Here's a little taste of the first chapter:
VAMPIRE SAVANT
By: J. Thomas
"You’re late,” Ian said, turning away from the man at
the door. He felt his skin crawl as if
someone had taken the tip of a feather and run it across his arm. An instinctual alarm warned him not to turn
his back on this one. Casually, but with
purpose, Ian faced his visitor again.
“I apologize, docture, for my
tardiness but I am here for our appointment," said the stranger. Ian furrowed his brow, stuck on the bizarre
way he said doctor.
The man wore a black overcoat with
gray slacks peeking from beneath the thick fabric. A crimson cravat escaped from the confines of
the coat like a fiery plume. In his
white gloved hands, the man clutched a matching top hat with a black umbrella
under his arm. Droplets of rain had
collected on his coat and Ian felt the cool, wet air wafting in through the
doorway. He shuddered as he held the
door for the man standing on the front step of his office building.
“Are you going to come in?” the
doctor asked a little annoyed. His
patience was wearing thin since he had offered to stay late for this new
patient - on a Friday night nonetheless.
“Are you inviting me?” the stranger
inquired.
“Yes, yes. Now, come in,” Ian said, not bothering to
hide his irritation.
Ian stepped into the waiting room
and watched as the shadowy figure entered the building. The sallow fluorescent lights washed over the
man’s face revealing a sharp chin and dark eyes.
The stranger was strikingly
handsome and obscenely pale. A mane of dark
hair accentuated his pale features. A
scarlet piece of ribbon tied his locks together in an elegant pony tail. Neither scar, nor blemish, nor facial hair
marred his perfect skin. He looked to be
in his early twenties but carried himself like a man weathered by years of
experience. Pale blue eyes gazed at the
doctor with a glint of mischievous, good humor.
Ian was comfortable enough in his sexuality to admit that he was smitten
by this man.
The middle aged psychiatrist was
the antithesis of this fellow - with his receding hairline and a yellowish-gray
moustache that looked more like a dead rat than facial hair. His ears were too big, his eyes were too
small and years of unhealthy eating had left him with a belly that hung over
his waist band. He hefted up his sagging
pants before he closed and locked the door.
“Many thanks...” said the man,
smiling at Ian. He caught a glimpse of shiny white canines hidden beneath ruby
lips.
“You can hang your coat on the coat
rack…your hat and umbrella too,” Ian said, motioning to the hall tree
nearby. It was a family heirloom and one
of the few possessions he kept after the divorce - that and his gold wedding
band which he continued to wear as proof of his "indentured
servitude".
“Thank you. You’re veddy kind,” the stranger said. Again, there was something a little off about
how he spoke.
Ian dismissed the bizarre accent as
he gestured down the hall to his office.
With a nod, the stranger led the way with Ian following behind.
“My secretary is gone for the
night, otherwise she would have met you at the door,” Ian lied. He had no secretary. He figured it was cheaper to answer the
phones and open doors himself rather than hire some twit to do it for eleven
dollars an hour.
“It is a lovely office that you
'ave,” the stranger replied.
“Please, take a seat and we can get
started,” Ian said, motioning to a chair near his desk. The man seemed to glide across the room and,
with a flourish of his tails, sat down.
“Shall I pay you now or after we
have spoken, docture?” the man asked.
“You can pay me later. Now, I must apologize to you, sir. I seem to have forgotten your name,” Ian
said, as he sat down at his desk.
“That eez quite alright. My name eez Adamere Thorne,” he
responded.
