Monday, February 18, 2013


The fine, black Bentley arrived after sundown, depositing Tomas and company on the doorstep of a picture-book, snug, little mews house two doors to the left of number (censored) on a certain, narrow, Mayfair street known for the best 'bijou' houses in London. It's the townhouse most dream of, fifteen hundred square feet of tastefully arranged Georgian furnishings gathered from an assortment of august domiciles throughout the West End.

 Four drowsy night-folk, plus two mortal associates climbed out of the snug, darkened interior and , for a moment anyway, into the chill, violet evening. Someone inside expected them, for seconds later the red, lacquered door opened and they entered. 

A tall, woman greeted them. She said - Good evening, Don Tomas (in the classic Spanish manner), my name is Beatrice. Let me show you to your rooms.... They followed her down a tiny, brick, winding staircase to a comfortably appointed cellar, sporting original, wide plank, Regency flooring and discrete, little sleeping cubicles, rather like day-sleepers on a train and just right for discerning vampires. Tomas and Sarah took the first one, squeezing in with the driver, as he deposited their luggage. Baylah moved into the second. And Annie took the third, a nest prepared especially for her, with an assortment of children's literature from Christopher Robin to Anne of Green Gables... first editions all.

They made any necessary ablutions in a former coal bin, now a small, well equipped wash room and water closet (not for vampiric benefit, to be sure) and changed clothes before gathering upstairs in the fire lit sitting room.  Beatrice wanted to call for the car, but Tomas said they'd walk. Vampires love the cold, night air. And they were adequately dressed for the temperature. Tomas had his warm, black, leather coat. Sarah had hers. Baylah's was a faux-fox number picked up in Boyd's back home. Look, each one had what they required. Life-eaters know how to travel. And their human companions are well kept too. wilkravitz liked his hat, a genuine, British 'deerstalker,' with attached ear flaps and a soft, warm rabbit lining. Edith made do with a fine, cashmere scarf.

And so they set out... moonbeam-wanderers, upon the streets of London. Tomas had an appointment with a certain gentleman at Foster & Son, eldest bespoke footwear and leather goods in the city. Perhaps he'll take a cab? Perhaps he'll sublimate? Maybe Sarah will decide? Baylah keeps her own counsel, though I'd wager she heads for The British Museum. Vampires enjoy wandering the empty, nighttime galleries. Entrance isn't difficult. Not for them. And if she brings back a souvenir or two from the gift shop, you can be sure she'll deposit a more than adequate sum.  Edith wants some pub grub. Mayfair has the best...more in the manner of bistros or casual brasseries, but she doesn't know that. wilkravitz wants to peruse the book shops, but he'll probably join her. Maybe end up with a stroll through Chelsea, one-time borough of artists...the Dante Rossetti crowd and all that. Tomorrow night, they all meet up with vampire acquaintances for less mundane activities. Will there be a feeding? Well, I really can't say. Disembodied spirits are not always privy to everything...... Oh, yes...'Annie,'..... Beatrice is taking her to a venerable, little toy shop, where they've promised to let her bite the toes off a specially chosen assortment of dolls....It's a 'thing' with her. Some of you know that.

But if this night is ordinary, the night-to-come belongs to The Hermetical Order of the Golden Dawn, an old, arcane, enchanted group given to other-worldly investigations and certain spiritual activities.... 

For those of you who like being prepared, do some homework. Read 'Bohemia In London,' (1907) by Arthur Ransome . It's there, hidden away on those little magical devices you all have. Google it..... 

Did I say it right?

Now permit me to leave, for I've friends in The Tower....

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