conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled His Vampyrrhic Bride about London, Midnight, Lucifers with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author, author of London under Midnight (2006) and Lucifers Ark (2008), among many other horror titles, continues his reassessment of the vampire genre with this frightening story of a man who falls under the spell of a beautiful, mysterious woman whose family has a long and tortured past. Though not a direct sequel to 2009s Whitby Vampyrhhic, or its Vampyrrhic-titled predecessors, the novel is set in the same region of England (the Yorkshire moors) and shares some of their DNA, particularly the strains involving a Viking curse and the toothy undead. Nicola Bekk, the mysterious woman, is a compelling and seductive character, and young Tom Westonby, who dreams of opening a scuba-diving school in Greece, is appropriately naive and easily enthralled. Readers, too, will be enthralled by the authors imaginative story and his dark, atmospheric prose style (which mixes gothic and contemporary language and motifs). Another winner from an always-interesting writer. --David Pitt
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first four paragraphs for this book. End with the sentence ' Maybe he was busily dreaming about the remarkable, luminous vision dressed in white?'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: His Vampyrrhic Bride
  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
  But there she was. Tom looked out of the window and watched the stranger walk across the lawn. Moonlight flooded the valley. That other-worldly radiance gave the white cotton dress she wore a spectral glow. While her pale, yellow hair had the appearance of a luminous mist that cascaded down around her shoulders.
  She was beautiful. Uncannily beautiful. Somehow dangerously beautiful. As well as tingles of physical attraction, he felt the cold, tingling sensation of an inexplicable fear trickling down his spine.
  So, what was this striking, yet ghostly figure doing gliding across his lawn at midnight? The question made him wonder if he'd fallen asleep on the sofa again. These fourteen-hour working days were exhausting. Maybe he was busily dreaming about the remarkable, luminous vision dressed in white?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He gestured to her to sit on the boulder, which she did, though now she seemed worried. Tom allowed himself to inhabit this special moment. Here the two of them were, on the bank of the River Lepping, which flowed through the forest. He listened to the birdsong. Sunlight pierced the cloud; its heat warmed his face. Briefly, he closed his eyes, making a conscious effort to backup this memory inside his head. Birdsong. The forest. The gentle music the water made as it flowed.
  He opened his eyes. Nicola's face shone in the sunlight. Her blue eyes fixed on his. Clearly, she wondered if he had bad news to tell her.
  He squeezed her hand and smiled. River water danced with the rocks. Happiness flowed through him. Today was a day for the impossible to come true.
  The pulse in his neck thudded. Blood roared through his head. The breeze tugged strands of her hair across her face, making her eyes seem smoky and somehow far away.
  After parking the car, Tom Westonby had to wait ten minutes for the rain to ease off. Meanwhile, fast-flowing streams formed in the village streets. Even though he was only just across the road from St George's church, the building had vanished into the murk – the downfall had been that intense.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Tom allowed himself to inhabit this special moment. Here the two of them were, on the bank of the River Lepping, which flowed through the forest. He listened to the birdsong. Sunlight pierced the cloud; its heat warmed his face. Briefly, he closed his eyes, making a conscious effort to backup this memory inside his head. Birdsong. The forest. The gentle music the water made as it flowed.
  He opened his eyes. Nicola's face shone in the sunlight. Her blue eyes fixed on his. Clearly, she wondered if he had bad news to tell her.
  He squeezed her hand and smiled. River water danced with the rocks. Happiness flowed through him. Today was a day for the impossible to come true.
  The pulse in his neck thudded. Blood roared through his head. The breeze tugged strands of her hair across her face, making her eyes seem smoky and somehow far away.
  After parking the car, Tom Westonby had to wait ten minutes for the rain to ease off. Meanwhile, fast-flowing streams formed in the village streets. Even though he was only just across the road from St George's church, the building had vanished into the murk – the downfall had been that intense.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: On the way he saw her. A lone figure sitting on one of those straight-backed chairs that he'd brought from his parents' house and placed amid the trees. The beautiful woman was as pale as the moon; her blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders; those white eyes of hers carefully watched his face.
  Nicola remained in the chair for only a moment. Then she disappeared as fast as a blink of an eye – some malicious force had tugged her back to wherever that enemy of love had banished her. Yet he knew in his heart of hearts that she was trying to find a way back to him.
  And just as she had been transformed into a vampire six months ago, wasn't there a chance that she could change back into that most wonderful of human beings again in the future?
  Of course, this was just the start of Nicola's return journey. This wouldn't be easy. There'd be a host of obstacles, problems and dangers to overcome before he was fully reunited with her. Nevertheless, at the same moment as snowflakes started to fall through the trees to brush against his face, he knew that all-important flame of hope had begun to burn inside of him.
  Tom Westonby also knew that he'd never let the precious flame die. Not while he had life in his body and breath to speak the name of his bride.