Welcome, Ash Krafton, with the first in her new series about the Demimonde! Don’t forget to enter her contest–take it away, Ash!
by guest author Ash Krafton
I’ve always had a thing for museums. When I was a kid, my mother would take my siblings and me to the Everhart Museum in Scranton, PA. It’s a natural history museum located near Nay Aug Park, once a thriving zoo and mini-amusement park. Those trips to the park and museum are among my strongest childhood memories, when I was too young to pronounce “museum” properly. (I called it a “mu-sam” and, trust me, it wasn’t because I had a region accent. I was just a goofy kid.)
I never outgrew my fondness for museums. Overtime, I developed a distinct preference for archaeology and ancient cultures, encouraged by my high school World Cultures class. Although I really got into Roman and Greek studies, my favorite culture of them all was ancient Egypt.
Up until college, the Everhart was my only regular museum. However, once I started college in Philadelphia…well, you can just imagine how ecstatic I was to discover Philly’s museums and their treasures.
Lucky for me, I also met my husband in college—a fortuitous event in itself. He also enjoys museums and science/tech centers and had been spoiling me rotten ever since. Now, we’re the parents of two middle school-aged kids who practically grew up amongst mummies and sarcophagi and the images of gods and pharaohs.
When I wrote Bleeding Hearts, I couldn’t help but put a piece of my love for Egypt into the story. As I wrote it, I began to create a mythology of my own, penning the words that eventually became the origin of my demivampires.
It wasn’t too hard to decide where I was going to meet my hero, Marek. The scene was inspired by a trip my husband and I took to the Penn Museum’s Egyptian exhibit. In a way, the scene is a reminder of one of our dates (few enough since we became parents) so this excerpt is extra-special to me. This except was also a finalist in the “Magic Moments” 2011 contest hosted by the RWA Heart and Scroll Chapter.
First meets are so important. I couldn’t wish anything but the loveliest for my main character, Sophie. I care about her too much! After all, wouldn’t you do the same for somebody you love?
Thanks for having me, Lyndi! I’d like to remind everyone that the Bleeding Hearts Blog Tour will continue until April 14, 2012. I’m being hosted by a wonderful group of bloggers and authors like our lovely Lyndi Alexander here. Be sure to check out the other stops along the tour for other posts about Bleeding Hearts and be sure to enter the huge end-of-tour prize package!
Good luck to everyone who enters and thanks for celebrating my new book with me!
Find out more about Ash and her tour at the links below:
www.facebook.com/AshKraftonAuthor
BLEEDING HEARTS: Book One of the Demimonde
Saving the world one damned person at a time—shy advice columnist-turned-oracle must find a way to save her dangerous demivampire lover from the fate that threatens each of his race: evolution and the destruction of his soul.
When advice columnist Sophie meets dark and alluring Marek, she learns life-changing secrets about them both—he’s a demivampire struggling to avoid evolution and she’s an empathic oracle destined to save him. Sophie possesses the rare ability to reduce the spiritual damage that causes a demivamp to Fall, making her the only thing that stands between a DV and evolution. However, as Marek’s dangerous past propels him toward his desperate fate, his enemies make darker plans for him: once vampire, powerful Marek would be second only to the Master himself. The vamps want to cause Marek’s Fall and they intend to use Sophie to do it….
Ash’s excerpt!
In the great hall housing the Egyptian exhibitions, I immediately noted the change in the atmosphere. The room was warm and dry, its climate controlled to mimic the conditions in which the relics had existed in their native land.
The entire room had been designed to resemble an Old Kingdom temple. The main lights were dimmed while strategically-placed spotlights emphasized massive columns and magnificent wall carvings, like sunbeams through temple windows.
I scanned the room. No other tourists. Even better. I meandered, enjoying the rare opportunity to linger.
Craning my neck, I ran my gaze up each of the columns, reading the images, admiring the palm leaves carved at the tops like great stone trees. Eyes toward the ceilings, I turned slowly around, admiring the handiwork of the ancient artists.
What was it like to live in those lands and those times? Could an ancient version of my spirit have been there, stepping barefoot and silently through a sandy temple like this one?
Lost in contemplation, I was completely unprepared for the shock of smacking into someone, bumping him hard enough to lose my balance. I’d have fallen had he not caught my arm. Wide-eyed with consternation, I stammered an apology to the handsome but serious-faced gentleman.
“You are not hurt, I hope?” His voice, deep and smooth, sent shivers marching down my neck, between my shoulders, down my spine.
“I’m okay.” I shook my head, too shy to make direct eye contact, wishing I’d checked my hair and lipstick before coming in. “I’m far too adept at being inept.”
He flashed a grin and I caught a glimpse of nice white teeth. “Temples are places for spiritual reflection. It is forgivable if your vision was turned inward, rather than toward where you were walking.”
His expression softened by amusement, he tilted his head toward the pillars. “Majestic, aren’t they?”
I stole another glance at him—black hair smoothed back into a discrete tail, clear light skin framed by long sideburns, strong jaw culminating in a square, cleft chin. Like the other items in the museum, something about him made me want to look closer, inspect each detail.
A subtle flush warmed my cheeks and ears so I quickly turned back to the heights of the exhibition. Murmuring a sound of agreement, I circled the column, stepping a few feet away so I could see both him and the stone. “Do you visit this museum often?”
Furtive glances allowed me to take in more of his appearance a tiny section at a time. Clothing, dark as his hair. Long blazer, something in between a suit coat and an overcoat. In one hand he carried a bound book and fountain pen, as if he’d been making notes.
Unlike my own, his gaze was calm and steady and entirely on me. Taking a deep breath I permitted the contact of the direct look. My boldness was well-rewarded. His Paul Newman lips brought to mind the sculptured busts on display in the Greco-Roman Quarters and he wore a stern expression that cast a veil of hardness upon his features, enhancing the impression he’d been carved from marble.
Except for his eyes. The Roman busts bore eyes that were blank and white but this man’s eyes were alive with bright green color. Like gemstones, they glittered and drew my gaze.
“No, actually,” he said. “My first time here. Although, I admit, I’m drawn to places like this.” His voice made music of the words—deep bass notes and soothing rhythm.
“Ah!” I said. “A man after my own heart.” His left eyebrow arched so sharply I thought it might disappear into his hairline and I hurriedly continued. “Are you a professor?”
“No, nothing like that. I do studying of my own, it’s not a living. It’s more of a hobby. Personal research, of sorts.”
“I like to study past times for past-times. It’s my preferred form of entertainment.”
“Mmm.” Eyebrow cocked again, he cast a disapproving look at me and swept his hand around the contrived temple. “Would the gods be pleased to know they are reduced to the level of entertainment?”
“I hope so.” I kept my tone light. Considering the seriousness of his expression, I didn’t want to accidentally insult him. “Otherwise, they’d have to be content with staying dead, right?”
His gaze swept over me and I shivered again as if the touch had been tangible, a brush of fingertips against my cheek.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your worship. I mean, your wanderings.” He gave me a conspirator’s wink. “Unless…”
He hesitated, a quiet clearing of throat as he tucked his notebook and pen into an inside pocket. “You wouldn’t mind a companion? Sometimes one sees things differently when seeing through another’s eyes. I always appreciative a new perspective.”
I mulled it over, listening to the rain spattering the windows and distant voices echoing faintly from other rooms. Although I’d looked forward to a quiet afternoon, it might be nice to spend it with someone who seemed to share my interests. He certainly was attractive, in a dark and hard way, and his pleasant voice intrigued me.
I realized I’d become used to living inside a shell. This man made me want to step outside for once.
“I’d like that.” I smiled at his pleased expression. “I’m Sophie, by the way.” I stuck out my hand in introduction, offering my firmest professional handshake.
Instead of shaking my hand, he bent his head over it and pressed polite lips to the backs of my fingers. The quaint gesture would have seemed strange and out of place had we been elsewhere. “I am Marek. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Fingers tingling from the unexpected kiss, I fought the urge to curtsy. “Well, Marek. Lead me into the past.”
One Comment
Lovely!