Nothing.
He fixed her with an impassive stare, then whispered, “When did you become a Vampire, Liesl?”
Liesl made a split-second decision: She would play dumb. “Whaaaat? A Vampire? Me? That’s crazy talk, Rolfe. I mean, gosh, I barely even know what a Vampire is. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what a Vampire is! Is it some sort of elected official? Or a servant? Or, well, I don’t have a clue, boy oh boy, I’m lost, Rolfe, just lost.”
Rolfe repeated, “When did you become a Vampire?” He touched the spot on her neck. “I know the Vampire kiss. I know the Vampire scent.” He stepped to her and tried to pry open her lips, then added, “I know the Vampire teeth.”
She slapped his hand away. “Is that so, Rolfe? How do you know all this?”
He tore off his shirt—buttons flew everywhere—pointed at the swastika tattooed above his left nipple, and roared, “Private Rolfe Mueller, Nazi Undeath Squad!” He puffed up his chest, and sucked in his stomach; suddenly the nancy-boy telegram deliveryman was a force to be reckoned with. He took a deep breath, then roared, “Liesl von Trapp, I condemn you to, er, no, I welcome you in the name of Adolf Hitler.” He held out his hand. “Please come with me. You’ll be taken to an area where you can mingle with others of your kind, and you have my personal guarantee that you’ll be safe there.”
“The only others of my kind I want to mingle with are my family. Now let’s put on our clothes and go on our respective ways.”
“I don’t think you understand, Fraulein von Trapp. This isn’t a request. This is a command. I’m prepared to do what needs to be done to get you to Germany.”
Liesl looked around the gazebo for some kind of weapon; seeing nothing, she backed toward the exit. “This is craziness, Rolfe. Go home. Now.”
He leapt around her with blinding speed and blocked the door, then yelled, “Don’t take another step, Fraulein! If you do, I won’t hesitate to use force!”
Liesl von Trapp felt a surge of something in her stomach—maybe bile, maybe adrenaline, maybe the remnants of the horrible tafelspitz from last night—and her body began to move of its own accord. She spun on her heel and swiped at Rolfe’s face, and he leaned away, but not quickly enough; the scratches immediately dripped blood, covering his cheek and chin. As Rolfe screamed, Liesl did a drop roll into his legs, hoping Rolfe would fall onto his face, and then she could make herself scarce. Rolfe seemed to know what was coming, however; he leapt straight into the air, causing Liesl to roll out of the gazebo and onto the cold ground. Mud caked her naked breasts, her bare stomach, and her strong thighs.
With a deadly calm, Rolfe said, “I’ve trained with the Undeath Squads for two years, Liesl, and I’m one of their finest students. You can’t escape. I can tell you’re a new Vampire, and you don’t have the strength to win a battle with anybody from the Squads. For both of our sakes, come with me. As I said, I promise your safety.”
She sat up, pulled a clump of mud from her hair, and said, “Maybe you’re right, Rolfe. Maybe I should be with others of my kind. I could learn the ways of the undead. I could be happy.”
Rolfe smiled. “That’s the spirit, Liesl.”
“I suppose it is.” She held out both of her arms. “Can you help me up, please? I hurt my leg.”
“Of course, Liesl.” He took her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet.
“Thank you, Rolfe.”
“But of course. Now if you’ll…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but you probably wouldn’t have been able to do so either if an angry, spurned female Vampire kicked you in the stomach with all her might. While Rolfe was doubled over, Liesl zipped over to the gazebo and punched its side. The structure shattered, and glass flew everywhere. She picked up the biggest shard she could find and held it by Rolfe’s neck. “I don’t want to kill you, Rolfe,” she said, “but I will. If you leave, you’ll leave unharmed, but if you stay, you’ll die. I have not yet killed, but I know I can.”
Through gritted teeth, he said, “I think not.” And then, he stood up as if he had never been injured in the first place, knocked the glass out of Liesl’s hand, and put her in a headlock.
Without thinking, Liesl roared, “I have confidence in me!” then stomped Rolfe’s foot as hard as she could, which, now that she had otherworldly Vampire strength, was pretty darn hard.
Rolfe growled, then lost his grip on Liesl’s neck. She grabbed another piece of glass off of the ground and raked it along Rolfe’s bare chest—right through his odd tattoo—somehow managing to restrain herself from licking up every last drop of the Nazi’s sweet, sweet blood. He staggered backward and crashed headfirst into a tree, then emitted a tiny grunt and fell facedown, unconscious.
Liesl sat down on the edge of the gazebo, not even feeling the broken glass digging into her backside. She gulped and panted, her naked, mud-coated breasts heaving rhythmically. As she stared sadly at Rolfe’s unmoving body, she whispered, “That’s right, Rolfe, I have confidence in me.”
And then the rains came.
Precipitation was problematic for Liesl, as it was difficult for a new Vampire to pick tiny shards of glass from her backside in the midst of a downpour. For Maria, on the other hand, the hellacious rain was exactly what she needed, as it offered a taste of home. The constant lightning flashes, the deafening booms of thunder, and the roaring winds made the pristine von Trapp mansion feel sinister, and after centuries of living in the Abbey, sinister was just the way she liked it.
Maria’s new bedroom was well-lit and spacious, which, for somebody who spent the majority of her nights nestled safely in a coffin, was disconcerting. She wanted to smash the overhead lights and paint the windows black so the room would be eternally bathed in darkness, but suspected that if she purposefully destroyed the von Trapp’s property, Mother Zombie would never let her return to the Abbey. So she dealt with it.
Just like that, the past two days caught up with her, and all she wanted to do was crawl into her horribly soft bed with its disgustingly clean sheets, and fall asleep to the sound of the wonderful storm. Right after she pushed aside the hideous green-and-yellow striped curtains, opened the window, and stripped off her cat suit, there was a knock at the door. It took all of her restraint not to tell the door-knocker to take a flying leap off of the Lavant Viaduct; instead, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, went to her happy place, then said, “Come in.”
It was Frau Alice. Logically enough, Maria said, “Frau Alice.”
If the housekeeper was taken aback by Maria’s lack of clothing, she did a magnificent job of hiding it. Alice dropped an armful of material onto the floor, then said, “The Captain told me to tell you to make yourself some new dresses.”
Maria stared at the material. There were dozens of designs and colors to choose from: Reds, blues, yellows, greens, stripes, dots, plaids, paisleys, the works. The fabric was clearly the finest money could buy, soft and shimmering. And Maria despised every square centimeter of it. “I’d gladly do so, but I can’t sew,” she told Alice.
“The Captain figured that would be the case, so he told me to tell you, Tough scheisse.”
“Oh, Frau Alice, I love you most of all!” In order to keep the peace, Maria took the material and said, “These will make the prettiest clothes I’ve ever had! They’ll make me feel pretty. Pretty, and witty, and gay. And you know what, Frau Alice? Do you know what? I pity any girl who isn’t me today.”
From outside came a scream of, “Wrong musical, whore!”
Frau Alice blinked. “Did you hear something?”
Maria shook her head. “Nope.” She walked to the other side of the room and shut the window. “So tell me,” she said, “might the Captain get me some more material if I asked him?”
“How many outfits do you really need?” Frau Alice asked.
“Okay, let’s be honest here: There’s no way in Hölle that I’m letting that fabric near my body. It’s lovely to the touch, and appealing to the eye, and I want nothing to do with it.
No, it isn’t for me. It’s for the kids.”
The housekeeper squinched up her face. “But the kids have plenty of clothes. Sailor suits in every color you can imagine. According to the Captain, that’s what they’ve worn every day of their lives, that’s what they’re currently wearing every day of their lives, and that’s what they’ll wear every day for the rest of their lives.”
“That’s fantastic, Frau,” Maria said, “but do you agree with me that the suits are a bit … a bit … a bit … oh, dear me, how do I put this?”
Frau Alice said, “Might the word you’re searching for be gay?”
Maria said, “That might be the word. But I want it to be known that I don’t mean gay in a homosexual sense. You see, Frau, the last thing I want to do is upset the gay community. I embrace homosexuality in all forms, shapes, and sizes—I’ve dabbled in the world of Sappho many a time myself—and I mean no offense. It’s just that gay is the perfect word to describe those fruity little sailor suits.” She paused, looked away from Frau Alice and into an imaginary film camera, then added, “And I mean no offense with the word fruit, either.”
Frau Alice said, “What’s homo … homo … homo…”
“Homosexuality?” Maria finished.
“Yes. Homosexuality.”
Maria sat on her bed, unconsciously spread her bare legs apart a couple of millimeters, and said, “Well, Frau Alice, when a girl and a girl love each other very, very much, there are certain ways they can express their love on a physical level. Soon enough, physiological changes occur that can lead to what’s known as arousal…”
“You can stop right there, Maria. I have no idea what you’re going on about. In my world, the only thing gay means is colorful. The children’s sailor suits are colorful. That’s all I’m saying. No more, no less.”
“Oh,” Maria said. “That’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
She spread her legs a bit further apart. “I thought you might want to learn about Sappho.”
Frau Alice was silent.
“All right, then,” Maria said, “give me the material. I’ll try to make some play clothes for them. They could do with a bit of fun.”
Frau Alice walked across the room and opened the window. “It suddenly smells odd in here,” she said, fanning the air in front of her face. “Like day-old fish.”
Maria slammed her thighs shut, then took the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her waist. “I know not of what you’re talking about.”
The housekeeper said, “In any event, the von Trapp children don’t have fun. They hatch and scheme.”
“Hatch and scheme what?” Maria asked.
“Plans,” Frau Alice hissed. “Evil plans. Evil plans that involve destruction and pain. Evil plans that would land most in jail. Evil plans that end up with me cleaning up indescribable messes. Evil plans that have me wondering, Why are Friedrich’s bed sheets always stiff and crusty?”
“Can you offer me any specifics?”
“I shudder to discuss it, Maria.” And then, as if to prove her point, she shuddered. “You’ll find out soon enough. My only piece of advice would be, When you least expect it, expect it. On that note, good night.”
Before Frau Alice made it to the door, Maria called, “Don’t forget to ask the Captain for more material!”
“Oh. Right. Replacing the kids’ gay sailor suits.”
To the invisible camera, Maria said, “Remember, folks, that’s gay as in colorful.”
The housekeeper stopped, then said, “I should mention that the Captain is departing for Vienna tomorrow morning to see his fick buddy, Baroness Schrader.”
“How long will he be gone?”
“Depends. The last time he visited the Baroness, he disappeared for three days.”
“Disappeared?”
“Disappeared. He was found under a bridge, naked, drooling, reeking of juniper berries, and playing with six kittens.”
“Oh.”
“Right. Oh.” Frau Alice paused, then said, “The Captain is thinking about making the Baroness an honest woman.”
“Oh, that would be lovely. The kids will have a new female figure to look up to.” And they won’t need me, and I can go back to the Abbey.
“I don’t know how wonderful that would be. There’s something off about the Baroness. Something I can’t put my finger on.” Frau Alice gave Maria a long once-over. “You know what? You two have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
Frau Alice shook her head. “Again, it’s something I can’t put my finger on. Just … something.”
“On that note, goodnight, Alice.”
“Good night, Governess. And please remember: Mom always said, don’t play ball in the house.”
After the housekeeper took her leave, Maria knelt down, made the sign of the inverted cross, and began to pray:
“Dear Lucifer, now I know why you have sent me here: To help these children prepare themselves for a new mother. I know you believe that before things get better, they must get much, much worse, and making things worse is something I’m quite good at, because nobody causes problems like Maria—am I right, or am I right? And I pray that this will become an even more awful family in thy sight. So. Go straight to Hölle, Captain. Go straight to Hölle, Liesl and Friedrich. Go straight to Hölle, Louisa, Brigitta, Farta, and that pretentious know-it-all twerp Gretl. And, oh, I forgot what the other boy is called, the chunky one, but he can go straight to Hölle, too.”
Just then, Maria heard a commotion at her window. She ignored it.
“Go to Hölle, Mother Zombie,” she continued, “and Cinnamon, and Brandi, and all the other sluts at the Abbey, and…” She felt a harsh tap on the crown of her head.
Maria looked over her shoulder. Soaking wet, covered in mud and scratches, and naked as the day she was born, there stood Liesl. Maria stood up and took the eldest von Trapp daughter into her arms and kissed her gently on the neck, their nude bodies melding together. “So,” she said, “it appears that somebody has been out, shall we say, experimenting.” She held Liesl at shoulder’s distance. “And quite badly, I might add.”
With her wrist, Liesl wiped the rainwater from her eyes. “You won’t tell Father, will you? It’s well past curfew.”
“What, tell my new employer that I turned his child into a Vampire, then, on her first full night with her new powers, she wandered the countryside for several hours—probably feasting on several humans and a few animals—before flying into my window wearing nothing but mud and blood? No, I think I’ll keep that one quiet. Now let me clean you up.”
Maria took the blanket from her bed, stood behind Liesl, and slowly, sensually dried her hair. She then wiped the dirt from the girl’s shoulders, stopping to speak into her ear. (Unfortunately, whatever Maria said was indiscernible, but whatever it was, it caused Liesl to blush, then pinch her own nipples.) Maria then wiped down Liesl’s breasts; she continued wiping them long after they were clean, and Liesl didn’t complain.
And then the girl and the Governess visited the land of Sappho.
Afterward, as the two lay on the floor, spent, Liesl said, apropos of nothing, “Louisa has a collection of spiders in her bedroom. She likes to stash them around the house.”
Maria jumped up as if she had been electrocuted. “Spiders?! I despise spiders. You tell that little blonde twat if I see a one of those eight-legged demons anywhere near me, she’ll be blamed, and punished. Severely.”
Liesl sat up and rubbed Maria’s backside. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered. “None of my idiot siblings will do anything to you on my watch.” She rose, grabbed a nightgown from the armoire, covered herself, then said, “Before today, I didn’t believe I needed a Governess. Well, I guess I was wrong.”
Maria stood up and the two women engaged in a lingering, fang-clattering kiss, then Liesl took her leave. After Liesl gently shut the door, Maria walked over to the bed and tentatively picked up the pillow. No spiders. She then remo
ved the remaining sheets. Still no spiders. She then lifted up the mattress.
Spiders. Lots and lots of spiders.
A hairy Brazilian Purple Tarantula, a slimy Starbellied Orbweaver, a stringy Northern Black Widow, a bouncy Antmimic Jumper, a creepy-crawly Pirate Wolf, and several genera that Maria didn’t recognize, which is saying something, because Maria was a member of the Know Thine Enemy school, so was well-versed in everything Arthropod.
Maria covered her mouth to stifle the scream. She backed into the wall, and—without meaning to or wanting to—she turned into a Desmodus Rotundus. Unprepared for the transformation, she flew straight up and crashed into the ceiling at a high enough speed that she was momentarily knocked unconscious. When she came to some ten seconds later, she found herself on the mattress, in the center of a spider gang.
The Northern Black Widow attacked first, shooting a web at Maria’s right wing. Maria backed away … right into the eight arms of the Pirate Wolf. The Wolf was a mean one, but slow and weak, so Maria broke out of his hold and flicked him out of the open window, where he fell to a painful death.
Maria glared at the rest of the spiders, her eyes saying, Which one of you is next? Unfortunately, spiders can’t read the eyes of a bat, so they all attacked at once. Now that she had her bearings, Maria swatted them with her wings, alternating left and right, left and right. Her aim was impeccable, and soon all the spiders had been knocked through the window.
Except for the Brazilian Purple. The fuzzy, fat, frightening Brazilian Purple.
He crawled toward her, moving slowly. When he was in shooting distance, Maria shot out her wing and waited to hear the telltale splat.
But there was no splat. Because she missed. She spun around, and there he was, directly behind her. Maria thought, I had no idea Brazilian Purples are so fast. So, not wanting to prolong the battle, Maria switched back into her human form and squashed the Brazilian Purple with her fist. Game over.
My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires Page 7
