"Music Hath Charms To Soothe The Savage Beast."

-William Congreve.

Pixel rubbed his sore arm, bewildered pain and hurt reflecting in his eyes. What WAS with his Master? He was such a bad mood today...


Dracula was stalking the palace floors silently. Whatever had angered him, it certainly succeeded in doing so since his face was pale with rage and his eyes were ice blue. Pixel had asked him what was wrong-and he had been grabbed by the arm and thrown against the wall viciously. Fortunately, before his body made contact with the wall, he had transformed into mist. But the pain in his arm remained.


Shirra watched silently as her husband made his appearance in the library. She had frowned upon his hurting of Pixel. Her temper was no less fiery than his but she had her limits. And she had been fond of Pixel. Her black pants and white ruffled blouse clothing her form made her resemble a beautiful young man.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"The fact that you're practically barking at everyone you meet.."

she thought to herself. She wisely kept quiet though.

"What ails you?"

"Answer me."

"You hurt Pixel. He just wanted to ask what was wrong with you."

"It is not for you to know."

Gritting her teeth in rage, she stomped out of the library and into the chambers where they both slept. Taking out her violin, she began to play.


Dracula stared at the spot where Shirra was earlier. He had forgotten what he was furious about but the rage had yet to depart from him. Pride stopped him from making amends with whom the anger had hurt. And what gall had that woman, to walk away from him like that-

His unreasonable pique was interrupted by the soft strains of a Stradivarius he had given Shirra recently. The violinist blood did wonders for his angel of darkness. What composition was she playing? Mozart? Lizst? No, Vivaldi- Winter Largo, to be precise. He became mist and entered the room and watched her play. She played skilfully. With the movements of a skilled tailor, she weaved the musical notes with expert skill, sewing up the ragged edges of their love-ragged due to his own doing and unchecked rage. The notes soothed the fires of Hell in him, soothing the proverbicial beast within. She played with so much concentration she had no idea Dracula was standing before her listening and watching her play. Or so he thought.

At last she finished one of Vivaldi's most well loved pieces. Without looking up, she said,

"Has it...calmed you yet?"

He knelt next to her and lay his head on her lap.

"Play another one. Let me forget...Tame me."

She allowed herself a small smile.

And she did.