Night Sighs by Emma Meade (Guest Post: The Dead Beats)

Please give a warm welcome to supernatural short-story author, Emma Meade, who is joining us with her book, Night Sighs and the band The Dead Beats!

The Dead Beats

Meet The Dead Beats, the hottest band in London right now.  Everyone in the UK and beyond has a thing for the lead singer, Tristan (no last name). When you're as hot and charismatic as him, you don't need one.  Everyone knows someone broke Tristan's heart two years ago. But no one knows just who she is. Tristan sings about her plenty in his songs, but he's never named this girl, so the wondering, the speculation goes on. 

The Dead Beats are bringing 80s style rock 'n' roll back. In fact, looking at them with their long hair, leather pants and vests with nothing underneath, you'd think you've stepped back in time. They're old school rockers and everyone loves them.   Alongside Tristan, you have Mike - the quiet one. He's kind of a 'still waters run deep' sort of a fellow. For some reason it's the mums who like him best.  Then you have Dan, the handsome, rough around the edges type.  The youngest members are Jamie and Teddy.  All the teenagers fancy Teddy with his mop of messy hair and lopsided grin.  Jamie is the messer of the group, always cracking jokes and generally being a pain in the ass. 

But Tristan holds it all together.  He has a, what's the word? Magnetism. Yeah, that's it. Older than his years, definitely an old soul, but a lost boy when it all comes down to it. The girls in the audience want to take him home with them, heal his wounds and steal his heart. 

If you need a visual for Tristan, just picture The Boss circa 1985 singing "Because the Night" and "I'm on Fire" up on stage. 

Here's a little scene from "The Dead Beats", the first short story in the Night Sighs collection.

A roar rose up from the 50,000 strong crowd in the rural landscape miles outside London.  Tristan stepped back from the microphone and lowered his head.  His long black mane had been cut into jagged spikes.  Silver crosses hung from his ears and around his neck, gleaming brightly against his black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.  A glance behind at his band told him they were good to go.  
The moon illuminated the five vampires on the roofless stage, spotlighting Tristan as the opening bars on the piano sounded.  His fans screamed again.  Some were crying, others fainting, many more were as high as the grey clouds overhead.
Because the Night was a favourite cover the band like to perform. Another haunting note followed and then the first strum of Tristan’s guitar. His thumb scraping well used strings was met with the wild screams of teenage girls.  He satisfied them with a few more twangs.  
And then.  Silence.  The band stopped.  The crowd was unsure, excited and dizzy with anticipation.  
Tristan lifted his head and stared straight ahead.  The cameras focused on him for a close up and his face appeared on the dozens of temporarily erected screens throughout the park.  He blinked, deliberately, emphasising his sad, wicked eyes all the more.  Several young women dropped to the grassy ground.  And then he sang.
The screams were deafening yet Tristan’s gruff, melodic voice rose over their noise as he spoke of the night belonging to lovers.  His mouth touched the mic as he sang, loud, strong and clear.  Those closest to the stage broke out in goosebumps.  The sweetness of the piano seeped into their pores and they were more aware and more alive than ever.  Tristan knew what they were feeling; he shared it with them every night on tour.  Haunted.  He, the band and the fans were held together amidst something beautiful but fleeting, an intermingling of love with the divine.  The band had been both Tristan’s salvation and damnation.  For every night through the music he felt so much, too much for one being to stay sane.  The loyal crowd shared his burden.
The audience sang along with him, their shouts mixing with the sultry notes that slid so seductively off his tongue and into the hearts of every woman listening to him, and some men too.
His music embodied him entirely; it was moody, sorrowful, artistic, compelling and ultimately self-destructive.  And this song captured the beauty of his pain perfectly.
Tristan strolled across the stage, one bare foot stamping down hard in front of the other, feeling the wood beneath his feet and the splinters drawing blood.  He moved gracefully but there was a predatory sway that always ensured the enthrallment of his spectators.  He knelt on one leg and sang to a group of young girls in the first row.  All four friends were weeping, screaming and laughing, and begging him to take them up on the makeshift stand.....  

The band feature in two of the five short stories in Night Sighs: "The Dead Beats" and "Until My Body is Dust".  They'll be around more in Night Whispers, the novel I'm currently working on. 
Warning! Night Sighs is for adult eyes only.

It's good to be alive...when you're dead!
Meet Alex & Tristan, modern star-crossed lovers of the supernatural variety.Alex is running-on-empty, one year on from the death of her fiancé, and the only thing that keeps her going is her romance with the young vampire, Tristan. Tristan, meanwhile has a serious obsession with Bruce Springsteen, and is battling a 'can't live without you' sort of love for Alex. He's trying to persuade her to come over to the dark side, but so far she's resisting his efforts.
So come and sing along to Tristan's band, The Dead Beats, the hottest group in London right now, and walk with Alex as she teeters between this life and the next. Because when you're around Tristan, you'll see, how much fun it is to be alive when you're dead....

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Night Sighs is an adult paranormal romance, following the relationship & adventures of Tristan & Alex through five short stories: The Dead Beats, The Ancients, Until My Body Is Dust, Bourbon & Jazz and West of Forever.

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