Ready
A short
story based upon the characters of “Beauty and the Beast”
by Nancy
Lynn Knauff
The music
was dark, Gothic and held a touch of suspense in them. It was unlike
anything he had heard before. Vincent stood in place on the bridge of the
Whispering Gallery, entranced with what he was listening to. It had a
definite rock beat, something he was not accustomed to with his knowledge of
the classical genre. But there was something, an almost chordal pull in
the music. It seemed almost sensual to him, beckoning to him, keeping him
entranced.
As it went
on, the music changed, interspersed with dialogue here and there. So,
what he was listening to was a musical! He was familiar with the form;
this being New York, many who he came into contact with once had aspirations of
becoming the next Broadway star. But this one was different, the musical
quality unlike most show music he had heard in his time.
He paid closer to the dialogue. There was laughter coming from an
audience! He chuckled at the humor
himself. They were speaking of dark
things in the night, of horrors he knew from literature he had read for years,
yet the actors were making fun of their
situation at the same time.
One
particular voice caught his attention.
He had heard this vocalist before, and it was clear from the reaction of
the audience that the singer was a popular one. He was sure that any of the women he knew would most likely be
swooning at the sensual, arresting voice of this male actor.
“What are
you listening to?”
He turned
sharply, one voice piercing through the maelstrom swirling along the winds of
the cavernous chamber. “I’m sorry,
Catherine, you startled me. I was
listening to something I don’t normally hear among the whispers.”
She came
up to him, one side of her head lifting to hear the sounds of the music when
she stood beside him. “Ah,” she said
after a minute. “Michael Crawford. He is entrancing, don’t you think?”
Understanding
lit his unique face. “I thought I
recognized the voice. But I’m not
familiar with this show. It has a more
modern, more popular sound to it then ‘Phantom of the Opera’ did.”
“‘Dance of the Vampires,’ ” the woman
clarified for him. “The music was a
popular rock composer. I got a chance
to see it on its opening night. It was
wonderful, the whole cast really had an energy most shows lack today.” She frowned slightly. “The show closed a month ago. How are you hearing it now?”
He
shrugged. “Who knows how- or from
when- these voices come to us.”
The two
listened to the show, letting the mystery of its origins float away as both
became entangled in the music surrounding them. During one particular passage, an intense song, Vincent became
highly aware that the pull he was hearing was having an effect on both of
them. Their Bond pulsed with the
rhythms of the music, calling to his blood and his heart. It raced in his veins, almost erotic. A slow, tingling chill came over him,
causing his very skin to rise in gooseflesh.
Unable to resist that inner call of the musical siren, Vincent drew
Catherine closer to him, letting her lean her back against his chest. As if both had run, their breath becoming
faster as they were drawn to the passion underlining the strains of the music
and within each other. He wrapped his
arms around her waist possessively, something he rarely did in a public
place. They swayed to the pulse,
allowing the building within the music pull their hearts together with its
sensuality. It wasn’t enough; as the
music surged into a crescendo, he turned her around swiftly. As the voice of the innocent called to her
dark siren, Catherine’s heart called to him.
He took her face into his hands, her eyes mirroring the need and desire
he felt between them. As the climax of
the song crashed around them, he leaned into her, taking her lips into a
passionate, sensual kiss. Their tongues
blended as a music of its own, blending with the chords swirling above within
the winds.
After what
seemed an eternity, with their emotions surging with desire and a familiar heat
within their Bond, they broke apart.
Vincent’s head leaned back as he gulped life-giving air, still unable to
relinquish the possessive hold of their embrace. Catherine leaned her head against his heaving chest, trying to
calm her own racing heart. She couldn’t
do it, he noticed, anymore than he could.
Their mutual need had gone to far in a short time, so entranced had they
become in the emotion in this one song.
Vincent
looked down at his love once more.
“Catherine,” he said simply, his voice husky and deep. He was torn; he needed her, yet at the same
time, he didn’t want to leave the chamber, the music behind.
“Don’t
worry,” she soothed him, her eyes darkening with the need he felt racing
through their Bond. They twinkled with
a sensual pleasure. “I’m sure I can
find it online somewhere.”
He took
her into his arms, kissing her surely.
“Good.” Vincent strode from the
chamber with his prize, leaving the music and the voices in the chamber behind. Yet the mysterious strains seemed to follow
the lovers, within their Bond and their hearts. Continuing on with its mesmerizing call, the music seemed to
swirl among the winds of the chamber, waiting, waiting, ready…