air as if swept aside by a small tornado.  Andrew cried out in alarm.

I spun around to see my friend pinned against the wall, Marcella at his neck.  Her fangs were bared.

“Stop!”  I raced across the theater, terrified I’d be too late.  Luckily, she was taking her time.  When I reached them, she was petting Andrew’s hair and crooning into his ear.  Andrew struggled, his eyes rolling wildly.

My silver necklace dangled from one of Andrew’s hands.  With an upward thrust, he drew the silver across the back of her arm.  Marcella’s pale skin smoked.  She yelped, but didn’t let go.  “Naughty man,” she growled and slammed Andrew against the wall.  Something snapped, and the blood drained from his face.  “Try it again, and I’ll break something else.”

Either Marcella was too enraged to care about Hedda’s rules, or she knew that Hedda wouldn’t punish her for breaking them.   In any case, Andrew and I were doomed.

“Hold on, Drew!”  I plunged one hand into my purse, blindly searching for one of the wooden stakes I’d brought with me.  When my groping fingers closed around one, I wrenched the weapon free, ripping the lining of my bag.  I no longer cared that Marcella was Isaiah’s sister or Hedda’s lover, I only wanted to rescue my friend.

Marcella hissed over her shoulder at me.  Her eyes were red as blood.  Seeing the stake, she laughed.  “Is that all you have?  What happened to your secret weapon?”

She meant the Bleak Street’s crystal.  Without it, the stake felt as flimsy as a match stick in my hand.

“Oh, what’s wrong?  All out of surprises?”  She grinned nastily and turned back to Andrew.  She licked his cheek, making him groan and grit his teeth.  “I’m going to sip you slowly while your slayer friend watches.  Then, when you’re too weak to struggle, I’m going after her.”  She hissed again and bared her fangs.

“What about Victor?” I asked, praying the vamp would rush in and rescue us.  “You don’t want to make him angry, do you?”

“To hell with Victor!  Last night, your little weapon burned off several layers of my skin.   It took nearly five hours to re-grow it.  It’s time for paybacks.”  Andrew fought as hard as he could.  His muscles strained as he attempted to break Marcella’s grip.  He drove his knee into her groin, and delivered a crushing blow to her ankle.

She laughed.  “I do love lively men.”

Sneaking up on her would be impossible.  She’d break my arm before I had the chance to raise it against her.  I needed a distraction.  Something to give me the split second I needed to attack.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.  I hid the stake behind my back, and using my loudest onstage voice I said, “I’ll willingly
give
you my
shine if you leave Andrew alone.”  I edged closer to her.  “It’s true what Victor said.  I can recharge myself.  You can take me as many times as you want.”

“Cassie, don’t!” Andrew pleaded.

Marcella flung Andrew aside.  He landed hard on one of the round tables, knocking it over with a crash.

Although she’d been wrestling with Andrew, not a hair of Marcella’s head was out of place, and her silky dress still clung in all the right places.  She tilted her head and held a finger to her lips as she studied me.  “You want to trade yourself for your friend?”

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak, and took a firmer grip on the stake.

“Interesting.”  She slowly drifted towards me, stopping a few feet distant.  Just far enough away so that I couldn’t make a sudden lunge.  “Okay.  Change of plans.  I’ll drink from you
first
, then drain your friend.”  Her red eyes blazed.

I inched forward, praying she wouldn’t notice how I was closing the gap.

“No, wait,” she said.  “I’ll take you both at the same time and then break your bones for fun.  Or keep you chained up so I can feed from you night and day.  Or drag you off somewhere and make you both suffer until you
beg
me to kill you.”

I was less than two feet away now.  A few more inches, and I could risk staking her.  My palms were sweating heavily, forcing me to readjust my grip on the stake.

“Don’t you realize that I can do with you whatever I want?”   She hissed and lunged as I whipped the stake from behind my back and sprang forward.  Her teeth grazed my neck, throwing off my aim.  My stake came in too low, driving deep into her stomach.  She yowled and threw me aside, clutching her belly.  Clear fluid leaked from the wound, turning her pink dress fuchsia.

I hit the ground and rolled to the side, already digging in my purse for another stake.  Marcella shrieked and came after me.  Andrew swung a chair at her, splintering wood against her back, but it didn’t slow her down.  When she pinned me to the floor, I knew it was over.  I braced myself for the feel of her fangs.

Suddenly, Marcella was jerked off me.  Stunned, I scrambled to my feet as Victor threw Marcella against a wall.

The house lights came on full, nearly blinding me.  Hedda, pale with shock, stood in the doorway.  Behind Hedda stood Isaiah.  His arms were folded across his chest.  His flat eyes gave away nothing.

I realized that I still held the stake in my hand.  Panicked, I tossed it aside where it landed with a clatter.  Had Isaiah watched me try to stake his sister?  True, she deserved it, but what if he didn’t see it that way?

Victor grit his teeth as he struggled to keep Marcella pinned.  “Cassie is
mine
!”

Marcella gave Victor a leering smile.  “What do you mean?  She offered me her shine.  It’s mine to take.”

“I didn’t want to!” I quickly argued.  “She was hurting Andrew, and I didn’t know what else to do.”  I silently begged Isaiah to look at me, but he refused to meet my eyes.

“Oh, Marcella,” Hedda moaned.  She struggled to keep her face blank, but her grief was obvious.  “How could you, my love?  Cassandra, please accept my apology.”

“Not good enough,” Victor said.  His eyes blazed.

At this, Marcella stretched forward and snapped her jaws, her lethal teeth barely missing Victor’s neck.  He hissed.   “Are you daring to
bite
me?”  He shoved her harder against the wall, and something in her back gave a sickening crunch.  “Hedda, Bertrand was right.  Your lover is out of control!  I demand that you punish her.”

Hedda dropped her eyes.  “Do what you must.”

Marcella’s eyes widened.  “Hedda!  My love!”