The Vampire Music: Beginnings

By M.A. Morse

September 17, 2092

Subtle flashes, fragments of memories of my fifth birthday are all that remain from before the crash. On that day, an agency tested my blood. My parents tell me the geneticists discovered a mutation. Now I must either train and try to qualify for the Ceremonial Guard or serve two years in the mines as a locator. My parents chose to have me prepared for the Ceremonial Guard. My great-grandmother said the laws requiring the testing begin after the recovery from the black typhus outbreak of 2028. The bout nearly ended everything.

Now that I am seventeen, a subject much more exciting and not imaginary, or so I try to convince myself, is the connection between an older man Wes Ashby, and me. He is nearly a full year older than me. We have only met once, and the memory of the spark that happened between us at a concert stirs my blood as if it were a delightful broth swirling in a cup.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.A. Morse
• Release date: Apr 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005991159

M.A. Morse

M.A. Morse has worked author events with major authorsRick Riordan, Robert B. Parker, John Quinones, and Karl Marlantes. As a diverse reader of authors from J. R. R. Tolkien to Leo Tolstoy, Hannah Sherbourneinjects knowledge of detailed worlds and character building to the project.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

are products of the author and co-author and their imaginations. Any

resemblance to persons, places, or things in the world is coincidental.

© 2022 M.A. Morse

Published by: Ashby Navis & Tennyson Media Publisher LLC

The Vampire Music Soundtrack is licensed by Matt Barker.

Score tracks Public Domain CC 0 License

Journal Entries are written by: Hannah Sherbourne

Apps Coded by: Hank Wilson

Edited by: Sheryl Jones

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Eternity is the torment of a white-cloaked siren chasing Daeron through my dreams. His ancient magick is no match for hers. These pursuits span many years of my continuing dreams, seemingly endless stalking. The white-cloaked siren is the taker of all. Her heart-chilling voices are the same haunting voices in his head.

At this exact moment, her silver blade slices as he desperately flees into the cover of the woods…

You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.

- Ray Bradbury

Preface

I am a hunter, and I do my job well. I spend much of my time modifying my crossbow with the help of my friend Shark, or collecting hand-painted bolts. Unfortunately, I do my job so well that the government voluntold me to hunt the supernatural in addition to my regular job of feeding the county. Unknown to the public, and recently revealed to me, exists an uprising of night-dwelling creatures known as nightcallers. I’ve been tracking a particular nightcaller since the beginning of my recruitment. She has become adept at hiding in both the real and imaginary world.

I walk through the woods surrounding my neighborhood, creeping between shadowy tree trunks, their leaves ruffling gently in the breeze.  The sound of crunching leaves and the thick fog fade into this terrifying place. The deadly, white-cloaked nightcaller in my dreams brings me to this cabin each night. This creature in the form of a woman frightens me even in the most hidden places in my mind, haunting my dreams. Fear seizes me as I cautiously look around. Why does she insist on bringing me here to this horrible place? 

Spirits hover about, whispering into my ear, warning me of the impending danger. Fearing for my life, I reach for the rusted doorknob of the front door. The moment it opens, I quickly run through the doorway only to find myself entering back into the same room I had just exited! The door, in a slow creak, closes behind me.

I stand alone in horror – trapped with my only exit leading back here. My surroundings glow in faint blood red. I can’t figure out the source of the glow. There are two other doors, one of which I dare not open. That is the door leading to her chamber. I’d rather stay in this room for a thousand lifetimes than willingly cross that threshold.

My breathing quickens, and gooseflesh covers my arms and legs. The still air lingers with the fresh scent of death. Dark figure-like shadows dance about the room. My arms shake as I make my way to the only viable door. I twist the dull copper doorknob and slowly enter the dark room.

I freeze in place when I hear a horrifying sound, the crackling, crumbling hiss of reeps. The sounds begin to resonate about the spacious room. Reeps are pets of the nightcallers and wicked creatures of the darkness. These blind creatures seek their prey by sound. Again, I freeze in place with fear. I can sense them drawing near, but being blind, they have no way of knowing where I am exactly. They just know that I’m here somewhere… somewhere in this room.

Knife in hand, I don’t so much as breathe. Usually, my lessons in stealth allow me to walk silently. However, I don’t trust the rotting wooden floor not to creak. As the creatures move a small distance away from me, I swing my knife and run through the doorway, slamming the door. I breathe heavily, unable to shake the eerie feeling that this cabin is watching me with a sadistic curiosity. My hands begin to shake as I feel my ability to control my body fading into a dreamlike haze. A chilling sense of desperation grips me as I slip deeper and deeper into a dark mental fog.

Fighting in vain against my body’s movements, I begin walking towards the door to her chamber. I struggle for control, but nothing I do slows my entrance into her spacious glowing section. Finally, I close the door behind me and walk to the center of the room.

The raspier and most prominent of the reeps appears behind me. It crackles in an unearthly tone as it encircles me. Suddenly back in control, I withdraw my knife and turn to face it, attempting to keep the creature at bay. The speedy creature dodges the slices and jabs of my blade, taunting as it continues to encircle my position. Join us, it whispers, flashing in and out of the range of my knife. I lunge at the reep to keep it at bay, but I miss and stumble into the corner of a chest-high table. The jolt causes pain to shoot up my left arm. I stagger backward, catching myself on the wall with my right arm. Then the hulking form of another reep, whom I hadn’t noticed, takes an aggressive stance towards me.

My hunting instincts take over as the first creature moves in, whispering. I strike with deadly speed and accuracy. The knife penetrates hilt deep into the creature’s heart. I pull out the knife and run.

I have to find the door leading out of this room, but which way do I go? I choose to run straight. My heart thumps in my ears with each step. A heavy shadow falls over me, suffocating me with fear of what is to come.

The reeps are gaining on me, but I can’t see them.

I reach a door and twist the doorknob in a hurry, hoping it opens into somewhere not in this room. It doesn’t work, and panic sets. I try again with little success. Frantically turning the knob repeatedly, hoping for an escape from certain death, I can feel the reeps drawing near.

I find no other exit as I look around the room, and all of the reeps converge upon me. I stare helplessly as I hear a sea of the familiar crackling hisses. Then, suddenly, a bright light emits from the center of the cloud of reeps. Fear seizes me as it forms into a gruesome shape. The cloud transforms into the enemy who brought me here. I know all too well what will happen next.

A second later, the ominous woman appears in front of me. Faster than I can comprehend the danger, she throws me to the dusty floor and lies on top of me. Stone-cold fingers brush the hair out of my face. I force my eyes away from her gaze.

Her fingernail traces the outline of my chin, and I am frozen. Cold, slick lips slide and press closer to my neck and part. Finally, I feel the smooth enamel of her teeth brush my neck, and she whispers again. I have something I need you to do for me, but I don’t trust you to do this of your own will. So, I must have your blood to control your mind and… your body.

No, please! I beg. Trembling, I close my eyes, looking for an escape from the hopelessness, for an escape from this woman.

As she moves closer to the center of my neck, I feel her body's energy against mine. Her muscles tense then relax, like a snake getting ready to strike.

Sleep now, little hunter. The thoughts of death give way for one more moment of clarity as memories of my early life appear.

September 17, 2092

Subtle flashes, fragments of memories of my fifth birthday are all that remain from before the crash. On that day, an agency tested my blood. My parents tell me the geneticists discovered a mutation. Now I must either train and try to qualify for the Ceremonial Guard or serve two years in the mines as a locator. My parents chose to have me prepared for the Ceremonial Guard. You either look pretty in parades or hunt and gather to feed humanity as a guard member. My great-grandmother said the laws requiring the testing begin after the recovery from the black typhus outbreak of 2028. The bout nearly ended everything.

Now that I am seventeen, a subject much more exciting and not imaginary, or so I try to convince myself, is the connection between an older man Wes Ashby, and me. He is nearly a full year older than me. We have only met once, and the memory of the spark that happened between us at a concert stirs my blood as if it were a delightful broth swirling in a cup.

My excitement is short-lived as I look up in the direction of a creaking sound from the wooden floor and see nothing. My morning pains have been reduced to dull aches as time passes. Between training, secondary education, and working under the strict guidance of my parents, a love life seems a distant reality. I tend to be the best friend, and the boys go after the influencers. One difference is I can kill a selfie-stick holding influencer in seventeen different ways. However, I would never do such a thing. My tendency to speak my mind, lack of dance coordination, and cooking ineptitude are among a laundry list of things that repel many suitors.

As far as my tastes go, there are also no Mr. Darcys where I go to school, though I remain optimistic about meeting someone. If that