Stage Fright (Bit Parts)

by Scott, Michelle

  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!”

  The pair of muscular vampires struggled to drag Marcella out of the theater. Hedda, her shoulders bowed, followed. Isaiah gave me a final, inscrutable look, then without a word, left the theater.

  Andrew assured me that the snap I heard was not a bone, but the sunglasses he’d put into his pocket. “My arm is fine,” he said, flexing his fingers and wrist to show me. “Although, I’ll have bruises,” he added ruefully.

  I nodded sympathetically, but my mind was spinning in a different direction. I hurried into the lobby, but it was empty.

  “Damn!” Where had Isaiah disappeared to? I desperately wanted to talk to him. Just five minutes to explain! Wondering if he’d gone down to Hedda’s blind pig, I tried the door leading to the basement, but it was locked.

  As I searched the lobby again, it occurred to me that Isaiah hadn’t even stopped to see if I was okay. Surely, he’d seen Marcella at my throat. Outrage battled with grief, and outrage finally won. Isaiah should have sided with me! After all, I’d only been defending myself!

  Andrew came in from the theater carrying my silver necklace. “Look what I found!” I gratefully fastened it around my neck. “I’m getting one of those things,” he said. “Only, mine will be huge, and have hip-hop bling.” He was trying to make me smile, but the corners of my mouth remained nailed in place.

  As Andrew and I crossed the lobby, Victor called my name from inside the manager’s office. He sat behind a battered desk, an open checkbook in front of him. His features were tense, as if having Marcella dragged away was only the beginning of the day’s drama.

  “Are you sure she didn’t hurt you?” Victor asked. When I shook my head, he looked at Andrew. “What about you?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  Victor handed a business card to Andrew. “If you ever want a hand up in the theater business, call me. I’ve got plenty of contacts who’d be interested in what you have to offer.”

  What Andrew had to offer was, of course, his shine. Andrew knew this, too, and paled. Even so, he accepted the card and shoved it into his back pocket. “Thank you.”

  “And for you, Cassandra…” Victor handed me another of his business cards along with a check he ripped from the register. “I hope this will cover your pain and anguish.”

  I goggled at the number of zeroes. Next to me, Andrew’s breath hissed through his teeth. “You’re buying my silence?” I asked.

  “If I was worried about your silence, I’d simply glamour you into forgetting.” Victor’s eyes brushed against mine, making me shudder. “No, this is your stipend for directing my play. We didn’t have a formal contract, but I intend to pay you even though the show’s been canceled.”

  I dragged my eyes from the check. “Charles told me you were turning the play into a movie.”

  He gave a startled laugh. “I’d never do such a thing. I abhor movies.”

  “So why is the Bleak Street being turned into a Cineplex?”

  “That was Bertrand Peabody’s idea. A very good one, I might add.” He nodded approvingly.

  “But what about your play? You said your greatest desire was to see it staged!”

  Victor steepled his long fingers under his chin, a sad smile playing on his lips. “True, but there’s no longer any reason for me to stage it.”

  I gaped at him, speechless, before letting my eyes drop to the wire wastebasket next to the desk. Sitting among the junk mail and a crumpled candy bar wrapper was my edited copy of 16 Voices. I snatched the play out of the trash and dusted off a layer of pencil shavings. Realization set in like a hard frost, killing my hope. “Everyone was right about you, weren’t they? You never came here to stage a play. And the Bleak Street! That renovation had nothing to do with 16 Voices, did it? You always knew it was going to be turned into a cinema!”

  His lips thinned. “Grieve business is between vampires, not humans.” Then he sighed and massaged his forehead. “But yes, you’re right. The play wasn’t the reason I was here. Bertrand Peabody had lodged a complaint against Hedda, and as his maker I was obliged to check it out.” His mouth grew firmer. “It’s a good thing I did. Bertrand was right: Hedda’s grieve is out of control.”

  “Marcella is out of control,” I argued, “not Hedda!”

  “If Marcella had only broken the rules of Hedda’s grieve, there would be no issue, but she attacked me, another vampire. She must be brought to justice. And since Hedda is responsible for all of her creations, she must also be held accountable. Vampire law is very clear on that. ”

  “So lie! Tell everyone you weren’t attacked.”

  His face and spine went rigid. “I will not tolerate insubordination of that magnitude.”

  That, finally, set me off. He was allowing Hedda’s grieve to be dissolved because his own pride had been wounded. “You’re a vile, soulless monster!” I shouted. Andrew tried to reign me in by grabbing my shoulders and hushing me, but I shrugged him off. “An animal! A rogue with a bad wardrobe!”

  Victor remained immobile, but his eyes shone with unspent grief. “When I first came here, I didn’t give a damn about Hedda’s grieve, and I thought her artistic inclinations were pure rot. The time I’ve spent here, however, reminded me how much I miss the theater. Believe it or not, Cassandra, I love the stage as much as you do.”

  “You love it so much that you’re giving up on your play.” I dumped the script back into the trash. If he didn’t care about it, then neither did I. “Let’s go,” I told Andrew. I stormed through the theater doors, eager to put as much space as possible between me and Mercury Hall.

  I charged across the parking lot towards the silver Jag, but Andrew stopped me with a shout. “Cassie! Isn’t that your car?”

  Sure enough, my poor, abused Focus sat like an abandoned child in the back corner of the lot. I was absurdly happy to see it. The car was safe and familiar and bespoke a simpler time when vampires had been nothing more than scary stories.

  The Focus’s windshield was marbled with ice. I took a credit card from my wallet and started scraping.

  “You’re not really going to drive that instead of the Jag, are you?” Andrew asked.

  “I don’t want the Jag.” I never wanted to see the XKR or the Mercury or the Muse again. That went double for the Bleak Street, no matter how much I’d once loved it. “In fact, you can drive the Jag home, and I’ll take the Focus.”

  He laughed uncertainly.

  “I’m serious. In fact, you can have the Jag if you want it.”

  “Okay, I’m going to do you the hugest favor in the world and not hold you to that right now. We’ll talk about it tonight when you’re feeling better.”

  “I’m fine now.”
I grit my teeth as I sawed at the stubborn layer of ice.

  He shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re attacking that poor windshield like it insulted your mother.”

  “I. Am. Not!” On this, the credit card snapped in half.

  “Is it the play?”

  “No, it’s not the play.” Not just the play, at any rate.

  “It’s him, isn’t it? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous?”

  I sucked in my cheeks and looked at my broken credit card.

  “You should have seen your face when he walked out of the theater. It was like watching someone murder your happily-ever-after.”

  “I have an errand to run,” I said stonily.

  Andrew pulled me against him and hugged me tightly. “You did the most amazing thing today. You offered to sacrifice yourself to me. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

  “I don’t expect payment.”

  “That makes it even more amazing.” He held me for a moment longer before letting go. “If Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous doesn’t appreciate you, then to hell with him because you deserve someone who does.”

  I managed a smile, but if heartache had been lethal, I would have been flat-lining.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Merging onto the expressway, I stomped the gas pedal so hard that my car shuddered. When a minivan in the next lane wouldn’t slow down to let me over, I laid on the horn and swore.

  I was such a fool! I should have listened to my sister when she told me that Isaiah was heartache in a package. But, n-o-o. I’d been so dazzled by the beautiful package, I’d ignored the big ‘Proceed with Caution’ sign hanging around his neck. Now, I was paying the price.

  This was why I didn’t do relationships. The pain, the grief, the jealousy…who needed them? I was better off alone. I didn’t want a man in my life. Well, not a straight man anyway. Besides, I had plenty of girlfriends. It wasn’t as if I needed some guy to discuss theater with. I could do without a man to hold me or laugh at my stupid jokes. I didn’t want broad shoulders, soulful amber eyes, kissable lips, and a tight butt.

  Yeah, right.