(This is Travis Fimmel--gorgeous huh? He has a fan web site. http://www.travis-fimmel.com/ with more yummy pix)
London, England, a dark and stormy night in May, 2008
A talk show, Vampires Among Us, on the telly last week had captured my attention. Five attractive young mortals circled the show host and claimed to be vampires. These real vampires plunged hypodermic needles into their veins, extracted a thimble of blood and squirted cardinal sin into their mouths directly from the syringe.
Appetizing? Not much. Pleasure? Not any.
"Imagine, instead," I wanted to tell them, "pressing your lips to the throat. Open your mouth, run your tongue along the throbbing artery. Sink your teeth into that river of sheer delight. Your whole body vibrates with satisfaction more acute than sex. That's what it means to be a vampire."
A talk show, Vampires Among Us, on the telly last week had captured my attention. Five attractive young mortals circled the show host and claimed to be vampires. These real vampires plunged hypodermic needles into their veins, extracted a thimble of blood and squirted cardinal sin into their mouths directly from the syringe.
Appetizing? Not much. Pleasure? Not any.
"Imagine, instead," I wanted to tell them, "pressing your lips to the throat. Open your mouth, run your tongue along the throbbing artery. Sink your teeth into that river of sheer delight. Your whole body vibrates with satisfaction more acute than sex. That's what it means to be a vampire."
The very idea of telling them chased away the Hounds of Hell called Boredom that had been nipping at my heels.
Avery, always the perfect manservant in his black suit and bow tie, asked, "Shall I fetch your coat, Milord? It's another rainy night in London."
I smiled at the old gentleman who'd served me for twenty years. “Yes, I'm off on my vampire hunt. Don’t wait up.”
“Vampire hunt?” He chuckled. “Shouldn't you wear a cross?”
With my fingers I made a cross, bared my fangs and hissed like a horror flick fiend.
At quarter-past nine, I nosed the Jag to the curb between an elderly Ford Escort and a new Mazda, switched off the headlamps then decided to park around the corner from the prying eyes. After a short walk in a misty rain, I opened the etched glass door of the Rose and Crown and bit the bottom lip of a smile. The cheerful neighborhood pub in Maida Vale was a supremely unlikely haunt for vampires! It had been easy to find coven. Unseen observer, I had watched them in their natural habitat, and the Rose and Crown it was on a nightly basis.
When the door swooshed closed behind me, I found myself the object of lively scrutiny. My clothes and my bearing set me apart from the crowd, but as suddenly as I'd turned their heads, they lost interest and returned to the serious business of having a jolly good time.
A babble of voices, the clink of glassware and the subtle throb of pulses blended in the seductive music of mortality. The aroma of strong ale and pub food was overwhelming. An American voice called for more ice. Barware dangled upside down from the wooden racks on the ceiling. Flushed faces smiled at their reflections in the "BASS ALE" mirror. A spattering of university students decorated the working-class crowd.
Instinctively, I shielded against the noise, rampant thoughts and emotions flitting around the room. I shed my coat, hung it on a brass coat rack and scanned the room for my quarry. Squat mushroom tables dotted the scuffed wooden floor. The chairs were an assortment of nobody-cares. To my left, a fire leapt in an arched brick fireplace, crowned by a picture of the Queen at her Silver Jubilee. As I gravitated toward the two brocade benches flanking the hearth, a familiar laugh chimed like a bell. The vampires huddled in the forest of Guinness cans sprouting from their table in a far corner.
Avery, always the perfect manservant in his black suit and bow tie, asked, "Shall I fetch your coat, Milord? It's another rainy night in London."
I smiled at the old gentleman who'd served me for twenty years. “Yes, I'm off on my vampire hunt. Don’t wait up.”
“Vampire hunt?” He chuckled. “Shouldn't you wear a cross?”
With my fingers I made a cross, bared my fangs and hissed like a horror flick fiend.
At quarter-past nine, I nosed the Jag to the curb between an elderly Ford Escort and a new Mazda, switched off the headlamps then decided to park around the corner from the prying eyes. After a short walk in a misty rain, I opened the etched glass door of the Rose and Crown and bit the bottom lip of a smile. The cheerful neighborhood pub in Maida Vale was a supremely unlikely haunt for vampires! It had been easy to find coven. Unseen observer, I had watched them in their natural habitat, and the Rose and Crown it was on a nightly basis.
When the door swooshed closed behind me, I found myself the object of lively scrutiny. My clothes and my bearing set me apart from the crowd, but as suddenly as I'd turned their heads, they lost interest and returned to the serious business of having a jolly good time.
A babble of voices, the clink of glassware and the subtle throb of pulses blended in the seductive music of mortality. The aroma of strong ale and pub food was overwhelming. An American voice called for more ice. Barware dangled upside down from the wooden racks on the ceiling. Flushed faces smiled at their reflections in the "BASS ALE" mirror. A spattering of university students decorated the working-class crowd.
Instinctively, I shielded against the noise, rampant thoughts and emotions flitting around the room. I shed my coat, hung it on a brass coat rack and scanned the room for my quarry. Squat mushroom tables dotted the scuffed wooden floor. The chairs were an assortment of nobody-cares. To my left, a fire leapt in an arched brick fireplace, crowned by a picture of the Queen at her Silver Jubilee. As I gravitated toward the two brocade benches flanking the hearth, a familiar laugh chimed like a bell. The vampires huddled in the forest of Guinness cans sprouting from their table in a far corner.
This is from scenes (entire portions) deleted from my first novel Sinners Opera. Morgan and I invite you to finish reading this continuing story at www.lindanightingale.com.
Da-yum, girl! So sensuous and such lovely details! Love that Morgan! Travis is too yummy for words!
Travis could well...finish that thought for me. You know me well enough!
Thanks from Morgie and Moi. Da-yum I wish he were real. I didn't know where to cut this because the "cliff hanger" made it too long.
I don't think it's about exactness but preventing us from posting several pages for one post. It was probably not so may words and not so long to read.
Is there anything Travis couldn't well...?
I remember this! Intriguing. Very.
Gorgeous guy.
Where the heck have I been? Obviously stuck in my coffin. This is fantastically sensual and compelling. I'm curious is he the vampire or the hunter. When I read the mirror section I wanted to know if he could see his. I would definitely keep reading because I'd like to learn more. Fantastic teaser.
I don't know how I came up as anonymous. I know who I am. There are instances where I would like to remain anonymous but this isn't one of them.
Travis could...sigh.
Beth and Donnell, thanks!
Linda,
This teaser is simply marvelous, darling! I'll have one, no two just like him! I can only imagine the quality of your work if this is something you cut! Boy!I felt like I was tagging right along with himself.
Melba from Georgia
Thanks for stopping by Donnell! Isn't Linda wonderful! Linda, Donnell is good people and my cheerleader from a special loop!
Now I know what and who I would like to dream about tonight.
It was so easy to put myself there!
Mistress Nightingale, you lovely little bird, convey to your friend Lord D'arcy that my friend Domingo Leyenda and I still wish to continue our debate. All he has to do is name the time and the place.
(posted by T. Sweeney for Damien La Croix, Chevalier Minuit
Linda, you know my opinion of this particular story. It should stand on its own as a short story about Morgan. All it needs is a ouch here, a tuck there, a little icy on the top....
Toni, one day Morgan and your succulent vampires will meet. One day we shall write the collaboration. I am working on turning this into a short story or a novella. I hated to delete so much from Sinners but it was VERY long. There's also the part where an intrepid Morgan has to go down into a grave and read a cold corpse.
I want to see this published and a movie made!