Music of Souls

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All characters in the publication are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dear, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Autumn had begun to creep over New England, promising to transform the landscape into the backdrop Jackson Parrish relished. He sauntered down Main Street, the hint of a self-satisfied smirk playing across full, pink lips. Jet-black hair teased the collar of the bespoke suit he wore like a runway model, and mirrored aviators concealed his most remarkable feature. He could only be described as a living Adonis–except he wasn't exactly alive.

Jackson rounded the corner onto Elm Street toward the Renaissance inspired estate he currently called home. Before entering, he looked up at the cerulean fall sky once more to feel the sun. Whenever possible, he stretched his lithe body out like a panther to soak up the warmth his own blood could not provide. The countless myths humans invented to create a false sense of security regarding his kind amused him. With a chuckle and a deep breath of crisp, clear air, he mused, Today would be perfect, were it not for the human locked in the basement.

The vampire was returning home after spending the night with a beautiful woman he had picked up in the bar at a local hotel. Finding women there meant the risk of seeing them again would be minimal, since they were most likely traveling on business. He possessed the capability to make victims forget, yet when they were willing participants, as most were, he enjoyed knowing they remembered their time together.

Jackson did not feed recklessly like many of the dark predators. He prided himself on the fact he had never killed a human by sucking them dry. Victims were carefully chosen, as if they were dance partners. Although he could influence them to willingly let him feed by merely making eye contact, he preferred to seduce his conquests to want him as desperately as he craved their blood. Jackson considered feeding a sport; one he excelled at. He often regretted leading women to believe there might be a future as he had this morning with, What was her name? Carla? Carrie? Karen? Yes that's it, Karen. He made a mental note to send a piece of jewelry to her hotel room to assuage guilt over the promised phone call that would never transpire. In truth, Jackson had never met a female, human or vampire, who could hold his interest for more than a day or two. In his mind, women fell into one of two groups: Smart or Fun. The smart ones were much too serious and the fun ones, well, they were just too stupid.

"Sarah, you home?" Jackson called to his housemate and best friend.

Sarah Carrington rounded the corner to the foyer and scowled at him. "Well, the manwhore returns. Hope she was pretty."

"Actually, quite beautiful, and very cultured, old money, CEO of some company or other, blah, blah, blah. Why do they always have to tell me their life story?"

"You are such a pig."

If Jackson was Adonis, then Sarah was Aphrodite. She had long blonde hair like spun silk, a perfectly proportioned figure and blue-green eyes that made you feel you were looking into the sea. Like Jackson, she moved with incredible grace, seeming to float rather than walk.

"Drink?" Jackson had already begun pouring a rare single malt.

"Oh yeah," she readily responded. They carried their glasses to the overstuffed sofa and sat facing each other.