Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) (10 page)

“
What were you thinking, Viggo?” I
mumbled, standing in front of a full–length mirror in my room,
studying the clingy green satin dress. Pivoting slightly, I watched
as the satin separated to reveal my upper thigh. As if that weren’t
risqué enough, the dress was completely backless, exposing my pale
white skin. A
lot
of pale white skin, all the more obvious
next to the vibrant jade hue of the dress.

That color … it brought me back to Caden’s
piercing jade eyes. I closed my eyes then, trying to recall the
intensity of them, the way my skin tingled under their gaze. How
vulnerable I’d felt with his tall, muscular body towering over me.
If only he were real.

Silly girl
. I gave my head a shake
back to reality and took one last long look at myself. The plunging
neckline left little to the imagination but at least it served as
the ideal frame for my pendant. Grabbing a white fur stole, I
headed out the door.

The trip down the long hall gave me ample
opportunity to improve my walking skills in the matching jade
three–inch heels. Realizing that walking in these things was a
hundred times harder than it looked—and it looked impossible—I
settled on trying not to look like a gorilla on stilts as I made my
way to the atrium.

Sofie was waiting for me in a black strapless
evening dress. I couldn’t help gawking as she glided ghost–like
toward me, the soft layers of chiffon swaying with her movements,
looking every bit the actress on a red carpet. “You look like …”
Sofie began before dropping off. “Someone I knew,” she finished
with a wistful smile, her eyes twinkling as she reached out to
me.

“
Now that’s how a woman of your
natural beauty ought to dress,” Viggo called. Blushing, I turned to
see him skipping down the steps two at a time, clad in a black
tuxedo. “Sofie,” he acknowledged with a nod and a smile, which she
returned. I guessed they had reconciled. “Shall we?” Viggo said,
offering his arm. I accepted, giggling shyly.

“
Where’s Mortimer?” I asked
tentatively as we walked through the garden.

“
Oh, he has a previous engagement so
it’ll just be us three,” Viggo answered, smiling.

My shoulders dropped in relief. I didn’t know
why, but I was nervous around Viggo’s somber partner. Viggo was
just so much more easygoing and friendly.

We reached the other side of the garden to find
Leonardo holding open the door of a Rolls Royce. He inclined his
head. “Miss Evangeline.”

“
Thank you.” I slid awkwardly into
the car, trying to keep all the slits and gaps of my dress in
place. Viggo and Sofie took a seat on either side of me,
sandwiching me in the middle. In seconds we were pulling into the
exit tunnel, passing Max and the other dogs sitting on their
haunches, guarding their fortress.

“
Seriously?” I exclaimed in a rare
burst of childlike gaiety as the Rolls pulled up to the curb in
front of the theater.

Viggo laughed as he slipped out of the car in
one fluid motion, then offered me his hand. Even Sofie’s smile
looked giddy in response to my reaction.

“
Romeo and Juliet
was my
mother’s favorite story,” I said, gazing up at the marquee. In
truth, it had been a staple in my bedtime routine, growing up. My
mother, the hopeless romantic, referred to it as a fairy tale. It
wasn’t until years later that I learned fairy tales didn’t usually
end with the main characters dying.

“
Then you’re in for a treat,” Viggo
said as we walked toward heavy, ornately carved bronze
doors.

“
You look like a hunchback. Stop
skulking and stand up straight,” Sofie murmured, looping her arm in
mine.

Viggo immediately grabbed the other one,
pulling me closer to him. Sofie tightened her grip. I was beginning
to feel like the rope in a tug–of–war as we made our way into the
lavishly decorated theater.

The lobby was vacant.

“
We’re late!” I cried.

“
Impossible.” Viggo smiled, winking
mysteriously.

A lanky usher dressed in an intricately beaded
suit appeared to personally guide us to our seats, a box near the
stage.

“
So this is what a theater looks
like,” I murmured, taking in the splendid green, blue, and gold
decor. Five levels of box seats adorned with fleur–des–lis and
gold–plated cherubs wrapped three walls of the theater, overlooking
a deep orchestra pit and floor seating before a curtained stage. I
looked up to see a giant mural painted in vibrant hues on the
ceiling.

“
If you ever have the chance, visit
the Theatre of the Estates in Prague. This place was designed with
it in mind,” Viggo said.

If I ever get to visit Europe,
I
thought wistfully, but I kept quiet. I’d likely be on the jet there
tomorrow if I sounded at all deprived.

The lights dimmed as soon as we sat down,
indicating that the show was about to begin. It was as if they had
waited for our arrival. The audience hushed as the conductor stood,
baton raised. He was so close—close enough that I could poke him
with a stick if I wanted to!

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. This was
my first
real
play in a
real
theater with
real
actors. I fanned through the pages of the program,
curious who the actors were, expecting not to recognize any names.
And I didn’t, except for one. It jumped out immediately—the
producer.

Viggo. No last name. Just Viggo.

“
Is this … you?” I asked, pointing
out the name.

He chuckled. “I like to dabble in the arts.
This theme holds a special place in my … heart.”

“
What exactly does ‘producer’
mean?”

“
It means he told somebody what he
wanted and threw obscene amounts of money at them to do it,” Sofie
replied cynically. “He’s good at that.”

Viggo chuckled but I thought I sensed contempt.
“I built this theater and I wrote the play.”

My eyes widened in amazement.
He’s a lawyer
and a playwright!

The curtain parted, and the heart–wrenching
story of Romeo and Juliet, the star–crossed lovers, doomed from the
beginning by their opposing family ties, began as I remembered. The
actors sobbed and moaned dramatically. The orchestra played soft
music with perfectly balanced undertones of melancholy and longing.
It was exactly as I had always pictured the story in my head. Right
up until Juliet, traveling along a wooded trail alone at night for
some unknown reason, was dragged out of her coach and bitten in the
neck by a male attacker.

“
I don’t remember this part,” I
whispered, my brow furrowing.

Both Viggo and Sofie burst out laughing,
earning a hush from the woman in the box next to us. “Sorry,” Sofie
offered politely. She tapped the program where it said “an
adaptation.”

“
Oh … that’s what that meant,” I
mumbled.

They laughed again, receiving another warning
in the form of a sharp hiss from the same woman. Sofie turned to
regard her. I couldn’t see her face but whatever look she gave must
have had the desired effect, because the woman shrank into her
seat, practically disappearing from view for the rest of the show.
I was beginning to see another side to Sofie’s reserved, charming
demeanor.

From there, the play took on a much darker,
more seductive tone. Juliet, now a vampire, was torn between her
absolute love for Romeo and her newfound urge to kill him whenever
he was near. Romeo longed to join her in the world of the undead
but because of a curse was unable. The story was full of scheming,
supernatural strength and mind–bending tricks and, by the end of
the play, their feuding families were the least of their problems.
The story finished with Juliet accidently killing Romeo and then
jumping into a fire to end her eternal misery.

“
So, how did you like it?” Viggo
asked, stretching out in the car on our way home.

“
Amazing. Disturbing. Heartbreaking.
An interesting ‘adaptation.’ Bravo, Viggo!” I ended with a
scholarly clap, giggling. “How did you come up with the
idea?”

“
Oh, I have a deep fascination with
vampires. They’re such misunderstood creatures, don’t you agree?”
he said, his voice somber.

I paused. “Well, I doubt they’d be like that …
you know, beautiful and emotional. Aren’t they supposed to be evil,
blood–crazy creatures with stained, dirty nails and vile breath?
You know—bats and coffins?”

“
What a terrible misconception,”
Viggo said, shaking his head furiously, his brow furrowed. “In my
opinion,” he added.

“
But they kill people; we’re like
giant drinking boxes.”

“
Well, they need to survive! I don’t
suppose pigs and cows look too fondly at humans. It’s the same
thing! A little earlier in the food preparation process perhaps,”
Viggo rationalized.

“
Hmm.” He had a point, I
guess.

“
And imagine what it would be like
to have heightened senses and super–human strength.”

“
That would be pretty cool,” I
agreed. “What do you think, Sofie?”

She hadn’t joined in the conversation, instead
gazing listlessly out at the streetlights. “It would be lonely,”
she answered now, her voice flat. “Everyone around you dies and you
live forever.”

“
Well, that’s why you’d turn those
you loved, so you could be with them. Right?” I said.

Sofie turned to give me a tight–lipped smile.
“It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?”

“
Unless you can’t turn them for some
reason,” Viggo added, sadness dragging at his features. “Because of
a curse.”

“
Right … and then all the super
powers wouldn’t change the reality that you’re the loneliest
creature in the world,” I whispered. “That would be
awful.”

Viggo’s mouth curved up in a half–smile and he
patted my hand affectionately. “Yes, it would. No one deserves to
live like that, don’t you agree? So lonely?”

I nodded, thinking about my own solitary
existence.
Am I that obvious?

Sofie turned back to gaze out her side window.
The rest of the car ride was silent.

It was close to midnight by the time I
staggered to my room, Max on my heels. I sluggishly kicked off my
heels and flopped onto the bed, exhausted from a day of decadence.
Even with all the fighting between Sofie and her friends, I could
easily get used to living my days in their world.