The Dragon's Secret Baby

by Jasmine Wylder

  “I was thinking of singing The Nightingale,” Eva said, throwing caution to the wind. This was where she was meant to be, this was what she was meant to be doing. If she didn’t risk it now, then, when would she?

  The woman who had guided Eva through the back rooms of the Metropolitan Opera moved to the piano and sat down. This casually stylish woman was Luciano’s wife! Of course she’d heard that his wife always worked closely with him in transposing music, Eva just hadn’t put it together. His wife was rumored to be a great pianist in her own right, someone who might have had an excellent career on the stage had she not dedicated herself to her husband’s work.

  Eva walked her sheet music over to the other woman who took it with an outstretched hand and a smile.

  “Any preference in tempo?”

  “Just as is,” Eva hummed a bit of the song, more for her own sake then the other woman’s. Her voice felt and sounded like she’d been warming up all morning.

  “Ok then.” The woman spread the music out in front of her and practiced a few chords as Eva walked back to the middle of the room.

  As the music began Eva was conscious of Luciano’s seasoned eyes. Those eyes had witnessed, not only the greats of his time, but her parents as well. She felt the intent gaze of Ambrose and the knowledge of it spread a silky warmth through her body.

  She looked over the heads of both men and let her voice lift and move with the steady rhythm of the music. The song was something she’d only worked on away from school, with so many exquisite Italian arias to choose from, picking a Russian song was a bit of a risk when singing in front of an Italian composer. But that was why she’d chosen it, she was certain that he’d heard those arias thousands of times and she wanted to bring something different to the table. Something fresh.

  A little niggling sense of apprehension signaled in the back of her mind. The music was about to change and any loss of her voice would ruin the rest of the song. The piano took over and as she was about to plunge back in she let go of any residual apprehensions. This was no time to hold back. If she failed, then she would fail big and she would fail trying.

  The build of the music and her voice came through strong and solid. She inhaled and as her voice filled the room everything in her body felt right. Her heart felt right.

  She trilled and warbled well enough to beat out any real nightingale.

  When the song finished, her attention came back to the room. The energy was pulsing around her but she couldn’t completely tell if it was a good energy. Luciano stared at her with an impenetrable gaze.

  Her voice had been good, better than good, it had been perfect. She’d sung the song better than she’d sung anything before, but she didn’t know Luciano.

  She stood silently before him for what felt like years, waiting for any sign of a response.

  “That…” he hesitated as he looked for words. His eyes fell to the table in front of him and Eva began to lose heart. “I think I’d like to hear something else.”

  “Oh,” Eva was thrown. It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

  “Is that a problem?” Luciano looked up at her and Eva felt almost knocked over by the look. Everything that was charm and gaiety in him before was all business now.

  “Not in the least,” Eva smiled broadly. She could do this. She was made for it.

  “Good,” he smiled at last and Eva took a breath. “I have just the thing I’d like to hear,” he lifted the pages in front of him.

  Eva worked through the dips, valleys, and peaks of the central aria for Luciano’s new opera with the help of his wife, who Eva was finally introduced to. Glenda understood the human voice, seemingly, just as well as her husband. She guided Eva through the structure and sounds that Luciano was intent on hearing while Luciano and Ambrose talked over the first act of the new opera.

  When Eva finally gave a trial run at singing it, Luciano did not smile, or clap, but gave her six specific notes then had her do it again. And again. And again.

  Eva was beginning to have a vague understanding of what it was that made the man a great in his field.

  “Yes,” Luciano placed his hands loudly on the table in front of him and looked at Eva thoughtfully. “There is something there,” he moved a knowing finger in front of her. “You will have to work very hard, harder than you’ve ever worked before, but… if you promise to do this, then the role of Lucretia is yours.”

  Luciano waited for Eva’s response though he must have known it. Eva wanted to run and throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheeks, but she thought this would not be the best way to deal with this particular man when it concerned his work.

  Eva smiled. She opened her mouth and for a brief moment she thought about coming clean. But then, shouldn’t she have told Luciano about her vocal problems before she’d even begun? She would, after all, have an understudy in the worst-case scenario. Eva’s mind and heart tugged back and forth on her mouth.

  “I will work harder than anyone you’ve ever worked with,” Eva said solemnly as if taking vows in a holy order.

  As she left the room, seven hours after she’d first entered it, Ambrose walked with her.

  “I’ll buy you a drink,” he said with a smile, “to celebrate.”

  Eva was tempted, he was so extraordinarily good looking and his voice could probably make a room full of women take off their clothes for him, but that was just the problem. Eva realized that if they were going to work together then she had better get her heart out of the way.

  “No,” she sighed using all her willpower. The night air was bracing as they walked into it. “I need to rest this,” she tapped a hand to her throat, “I should be getting home.”

  “Is this because of Tessa?” Ambrose tilted his head.

  “Who?” Eva pretended not to understand though she knew exactly who he was talking about.

  “The girl—in the hall—the one I was kissing?” Ambrose smiled wider the longer Eva pretended not to understand.

  Eva dropped the pretense, “Fine. Yes, it is.”

  Ambrose nodded knowingly.

  “I guess that makes me some sort of prude or something but I don’t care… I would rather not get attached to someone who is not attached to me.” Eva straightened her spine though she felt anything but dignified.

  “That’s fair enough, I guess.” He walked forward with both hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I’m just disappointed.”

  Eva gave him a long glance. “I’m sure it won’t last long,” she said before breaking away into the night.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Eva returned to the East Side and to her apartment, her voice began to leave her again. There was something strange going on and she had to find out what it was.

  Thinking it over Eva first decided to take the subway straight back to the Metropolitan Opera House. Standing outside of the building she waited. Nothing happened. She supposed it was possible that the charm only worked on her voice once she was inside the building.

  Eva paced outside trying to think of the exact circumstances of her voice returning. The only thing that seemed perfectly plain was that Ambrose seemed to be part of the charm. She’d had her voice in his apartment, she had her voice in the opera house the night he’d performed, and she’d had her voice during her audition where he was present and accounted for.

  How was that possible? It had to be some sort of psychological phenomenon, didn’t it?

  Eva walked slowly back to her apartment, her mind moving far too fast to be shut into a subway car.

  That night Eva couldn’t sleep. Her mind was all over the place. Ambrose was finishing his run as Don Juan and rehearsals for the new show wouldn’t begin for three weeks. Eva knew she had to find out exactly what was going on with her voice long before the beginning of the show.

  Eva sat up in her apartment with La Bohème playing softly on her record player. She sipped at a mug of hot chamomile tea and tried to think about something besides her strange problems with her voi
ce and what Ambrose could possibly have to do with it.

  She was still sitting wide awake when the sun rose the next morning. Eva went straight to her shower, cleaned off, changed, and left her apartment. She knew she would have no problem finding Ambrose’s building again. Everything from that night was etched so distinctly in her mind.

  When she arrived on the fourth floor Eva got out of the elevator and took a deep breath. She stared at Ambrose’s door.

  Immediately she hesitated, this probably wasn’t a good idea.

  Maybe, if she just stood outside of his door her voice would do something?

  Eva imagined Ambrose walking out of his apartment to see her staring at his door and humming Puccini. No, she would just think of an excuse.

  She couldn’t find her… her earring, and she thought she left here… she could say it was a family heirloom, something that would warrant an early morning apartment search. Not a great pretext for the early morning visit but not terrible either.

  Pushing her hands against her hips she moved forward and knocked on Ambrose’s door.

  She heard nothing from within so she knocked again with more severity.

  There was a long minute of waiting and Eva was just about to leave when the door opened and Ambrose filled the frame. He was shirtless, just like the first time she’d met him face-to-face. She tried not to look at his strong torso, muscles gleaming in the half-light of the hall.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” Ambrose looked happy enough to see her and his smile made Eva weak. She felt an impulse to fall into his arms, to rip off her clothes and take him right there in the hall.

  “I lost an earring… an important family heirloom.” Her falsified story rushed back to her but saying it out loud made the whole thing sound preposterous. But her voice—though her words might sound preposterous, the voice that said them was clear as a bell. Eva wondered at it. Here he was and there was her voice, greeting him in perfect clear tones.

  “You would like to look on the floor?” he asked. Eva nodded and Ambrose opened the door to her.

  Just as she walked in a woman walked through the hall. Dressed only in an oversized shirt, her hair askew, Eva understood at once that the woman had spent the night. The woman looked Eva over without much interest and continued on her way.

  Eva turned back to the front door.

  “But your earring?” Ambrose asked and Eva knew that her false story had not fooled him. Feeling a burst of indignation at being called out on her fake errand Eva dug in.

  She moved briskly into the music room. She looked briefly at the statue, the music books, the piano, and the ever memorable Persian rug. Her skin glowed hot. She got on her knees and looked around the rug, feeling with her hands, determined that she should not let Ambrose call her out on her ruse.

  “What does it look like?” Ambrose asked as he watched Eva search, he did not offer assistance or try to look himself.

  “A little pearl, a family heirloom,” she repeated the word. Perhaps it was the word heirloom that made her sound false. Eva described an earring that did actually exist but was now safely in her jewelry box at home.

  “Hmm, I haven’t seen anything like that,” he said, as if he found random earrings on his floors all the time. This inflamed Eva all the more. Of course he found stray earrings, and stray panties, hair clips, lipsticks, and probably stray women as well!

  Ambrose sat on a nearby chair. “In fact, I don’t remember you wearing any earrings at all when you were here.”

  Eva felt her face grow pink, “Well I don’t see it.”

  “Perhaps you want to look in the library?”

  Ambrose had just made it to his feet when the woman walked into the room. She was fully dressed now and Eva wondered at her making such quick work of it.

  “I’m meeting some friends for breakfast.” The woman didn’t look at Eva. She was French with an accent that probably made men go wild. Her bronze hair was cropped tight to her head, and her thin frame was not unlike that of the infamous Tessa.

  Ambrose walked the woman to the door and Eva heard a few murmurs then the sound of lips meeting skin. Then the door was closed and Ambrose was back.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?” Eva felt sick.

  “Don’t I?” Ambrose asked easily.

  “What happened to Tessa?” Eva had been turning the name over all night since Ambrose had said it.

  “Cecile is visiting from Paris for a few days on business,” Ambrose said as explanation. Eva waited for more but Ambrose said nothing else about it.

  “You really are…” Eva wanted to put Ambrose in his place but she could tell by the expression on his face that nothing she said would perturb him and would only invigorate her own wrath.

  Eva walked back to the library and again went about her search. This time she really did feel like she was searching for something but she couldn’t say what it was.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Eva turned, she really would have liked some but she could not bear to give him the satisfaction. “No,” she snapped the word then pursed her lips together.

  “I don’t suppose you would mind if I had some?” He turned and left the library and Eva, against her better judgment, followed him.

  “The other night, when those men approached us, you…you…” Eva felt like a little dog yipping at the heels of the postman.

  “I saved your life? You’re grateful? You want to thank me?” Ambrose said without turning around.

  “You were stronger than…than any human I’ve ever seen. Why?” Eva stopped short of running into him when Ambrose began pouring coffee into a mug.

  “Why am I strong?” Ambrose turned to her, his smile not as casual as before.

  “Why are you always so cold to the touch?”

  “Perhaps it is a circulation issue.” He leaned back against the counter, mug in hand.

  “Why do you have a statue of man biting a woman, and a book that says Ambrose Leroy is the Vampire King of the underground?” Eva’s words hung on her mouth and as she looked at Ambrose a horrifying understanding washed over her. She’d known all along hadn’t she?

  “Let me tell you a story,” Ambrose shifted. He turned and poured a second cup of coffee then handed it to Eva, “Sit down.”

  “I don’t want it.” Eva felt her chest heaving and she realized that she was scared. Scared of the story he might tell, scared of what she might already know.

  “Yes you do.” He placed the mug on the counter in front of a seat and Eva found herself sitting down in front of it.

  Eva picked up the mug and took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and brought her mind into sharper focus.

  “You haven’t heard the story line for Luciano’s new opera yet,” Ambrose said.

  “We can talk about that later.” Eva put the mug down again, ready to stand up, ready to run out of the apartment and never return.

  “In the new opera I will be playing the Vampire King. King of the underground—King of the darkness.” Ambrose let his words fall and Eva stayed put. “He has found the perfect woman, a perfect mate. The woman, Lucretia, has an amazing gift, her voice, but she finds she has problems with her voice. She is an innocent, not of the darkness and not of the light, but she is being pursued by dark forces that steal her voice from her, leaving her without her most precious instrument…song.”

  Eva felt her stomach squeeze. Goose bumps rose over her arms and a shiver ran from the base of her spine over her entire body.

  “The creatures that take her voice will also take her life,” Ambrose looked directly into Eva’s eyes. “But she finds that she is safe in the presence of the king. When she is with the King of the darkness her voice is restored and the creatures of death cannot get at her.”

  Eva’s head began to spin, she needed air, she shouldn’t be in Ambrose’s apartment, what was she doing here?

  “How does the story end?” Eva heard her voice, shaky and scared.

  “There are two possib
le endings, she may give over to the creatures who bring her death, or she may be inducted into the world of darkness to sit with her king. She will choose a world of eternal song with the King of the darkness or she will choose to drift into a different darkness, the darkness of death, without song or voice…”

  Eva stood up, the stool she’d been sitting on clattered to the floor but Eva did not turn to pick it up. Her head was full and spinning.

  “I have to go,” Eva walked from the room. In the back of her head she heard Ambrose following her to the door.

  “Let me walk you home,” Ambrose’s hands held Eva’s shoulders.

  Eva pulled away, “No.” She walked out of his front door and stood in the hallway. She could feel Ambrose’s eyes on her back.

  “I’m not sure I want the role of Lucretia anymore,” Eva heard her voice fill the hallway. She did not turn to look at Ambrose. “I’m not sure…” Her thought faded and she walked down the steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

  Chapter Six

  Eva left the building, her body weak, her mind trying desperately to make sense of what she’d just heard.

  It’s an opera, a story, it isn’t real, she told herself. But the sinking feeling, the tightening of her muscles didn’t go away.

  What would the world be like if she weren’t able to sing anymore? People started over every day. Professional athletes lost their ability to perform, artists lost their muse… they survived, didn’t they? Wasn’t that the foundation of the human condition, survival? To take what they were given and make the best of it?

  Every day people were faced with stark realities, every day people had to learn how to live without the possibility of their dreams, why should she be the exception? Eva exhaled a tenuous breath. Who was she kidding? There was nothing else for her.

  Eva stopped walking and sat down on a bench in the park. Without even testing out her voice she knew it was already gone. She could feel the constriction in her throat, the clawing, scratching sensation that climbed nimbly through her vocal chords. If she tried to speak or sing now it would only come out as a frog’s rasp.