My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires (21 page)

Max said, “
Scheisse
. She was the only one who could whip the brats into performing shape. I guess my chances of winning the Gala rest on the shoulders of Glockenspiel the Clown.”

The Captain said, “And my chances of love rest on the shoulders of…”

The Baroness said, “
Me
!” She downed all three glasses of champagne, then ran across the room, took the Captain’s hand, and said, “Join me in bed, Georg. I believe it’s high time we sowed some more of your seed.”

As was always the case, Georg couldn’t resist.

After yet another bout of satisfying seed-sowing that shall not be described here—because let’s be honest, how many seed-sowing scenes does one really need?—the Captain tottered back downstairs and fixed himself a drink. And then another. And then another. With each minute that passed, he became drunker and sadder, and this cycle of seed-sowing and drinking went on for a week after the Governess’s departure.

This was arguably the Captain’s longest, most intense sex-and-booze bender to date, although some von Trapp aficionados would claim that the March, 1935, alcohol-and-
fick
onslaught was worse. Depressed about his lack of female attention, the Captain spent a week having only liquid breakfasts, liquid lunches, liquid dinners, and liquid ladies of the night. The only thing that enabled him to (sort of) function was that he didn’t mix his drinks—it was an all-gin-and-prostitute rampage.

The post-Maria drinking festival, conversely, was a mix-and-match affair. The Captain enjoyed whatever booze or babe he could get his hands on: Gin, Baroness, lager, champagne, hooker, lager, Baroness, scotch, lager, vermouth, Baroness, hooker, hooker, lager, red wine, lager, white wine, hooker, Baroness, hooker, lager, lager, and lager. (The explanation for all the lager? The Captain believed that the heaviness of the drink matched the heaviness of his heart.) This all led to epic hangovers, which led to epic headaches, which led to more drinking, which led to more epic hangovers, et cetera.

On the eighth day after Maria’s departure, von Trapp, Max, and the Baroness sat on the veranda overlooking the lake, Elsa and Detweiler sipping some smoothies, the Captain drooling into a tumbler filled with a mixture of gin, scotch, vermouth, and goat’s milk. The children were nearby, playing some sort of ball game that involved a lot of bouncing and counting, and each bounce and subsequent utterance was like a chisel in the center of the Captain’s brain. He roared,
“Brats, can you please take that to the other side of the house?”

“Sorry, Father,” Friedrich said. “The lay of the land by the water is more conducive to our game.” Then, whispering, he added, “Plus if the ball gets away from us, there’s always the chance we can knock the Baroness’s skull into the lake.”

“What was that son?”

“I said, um, if you all come and play with us, there’s always the chance we can dock the Baroness’s hull in the lake!”

The Baroness turned to the Captain and said, “Tell that brat I don’t have a boat, Georg.”

Louisa then wound up and whipped the ball at the Baroness’s head. Kurt yelled, “Think fast, Schrader!”

Schrader thought fast. But not fast enough.

It turned out that Louisa had not only magnificent aim, but an arm with a whip action similar to that of American baseball legend Cy Young, which enabled her to hurl a ball at 61 kilometers per hour with pinpoint accuracy. Had a baseball talent scout seen what Louisa could do with the ol’ horsehide, he would have signed her in a heartbeat. (If Max Detweiler had more than half a brain, he would have made Louisa a solo entrant for the Graz Gala of Gaiety.) Long story short, Louisa von Trapp nailed Baroness Elsa Schrader right in the side of her noggin.

Succubi’s heads are as hard as diamonds, so the Baroness was more thrown by the surprise of the blow than the blow itself. After rubbing her temple to make certain everything was where it was supposed to be, she picked up the ball and yelled, “This looks like fun, kids! May I join in?”

In unison, the brats said, “No!
Fick
off!”

She turned at the Captain and said, “Georg, are you going to let your children use that sort of language?”

The now-unconscious Captain didn’t answer.

The Baroness shook her head and told Max, “Keep an eye on Georg. Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own sick. I’m going to show these brats who’s the
real
ballplayer in this house.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Elsa?” Max asked.

“No. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think it’s a
great
idea.”

“Do you not recall the performance after the puppet show last week? They’re a, shall we say,
talented
bunch. The kind of talent that even the likes of you can’t compete with.”

With a dismissive wave, the Baroness said, “I have age and experience on my side.”

“If you say so.”

Farta called, “Are you going to give us our ball back, Baroness?”

“Not only am I going to return your ball, but I’m going to join the game.”

The children all groaned. “We already told you to
fick
off.” Brigitta said.

“I will not
fick
off. Trust me, this’ll be fun.”

Liesl nodded thoughtfully, then said to her siblings, “You know what? I think she’s correct. I think it
will
be fun. Baroness, please throw me the ball.”

Elsa wound up and awkwardly tossed the sphere across the lawn. She got some giddy-up on the ball—she
was
otherworldly, after all, and what she lacked in technique, she made up for in sheer strength—and had it smacked an unsuspecting mortal on the side of the head, it would have caused significant damage. But Liesl was a Vampire, with Vampire strength, Vampire quickness, and Vampire cunning, so she knew where the Baroness was going to throw the ball before the ball even left the Baroness’s hand. All of which was why Liesl was able to, in a single, blurry-fast motion, catch the ball with one hand then heave it back toward the Baroness, who never saw it coming.

KLONK
!

The blood jetted from the Baroness’s broken nose in a single stream, and the kids all ran toward it as if it were a sprinkler on a hot summer day, mouths open, tongues a-wagging. They drank—or ate, depending on how one looks at it—every drop of the Baroness’s hemoglobin, including those drops that fell onto the lawn. Benevolent Vampires, the brats shared with one another, and by the time the Baroness got the bleeding under control, all seven were equally sated.

Her white dress splattered red, the Baroness sat down beside Max, who stared off at the lake and said, “Ah, the country is so restful this time of year.” He pushed a glass toward her. “Here, have another smoothie. Fresh mango. Yummy, yummy, yummy.”

She knocked the glass off the table. Even when it shattered loudly on the floor of the veranda, the Captain didn’t stir. The Baroness said, “There must be an easier way to make this one big, happy family. I can see it Max: Me, Georg, the kids, happy, rich, and ruling the world.”

“The thought of you being their mother is hi-
fickin
-larious.” Max smiled beatifically. “Elsa Schrader taking care of seven angry Vampire brats. I
love
it. How do you plan to raise these kids by yourself?”

“Two words: Boarding school. They’ll leave in September and return in June. I can handle them for three months out of the year.”

Max shook his head. “As demonstrated just now, you can’t even handle them for three
minutes
out of the
day
. Besides, Georg would never let you send them away, not now that they’re incrementally nicer than they have ever been. Face it, Elsa: You can be your most devious self, but if you manage to get Georg to marry you, those brats are yours.”

All five of the von Trapp girls wandered over. Brigitta asked, “Uncle Max, when do you think Father will regain consciousness?”

Max leaned over his friend, said, “Now,” then backhanded him across his right cheek.

The Captain popped up, blinked, and got a gander of Elsa’s swollen nose. “What the
Hölle
happened to you?”

Pointing at the kids, she said, “
Them
. They happened to me.”

“Hmm,” he hmm’d with a tiny smile, then took the smoothie from the Baroness and asked, “What is this?” He sniffed at the drink and made a disgusted face. “It smells spoilt.”

“That,” the Baroness said, “is because your nose is out of whack, as the only thing you have smelled this week is libations. This is a smoothie, with real fruit in it. So drink it up, because you’ll need your strength for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” he asked.

She cleared her throat and hocked up some red and yellow sputum, then wiped some drying blood from her upper lip and said, “You and me. Alone together. In your bedroom. With candles. And I have a new item of clothing I think you’ll enjoy.” And then she spat again.

He looked at the two globs of mucus on the ground and curled his upper lip in disgust. “I think I’ll take the night off, Elsa.”

Brigitta repeated, “Father, I don’t think our Governess is coming back.”

Still staring at the Baroness’s gloppy discharge, “What, you mean McMillan?”

“Maria.”

“Right. Maria.” He gave his daughter a sad, sad look, and said, “Yes, I suppose it’s true, yes. She shall not return.”

Brigitta said, “I can’t believe it, Father. Why would she go?”

The Baroness said, “Can we stop talking about her? She bores me.”

Louisa said, “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Can we stop talking about her?” the Baroness repeated. “She bores me.”

“She did in her letter,” the Captain said.

“What letter?” Farta asked.

“There was no letter,”
the Baroness screeched,
“Now can we stop talking about her? She bores me.”

“She wrote something about climbing every mountain, and teaching Friedrich about
doeraydoeraydoeraydoeray
…”

Liesl said, “Gross.”

“… and that we would know where to find her.”

“Alright,” the Baroness said, “now that that’s out of the way, CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT HER! SHE BORES ME!”

Gretl said, “I have a question, Father. Who will take care of us now?”

The Captain ran his hand over his mouth, and said, “Well, darling, you’re not going to have a minder…”

“Thank
Gott,
” Louisa said.

“… but you’ll have a new munder. Er, I mean
mother
.”

“We will?” Liesl asked.

“We will?” Friedrich asked.

“They will?” the Baroness asked.

The Captain draped his arm over Elsa’s shoulders. “Yes, darling, they will. You’ve made it clear that you want to be married to me, and I don’t think I’ll be able to do any better than you…”

“Gosh, thanks.”

“… so what the
Hölle
, let’s tie the knot.”

The Baroness pumped her fist and shouted, “
Yes
! That’s what I’m
talkin’
’bout! In your
face
, Lillith! How ya like me
now
, bitches?!” Then she cleared her throat and calmly said, “It would be my honor, Captain Georg von Trapp, to be your wife. Forever. And ever. And ever. Until the end of time.”

Hearing the commotion, Friedrich and Kurt wandered over. Friedrich asked, “What happened here?”

Louisa told him, “Father and the Baroness are getting married.”

“Oh,” Friedrich said, then, unmoving and unblinking, stared at the Baroness. She met the boy’s gaze, but could only hold it for a few seconds.

She surveyed the brats—all were staring at her, unmoving and unblinking. “So,” she said almost nervously, “how does a girl go about getting some welcome-to-the-family hugs around here?”

In unison, the von Trapp children hissed at the Succubus, turned on their heels, and walked down the driveway and out the front gate.

After they were out of sight, the Captain turned to Elsa and Max, and said, “Well, I think that went smashingly. Who wants a drink?” And then he passed out.

CHAPTER 8

I
N THE MIDST
of putting together a Power Point presentation to use as a recruitment tool, Mother Zombie was jolted from her reverie by a sharp noise from the Abbey’s entrance. Irked, she began a long shuffle to the Abbey’s front gate; when she finally arrived some thirty minutes later, the Abbey’s overseer asked Zombie Sister Cinnamon, “What was all the brouhaha?”

“Well, these seven brats—actually, it was six brats, and one pompous, snotty, pretentious girl twerp—wanted to visit everybody’s favorite flibbertijibbet.”

“Speaking of which,” Mother Zombie said, “Bring her to me.”

Thirty-six minutes later, Maria was sitting in front of Mother Zombie’s desk, wearing her favorite black cat suit, rubbing her head. “Mother, why did Cinnamon pull me in here by my roots? All she had to do was tell me you had summoned me and I’d have rushed over. What’s it with you Zombies and all the unnecessary violence?”

“Never mind that. Tell me why you have returned. If it’s for a good reason, I shall let you stay. If it’s for a bad reason, well, there are plenty of families looking for Governesses. Why were you brought back to us?”

“I wasn’t brought back, Mother Zombie. I left of my own accord.”

“Why?”

“I was scared.”

“You?
Scared
?! You’re a Vampire! What do you have to fear, except for a stake to the heart?”

Maria said, “I don’t know how many times this has to be reiterated to the reader, but this stake to the heart business is malarkey. Everybody knows the only thing that can kill a Vampire is…”

No longer laughing, Mother Zombie said, “
Shh
. I hate Vampires as much as the next Zombie does, but if the world finds out how easy it is to stop you, your kind will be extinct in a matter of weeks … and that will end Stephenie Meyer’s career before it even starts.”

“Who’s Stephenie Meyer? And why does she spell Stephanie as Stephenie?”

“Never mind. Tell me what you were frightened of.”