Commedia della Morte: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain (St. Germain)

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9780765331045: Commedia della Morte: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain (St. Germain)
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Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's modern classic, Hotel Transylvania, introduced the Count Saint-Germain and his beloved, Madelaine de Montalia. The Count is one of the most critically acclaimed vampire characters ever created, with dedicated fans who have followed his adventures through more than twenty novels, dozens of short stories, and thousands of years of human history. But of all the women the Count has loved, the most popular is the beautiful, ever-youthful Madelaine.

In Commedia della Morte, Saint-Germain learns that Madelaine―now a vampire―has been arrested by France's Revolutionary Tribunal and is soon to lose her head. Desperate to rescue her, the Count sneaks into France with a troupe of actors led by the glamorous Photine, who soon becomes Saint-Germain's mistress. Photine's teenage son, driven by jealousy and revolutionary fervor, betrays the Count. Now Saint-Germain's life, as well as Madelaine's, hangs in the balance, in this darkly romantic historical vampire novel.

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About the Author:

CHELSEA QUINN YARBRO has been nominated for the Edgar, the World Fantasy, and the Bram Stoker Awards. She has been named a Grand Master of the World Horror Convention and a Living Legend by the International Horror Guild. Author of many novels of horror, dark fantasy, mystery, and more, Yarbro lives in Berkeley, California.

Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

1
 

“I need you to do this for me. If you don’t leave in the morning, the opportunity will be lost, and neither of us will be secure here,” Madelaine de Montalia said to Theron Heurer with growing emotion; she made herself speak softly in case one of the newly arrived Revolutionary Guards was listening outside the door. “Go while the safe conduct is valid. If you wait—”
“But I don’t want to leave you—because those damned Revolutionary Guards are here. I don’t like the look of them. Worse than gutter-scum. Those men are beasts!” Theron folded his arms and glared at Madelaine de Montalia to keep from revealing the level of dread he felt on her behalf.
“I’ve dealt with worse.” Madelaine had a sharp, unpleasant memory of the cellars beneath Hotel Transylvania and Saint Sebastien’s coven, half a century ago; she shook her head as much to banish the recollection as to dismiss his worries. “You have to go.”
“But wouldn’t you rather have me here?”
“Yes, if that were my only concern for my safety. But I’m only safe for as long as I can be sure of loyal friends. Whomelse can I trust with this errand but you? And what will the Revolutionary Courts demand of me next? This has to be done quickly or it may be too late.” She paced the floor in the salon des fenetres, her soft-violet silken skirts clinging to her body as she moved, the golden summer light making the room glow; where it touched her coffee-colored hair, it added an aureate sheen. It was a bit too warm for comfort but not hot enough to be miserable. “I would feel less worried if I knew you were out of France.”
“And I would feel worse, if I abandoned you, especially to the chaos of the Courts,” Theron declared staunchly but not loudly. He was tall and well-built, with light-brown hair and a lively countenance. At twenty-four he thought of himself as both a poet and a man of the world, in a position to advise this young, lovely creature who had welcomed him into her elegant life and her bed.
“I have to get word to Saint-Germain somehow,” she told him in a serene tone, but there was something in her violet eyes that was adamant.
“Send Bescart. He’s Swiss. They’ll let him cross the border.” His face was flushed and his eyes shone as he regarded her.
“Bescart is planning to leave tomorrow, with his wife and children. Why should he do this for me?” She waited for him to answer, and when he did not, she tossed her head, making the little curls around her face dance. “He might say he will do as I ask, but I doubt he will actually do it.”
“He’s been loyal so far.”
“Oh, yes. But things have changed, and his loyalty is with the Revolution now, or so he tells me. He says he bears me no ill-will, but that his cause must be with his people. He supports the Revolution, not the Old Order, though he says I have been good to him and his. Some of the others feel as he does, and who can blame them?” She sank down on the chaise in the bow of the windows that gave the room its name. “If you won’t take a message to Saint-Germain for me, I don’t know who will.”
“Are you so certain that he’ll help you?” He hesitated, then went on, “Do you know that he can do it?”
“Oh, yes, on both points,” said Madelaine. “He and I are blood relatives. He will help me. He has done so in the past.”
“Not during a revolution,” Theron said, determined to make his point.
“That doesn’t matter.” She held out her hands to Theron. “And dear as you are, you can’t achieve the results that he can. He has ... skills that you and I lack in these matters. Not all my fortune and all your family’s wealth could pay bribes enough to get me free now that the Revolutionary Tribunal has its hooks in me.”
Theron held back from her. “But this Saint-Germain can?” He sounded incredulous.
“If it takes bribes, yes. He has a great deal of money. But he has other means at his disposal as well, and those are what I rely upon.” She took his hands in hers.
“So have I, if it comes to that,” said Theron.
“Not as he does.” She drew him toward her, smiling at him in a most tantalizing way. “I’ll order a horse, a remount, and a mule for you tomorrow morning, and I will have Gigot prepare a basket of food and drink for you. I know there is a tent you may take, and a bedroll. And a sack of oats for your animals.”
“But I haven’t said—”
“Stay at inns, not monasteries, while you travel. You know what they’re doing to clerics.” She frowned slightly. “Be careful of others on the road.”
“If I agree to go, I’ll bear all this in mind.” He studied her face. “You’re serious about this Saint-Germain, aren’t you?”
“Deadly serious.”
“You say this man is in Padova?” His expression had softened.
“He is presently connected to the Universita, and he has a business in Venezia. He goes by Conte da San-Germain in Padova.” She knew that Saint-Germain had both a publishing and a trading company, but decided not to complicate her persuasion with unnecessary information. “I will provide you with directions.”
“A professor of some sort, then, is he?” Theron regarded her with undisguised dubiety.
“Among other things, yes. He has been about the world a great deal.”
“Then I take it he isn’t a young man,” said Theron with a look of ill-concealed hope lighting his face.
“No, he’s not,” she replied, coaxing him down beside her. “I think you will like him, once you cease to be jealous.”
He stared at her, shocked. “Jealous? I? Of him?”
“It is certainly in accord with your demeanor,” she said lightly, teasing him. “You may discover that he likes your poetry enough to publish it. You must take some of your best work to him. You can conceal my letter to him among your poems.” Her smile faded. “He has a publishing company in Venezia, and he often receives manuscripts of all sorts; no one will think anything of you giving him your poems.” The publishing company was, as she knew, one of several, but she kept that to herself.
“I haven’t said I’d go yet,” he reminded her.
“But you will, won’t you? For me?”
“I will consider it,” he conceded.
“Excellent.” Her kiss was lingering and evocative, sweetly languorous; she wound her arms around him, feeling his arousal against her thigh. She leaned into him, guiding his hand to the swell of her breast. “I knew I could depend on you.” She kissed him again, with more fervor than before.
After a long, delicious silence he pulled away. “If you insist, I suppose I can go.”
Madelaine kept hold of him. “Thank you.”
“Not just because you kissed me,” he said flatly.
“Of course not,” she said. “You have begun to realize that my request is sensible for the both of us.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I don’t like leaving you.” He continued to caress her through the silk of her high bodice.
“Nor I you, but that is out of our hands now.” She sighed, and let go of him. “Later. When we can be truly alone.” With a regretful chuckle she got to her feet. “And speaking of matters out of my hands, I must see Gigot to arrange a meal for the Guards.”
“Let Bescart handle it,” Theron suggested.
“He’s packing. Besides, he’d let Gigot feed them swill, and that would do me no good.” Her smile was wan.
“Will feeding the Guards well help?” Theron asked.
“It might.” She glanced toward the door. “And I must take care to do all that I can to treat them respectfully.”
“Why?”
“Because, cher Theron, they can make my detention pleasant or difficult, and I would rather it be as pleasant as possible. Not slighting them should have a better result than treating them like barbarians, since they are as much spies as guards.” She took a deep breath. “And to that end, when we dine tonight, we must argue. Nothing vile, but forceful, so that you may wash your hands of me. If you wish to express regret, do so, but make it clear that you and I have reached an impasse. That way, no one will wonder at your departure. Unless they see some disagreement, they will suspect a ruse, and that won’t suit our purpose.”
“I don’t want to argue with you,” said Theron anxiously.
“Still, it would be better that you do it. I don’t want you to be detained.”
“They won’t detain me,” he said with more bravado than conviction.
“No, they won’t—not if you’re in Padova.” She went the length of the room, her face set in determined lines. “These Revolutionaries are hungry for blood, and they will not be easily sated. All through the country, the National Razor is busy shaving heads at the neck. I would prefer they spare me mine.” Her irony was too strong for Theron, who did his best not to look shocked at her bitter humor.
“If I decide to do this for you, I would like a very wondrous farewell tonight,” he said, reaching out for her again.
“That you shall have, no matter what you decide,” she promised.
His voice dropped to a kind of purr. “I’ll think of every way to please you, and you will use your sorcery on me.”
She evaded his embrace. “Yes. Tonight. Not just now with the Guards outside the d...

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