At his request, I allowed the vampire Devlin Dalcon to be the one to introduce my newest vampire work, Night Music. A large thank you to him for this, and for always being an inspiration to me. - Tara Fox Hall
The first sweet notes rise in the air. Anticipation blossoms into pure satisfaction. Everything you have ever hoped for, everything you ever longed for cascades over you, washing away all that was, replacing it with new possibilities of a new beginning. There is nothing but this moment, where everything is deliciously right, everything is faultless. All you ever wanted and needed lies in the crystal clear notes breaking over you, enfolding you in sweet perfection. This is truth, this is pure emotion, beyond what any words could ever convey. You are captive, motionless under its sway until the last echoing notes fade away and are lost to silence.
Is it any wonder that music is often used to woo the reluctant partner, or seduce the innocent lover-to-be? Not to me, who has used them for centuries, along with my many other wiles. But I am as much captive as captor in my love for music. It is emotion in its purest form. The closest parallel is the act of love itself, that joining of imperfect flesh that creates its own perfect music. Sadly, the act of serenading a lover has fallen to the wayside in this new age of Internet and email. So I penned this short entreaty to draw your attention to a short tale of romance, aptly titled Night Music. It is a true story, a recounting of one of my acquaintances, a fellow vampire by the name of David, and the woman he discovered quite by accident, when he stopped for the night on his way to pay his respects to me.
The lovely Krystin was in perfect condition to be seduced. She had come to a romantic park on vacation, hoping that memories of her past would inspire her life in a new direction. She found that and more, when she awoke in the night to the strains of haunting music echoing though the night air, caressing her bare skin like a lover. It was a given she would seek out David, who had no idea she had heard his late night practice session. Their attraction when they met was immediate, their chemistry undeniable. Yet in his modesty and veracity, David did not press his advantage—foolish, in my opinion. He denied the music was his at all. Lucky for him, Krystin was a woman very capable of pursuing him, and did so, cornering him, and forcing him to open up to her about not just his music, but himself. Ah, I should have loved to watch them consummate their budding love that night, to hear those soft sighs of pleasure found, and smell the enticing scent of lovemaking. The symphony they played together was undoubtedly original, and moving. Alas, that I was not there to join in…alas.
Krystin was no fool; she put two and two together, and concluded that David was a vampire. That he planned to tell her was certain, to my conclusion. He likely was just trying to find a way to do it that didn’t sound crazy. But before he could, another acquaintance came looking for David, and instead discovered Krystin.
I’ll say no more, lest I spoil the climax of the story, and leave you with a soft nudge to discover its delights for yourself. Thank you for your time, my beloved devotees. I hope to see you again very soon, perhaps in your dreams.
Grieving Krys Markman has come to lose herself in family memories at Letchworth State Park, and try to figure out her next step. Yet the unearthly beautiful music she hears each night stirs her soul to romance. Can its creator, the attractive vampire David Helm, heal her broken heart?
Krys walked slowly toward the low stone wall, the roaring of the falls capturing all her attention as she rested her hands on the cold rock slabs. The view was as magnificent as ever; the towering waterfall spanning the wide river, the trails beside it framed with stone and concrete walls more than fifty feet below. The early spring afternoon felt more like late summer, the air balmy and comfortable, even in her T-shirt and jeans.
Letchworth State Park. The place was exactly the same, but everything was different. Her parents were gone, and now her brother was, too. They’d come here as a foursome every summer and stayed for a week, renting a rough built cabin. It had been bare bones, lacking heat, water, or even a private outhouse. But it had always been a good time to her and Bill: fishing, hiking, playing games, and encountering the wildlife. Each summer, her parents always treated Krys and her brother to one special adventure. For Krys, that had been the whitewater rafting outfit that operated below the lower falls. For her brother, Bill, that had been either horseback riding or a ride over the river via hot air balloon.
They’d had such good times here…
Pretending to brush back her hair, Krys brushed away a tear, conscious of the many tourists still snapping pictures of the falls. Why had she come here? What had she hoped to find?
“Excuse me,” an old woman said, tapping her elbow. “But we’d like to get a picture together. Would you take one of us, please?”
Krys nodded, then snapped a few pictures as the couple posed in front of the falls. Handing back the camera, she hurried inside the Glen Iris Inn, calling herself an idiot. Ringing the bell, she waited.
A desk clerk came in quickly. “Can I help you?”
“Krys Markman,” she said. “I’m checking in. I’m staying in Caroline’s Cottage.”
“Please fill this out.” The woman handed her a form. “And I need a credit card to make an imprint.”
Krys handed over her credit card, then took it back a few minutes later, handing in the filled out form.
“Staying with us all week?”
And probably going to rue it, Krys thought miserably. “Yes.”
“Have you stayed with us before?”
“Yes,” Krys said quickly. “I’ll just need one key.”
The woman began reciting the checkout times and other rules, all of which Krys knew by heart. She fidgeted, then grabbed the key, not replying to the startled clerk as she ran outside. A couple jumped back as she nearly banged in to them.
“Hey!” the man said, throwing an arm in front of his wife to shield her. “Watch where you’re going—”
“Sorry,” Krys stammered, flushing.
The couple gave her another dirty look, then walked upstairs hand in hand. Krys sat down in an empty wrought iron chair, rubbing her eyes.
Enough already. This was her vacation, a long break to recoup before embarking on a new chapter in her life. Relaxing was the first step. Walking was out; the lamps scattered around the Glen Iris Inn were coming on. So it would have to be alcohol instead.
* * * *
Krys sipped her wine flight, while looking around at her setting, marveling that so much was still the same, and still so beautiful. She’d been in these same surroundings so many times, yet they were still magical to her, even as their familiarity soothed her…
“Will you want dinner?” her waiter asked delicately. “Or would you like to try one of the wines you sampled?”
Where had the time gone? Krys had finished all three samples already. While another flight and more reminiscing sounded wonderful, it was better not to tempt fate, not when she had a hell of a climb in the dark to reach her rented house. “Yes.” She chose an entrée at random from the menu, then one of the wines she’d sampled.
As the waiter walked away, Krys noticed a tall man sitting by himself off in the corner. He was writing something by the light of the table candle. What was compelling was he was doing it in longhand in a small paper book instead of via electronic device. The act was so uncommon that she stared at him. Within a few seconds, the man raised his eyes and caught her staring, his dark eyes meeting hers. Krys immediately looked down, flushing. By the time she gathered enough courage to look up again, the man was gone, his seat empty.
The waiter came back, her wine on a tray. “We’re all out of the salmon, Ma’am,” he said apologetically. “Would you like to choose something else?”
The only craving Krys had was to find out who that handsome man had been. Food could wait. “There was a man sitting out here. Do you know who he was?”
The waiter shifted uneasily. “We’re not allowed to give out information on guests, Ma’am. Sorry.”
“So he is staying here?” Krys said hopefully. “Will he be here a few more days?”
The waited leaned down slightly, his expression secretive. “Aren’t you staying for a few days in Caroline’s Cottage?”
“Yes,” she answered conspiratorially.
“They I’d advise you to get to know your neighbor during your stay,” the waiter said meaningfully.
Krys looked at him in puzzlement. “What?”
The waiter straightened, then set down her glass of wine. “Will you have another entrée, Ma’am?”
Comprehension dawned. “No,” Krys said, hastily grabbing her purse. “Put my drinks on my bill.”
About the Author::
Find Tara online at:
Tara's Blog: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5286654.Tara_Fox_Hall/blog
Tara's Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Fox-Hall/151813374904903
Links for Letchworth State Park:
Glen Iris Inn: http://www.glenirisinn.com/
Caroline’s Cottage: http://www.glenirisinn.com/accommodations.cfm?dsp=Carolines_Cottage
Friends of Letchworth State Park: www.friendsofletchworth.com