Wolfweir (18 page)

Alphonse’s wooden head turned at this, the neck creaking.

-But?

-I am too obviously a Man-Wolf. I look, walk, and smell like a Man-Wolf. It’s too great a risk. I’ve bribed one of the set handlers to let me into the basement. There, I will light the fuse at the right time, then hurry outside to wait for you on the street in the cab I’ve rented for the whole evening. Alphonse, my boy, I trust you know your cue?

Alphonse stopped still and nodded. He had taken out his rapier and was cutting the air with it, jumping back and forth on the rich carpet.

-Good. As soon as the climactic aria begins – [
Malvic
hummed the tune, both Alphonse and Lucia nodding gravely], you, Alphonse, will leap through the trapdoor onto the stage and fire your pistols into Lord and Lady
Blackgore
, who are playing the main roles in tonight’s outrageously lavish production. This should be shortly after the moon becomes visible through the glass skylight set in the domed roof, and Lucia will by now have changed into a White Wolf. I trust the audience will be stunned by your appearance and by the shots. The plan is, as we discussed, for Lucia to join you onstage, which should be a matter of one easy leap from the balcony, and for you, Alphonse, to mount her as you did in your escape from the gypsy encampment. You will them escape via the backstage door, which will be left unlocked. There will be exactly seven minutes from the beginning of the aria – which will be my signal to light the fuses in the basement – and the spectacular explosion that will level the Opera House and entomb the
Vampyres
of Edinburgh, Scotland forever in smoking rubble. Got it?

Lucia
brooded,
swinging her legs as she sat in the velvet covered wing chair. Then she asked:

-But
Malvic
, why must Alphonse shoot the filthy
Vampyre
brother and sister? Why not just kill them all with the explosion?

Malvic
purses his lips wolfishly.

-Because, my Queen, we must be absolutely sure that these two are dead.
Finito
.
For the sake of Alphonse’s parents.
If we trust the kegs of gunpowder I procured to do the job for us, there is always a chance of failure. And we must not fail. Not here. Not now. Not at this pass. Do you understand?

Alphonse began jumping back and forth, cutting the setting sunlight that shone into the big luxury hotel room. He was practicing the famous “Von
Gorith
Ploy.” The Blood Amulet jumped, clicking on his pine chest.

-You jump like a cricket, my boy. Are your dueling pistols ready? Primed, spiffed up, greased and in tip top working order, with holy water and garlic rubbed on the shot?

Alphonse swept his sword gracefully and nodded. He even took a knock kneed puppet bow.

-Good! We go to make Wolf history in just two hours.

The Silver Breastplate

Alphonse, inside the musty costume trunk, felt himself jolted back and forth as it was hauled by grunting men from a wagon parked in the alley behind the Opera des Vampires. He tried to keep his mind clear. It was the hour of truth and the moment of vengeance, and if all went well his parents would be awake again before midnight.

Meantime,
Lucia – in a black gown, black shoes, black velvet lined opera cape and glittering emerald necklace –
joined the crowd of excited and gloriously attired
Vampyres
in the lobby of the great building.

She was indeed, as
Malvic
had opined, pale enough to be a
Vampyre
, and her teased Botticelli curls drew some admiring gasps of appreciation.

Asked by several of the elegant Scottish
Vampyres
what European coven she hailed from, she merely said in her charming Italian accent: “
Venezia
.”

She took her seat in the balcony without haste, surrounded by
Vampyres
– hundreds of them.

Finally, the orchestra struck up its harsh, clanging music, weird and
Vampyrical
.

The blood red curtains parted, and Lord and Lady
Edwarda
, pale as
undeath
, appeared triumphantly to the moans and applause of the crowd on an elaborate set that suggested the mountains of Transylvania, with fake snow drifting onto their armored shoulders. They began to sing.

Alphonse, hearing the music begin, had lifted the lid of the costume trunk. He crawled out into the darkness of the prop-room backstage. Glancing at the stage from the wing, he caught a glimpse of Lady
Edwarda
, with a pale hand pressed to her silver breastplate, singing desperately in the fake snow.

Following the careful instructions
Malvic
had given him, he descended a short flight of steps and ducked through a small doorway and moved through the darkness – he was now under the stage itself, and could hear the footsteps of the singers clumping just overhead. He struck a match and by its hazy light found the trap door with its small flight of steps for the sudden appearance of singers playing ghosts and demons and such. Shaking out the match, he put his wooden hands on the grips of the twin dueling pistols stuck into his belt – and waited.

Listening for his cue.

*

It was almost midnight. Lucia felt shivers run through her body as the first faint rays of moonlight appeared in the round glass skylight high, high above her.

Lord Edward and Lady
Edwarda
Blackgore
were still singing, singing their undead hearts out. Both of them standing on coffins, now, as live bats flew about their heads.

She felt a rush of sensation, sheer power, as she began to transform. All the
Vampyres
sitting around Lucia were riveted by what was happening onstage, so none noted Lucia turning into a White Wolf as she bent over, coughing, and covered her head with the black opera cloak.

Then she heard it. The harsh, jangling tones of the
orchestra,
and the beginning run of notes in Lady
Blackgore’s
climactic aria.

She peered from under the cloak – her eyes were now wolf-eyes, her skin now bristling wolf fur.

The trapdoor burst open, and Alphonse shot onto the stage like a cricket, his puppet body clattering. He drew his twin pistols.
Fired.

Lady
Blackgore
tumbled from her perch on one of the coffins. A hit, a palpable hit!

Lucia almost howled with excitement and pleasure – and
beserk
Wolf blood-lust.

Lord
Blackgore
, however, was too quick even for the lightning fast Alphonse. He dodged the pistol ball and swept down at the puppet boy, a furious pale ghoul in all in black armor, screaming with rage.

Seizing a sword – a real, not a stage sword – from its sword rack on his way to Alphonse, who had tossed away the pistols and drawn his own rapier.

All around Lucia, most of the
Vampyres
in the audience were clapping, oohing and
ahhing
– some shouting Bravo! –
but
others seemed to begin to grasp that his intrusion was not a part of the show.

As Alphonse and the
Vampyre
Lord touched sword points and began to fight, dizzyingly fast, back and forth across the stage, Lucia tossed away the cloak – a blazing full moon now shining on her white fur through the skylight.

Around her,
Vampyres
screeched and cowered.
 
The orchestra jolted to silence. Sword steel scraped and
clanked,
sparks flying from the blades.

*

Alphonse had spent some of the dull waiting time underneath the stage whittling down two of the fingers on his left puppet hand to sharp points. It didn’t hurt, it passed the time pleasantly with the smell of pine shavings, and it might save him if the “Van
Gorith
Ploy” didn’t work against Lord
Blackgore
– who was, after all, a trained and furious swordsman (and also, because he was a powerful
Vampyre
, able to fly for short distances!)

As he now fought Edward
Blackgore
on the opera stage, giving it his everything he had – his parents’ lives were at stake, so to speak – Alphonse was only remotely aware of the chaos and horror Lucia di
Fermonti
, the White Wolf girl, was creating in the balcony seats. As the
Vampyres
near her recoiled, she rose to full height and let out a roaring howl at the moon.

-Vile puppet boy!
screamed
Edward
Blackgore
, panting a little from the effort of fencing with this wooden upstart. I see you have brought us the Blood Amulet! Well done, fool!

(Yes, Alphonse thought. It was a risk. But it also gave him incredible speed and power, which is why
Malvic
had reluctantly agreed to let him wear it for tonight’s bloody rampage. Still, he was barely holding his own against the
Vampyre
. What if
-- ?
No, it would not do to indulge in “what ifs.” Not now!)

The
Vampyre’s
renewed attack was so urgent, forceful and harsh that Alphonse was nearly dazed by it. He tried the “Van
Gorith
Ploy” – it didn’t work. He only managed to cut Edward
Blackgore
across the dark brows with his
swordpoint
.

The
Vampyre’s
counterattack was lightning. Alphonse saw his right puppet hand, still gripping the
rapier,
fly off into the orchestra pit. Was it time to despair? No. Howling in total silence, howling in derision and horror and anguish for his parents and hatred for all ghouls everywhere, Alphonse sprang at Edward
Blackgore
and thrust two sharpened wooden fingers into the
Vampyre’s
black heart.

Edward
Blackgore’s
greenish white face distorted in shock and amazement – and he fell over dead.

His body already turning to a cloud of dust.

*

Alphonse sprang into the orchestra pit, snatched up the severed wooden hand and the rapier, and jumped back onstage just as the White Wolf thumped down on all fours with an ecstatic, moon-frenzied, growling moan – a single wild leap had taken Lucia from the balcony to the stage.

He slipped the hand in one of his pockets and sheathed the glittering Toledo sword in its cane. Then he jumped onto Lucia’s bristling back and clung to her fur.

It was at that instant that he saw something horrific and dreadful – not that he was any stranger to horror and dread, after all his recent adventures.

For Lady
Blackgore
was rising from behind the coffins, the cloak spread about her body like black wings, her bloodstained face drawn in an ugly rictus of laughter.
 
She was holding a lance.

There was a dent in the silver breastplate over where her
Vampyre
heart should be. But the holy-water-and-garlic treated pistol ball hadn’t pierced the silver.

Neither Alphonse nor
Malvic
had counted on this strange peculiarity of the
Vampyre
Opera – that the
Vampyres
used real armor in their productions, as they also used real live bats and real razor sharp swords.

And now Lady
Blackgore
was blocking Alphonse and Lucia’s exit through the wings.