Blood Will Have Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

Seward made no appearance until the second act. He was of England, not Transylvania. Act One was Transylvania; he should have remembered that.
    He sat in the first row and closed his eyes. With actors, half the game was guessing when they lied, half why . Seldom whether . A life spent reciting other people’s words made lying too damn easy.
    Act One, scene three. Dramatis Personae: the brides of Dracula. That would be Georgina and the dark-haired Deirdre. Jonathan Harker: tall, blond Greg Hudson, a man with an effeminate air—until he looked at Emma Healey. Dracula himself: John Langford. Spraggue settled back in his seat. Years since he’d seen Langford act. The man was magic. A matinee-idol profile did him no harm, but he had more than that, some animal magnetism that made the audience care about him, hero or villain. Which would his Dracula be?
    Onstage, Jonathan Harker, the English solicitor, slept, his elegant body stretched out on a chaise in the vampire’s library. Yes, that scene; Spraggue remembered the plot. Harker had been cautioned by the Count never to sleep in any room other than his own bedchamber. But worn out by the exertions of attempted escape from the castle, the lawyer had disobeyed. It was night now. Enter the brides of Dracula.
    The women approached the sleeping man.
    â€œHe was warned,” said the brunette. She laughed and the laugh was hauntingly evil.
    â€œAnd we were warned,” added Georgina, hesitantly. Her face was cunning. She wanted the man. But something frightened her.
    Her dark companion licked her sharp white teeth. “We have obeyed. The master will have nothing to complain of.”
    â€œThen you shall kiss him first,” said Georgina. “Yours is the right to begin.”
    On the chaise, Harker opened his eyes and stared at the approaching brides, enthralled.
    The women came closer. Deirdre broke the silence. “He’s young and strong. There’s blood enough for two.”
    As she spoke, she leaned over Harker and kissed him full on the lips. Georgina gave a low growl. The transformation from women to beasts was well done—clear, but subtle enough to stay within the bounds of possibility. Shocking, but not laugh-producing. Deirdre growled in answer, raised her long neck, bared her teeth for the kill.
    Dracula was in the room without entering. A trick of lighting or a trapdoor? Or was it just that Spraggue’s attention was so completely absorbed by the scene at stage right that the stage-left movement hadn’t caught his eye?
    Langford wore black. Not a costume. The dark turtleneck and slacks wouldn’t attract a second look on the street. It was the man inside. He wore the nondescript garments with flair. On him, they were costume. He’d probably worn nothing but black for weeks in preparation for the role, Spraggue thought. Langford had a reputation for being scrupulous about detail. But had his eyebrows always been so black and shaggy? His skin so pale? His cheekbones so prominent? How much makeup and how much sheer acting ability?
    No matter. He was Dracula. At the sound of his voice the women froze. He grabbed Deirdre by the neck. His slight motion threw her across the room.
    â€œHow dare you touch him? How dare you look at him when I had forbidden it?”
    Georgina cowered as the vampire raged. The dark woman confronted him.
    She laughed, a cold hollow sound. “What would you have us do? Starve? Ignore the beauty of human men? We’re not like you. You never loved.”
    â€œYou never love,” echoed the blonde.
    The Vampire King softened. He crossed the room, took the women in his arms. “I, too, can love. You know it from the past.” He knelt, blond Georgina on his knee, Deirdre in the crook of his right arm. He whispered, “I promise you, when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. But for now, go. I have work to do tonight.”
    â€œAnd are we to have nothing,