Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Publisher
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
About the Author
Also by Nicki J Markus
Day-Walker
A Vampire Story
Nicki J Markus
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Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Editor: Devin Govaere
Day-Walker © 2011 Nicki J Markus
ISBN # 9781920501136
Attention Readers: This book uses Australian English.
All rights reserved.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.
PUBLISHER
https://spsilverpublishing.com
Note from the Publisher
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.
Please remember that the only money authors make from writing comes from the sales of their books. If you like their work, spread the word and tell others about the books, but please refrain from sharing this book in any form. Authors depend on sales and sales only to support their families.
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Thank you for not pirating our titles.
Lodewyk Deysel
Publisher
Silver Publishing
http://www.spsilverpublishing.com
Dedication
For my fiancé, Corey, who encouraged me to pursue my writing dream.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Penfolds Wines: Foster's Wine Estates Limited
Jaguar: Jaguar Cars Limited
Porsche: Dr. Ing. h.c. F. Porsche Aktiengesellschaft
Ford Focus: Ford Motor Company
Hilton: Hilton Hospitality, Inc.
The Phantom of the Opera: The Really Useful Group Plc
Chapter 1
He sat, silent and still in the darkened recess. The seat beside him remained empty, a void that separated him from everyone else. The others present in the room felt distant, as if he were looking through a window, set apart from the scene. He stared straight ahead, towards the beam of light and the young woman who stood beneath it, bathed in its glow. The jewel at her throat caught the light, the rainbow colours dancing forth from its many facets as she moved. Then her voice was heard, soft and low at first, building to a glorious crescendo as her aria reached its passionate conclusion.
He joined in the applause, clapping calmly and sedately from his place in the back row of the auditorium. She dipped into a curtsey, revealing a tantalising, brief glimpse of pale-skinned cleavage, a striking contrast against the deep burgundy of her gown, which clung tightly across her bosom before billowing out at the waist into a full, long skirt.
He watched entranced as the fabric swayed, the soft crinkling sound reaching him over the clamour of the audience. He gazed at her face as she rose from her bow. And for a moment, her eyes met his: bright, hazel irises flashing out at him from below wavy auburn locks. A few short seconds stretched into an eternity. Abruptly, the connection was gone. She was looking the other way, bowing her head once more, acknowledging the continuing applause. Then she left the stage.
He sat there, unmoving, a statue half hidden amongst the deep grey shadows. The rest of the audience began to filter out, and snatches of conversation filled the air around him: comments on the performance; discussions about where to eat; banalities such as the next day's shopping list. He pushed the sounds away, blocking them out of his mind as he continued to stare at the now empty stage. Then he was alone.
He stood and strolled towards the exit, turning to cast a final glance around the auditorium before the door swung shut behind him.
Chapter 2
Darci fumbled with the fastening at the back of her dress, squirming and twisting, tugging at the zipper until it finally slid down. She gingerly stepped out of it, trying not to tread on the material, gathering up the mass of burgundy faux-silk in her arms and replacing it neatly on its hanger. Her hands smoothed out the creases, fingers running across the sheen of the material in a gentle arc. Satisfied that all was in order, she zipped it into its carry bag and deposited it on the hook behind her, reaching for her other clothes.
She loved her stage costume—it made her feel glamorous and it looked good under the lights despite only being an imitation of the real thing—but she much preferred her comfy, worn-in, and desperately faded jeans any day. Once she was dressed in more suitable attire, she grabbed up her bags and made a beeline for the door.
She proceeded down the steps of the Conservatorium, taking quick, easy steps. She instantly felt the night air against her face, a pleasant change from the blasting cold of the air conditioning inside, which had been cranked up too high as usual. Her concert had been an early evening performance, so it was only just dark, hints of orange-pink hues still kissing the horizon as she made her way round the building and on to North Terrace.
"Sorry!" She had been so lost in thought she had stepped out into a surge of on-coming pedestrians and had to shuffle back out of their way. The girl she'd nearly walked into scowled at her, but the rest of the teenage hoard crossed in front of her without a second glance, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. She wondered what plans they had this Friday night, and she suddenly felt every one of her twenty-six years bearing down on her in the face of their youthful exuberance and nonchalance.
Her fingers toyed with the buttons on
her jacket as she waited. Finally, the last of the stragglers and hangers-on at the back had passed her, and she was free to move again. She had considered some late-night shopping—well, browsing anyway—in the last half-hour before the stores closed their doors, but she found that the mood had left her, and instead she turned in the direction of the bus stop.
The seat in the bus shelter stood empty, informing her that she had just missed one bus and would have to wait. She settled herself as well as she could on the uncomfortable bench, resting her bags beside her.
While she waited, she replayed the concert in her mind. It went well. Perhaps they'll book me again. Thoughts of money and bills, unbidden and unwanted guests, began to slip into her mind and she fought to find something else to occupy her. That guy at the back was attractive. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile as she remembered how he'd looked straight at her. Somehow, she had sensed his gaze and found her own drawn towards him, the intensity of his appraisal capturing her attention completely.
"May I join you?"
Darci started, leaning away as she looked up to find the owner of the voice. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her embarrassment rising when she recognised the very man she had just been thinking of.
"Of course," she answered at last, stumbling over the words as they caught in her throat. She shifted farther along the bench to allow him room to sit down.
"An enjoyable performance," he said.
"Thank you." A sudden shyness made her want to lower her gaze, but she found herself unable to stop staring. Up close, his eyes were amazing. She had never seen anything quite like them: a bright ice-blue that melted inwards into gleaming sapphire. They must be contacts No one has eyes like that.
"Do you have any other concerts soon?"
"I'll be at St Peter's on Thursday—a lunchtime recital."
"Perhaps I'll be there then." He smiled widely, dimpling his cheeks and unleashing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. "I don't often go out much during the day, but for you, I might make an exception."
Get a grip. You don't even know this guy, she told herself sternly, though she couldn't help but return his smile. "That would be great… I mean, it's always good to fill the seats."
She didn't notice the bus, a garish yellow hulk that invaded the twilight, until it pulled up beside the stop. The doors creaked their slow way open, and she hastily grabbed at the handles of her bags, trying to hold them all in one hand as she fumbled in her jacket pocket for the ticket. She took a determined step up into the bus before the driver could leave without her.
"Are you catching this bus?" She turned back, one foot still on the pavement, hoping she didn't sound too hopeful and infatuated.
"Sadly not. But I'll see you at the concert."
"Are you coming, love?" The driver peered at her, his tiny eyes buried in deep wrinkles of skin, a thick, stubby finger tapping against the wheel.
"Yes, just one moment," she said, twisting round to ask the stranger his name. The bus stop was empty. She looked both ways down the street. North Terrace was teeming with people. They swarmed like ants on the pavement, heading to the restaurants and bars. The man was long gone, lost amongst the Friday night crowds.
"Last chance, love, I really have to get going."
Reluctantly she climbed aboard, grabbing hold of the rail to steady herself as the doors slammed shut behind her and the vehicle lurched away from the stop, kangarooing into the traffic. She punched her ticket, the sound loud and incongruous in the half-empty bus, then flopped into the nearest empty seat before the erratic driving had her on the floor. She peered out of the window for several minutes, scanning faces through the ever darkening evening gloom, but there was no sign of her mysterious new acquaintance.
* * * *
What was I thinking, talking to her? He watched as the bus jerked away from the curb with her safely ensconced inside. Up close, the scent of her skin had been overpowering: sunlight and citrus, part nature, part artifice. He was thankful the bus had arrived when it did, taking her far away from him before he'd done anything… regretful.
He slowly turned and walked away, allowing himself to be enveloped by the throng. Life teemed around him. People hurried past. Some brushed his arm in their haste; most didn't bother to apologise. Ahead, the neon lights on the corner of Rundle Street flickered back and forth, bright electric beacons, drawing people towards them like moths to a flame. At this time of night, the city was always abuzz. His own thoughts were steadily drowned out by the noise: snippets of conversations, laughter, and the music that blared out indiscriminately, each song vying for supremacy, from all the restaurants, pubs and clubs from here to Hindley Street.
It was towards Hindley Street he began to walk. If he'd stayed in the East End, he could easily have found some young yuppie, some waif in a skin-tight skirt and designer shoes who would have been drawn to his handsome face and remembered nothing of their encounter the next day. But no matter who he picked, no matter how different from her they were, he would have seen Darci Madison when he looked at them. No, Hindley Street was the better choice tonight. Tonight he needed to find a low-life, someone in search of the next high, someone he could follow down a dark side street. He would feed under the dismal flicker of a broken streetlamp, and he would forget about her as the sun rose.
Chapter 3
Her busy days passed by in a blur. The tedium of everyday routine—household chores and rehearsal—filled each hour to the brim. Darci didn't have much time to indulge in any extracurricular thinking, so it came as a surprise to her, standing in the makeshift dressing room within the cathedral, to realise she was anxious to see if the handsome stranger had kept his promise and come.
The nervous excitement pressed down upon her, suffocating until she could bear it no longer and crept from the dressing room towards the stage. Wooden folding screens stood on either side of the stage, their dark, varnished panels blocking the entranceway from the view of the audience. The noise within the room would have drowned out even the loudest of footfalls, but still, Darci tiptoed as she approached the closest of the screens, peering out into the auditorium through the gap between the slats.
People were beginning to take their seats, the pages of their programmes a thousand insect wings, rustling as they turned. She saw a few younger faces, but as usual for these lunchtime performance, the majority of the audience was older. Her eyes scanned row after row, finding spectacles, blue rinses and one very bad perm. But her stranger was nowhere in sight.
"If you're looking for me, Darci my dear, then look no further."
Darci spun round. Her elbow slammed into the screen and she had to make a desperate grab for it to stop it from toppling over. Her fingers slipped over the lacquered surface, finally catching hold of the edge. When it was securely in place once more, she turned and glared at Mark.
"Actually, I was looking for a friend who said he'd come, but he isn't out there." Mark might be a friend and colleague, but he could be a real pain in the arse, and she wasn't in the mood for his wisecracks today. Luckily, he seemed to realise that and backed off.
"There's still ten minutes to go; I'm sure he'll be here." He slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her off the stage. "Come on, let's finish getting ready."
Mark was first in the line-up, and Darci waited in the dressing room. She paced, arms crossed tightly, her steps in time with the sounds of Mozart and Puccini that drifted down to her from the stage. At last, Mark bounded back in and she made her way out onto the stage.
She spotted him as soon as she looked out over the audience. He was seated right at the back as before, his face obscured in shadows, yet there was no mistaking those waves of chestnut hair. With his smart, well-cut suit and rigid posture, he would have stood out in any crowd even if she hadn't been looking for him.
She gave a brief introduction to her programme in a breathless voice then launched into her first song, hoping the melody would quell her raging heartbeat. It worked, the music carrying her awa
y, and soon she was able to forget the stranger enough to concentrate on her performance. When it was over, she left the stage to a polite round of applause and hurried to change and collect her belongings.
Somehow she had known with complete certainty that he would be waiting for her when she left the building. It was as if it could not have been any other way. The afternoon sky sparkled, a cloudless azure offering little escape from the glare of the sun, but he had found himself a spot in the shadows cast by the church spire. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and he was standing so still he almost appeared to be a statue. She wondered if she should walk over and greet him, but before she could act, he approached her.
"Miss Madison, it was a joy to hear you sing again." He inclined his head and smiled. "I wondered if you'd care to join me for lunch, assuming you haven't already eaten."
"No, I haven't. I rarely eat before a performance, but I'm always famished afterwards."
"That settles it then. Does O'Connell Street suit you? I know a nice Italian restaurant there."
"That's fine by me. Can I know your name now if we're going to eat together?" Darci asked as they turned and began to walk up the road. She was determined not to part from him this time without learning such a vital detail.
"How rude of me. I do apologise. My name is William, William Molins, but at present, people call me Will. Here…" He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a small rectangular card, handing it to her. "Take my card. It has my number if you ever need to contact me."
Darci looked down at the business card. The black background covered the whole of the card, broken up only by the embossed silver lettering. The card stated Will's name and a mobile number, nothing else. She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. What did he mean by saying he was called Will "at present"? Darci started to open her mouth to ask him when Will came to a halt outside a restaurant.
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