PART 4 “…and the ceiling frescoes are by Giambattista Crosato, from the 18th century if I am not mistaken.” John was heard explaining to the guests when the hostess reentered the hall followed by four, very strange, pale musicians, carrying enormous pieces of equipment and musical instruments. The hostess herself, placed the two large speakers she was carrying, the size of small wardrobes, onto the floor at one side of the room and turned to her mortal guests who looked at her in amazement. ” I have a personal trainer.” she said in response. “Judging from your flushed cheeks, I’d say John has taken good care of you…thanks love.” she added and John raised his glass in return. ” My friends,” she went on, “I’d like to introduce you to The Blood of the Young, unless you know them already.” she paused waiting for a response. When none came she added: “They are quite famous in some circles. They were kind enough to play for us this evening.” she added. “What…what kind of music do you play?” The woman asked staring at the members of the band. One of them was sporting a most expensive 18th century frilly getup, in the faintest of blues which made him look unnaturally pale. His white wig elongated his face and made his eyes look like they were made of the clearest Murano crystal. The second one, who came in carrying several musical instruments under his arms, was covered in black leather and silver piercings. His eyes were coal black and his flesh was covered in tattoos. He gave them a crooked smile and then looked back at the hostess who glanced back at him but said nothing. There was a girl in the band too. Melissa was her name, because her lips were as sweet as honey or so the story went. Her flaming red hair was a perfect match with her long dress, that left very little of her perfect body to the imagination. She was the singer of the band and was very good at it too. The man that followed her, the hostess guessed that the woman’s question was addressed to him, was tall and angelic-looking. He was wearing a long, black brocade cloak and a white shirt, left open at the chest, while his long, blond hair, which seemed to have a life of its own, curled like a cat on his broad shoulders. He looked at the woman and said in a deep mesmerizing voice. “What kind do you like?” The woman frozen at the sound of that and our hostess’s eyes narrowed but there was no time for more because the silk curtains of the hall shivered with excitement as a sudden gust of cold wind traveled among them and vampires, one by one, landed on the broad veranda, overlooking the canal. The guests had arrived.
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 02:30:00 +0000
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