29. Pavel
Pavel
T he buzz of chatter minutes before the opening night curtain went up was Pavel’s favorite sound.
In those moments, the whole place was coursing with excitement and potential.
Would this be the night? The night when everything came together in perfect sync?
And would a new star emerge? Especially with an opera as sprawling as Don Giovanni , most folks in the audience were seeing a few new singers.
Perhaps one would be the next Maria Callas, the next Renee Fleming.
Or perhaps they would crash and burn. That was part of the tension as well.
But tonight was different. Pavel was sitting in his typical seat, in a box on the third level, but for the first time, he had his vampire mate by his side. Justin was slotted into the red velvet seat to his left, the vampire’s knee jiggling with nervousness for Sebastian.
He reached down and slid his fingers between Justin’s.
The vampire’s hand was smaller than his, and Pavel loved the feel of holding it.
Justin turned and smiled at him, although there was anxiety in his eyes.
He reached over and moved a single blonde curl out of Justin’s face, tucking it behind his ear.
“He’s going to be wonderful.” Pavel kissed Justin lightly on the cheek and got a hand squeeze in return.
“I know,” Justin whispered. “I just want everyone to love him.”
“How could they not?” Pavel couldn’t help but smile at Justin’s earnestness.
Justin nodded, not answering. Looking over the crowd, Pavel’s heart was full. He had known many singers over the years, of course, but this felt different. This was his mate. Not only that, but Pavel had been mentoring him for months now. His witch was one talented singer.
Pavel’s eyes landed on a shock of dyed blonde hair in the front row.
It was Linda. She was in a blazer once again, this time with some sparkle to it.
She was surrounded on all sides by the members of her Circle.
He wasn’t sure if the whole group had come—a couple must have stayed behind to protect the house—but it was a solid showing.
Linda was a continued mystery to him. She swung like a pendulum between begrudging approval and murderous disdain, and Pavel never knew where she was going to land.
Of course, he hadn’t had to deal with her all that much, but she was his mate’s mother.
She would be in their lives for many years to come.
Thoughts of the Eldest of the Bayonne Circle were chased away with the appearance of Maestra Marques.
Dressed in a simple but elegant floor-length black dress, she was greeted with boisterous cheers.
Some of these patrons had been waiting years for her debut.
She gave them a confident smile, took her place on the podium, and raised her baton.
The overture to Don Giovanni was a well-known piece of music—some might even say overplayed—but it never failed to get Pavel’s heart pumping. The ominous energy of the music pierced the house like a thunderbolt, and from the first dark chord, the audience was in the palm of Maestra Benedita’s hand.
Pavel glanced over at Justin, who leaned forward with wide eyes, enraptured by it all. He practically vibrated with nervous energy. Justin hadn’t seen a production before, and Pavel couldn’t help but love the man as he eagerly bounced in his seat.
Love him? Is that what this was? After three millennia, did he love these men? Yes, they were his mates, but he was still learning who they were.
Still, if it wasn’t love now, it would be soon.
He was falling fast. They’d bulldozed the thick barricades he’d erected around his heart, and love was practically a foregone conclusion.
Before he’d wanted to fade away, to enjoy the stability and peace of a life he fully understood until it came to an end.
Yet all it took was one sweet, wide-eyed glance from Justin, one mischievous smirk from Sebastian, and he was a goner.
Pavel’s heart swelled as the curtain rose, revealing Sebastian alone onstage, clad in vibrant 17th-century clothing, including a glorious red velvet cape with gold embroidery.
Although Leporello was a servant, the costume designer had gone all out with his costume.
Pavel was glad Sebastian’s first performance at the opera house was in a period production.
He loved a modern reinterpretation, but there was something magical about feeling immersed in the Seville of the 1800s.
Then his mate opened his mouth to sing, and Pavel’s heart stopped.
Notte e giorno faticar
Per chi nulla sa gradir
Piova e vento sopportar
Mangiar mal e mal dormir
Voglio far il gentiluomo
E non voglio più servir
No no no no no no
I work all night and day
For a man who appreciates none of it
Putting up with the wind and rain
Eating poorly and sleeping worse
I want to be a gentleman
And I don’t want to serve anymore
It was an innocuous beginning. Nothing particularly impressive in terms of singing. But for Pavel, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Sebastian was made for this.
Glancing at Justin, Pavel caught sight of a single proud tear trickle down the vampire’s pale cheek. God, these two men were everything.
Looking back at the stage, he was soon engrossed in the action.
As operas go, Don Giovanni was one of the more exciting ones.
Plenty of sword-fighting, some seduction, some manipulation, and a ghost!
It didn’t stand the test of time in regard to gender politics, but for music and story, it was one of the best.
Only about half an hour into the opera, it was time for Sebastian’s first big piece of music. The Catalogue Aria. Locking eyes with the veteran soprano playing Donna Anna, Sebastian launched into it with comedic fervor.
Madamina, il catalogo è questo
Delle belle che amò il padron mio;
un catalogo egli è che ho fatt'io;
Osservate, leggete con me.
Madame, this is the catalogue
Of the beauties my master has loved;
I wrote it myself;
Come, let’s read it together.
As Sebastian launched into the absurd numbers of women Don Giovanni had seduced in each country, wearing his trademark smirk, Justin giggled with joy. Pavel couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. This was all so perfect.
Which is when it all fell apart.
From the grid above the stage came a bright flash of white light accompanied by a shower of sparks, and a large black lighting instrument came crashing down toward the stage where Sebastian stood.
He didn’t have time to notice or react to it, but nonetheless Sebastian stumbled slightly, pitching forward and out of the path of the falling fresnel.
Pavel was on his feet in an instant. The only thing saving Sebastian in that moment was an intervention by the witch’s chaos spirits.
And Pavel was certain this was no accident.
It was unthinkable Veronica would attack an opera house full of several thousand patrons, but there was no other explanation.
On stage, Sebastian spun around, clearly thinking the same thing. The witches of Sebastian’s Circle were out of their seats as well, canvassing the front of the stage.
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
The woman’s voice was cold, filled with the simmering rage of a long-nursed grudge. With her words, everything came to a stop. Veronica stepped out onto the stage.
Pavel had never seen his new sister-in-law before, but there was no doubt it was Veronica. She fit the exact description, practically a female version of Sebastian with her long, dark hair and her pale skin. The gargoyle was so focused on her he almost didn’t notice the bigger issue.
No one was moving. No one was running for the exits or calling the police. Everything was silent. How was that possible?
Pavel turned to his mate next to him, who also stared at the frozen people around them. “What is this?” Justin asked.
Pavel shook his head. He didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to?—
“What did you do, Vee?” Sebastian stepped toward his sister but stopped to look back at his unmoving scene partner. “The amount of sacrifice it takes to influence a spirit of time is… It’s unthinkable. You aren’t capable of it. The only living time witch is?—”
“Your father.” The voice was a broken growl, a voice roughed up by years of smoking and drinking.
A figure stepped from the wings and took his place off Veronica’s shoulder.
He didn’t look like a revered and ancient witch.
He looked like an aging hippy, his long, scraggly white beard hanging over his open denim shirt.
“You aligned yourself with him?!” Sebastian was shouting now, and Pavel couldn’t pause any longer. He didn’t know the details, but from Sebastian’s tone, the man was trouble.
“Stay here,” he growled at Justin, before shifting to his gargoyle form and launching himself from the box.
He should have known better. A few feet into the air, and an impact hit him hard, almost scuttling him completely. He flapped his wings desperately to balance himself as he fought to understand what had happened.
Justin had jumped from the balcony and wrapped his arms around Pavel’s waist. The vampire’s fangs were out, and his eyes flashed red.
“Not a chance,” Justin hissed. His grip was as strong as an anaconda’s. Pavel’s mate wasn’t going anywhere. It was awkward and ungainly, but the gargoyle glided down to the stage. Veronica’s eyes narrowed at the sight of them, and she turned to her father.
“How did they break into the frozen moment?”
The old man stared at them for a moment, his brows furrowed. Finally, he turned back to Sebastian.
“You didn’t tell your old dad you got mated? And to a vampire and a gargoyle?”
Pavel and Justin were by Sebastian in a second, flanking him. They belonged by his side. There was no way Pavel would let his mate stand alone.
“Forgive me for not reporting back to you, considering the last time I saw you was the day I broke my finger playing t-ball.”
The old witch shrugged nonchalantly. “I was busy.”