I wanted to speak with you sooner. But I am a well behaved young man, so I stayed back and patiently waited my turn. I am Albion, the leader of the elves and cherubs. The Lord of the Flies, so to speak. Tomas may have mentioned us to you. He knows much. Still, he is not one of us. So his reality is much different than ours.We are those who were brought over too early, at least by grown-up standards. We are those who have not yet gained their full maturity. And now we never will. Our human years range from about thirteen down to near-term fetuses. Most of us are the 'blood' children of insane vampires, or the offspring of women brought over during the last stages of a pregnancy. Those of us who appear to be children are called elves. The little tykes are the cherubs. Some of them actually gnawed their way out of novice vampire mothers before flying off to take their places in the night. That's another thing. We can fly. Why can we fly? I don't know. Maybe the magic effects each age differently. Old crones become banshees. Old goats morph into ogres. That is how it is. To each his own. I know. You want to know how the cherubs (and some of the aged) take blood if they do not have any teeth? They do it with their tongues. In their case that agile muscle ends in a tough, horny point. Sort of like the mandible of a bug. They jab or scrap this tool against the skin of their victim and drink away. Now in our case (elves and cherubs) we're more like those bull fights they have in Portugal, where el torro is allowed to live. That's because we rarely drain our mortals to death. Most of us could not tolerate that much blood anyway. Our victims wander off and babble about nights spent with the fairies. We are Puck and Oberon and Titania.Oh, we have the same ability to preserve the lives of the worthy as other vampires. And we often do that. But the benighted, hate-ridden masses of Europe (actually, most of the Old World) refused to accept us. And as 'religion' grew in their hearts, they tortured and destroyed us to an even greater degree. In some places the peasantry would lure us into caverns with sweet music and fanciful lights. But once inside, they'd throw metallic nets over us and crush us into huge, lead chests (like monstrous caskets) which they'd drag to a cliff or some other rampart and throw into the sea. I can promise you that there are countless, conscious elves and cherubs languishing in corroded, moldering abysmal tombs right now as we speak. Most nights we say prayers for them. Why are we here? We are among the lucky ones. Our prisons washed up on foreign shores, usually in a tempest. Curious natives heard crying inside and broke us out. Well... can you imagine their surprise? . But we were usually good to them, curing sickness and bewitchments with little blood kisses and all. Still we have to be careful. Naturally, we must avoid the vampires of the Noxious sort at all costs. They're just a bunch of mindless beasts who can't really control their actions. Nobels usually leave us to our own devices. Sometimes they come and visit. They like to watch our dances. They like to watch us fly about. Sometimes we assist each other in times of need. We are aware that the Philadelphia Nobels are having problems. We know they are being targeted by something bad. Well, not just the vampires. Others in this city are suffering too. Perhaps it is time for us to help? Oh, and about our elfin ears, about those pointed ears. That happens because certain cells in a human body survive for a time after 'death' and continue to grow. Our ears grow and so do our fingers and toes, providing us with nimble elfin hands and vulpine elfin faces. To be truthful, I love the way I look. Watch for us. We are particularly evident in cities during the Christmas time. Be alert. Look closely. Some of Santa's helpers are quite real.