She couldn't believe it! Only three weeks with her talent agent, and Jessica had already landed a part! If that wasn't amazing enough, she had gotten a starring guest spot on a television show that was being filmed in Europe! She'd get to make her television debut and see the other side of the world!
Picking up her suitcase, Jess glanced once more around her large bedroom, making sure she didn't forget anything. Once at the airport, she said a quick good-bye to her parents, then loaded onto the plane. She barely looked up as the flight attendant started the "Welcome to Air-Canada" schpiel, having already taken the yellow script out of her knap-sack and skimming it. Keeping quiet enough to not bother the dozing man beside her, Jess quietly began to rehearse her lines.
"Hello, Uncle Gustav. Nice to see you again. You remember me, don't you? I'm Lisa Townsend. Your niece?"
Jessica dropped her bags in the middle of the airport, tired, annoyed and searching for the stupid sign that her agent had promised would be there to direct her to the right people. Where was it!? Suddenly a fellow with semi-tame graying hair tapped her on the shoulder. "Ms. Dunn?" he just barely managed to ask in a sloppy accent.
"Yes. Who're you?"
"Please come with me." He slurred, ignoring her question and scooping her baggage.
"Hello!" Jess said, even more annoyed. "Who are you?! Where are you going with my stuff?!" Canadians were supposed to be the most polite people in the world, but not having slept for twelve hours, living on airline food for two meals, and having to tolerate the blasé snores of the lard-butt in the seat next to her can really get to a person.
Even a Canadian.
"I refuse to follow you until you let go of my stuff, and tell me who you are!!" Jessica came to a halt as Gray-hair loaded the luggage into a black Mercedes, and opened the door for her, motioning her to enter. "Nuh-uh, buddy. I ain't gettin in until you tell me what's going on!"
"Forgive Andrew, Mademoiselle Dunn." A cultured voice apologized from within the darkness of the car. "He can neither speak well nor hear. I sent him into the terminal to find you. Apparently, he has."
"Damn right! Now, if you can speak, tell me who YOU are."
A tall, elegant looking man stepped out of the vehicle and offered his hand in welcome. "Geordie Johnson."
"Geordie Johnson? You're the guy who plays Lucard, aren't you?" Jessica said, taking his hand and finally realizing what was going on.
There was a short laugh and Geordie said, "Yes. I play Lucard. I was sent here by the studio to welcome you. Unfortunately, the representative was unable to be here, he's taken... ill. So I offered to come in his place. It's nice to finally meet a fellow Canadian in this backward country."
"Oh! You're a Canuck too, eh?"
He laughed again, "Yes, me too. Eh?" Jessica's smile broadened, and they both clambered into the back of the car.
"Listen," she said as the car started to roll away from the curb, "I'm really sorry about all the language, it's just that I've had a really long day and I--"
Geordie cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No need. I understand completely. I was much the same way when I first arrived in Luxembourg too. It's a long and boring flight."
"Well, not too boring. I got all my lines for the first scene memorized."
"Really?" Geordie affected an unusual accent. "Well! Knock me down with a feather!"
"What was that?" Jess asked, a little stunned.
"My accent. Or rather, LUCARD'S accent. His lines too."
"What part of the world is Lucard from?"
Geordie looked at the teenager with wide-eyed amusement. "You don't know?"
"No."
"Lucard is from Transylvania, but he learnt all his English from books, and so speaks oddly. Don't you know the premise of the show? Haven't seen it before?"
"No. I don't even remember it's name."
"No? It's 'Dracula: The Series'."
"What? You're pulling my leg, right?"
Geordie shook his head. "I'm not. I swear. It's based on the idea that Dracula survived the deadly assault at the Borgo pass, and is now attempting to - ahem- take over the world through business."
Jessica's chocolate-coloured eyes got wide with disbelief, and she erupted into peals of laughter. "Oh, my! How, well, uh, corny! I can't believe I'm doing this!"
"Doing what?"
"Well, being a part of this. You have a large fan following, I suppose."
"Oh, yes. And lots of Internet homepages and webapages too. Even some fanfiction."
"Well. I guess that makes it easier on the writers, huh? If I were them, I'd just 'borrow' somebody's idea."
"I don't think that's allowed." There was a teasing light in his eye.
There was a moment of silence, and Jessica broke it by asking, "So how'd you end up out here? I mean, how'd you land the role of the infamous Count Dracula?" She tried, unsuccessfully, to imitate his earlier accent.
"Oh," Geordie said, blushing modestly, "I actually came up the idea myself, well actually, a few friends helped too. But it only seemed fair that I get to play the character I invented. And I had experience with the character too, on stage, I mean." He hastily added.
"You?"
"Yes. We were sitting around one night thinking, 'what if...?'. Well, there were a lot of 'what ifs', but my friends seemed to like my idea that Dracula might not have died after all. If you think about it, I'm pretty sure he didn't. Harker used a metal sword to impale the Count, not a wooden stake, so that wouldn't have killed him. Anyway, one of my friends is an executive with a television company, and he suggested my idea at their next board meeting. And, well.... here we are."
"Yes," Jessica half-grinned, "Here we are."
"No." Geordie looked serious, and gestured to the window. "I mean. . . here we are. At your hotel."
"Oh!" Jess looked out the window at the magnificent plaza before her. "Uh, thanks for the ride, sir." She began to exit the vehicle as gray-hair Andrew held open the door for her, then proceeded to unload her luggage.
Geordie came around to her side of the car, and, taking her elbow, purred in that accent again, "My dear, allow me to escort you inside."
"Whatever you wish, M'sieur Lucard." Jessica allowed, playing along.
Half way into the lobby, Geordie stopped and stooped over her in the manner of a hungry vampire. "And," he purred, "What if I wish to drain you dry?"
"Well, I'd do this." Jess dug into her sweater and pulled out her grandmother's blessed crucifix medallion.
Without warning, Geordie dropped her and hastily retreated a few steps.
"Yowch!" Jessica complained, standing and rubbing her bruised rump, "What was that for?"
"N-nothing. J-just practicing, you know." He managed to stammer.
"Yeah, well, next time you want to practice, warn me first, eh?" She smiled.
"Yes, yes..." He seemed lost in thought.
"Listen, Mr. Johnson? Thanks again." she said, taking the key Andrew offered and followed the bellhop to the elevator.
"Ms. Dunn, wait!" Geordie called after her, and she turned around. He approached and bent to kiss her hand. "Please," he purred in the strange accent, "Call me Dracula."
He flashed an inciting smile, and Jess smiled back, then entered the waiting lift.
As soon as the metal door closed before her, Geordie took his head in his hands, wishing to heaven that the headache caused by that stupid bit of twisted metal would go away.
The wild-haired zombie helped him back into the Mercedes, and he checked his wind-swept hair in one of the rear-view mirrors before getting in, silently blessing Bram for getting the bit about vampires not having reflections wrong. If he didn't cast an image, 'twould be much more difficult to survive in this hostile world than it already was.
"Andrew," he called up to the driver, dropping the fake Canadian accent as soon as they began to roll away from the curb, "Patch the phone through to my office."
He then picked up the receiver and began to make demands into the mouth piece. "Yes, yes. She's very pleasent, very smart. I like her very much, you made a good choice. Yes. I think I'll keep her. Yes. I want all the scenes she's in shot first. That way she won't be on the set afterwards, causing trouble." He paused, "Yes. And I want a standing invitation to her hotel room. Yes. And for the love of Hell, some one get rid of that cross she's got! How am I supposed to get near her when she's wearing it?! Yes... No! I don't care! Have someone in wardrobe 'misplace' it! It doesn't matter!! Just get rid of it."