My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires (14 page)

“You
what
?!” the Baroness cried.

She gave Elsa a closed-mouth grin and said, “You must be Baroness Schrader. So lovely to meet you.”

When their eyes met, Maria’s smile disappeared.

The two women stared at one another. The chilly day grew warmer, and the air in between them seemed to shimmer. Maria’s skin became paler, and Elsa’s eyes became redder. It seemed to go on forever. It seemed as if time had stopped.

The Baroness rose and took a step toward the Vampire. After a brief staring contest, she whispered, “I look forward to getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.”

Even quieter, Maria said, “I couldn’t agree more. And P.S.: Wrong musical, whore.”

The staring contest continued, until the Baroness spun around, grabbed the Captain by the back of his neck, and gave him a kiss that left him drooling.

After the Captain adjusted his trousers and composed himself, he asked Maria, “Did you properly discipline the brats today, as we’d previously discussed?”

“As a matter of fact, no. You see, things have changed drastically since last night.”

“Changed
drastically
? I was only gone for one scene, two montages and a pointless musical number—how could things have changed
drastically
in such a short amount of time? Best you educate me about these so-called changes.”

“Fine,” Maria said. “Take Liesl. She isn’t a child anymore. One of these days you’re going to wake up and find that she’s dead.”

“
Dead?!
Are you threatening my daughter, Maria? Do I need to report you to Mother Zombie?”

Backpedaling, Maria stammered, “I, um, I, um, I, um, I don’t mean
literal
death, Captain. That’s just a metaphor.”

“For what?”

“For … for … for
aging
. Your children are all aging. Take Friedrich. He’s a boy but he wants to be a man like you and there’s no one to show him how. I’d love to give him some lessons, but fourteen is a tad young, even for me.”

“How dare you talk about my son as if he’s a piece of meat!” the Captain roared, grabbing Maria by the elbow and dragging her into the house.

Maria said, “But he
is
a piece of meat, sir. A tender, juicy piece of meat, so tender and juicy that he’ll be eaten someday by some lucky girl, and he’ll
love
it.”

The Captain let go of Maria’s arm, then covered his ears. “I won’t listen to this anymore. Pack your things and go!”

Ignoring him, Maria said, “And then there’s Brigitta, who’s going to spread her wings and fly.”

“Pack your bags!”

“And there’s Kurt, who wants merely to feed, and all you do is mock his hunger. And you’d better stop that, because he’s hungrier than ever, and you wouldn’t want him to feast on something he shouldn’t be eating.”

“I! Said! Pack! Your! Bags!”

“And then there’s Farta…”

“You mean Marta!”

“No, I mean Farta, who needs special attention—like
short bus
special—and Gretl, who needs a backhand across the jaw…”

“Pack! Bags! Now!”

“At the end of the day, they just want to be loved. Even though I’ve only known them for a short time, I love them a whole lot—more than you know—but they also need the love of a good man.”

Just then, a chant came from upstairs: “The hills are alive. The hills are alive. The hills are alive.” It grew louder: “
The hills are alive!
The hills are alive!
The hills are alive!
” And louder yet: “THE HILLS ARE ALIVE! THE HILLS ARE ALIVE! THE HILLS ARE ALIVE!”

The Captain looked toward the house. “What’s that?”

Maria offered him a beatific smile. “It’s chanting.”

“I realize that, Governess, but who’s chanting? Those voices sound, well, they sound dull. Hopeless. Dead.”

“It’s your children, Captain.”

“My children? My brats? They usually sound so vibrant. Horrible and ill-behaved, granted, but vibrant nonetheless.”

More chanting: “The hills fill my heart. The hills fill my heart. The hills fill my heart.” Louder: “
The hills fill my heart!
The hills fill my heart!
The hills fill my heart!
” And even louder: “THE HILLS FILL MY HEART! THE HILLS FILL MY HEART! THE HILLS FILL MY HEART!”

Maria smiled a toothy, fangy smile. “I taught them something to chant for the Baroness. She’ll loathe, er, I mean
love
it.” Her grin doubled, no, trebled in size. “It will change her life.”

The Captain gawked at her fangs. He pointed, and tried to say something, but all he could do was gasp. After he more or less regained his composure, he sprinted inside and made a beeline for the ballroom bar, where he grabbed the nearest bottle of gin and a tumbler, poured three fingers into the glass, then dropped the glass onto the floor and took a guzzle from the bottle. He made the gin grimace, then said, “I didn’t see what I just saw.
I didn’t see what I just saw!
I DIDN’T SEE WHAT I JUST SAW!”

And then, convinced he didn’t see what he just saw, he left the ballroom and climbed the stairs so he could visit his chanting children. Unbeknownst to the Captain, Maria was close behind.

Several minutes later, the Baroness burst into the house and ran into the living room, her hands plastered over her ears. “
What’s that infernal racket?
” she cried.

The Captain staggered down the stairs in a daze that, to the keen observer, seemed to be different than his typical drunken daze, and said, “Maria has taught the children some chants. They would like us to go to the drawing room, where they’ll demonstrate.” He offered the Baroness his elbow. “Shall we?”

“Must I?” she asked.

“Yes. You must. If the brats are to accept you, you must humor them. At least a little bit.”

She stomped her foot. “
Fine
,” she snapped, then took a piece of tissue from her purse, ripped it in two, balled up each piece, and jammed them into each of her respective ears. The couple sat down, after which Max sauntered over and helped himself to a seat and a drink, after which the brats, led by Maria, marched in, chanting like no siblings—either mortal or immortal—have ever chanted before. For you see, the human musical scale consists of twelve notes, thus seven-part harmonies tend to sound cluttered; the undead musical scale, on the other hand, is made up of fifty-two tones, so seven-part harmonies like the ones the von Trapp Vampires were delivering are child’s play.

As Maria led the brats through another snappy number, Max said, “They have potential, Georg. I can see them performing at…”

The Captain interrupted. “I can see them performing nowhere other than here. Keep your slimy hands and your slimier contracts away from my children.”

Max shrugged. “They might like my slimy contracts, Georg.”

Before the Captain could respond, the brats picked up a new chant: “We beat like the wings of the birds.
We beat like the wings of the birds!
WE BEAT LIKE THE WINGS OF THE BIRDS!” It was almost hypnotic.

Suddenly the Captain broke out into a blinding smile. He nodded and told the Baroness, “They beat like the wings of the birds. Nothing wrong with that,” then hustled across the room in five long strides.

The chanting continued: “I go to the hills when my heart is lonely.
I go to the hills when my heart is lonely!
I GO TO THE HILLS WHEN MY HEART IS LONELY!”

After they finished belting out that particular lyric, the Captain cleared his throat and said, “The hills are alive! The hills fill my heart! We beat like the wings of the birds! I go to the hills when my heart is lonely!” He turned to the children and asked, “How was that? Was that acceptable?”

Brigitta gave her father a long, strong hug, burying her face in his shoulder. “That was wonderful,” she said, then she opened her mouth wide and tried to thrust her fangs into the Captain’s neck.

Maria noticed and wasn’t the least bit happy about it, so before Brigitta broke skin, the Governess grabbed her hair, yanked her out of the embrace, and hissed, “Not in the house, Brigitta.”

Oblivious to the near-bite, von Trapp stepped over to Gretl and patted her head. “Lovely chanting, darling. I never knew you had it in you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Gretl said. “In addition to entertaining her with our musical endeavors, we had intended to give the Baroness a welcoming bouquet of flowers—white wildflowers, to be precise—but for some odd reason, the flowers wilted the moment I picked them from the garden. I blame that on the inconsistent Austrian climate. One day it’s too hot, and the next day it’s too cold, so when a flower—or a plant of any kind, for that matter—is plucked out of the ground before it’s strong enough to…”

The Captain cut off the overly-verbose dullard. “That’s very kind of you to have thought of Elsa, Gretl. Now please, do shut up.” He turned to the Baroness and said, “Wasn’t that kind of my family to think of you?”

The Baroness folded her arms over her breasts, glared at Friedrich and Kurt, and hissed, “
Edelweiss
.”

At that, the boys grabbed their heads and dropped to their knees in obvious pain. Kurt said, “The ringing! It hurts! Make it stop, Father! Make it stop, Governess!”

The Baroness chuckled, pointed at the rest of the kids, then whispered, “Blossom of snow, bloom and grow!”

At that, Liesl, Louisa, Farta, Brigitta, and Gretl doubled over, so pained that they were only able to moan.

Elsa nodded. “Just as I suspected,” she said. Then she snapped her fingers seven times in quick succession and stomped toward the door. The children stood up straight and tall as if nothing had happened. Right before the Baroness exited the room, she came to a halt and, without turning around, said, “Georg, you never told me how wonderful your children are.”

“That’s because they’re not the least bit wonderful,” he said. “Wait, let me rephrase that: They
were
not the least bit wonderful. Now they’re quite wonderful. Or at least somewhat tolerable.” He turned to Maria. “And I believe I have you to thank for that.”

Visibly appalled, the Baroness took her leave, a dog-like growl oozing from her mouth. Maria took a peek at the children, then, once determining they were free of the Baroness’s spell, she followed. Before she even made it five meters, the Captain grabbed her by the elbow and said, “Governess.”

“Yes, Captain,” she said, craning her neck to see where the Baroness was headed.

“I’ve behaved badly toward you. I apologize.”

Still craning, she said, “Right, great, apology accepted. Now please let go of me.”

The Captain bulled ahead as if Maria had said nothing. “I had no right to speak to you the way I’ve been speaking to you.”

Still craning, she said, “Right, great, you’ll be nicer, that’s swell. Now please let go of me.”

“And you have brought chanting into the house? And harmonized chanting at that! I never knew how wonderful the sound of words being delivered in unison could be.”

“Right, great, the kids sound terrific. Now … please … let … go … of … me!”

“I guess what I’m saying is, welcome to the family!”

“Right, great, welcome to me.” She yanked her arm from his; the sudden, strong movement caused the Captain to fall on his backside. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I have to run.”

And run Maria did. Right out to the backyard.

She looked to her left, then to her right. Seeing nothing, she took a deep breath, smiled a tight smile, skipped toward the lake, and called, “Baroness! I smell you! A word, please?”

The Baroness stepped out from behind an oak tree, her expression a combination of hunger, sensuality, and aggression. “Ah. The Governess. You and I, alone at last.”

Maria said, “Indeed. I thought we should have a chat. I’d like to get to know you. Get to know all about you.”

“I thought that was the wrong musical, whore.”

In a single stride, Maria was two millimeters away from the Baroness. “What are you, Baroness Elsa Schrader? Where did you come from?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“You know exactly where I came from, Baroness. I came from the Abbey overseen by the great Mother Zombie. I came from the Abbey of the undead.”

“Yet you’re not a zombie yourself. Would you care to explain that?”

“I think you know what I am, Baroness.”

“I think I do, but a certain someone doesn’t.”

“But if he did, I have confidence he would be quite pleased. Because I have confidence in me.”

They stared at one another for what seemed like several minutes, then the Baroness broke eye contact and said, “The minute I laid eyes on you, I knew you were a stinking, rotten Vampire. I can smell your kind from ten kilometers away.” She leaned into Maria and whispered into her ear, “And your reek in particular, Governess, is rancid. Like long dead animals.”

“How kind of you to say,” Maria said. “We cultivate that. So. Now you know me. Let me know you.”

“You want to know me?”

“I do.”

“Then know me you shall.”

The Baroness lifted her right arm above her head. The sky turned pitch black, and the wind gusted so strongly that the largest pieces of the shattered gazebo flew around and about. The Baroness’s skin gradually darkened until it was as black as the darkest night, then it began to glow as if lit from inside. The whites of her eyes burnt red, and her pupils disappeared entirely. Her fingernails grew … and grew … and grew some more, then, when they had reached three centimeters, their tips took the shape of a triangle, after which her breasts ballooned until they could balloon no more. A wing sprung from each of her shoulder blades, she began to grow … and grow … and grow some more, until she stood ten meters tall, at once hideous and beautiful.

As Maria took in the Baroness’s new form, she felt a stirring in her lady-parts.

The Baroness-thing spit a ball of fire at Maria’s head—which Maria neatly sidestepped—then said in an inhuman-sounding voice, “Care to hazard a guess what I am?”

Maria nodded. “I know
exactly
what you are. I’ve met your relatives many, many times over many centuries. You’re a Succubus.”