Friday, September 30, 2016

Vampire in Philly Prank but Our Vampire Wonderland Vampires Love This!.. 9/30/16

Couldn't find Jonathon and the former emperor, turned night creature (possibly some type of vampire) Marcus Aurelius, but saw this. Shared it with Conrad and Sarah and Annie and some of the other night-folk, even Baylah at the shore. They LOVE it!

Granted, our type of vampire is very different. This gentlemen is more like what they term a 'ghoul,' or possible a 'noxious' type.

You see, there are various types of night-folk and each type comes in a variety of castes. Jonathon and his crew are 'nobles.' They were carefully made and brought over... never starved. The blood lust is under control.

Ravenous vampires are usually 'noxious' types. Their creators did the deed and more or less abandoned them, or perhaps they were entombed and the experience left them insane? This state always results from some traumatic  experience at the time of their transformation.

Monstrous teeth are rarely seen in the real world. Most vampires have small but keen, razor sharp fangs. Regardless of their former station in life, many vampirinos and vampirinas develop a certain cadence and style of speech. Some might find it aristocratic. This is not an affectation. Neurologists, psychiatrists, psychologists and others have studied this phenomena. There are popular theories, but as yet no definite explanation. It may be they collect and concentrate prions from every victim and these tiny bits of nucleic matter add to and alter their own cerebral make up.

A few of our night-folk think the star of this video might be a non-decomposing zombie and not a true vampire at all. Please know most types of night-folk dislike the current usage of the term 'zombie,' for the original, Caribbean- Latin American- Creole New Orleans revenants were nothing like the flesh eating monsters we see now. They had soulless, dead looking faces. They shambled along, serving as slaves to the zombie master. Legend has it, some appeared to require no sustenance at all, though they probably gnawed on something when left to their own devices.

Next time, we'll try to track down Jonathon and his limousine companion, the former emperor, who has secrets of his own. They gave us the slip. True, Jonathon enjoys the notoriety this blog provides, but certain members of THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN, like the emperor, are more reticent.

I assume they returned to the British Consulate on Rittenhouse Square, but I (this is Billy) didn't see them there. They could be in one of the rooms upstairs.

I hope Doctor Franklin doesn't have them...

<more next time>


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Thursday, September 29, 2016


Sometimes Jonathon left the meetings at the British consulate and cruised around town in one of the plain, black, Cadillac limousines. The driver was an old 'familiar.' A mortal helper and facilitator. They called him Jo-Jo. Well, everybody called him Jo-Jo, even the people around his way who didn't know about him and the vampires. But he wasn't afraid of being spotted, because the windows were smoked. Nobody could see in.

Jonathon stared at the passing scene. A girl pretended to pick up after her little doggy, but she didn't. Two teens ran out of some bodega with purloined Slim Jims. A couple from the building with the seventeen million dollar condos stood talking to their celebrity, Center City, Jersey Shore developer friend. Jonathon knew them from late nights at the bar at The Happy Rooster. Everybody turns up there.

Former Roman Emperor turned vampire, or magical entity, or whatever he was (yeah, he was in the car too) said - I always enjoy Philadelphia, one of the first planned cities since Colonia and Londinium. The specially situated squares. The narrow, little 'mews' behind the main streets. Came over with the Marquis de Lafayette. What a place this was during the Revolution. We used to dine at The Old City Tavern..... I know. I went there too - said Jonathon. Used to sit in the back room with Franklin, reinventing the world.... Did he know you were a vampire? - asked the Roman... Of course he did. That bastard knows everything. You know, The Old City Tavern's still there. Oh, it burnt down, but they always expected it to burn down, with all the open hearth cooking and the smoking and all. That's why they had detailed plans and architectural drawings. Most buildings had them. Put it back just as it was..... I know - said the former ruler. I've been to the 'new' one too. Odd that we never met.... That was Franklin's doing. He likes keeping people apart. Makes him feel stronger...... They lapse into silence. Then the emperor says - How do you think this will all play out?..... You mean will we go to 'war?' - asked Jonathon. I don't know. Look, night-folk have these dramas all the time... And sometimes there's been violence - said the emperor. We had them in Rome. When I was on the throne, when I was still strictly mortal, we had The First Lamia Rebellion. The vampires fought the early Christians for control of the catacombs..... You know, there were Jewish catacombs too? - said Jonathon... I know - went the emperor. I read National Geographic. Just in case you've read any historical accounts, I did not want to do it, but the army made me..... Made you do what? - asked Jonathon.... The crucifixions, I mean. You can tell if you examine the nails. They're army nails. The heads are different. Mine bore little 'S.P.Q.R.' impressions. Emperors were more or less constitutional in nature. We, ostensibly, acted on behalf of the senate and populace of Rome. Army nails were plain - explained the emperor. They killed all of them, seven hundred Christians and three hundred vampires. Did it at night, because of the vampires, all along the Via Appiani.... Why'd they always use that road? - asked Jonathon.... It got the most traffic, people coming in and out of the city, the I-95 of the day. When the sun came up the vampires burst into flames. You know, those blue flames? People thought we burned them. Few knew they were actual vampires. Critics often called Christians 'vampires,' because they sapped the unity and civic strength of the capital. You know how propaganda is. Plus some who were superficially acquainted with the practices of the sect misinterpreted the act of communion and that didn't help. A lot of Christians and Jews fled the city after that. They were all 'slapped with the same paint brush.' Most went to Marseilles and from there up into Gaul, or west to Hispania. Just know that I didn't do it.

The driver took them up The Benjamin Franklin Parkway and around to a wooded area behind the huge Museum of Art. Night-folk were known to take victims there. It was all arranged. Jonathon knew where they were going. Teenage lovers and homeless people sheltered under the dense hedges and bushes. It started to rain. The former emperor, Marcus Aurelius said - I know you're curious about my true nature. Come watch me feed. Then you'll know.....

Jonathon didn't say a word, but he got out of the car and followed the Roman into the trees...

<more next time>


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Tuesday, September 27, 2016


Been told you can access my RSS by clicking on ... and clicking on SUBSCRIBE TO RSS rectangle at upper right portion of the screen.. takes to to the new way they do things... I think... I want to get the direct link to that page but do far I don't have it.

I'm at the British consulate house on Rittenhouse square with the others (Jonathon's faction)... I listen to the talks and meetings... Learned a spell or two from the magicians. I can make people who KNOW they saw me, forget that they did. I can lure animals into quietly following me. Works best with dogs and crows... probably ravens too...

Boy, do they go through a lot of absinthe. I can't drink it. It's harmful, but the magicians and vampires don't mind.

They have a singer, a girl who accompanies herself on the harp. When she's done, she just stops... freezes and stops. I never see her recline or rest. I never see her lower her arms or blink or breathe.

They feed me rich stews. Not just me. The magicians get food too. They are mortal after all, even if some claim to be more than five hundred years old.

Jonathon and Cressida (Aura's new name) are off somewhere 'renewing' their acquaintance. They give each other slow, lingering 'cat baths.'... She does him. He does her... Probably in one of the bedrooms upstairs.

I'm charged with logging all this down. It's what I've always done. There are two cats here. They have silvery coats that change color from bluish silver to russet silver to, oh, I don't know what you'd call it. They sit and listen in the meetings just like humans and dine on little cans of crab meat.

A magician-girl tells me their enchanted mortals... twins from Normandy, but that's all she knows.

I try to speak with the emperor. I try to talk to Marcus Aurelius. But he keeps his own council. The cook makes him garon sauce, a fermented fish condiment ancient Romans dote on. He smears it on bread and spreads a little on broiled meats and such. He likes hot dogs too, vile cheap ones with hog's lips and cow farts.

They're listening to a concert now... Mongolian throat singers... an ethereal sound seeming to come from two unrelated sources. The singers are conjoined twins from Ulan Bator. They're joined at the base of the spine... never see each other face to face, only reflected in mirrors.

I see a big wing chair over in a corner. It's empty. I'm going to go grab it an try to fall asleep. No one's offered me a bedroom yet. I sleep where I can. Clothes and toiletries are no trouble. A magician from Nairobi conjures them up for me. Right now I have on a hip length, long sleeved, fitted tunic that fastens with little bone toggles and slim, legging-like pants such as Persian noblemen wore in the thirteenth century. I'm shod in fine, dark purple leather mid-calf boots. My underwear and socks are fairly normal. Oh, the tunic and pants are deep olive green and made from a roughly woven silk The magician offered me a turban. I turned it down. No turbans. I don't do turbans.

I'm going to take two accent pillows from a sofa and go commandeer that wing chair. That throat singer music is hypnotic. I'll be asleep in no time.

The enchanted human cats are watching me. I wonder what they think... cat thoughts, or human?

<until next time>

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Monday, September 26, 2016


Cressida sublimated out of 'the Annex.' She flew over the trees. They passed beneath her like bullets. Her vampire eyes uniquely attuned to the moonlight. She caught snippets of the world çbelow.... a black bear curled up against the wall of a shuttered cabin... a bobcat eating a dead crow.... something feral, furtive and vaguely humanoid, perhaps a 'Jersey Devil?' They were known to frequent the deep woods of Pennsylvania and New York too.

Then she had to land. Her abilities, strong as they are, only went so far. She needed to rest. She needed to feed, if not on humans, something like a human, or even an animal. She ran through the trees, skipping over roots and rocks and all manner of things. Night-folk can do that. It's automatic. It's instinctive. She caught the scent of that feral thing and closed in. He stopped and froze, just like a deer. She studied him... a true Jersey Devil. Not the convoluted creature of colonial penny dreadfuls, but a basically human shaped creature, covered in short, glossy 'horse hair,' though with a slightly long and somewhat equine face. The cranial hair was thick and feathery, continuing down the neck till it stopped between the shoulder blades, rather like a horse's mane. How scared he was. His night vision was nowhere near as keen as hers. She slowly circled him, weaving in and out of the trees. He gasped. He flinched. The vampirina made no sound. Her lack of scent only added to his fear. She saw the wings. Great bat-like things they were. One was carefully folded behind his back. The other hung lose, torn and broken, perhaps from a bear attack. He couldn't fly. He couldn't get away. He was helpless.

She moved in, ready to feed... not human blood, but close enough. Unlike little Horsey Skeezix and his clan, in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, this one was a true wild specimen, probably come down from the Adirondacks up north. Maybe it had a language. Maybe it didn't. Could be he knew a word or two of English. Crypto-biologists might be interested but Cressida wasn't. She just needed food.

Five heartbeats later she was on him and it was done. He moaned a bit. He cried for his mate and young one hidden in a nearby cave. Cressida didn't want to do it, but had no choice. Jonathon was waiting for her. Stupid Franklin thought she was a renegade. Some renegade. But Jonathon and she had a history... all those slow, lingering sponge baths in the dim, hidden passages of the mole-people. She remembered. He did too. So she took the blood, felt it osmotically pass through every part of her body, not through the arteries, but directly into the tissue itself. She absorbed it like a sponge. Soon after, when she was restored, the vampirina rose up, sublimating through the very molecules of the atmosphere and continued on her way. Jonathon was waiting, so he traveled south, roughly following the northern extension of the turnpike and made her way into Philadelphia.

Cressida, the daughter of a mole-king, had family in town, both night-folk and mortal. She missed her sister, silver to her gold, Sylvia to her Aura and stopped into the subterranean, lower level of never used subway tunnels before arriving at the residence on Rittenhouse Square, where the others were waiting.

The vampirina, formerly known as Aura, played both sides of the crypt. Night-folk need spies too. True, she was new to this and her sympathies lie with one side more than the other... but what difference does that make?

Aura beamed when she saw her sister. In the low, orange glow  from the Sterno can it was hard to discern any difference, though she sensed her transformation. Cressida knew that she did. Neither referred to it and their visit was loving and cordial just the same.

Later that night, she 'appeared' in the upstairs sitting room, among those assembled at the consulate and they were very glad to see her.

Marcus Aurelius said something in an ancient Vampire-vulgate (an old basic type of Vampire Latin) and the discussion continued...

Outside life went on. Cars passed. Delivery vans rattled by. An occasional pedestrian crossed the screen... That is it would have been a screen if we were filming this...

Trouble is, somebody was...

<more next time>


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Saturday, September 24, 2016



Jonathon met with emissaries  of the British paranormal community at the residence of the British consul in Philadelphia. It was a polished and tailored beaux arts place directly on Rittenhouse Square. He'd been there before, back when it belonged to a Sears and Roebuck heir. The dining room originally graced a later Medici palace in France and crossed the Atlantic just prior to the start of The Great War. Higher vampires, those from 'quality' have their place in Society. Oh, people know what they are, though it's never ever mentioned. Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea stemmed from the Hasmonean Dynasty, second in all Israel only to The House of David. It's odd, people read the Bible. They see Saul, David, Solomon and assume that's basically all there was. A few other kings are mentioned, but nobody pays any attention to them. We read about The Herodians and The House of Maccabee,  as the Hasmoneans were known, yet who realizes that Hasmonean descendants are still with us today? Believe me, our vampire friend is not the only one. After the fall of Rome, client kings throughout the empire insisted on the careful compilation of family histories. It's all they had. Some found favor at the Persian court. That empire still survived. Indeed, scions from The House of David had a court in exile there... a very lively place too... and were known in ruling circles as 'the exilarch,' or Prince of The Exile. Hasmonean heirs were about in the world as well. Many lent their names and position to Northern communities in French, or what would later become German lands. Their status, though less exalted, still meant something. Muslim and Catholic rulers on the Iberian Peninsula were intimate with the ben Macabis. Had not our Jonathon fallen into Crusader hands and been rescued by 'Papa' (an uber vampire), he'd have spent his life as a Cordoban courtier, attending dinners and symposiums at the Alhambra and taken part in royal 'progressions,' or sumptuous mounted parades throughout the kingdom.

Our son of Al Andalus was basically a snob. Jonathon knew who he was and although very careful to ask after the comfort of others (aristocrats love to appear considerate), keenly protective of his own lofty estate.

So he called for this meeting and they all came. Grigory Usipov, that very regal Russian, vampire, oligarch flew in from Moscow. Haute 'magicians' from The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn house in London, took a whole floor in The Ritz Carlton and a little known cabinet liaison from Washington showed up too. Each participant arrived separately in a plain, basic, Cadillac limousine. Everything was hush hush. Security was tight. In truth, the media had no idea. Some old time members of The Fourth Estate had an inkling, but also the good sense to keep quiet. A certain much celebrated magician from that Golden Dawn house threw a 'crystal fence' about the place. That venerable spell has never been breeched since the time of the first Pope Gregory.

Upon entering, each invitee was ushered up the wide stairway to the large sitting room on the second floor. Jonathon preferred that setting. Why make the situation seem more troubling than it already was? Here they could sit in club chairs and talk.  The auditorium was a place for lectures and a lecture was the last thing he wanted.

The paranormal world is an extremely volatile place. True magicians have little use for night-folk, or witches of a more rustic sort. Lesser breeds, like non-decomposing zombies were thought more diseased than enchanted. And lower forms, such as ghouls, true zombies and lucid wanderers were never received at all.

He had to make this congress of allies, as he called it, work. Grigori Usipov was to be second in command... a grand vizier, or secretary of state. Other members of the ruling council would be named at the conclusion of this meeting. Right away, the magicians were already talking ----- Oh, two vampires at the helm? Yada yada yada. Buzz buzz buzz. Jonathon pretended not to hear. Marcus Aurelius (yes, 'that' Marcus Aurelius) told him to be patient. The former emperor had friends in both camps. As a stalwart of The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, he'd always favored consensus.... Many vampires and magicians thought he should lead. But Jonathon ben Macabi was known as a gentleman of true faith. His ancient royal blood provided him with a certain cache too. A group of paranormal types from Spain already referred to him as 'el rey.' Many older attendees still resented Rome. Marcus Aurelius, as honorable as he was, could never live that down. Extreme longevity presents problems of its own. Memories never die.

So they made their plans, or moved closer to making their plans... Doctor Franklin and his group made plans too.  A certain comely, newly minted, Korean vampirina lass was already en route to her East Asian assignment. But that group never considered that the mark in question had an eager first cousin who was even worse.

Global intrigue is a hard game...

And nukes trump paranormal any day...

<more next time>


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Jonathon sits in the small library, his favorite room in the townhouse. Sarah, his consort, sits with him. They do not read, or watch the small television. The drapes are drawn, as they always are and a small, glazed, ginger jar lamp, brought back from the China Trade almost two hundred years ago provides the only illumination.

They communicate telepathically, sometimes whispering a word or two when precise elaboration, or detail is necessary. Most nights they go their separate ways, but not this night.

Jonathon - I should have let Doctor Franklin die. He loves his life more than he fears the vampiric burden.

Sarah - Why not sublimate in there and destroy him? Just pass through his body and that'll be it.

But she knew, as soon as she thought it. Jonathon 'took vows.' He never kills indiscriminately, but relies on 'visions' sent from above and even then, when he takes a life, it is a 'culling' and not a killing. Sarah follows that philosophy too. It's all she knows. Jonathon made her a scant four or five years ago. Occasionally she speculates, but that's as far as it goes.

Jonathon spoke. He said - Destroying an evil doer never destroys evil. Someone always rises to fill the void. Franklin wants to rule the world, or at least control and influence a good bit of it. He thinks he can sculpt humanity like a stone. Trouble is, stones don't have souls. That's what we are, even night-folk.

How complicated you make things - said his consort.

He poured a bit of chilled vodka into her glass. They drank.... Then they drank some more and stared into the middle distance.

Jonathon said - I love this room. If I was sealed in here, like a genii in a bottle, I could survive. I'd lay on that sofa and read every book, beginning with The Trials If Gillgamesh and ending with THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS....

I've been meaning to ask you. Why no books more recent than THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS? - asked Sarah.

I promised Jackie Susanne. You know she was from Philadelphia, don't you? - said the tipsy vampirino.

God, I'm glad vampires don't have to pee - went Sarah.

Yet we always feel as if we've just had a good one... a good pee, I mean - said Jonathon. Remember when you were mortal and you had such a good pee, you could walk around with a relaxed urethra and nothing would drip out?

Yep - said Sarah. It's why people become vampires. We feel like that all the time...

That's not why people willingly become vampires, though - said her creator.

It's not? - asked Sarah.

No - said Jonathon. Most don't become vampires willingly. They are brought over when near death by more or less compassionate vampires, or desperately beg for it to avoid death. Others are beguiled, or seduced.

You mean like me? - she said.

He didn't answer, at least not that question. But he did say - Unto every generation saints are born and thirty six is their number for eighteen is the number of life and they are more than mere mortals. It is for the Lord alone to know their names. Thus any soul we meet might be one of their number. That's why we don't kill on our own. Never know if it's one of the blameless...

Is that a Jewish belief? - she said. Maybe I've heard you say it before, but I don't know. I don't pay attention to what you say...

Thank you - he said. Then he poured them both some more vodka and went on. Among their number, the saints, I mean, is The Messiah....

Does this happen in every generation? - asked his consort.

Uh huh - he said. And you don't want to be the vampire that kills the Messiah...

I don't get it - said Sarah. Doesn't The Messiah get bored waiting around for his time to come?

No. He lives a regular saintly life. He doesn't know he's The Messiah. Others see it in him.

Like Miss Congeniality in Miss America? - she asked.

Don't be funny - he said. What kind of vodka is this? Remind me to ask Edith. But the thing is, there's always one human on Earth worthy to be The Messiah. That's why they've killed so many people throughout history. Satan doesn't want him to come.

Is that why? - she said.

It's what they taught me - he said.

You are one complicated vampire - said Sarah.

He just shrugged...

Sarah thought for a few heartbeats and asked - But Doctor Franklin is a vampire. He's not mortal. Can't you just kill him?

I told you! Someone else will just be the new Doctor Franklin...

Like the new Doctor Who?


Who! Who! - she said. And you know what else? Where's that beautiful vampire voice, the sound, the cadence you usually have?

It's the vodka. It'll be back...

You know, I read that NASA will make a big announcement Monday about something they say on Europa - said Sarah.

Maybe the manta ray people waved back? - mumbled Jonathon.

I forgot about them - went Sarah. So what are we going to do about Doctor Franklin? I mean he's programming those killer vampires like Doctor Goldfoot and the Bikini Bomb...

Jonathon snorted, thought about drizzling a bit more vodka into his glass and reconsidered.

Vodka provides night-folk with a bit of release. ... If you're spiritually constrained, like Jonathon, you need that.

But now he had to sober up... and go face Doctor Franklin...

Back when Cressida was 'Aura' she was a friend of his...

Now he didn't know...

So he got up, went out of the house into the cool night air and started walking...

Vampires, even thousand year old ones, like Jonathon, don't know everything... but they have personality and sometimes that's enough...

<more next time>


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Wednesday, September 21, 2016

KNOWLEDGE ... an idea for a sly cable drama... 9/21/16

Bon note, mi amici... This is not a regular post, just a little idea I have for what could be a cool, cable show based on the day to day lives and intrigues of a 15th century, ruthless Italian dynasty ruling a wealthy, powerful city-state in the North. Welcome to the rebirth of KNOWLEDGE, with more plunging bodices and clingy hose than the Ballet Russe... Stone halls with courtiers and feral hounds. Great galleons plying the sea. Byzantium has just fallen to the Turks. While to the west, a rapidly rising Spain threatens to recreate the world entire.

Meet the family Monte di Ferro, or Monte Antica, as they are sometimes called, descendants of an old clan dating back to the dissolution of the Frankish Empire. They've produced popes, statesmen, domineering consorts and a secret Illuminati or two.

Franco fights to keep the ducal throne. His wife dallies with a wealthy Converso (secret Jew). His heir held for ransom on the Island of Rhodes, while a daughter, banished to a convent for 'inappropriate behavior' threatens him at every turn.

Witness the glamor and pageantry of violent, bloody horse races careening round the public square.... the masked balls of carnivale... occult magicians and alchemists... refugees fleeing a nascent Inquisition.... and enemies slowly boiled in oil and sulphur...

Then there's Zio Lorenzo (Uncle Lorenzo) a bitter, younger brother engaged as a mercenary cavalry officer for the Polish-Lithuanian magnates... or at least he was, until he returns in the company of a beautiful witch, la strega Isabella...

Like GAME OF THRONES? ... No, this is real. These things really happened...

What a day, what a day for an Auto da Fe, but that comes later...

We open as Franco oversees the torture of a spy.
Since spying was considered theft, they snip off the offender's fingers with huge, razor sharp shears, throwing the guilty digits to the lampreys, writhing in a nearby zinc lined tank. You see all manner of things in a dungeon.....

The victim screams. He trembles and nearly chokes on his own snot... They stop, leaving one fore finger and a thumb on his left hand... He fights for breath, bound to a rough, wooden 'throne.'...

Franco speaks. He says - Name your master. Name the leader. If you do that, your wounds will be bound and you can keep what you have left.

The man sits, snorts and thinks for a few moments, then he raises his head and laughs like a maniac.

Franco fights to maintain his composure. He approaches the man, stands before him, studies the pathetic fool, then suddenly boxes his ears. The laughter turns to shrieks. Franco leans down and says - I hope you can hear me, for I chose to be merciful. You may keep that finger. You may keep that thumb. I'll have something else instead...

The brutal, human ape of a torturer looks up.

Franco goes - Prepare the cucchiaio ......

And watches as the butcher heats a an old, specially shaped, rusty spoon...

Approximately ninety six heartbeats later, the butcher scoops out both eyes, turns to the duke and asks - should I finish him?

Franco says - No, let him live....

( cue the music... as the credits roll)

<<<<< KNOWLEDGE>>>>>

Just an idea, but I could get into this.

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Tuesday, September 20, 2016


Cressida's rant ~

She glares at Doctor Franklin. Even in silence, his look is judgmental and accusatory. They sit in 'the residence,' his rustic private quarters within 'the annex.'

Cressida - What the hell do I care what you want. I'm not a piece of equipment. You think I'm going to kill people because you tell me to? Go to hell. I hope you burn and go to hell. I'll kill who I want to kill. And you know what? I don't CARE who I kill. That's the kind of vampire I am. Why should I care? I lived underground. My people lived underground. They didn't want us. Those bastards walk by homeless people all the time. They ignored my humanity and the humanity of everyone I cared about. So don't tell me who to kill.  We're not all crazy. They like to say that. Makes it easier for them. I went with you. I saw those 'powerful' people. I sat there. I didn't say a word. You thought I bought the whole thing. 

Doctor Franklin - I thought you understood.

Cressida - Think whatever you want. I don't care what you thing. You want me out of here? Who cares? I'm hardly ever here, you bastard. You know why I played dumb? You know why I came here and stayed quiet? I had to learn. I had to learn EVERYTHING. I had to learn how to sublimate. You're right. It is the most important thing. It's freedom. It's power. (in a quiet, controlled voice) And I can do that now. I'm a natural. They all say I'm a natural....

With that she instantly seems to disappear and reappears behind Doctor Franklin's twig chair.....

CRESSIDA - You see? (blows in his ear... he flinches... she laughs... she leans on the back of the chair) I could have destroyed you. I could have sublimated right through you. My 'aura' is stronger. I could have torn through your body and ripped you to shreds. Liquefied you. You know how it is. You saw. You saw when we practiced on the prisoners. You watched everything. Who's idea was it to shoot them up with muscle relaxers? Who's idea was it to paralyze them? Yours? ..... (he doesn't move).. What'd you do, just grab them off the street?

Franklin - No, the police supplied them. They make people disappear all the time.

CRESSIDA - Some of those 'people' were kids...

FRANLLIN - (shrugs) Some were criminals...

CRESSIDA - What are we?... You know where I was last night? I killed somebody. I sublimated out of here and I killed somebody... an old man. He had a souvenir shop, a real nice little, Pocono Mountain souvenir shop. Had a little cat too. Such a cozy place. The cat watched the whole thing. Licked up the grease after.... He wanted to close up. Wanted his can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Lived in the back. Wanted to see his reruns of Match Game '78. I pretended to browse... little varnished cedar boxes... books about the area... t-shirts.... stuffed chipmunks. Bit the back of his neck... crushed right through the vertebrae... snapped the spinal cord....makes them more pliable... like you and your muscle relaxer... Maybe the cat inspired me?... I don't know... but I got down on the floor and carefully nipped into his scalp, right on the top of his bare, pink pate... the cat was intrigued... Then after incising a pattern of similar cuts from ear to ear... and you know these were deep cuts. I am a vampire after all.... Peeled his scalp, the front half, I mean, down over his eyes. I don't know why I did it. Guess I'm just creative that way.. He whimpered. Sounded like he was singing. Sang all the while I drank his blood... almost. Then he stopped... Death will do that. He ignited into that 'cool' blue flame, like they all do and disappeared. Burnt right up. Cat meowed a little. I took a nice, little varnished wood box. Then the cat tip-toed over to lick up the mess and I left. Just another case of spontaneous human combustion. That's what the local paper will say. That's what they always say... A lot of that going 'round.

Franklin didn't say a word.

She took a bottle of vodka from the carved, oak bar and left.

He exhaled and cried.

That girl was gonna be trouble...

<more next time>


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Sunday, September 18, 2016

Rhys On 'The Americans' <~ #vampirewonderland wants you to discover this show 9/18/16

Doctor Franklin sits in his 'residence' and thinks. He has impressive digs in the Philadelphia compound and another in his Pocono annex. The mountain place is more rustic, like an 1890's upper class fishing camp... plaid sofas... twig chairs... rough stone hearth... oak paneled walls. The windows look out on 'the lake.' Not real, like a 3D projection. You have to remember this is all underground.... It's getting dark. The fake, 3D sun goes down over the mountains. He occupies a twig chair by the fireplace. Is it lit? Sure, it's always lit. They have a good air conditioning system here. What do you think?

He goes over his plans to insert vampire assassins into the coteries of inconvenient leaders. But that seems cumbersome now. No need for anything so elaborate. No need to create relationships. Just get them in. Do the deed. Kill the 'mark,' sublimate through the roof and be gone. Who cares what the security cameras show? Who cares what people think? These are vampires. Let them go to hell.

So sublimation it is. They have to learn that skill and it has to be perfect. Most night-folk fall into it naturally after a bit. They exit a 'culling' (sounds so much better than 'a killing') and BOOM, instinctively whoosh up through the ceiling plus any other floors and disappear into the night. He's never done it yet. Luna tries to work with him, but he's afraid. Jonathon used to tell him stories. For centuries he's heard the stories. I mean when he was mortal... an English vampire from Restoration London who solidified while passing through a stout, stone wall.... Crushed clear through he was... legs and hips in the privy... all the rest in the garden, except for the nine inches liquefied into the ancient, Norman masonry.... They burned his nether half before he could retrieve it, or rather before his allies could retrieve it. Familiars spirited away what was left of his upper half. To prevent desiccation they carefully positioned him on  a thick, glass table (alchemists had such things). Can you imagine such exquisite torture? Vampires feel their injuries quite acutely. The only difference is they usually survive them. So he was there, balanced on a smooth, reflective surface, as if rising from a cool, clear lake. His spleen, the stump of his spine, raw nerves, a ripped stomach, all manner of offal, pressed against the glass. How he wheezed. The look in his eyes. He knew. He knew what was coming. The had to cauterize the 'wound.' Not with fire. They couldn't use fire. The substance of vampiric bodies drinks it right up. They ignite like tinder. But every drop of blood, lymph and serum oozed from his mangled thorax and they had to stop that. Desiccated vampires endure as papery figures, paralyzed and still, with blind eyes. So they lit a fire in a large stone pot and placed it right under the table.  Can you understand how hot a two inch thick slab of glass gets? I don't think you can. Some have been revived. It's very tricky. At times it works. At times the dry tissue and supposedly healing blood combine into a thick, sticky paste-like mess. After that, there's nothing else to be done, but burn what remains. If heaven approves the vampire 'lives.' Soon after a thick, white stiff, rubbery mass sprouts from the truncated spine and from that new growth begins. Victims die like flies to nourish this resurrection. How they shriek and scream at the sight of such monstrosity. Eyes flutter back into skulls, as the clammy arms reach out for them. This all takes place in a very dim chamber. The less seen the better. But they see plenty. Death must be a balm....

Franklin remembers that story. Maybe as a mortal he didn't think about it all the time, but as a vampire forced to master the art of sublimation he does.

Wouldn't you?

So sublimation it shall be. Those trained at 'The Annex' will excel at it. Those who don't will die trying.

It takes real dedication to be a vampire these days... at least in the eyes of a vampire master who seeks to rule the world.....

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Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Two Vampires Walk through the Moonlit Woods... 9/14/16

And then he saw Jonathon walking through the moonlight. Franklin liked to walk. His body felt renewed. For three hundred years he had the aches and pains of a preserved old man. Now he had the shape of an old man, but a physically perfected one. The aches and pains were gone. Vampires make the best 'doctors.' Vampire blood cures all.

Franklin whispered - Are you here, Jonathon, or am I dreaming?... His maker said - A little of both. What you see in an emanation, a projection of my form. I know not where you are. You've hidden that from me, but I will always be able to reach you. And I am aware of what I see, even in the astral form. A woodland in the hills. It smells as Pennsylvania did in the first days and I speak of the advent of Penn. Are we in Pennsylvania?... Yes - said Franklin. We haven't traveled far. A remote glen in the Poconos. No quad-runners. No outboards. Just the air and the trees and a state of the art scientific installation hidden deep in the cool, brown earth. .... How apt, for a life - eater (vampire) - said Jonathon..... My dear boy - went Franklin. This place, in a more simplified form, has been here since federalist times. Inquisitive, troublemaking scientists value privacy too. Now, why are you here?

I sense your intentions - said Jonathon. You mean to shape the mortal world to your will. You mean to play 'the shepherd.' You mean to kill more or less indiscriminately. You mean to ignore 'the visions.'

Wow, I 'mean' a lot of things, but if  you're asking me if I intend to ignore God, yes, I do. Oh, I don't deny the possibility of His presence, just the efficacy of his actions, or lack of actions. - said the old patriot. So, no. I don't plan to play 'sheepdog,' like you do... Then he sighed and smiled.

Jonathon, or rather his emanation, looked troubled... Franklin noticed and in a quiet voice he sang - You take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland afore ye... But the reverent vampire didn't get it.

Franklin said - Jonathon, Jonathon, Jonathon, look at the world. Look at all the pain. Look at all the chaos. I can fix that.

Buy killing? - asked the believer.

You kill - said Doctor Franklin.

No, I and those like me 'cull.' We do not kill. God sentences. We merely execute - went Jonathon..... Mere semantics. Splitting hairs - said Franklin. Maybe I'm too much of an explorer, a man of the physical world, to be a vampire. But a vampire I am. You saw to that and please don't think I'm not grateful, though I'm still a man of science. That includes anthropological science too. And I will shape the 'clay' as I see fit.

The one thousand year old 'Rite of Spain, orthodox Jew said - When I finally give up the ghost and fly to the Heavenly Gan (garden) Eden, I will face those I culled and ask their forgiveness and they will give it. For they have been cleansed in Gehenna (purgatory --- In Judaism there is no eternal 'hell,' even for Hitler.) and understand the purpose of things. What will your victims tell you?

Spare me your ecclesiastic fairy tales. I am free of such things - said the explainer of electricity....

The reflection of Jonathon went - Then let us, at least, walk and breathe in these wonderful surroundings... So they did.

After a bit they came to an overlook and gazed out upon a silvery glazed, midnight valley.

I suppose you think God made this? - asked Franklin.... But Jonathon didn't say a word.

They just stood there, watching an owl plane through the air down below. Soon a tiny rodent would die.

Some things cannot be rushed - thought Jonathon and after a bit he vanished.

Franklin walked back to his compound alone... and the crickets sang of his passing.

<more next time>


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Saturday, September 10, 2016


Last night I shared my plans. Tonight I will tell you more. I can tell you everything, for idiots deem it all to be fiction. Let them. You and I know the difference. And what is political fiction but thought experiments shared with the masses?

Look at North Korea. Do you honestly think your leaders aren't toying with the idea of 'regime change.' My God, what a euphemism that is. The Round Heads in seventeenth century Britain only wanted a 'regime change.' The fact that it required a brutal sawing off of the king's head was just incidental. Well, governments do a lot of incidental things. I'm Doctor Benjamin Franklin and I know.

Right now, at our Pocono Mountain annex to The Anti-Enchantment Bureau we have a cadre of shining stars ready to go into action. And few people suspect, let alone believe what goes on under the rolling hills and baby mountains of north-east Pennsylvania.

I know Billy posted a series of episodes about the vampire academy attached to  Topkapi Palace during the salad days of The Ottoman Empire and how these cosseted 'biological weapons' were polished and honed till they became alluring, irresistible killers. Well, I am doing the same thing. It's basically a very facile maneuver to insinuate a properly trained vampire with a trusted aide. They have interns, pages, assistants, all manner of fresh, young things. The leader notices and takes the new arrival under his wing. Then one night, while going over routine correspondence at whatever they call their Camp David, or soon after during a 'rest' period, the deed is done... a discrete love nip, but one that goes on a little too long and the troublesome foreign potentate is bear grease... You know, the sticky residue left over after all the blood is gone and the, as yet unexplainable 'cool' blue flame does its work? No body. No identifiable DNA. No nothing. And the vampire assassin disappears too. No one takes credit. It's never mentioned.

In other instances the unfortunate ruler becomes a blood drinker. Most don't realize what's happened. The initiator vanishes and they're left to face the feverish skin shedding all alone... the initial gut wrenching hunger. Oh, they figure it out after a bit. That's when the trouble starts. Can you imagine a vampire ayatollah in Iran? A vampire monarch in Britain? The political-diplomatic world is like a giant Jenga game... a tweak here, a nudge there and the whole thing comes crashing down.

None of this has happened yet. School is still in session. We even have a well known flesh sculptor (bone, as well) to provide an added, subtle perfection. All the clothes are custom made. There's weight training, exfoliation... 'ex' everything.

Granted, certain parts are complicated. Our vampirinas and vampirinos still hide from the sun, but their 'mentors' don't care. Anyone can do office chores. Our graduates do other things.

Luna's here with us too. Some of you might be familiar with her. If not Google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz (we're forced to pretend this is all just made up) and add Luna.

I'm amazed at how much we have out there. Eight hundred thousand words, they say. You can Google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz and add ANY word and something will come up.

But you'll have to excuse me. It's 3AM here... less than three hours till dawn. I particularly enjoy hunting for campers. It's cooler here in the mountains. I like that too.

Now let me find an elastic pony tail thing and my hiking boots.

Doctor Franklin has to go.

<more next time>


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Thursday, September 8, 2016

Tears For Fears - "Everybody Wants To Rule The World"..ESPECIALLY A BITTER VAMPIRE.. 9/8/16 - ORIGINAL VIDEO


For over three hundred years, I've been the national innovator around here. I created the idea of an American City... a BIG university... a MODERN hospital... precision refractive lenses. Yes, I know the Chinese and certain MesoAmerican civilizations take credit for that, but who the hell do you think perfected it? They may have been Leif Erikson but I was Cristobal Colon. Nobody called him 'Christopher Columbus' when he was around. I hope you know that.

And I sat in that fetid, sweaty, Old Pennsylvania State House all summer, hammering out The Constitution, a document almost Biblical in its literary purity. But did those pseudo-aristocratic, ridiculously wigged, pretentiously accented, conceited bastards, so much as offer me ANY official position. Look, you know history. You know what happened. I don't have to tell you. That's why I 'died.' That's why I disappeared. Postmaster General doesn't mean shit. But you're gonna see me go 'postal' now.

Vampire blood gives me a new clarity. If you want it, there it is. Go and get it. But you better grab it 'cause it's going fast. I love that song. Sure, I'm not quoting it correctly, but, boy, do I get the idea.

You know where I  am now? In The Annex, an early addendum to The Anti-Enchantment Bureau compound built in the Pocono Mountains in case the Brits found and burned the nascent original during The War of 1812. Thank God they did not. But thank God (well, all right, maybe not God) for The Annex. It's where we did, shall I say, certain questionable scientific investigations... inoculation therapy in the early days, trying out vaccines on recalcitrant slaves and prisoners and doxy-girls... Oh, some lived.... 'some.' Others died. A few went blind. A few went crazy. A few went both..... DON'T look at me like that! ... Do you intellectual infants really think the George Washingtons and Thomas Jeffersons and Andrew Hamiltons were all so honky dory? Hamilton was the most interesting one though. He did deserve that stage show...(sigh).. God, I'd like a stage show. I'd like a lot of things... and now, I'm going to get them.

You see, what we're doing here is creating and training our cadre of vampire assassins. Read the last two posts. You'll figure it out. They have to look natural. They have to represent all physical types and racial varieties. We're going to insinuate them into many different places... get them close to the throne. And that's not so hard to do. Political sex scandals are legion. That's why young beauties work best... all manner of young beauties. Soon they'll be vampires. Till then, we groom them and educate them ... good bodies... good minds. Rush and de la Vega and French think I need them. They think I need their money. What I need is to keep an eye on them, because they're trying the same thing. Look, they're watching me too. But I'll win. You see, I want to rule the world. All they want is the world's money. I want it all. Oh, once I get what I want I do plan to be a rather benign dictator... Maybe throw a few 'virgins' into volcanoes, but only a few. Individual polities will still be able to retain their most beloved programs... health care in Canada.... bull fights in Mexico.... oligarchs in Russia... tango dancing in Argentina.... snails in France... yadda yadda yadda. I'll be an immortal Marcus Aurelius, the good emperor of Rome. In fact, we've already kidnapped him and brought him here from THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN house he lives in, in London.  Trouble is, he's immortal too... Not a vampire. He's had some 'work' done. I'm just not sure what it is. For now, he's my tutor.

I'm not sure how I'll use the other Philadelphia vampires... (chuckles)... Sounds like the name of a questionable sports team. Doesn't it?... And in my empire, the Eagles win the Super Bowl every year..... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha... I'm just kidding... sort of.

Great galleons will sail the stars. Magnetic trains will glide 'tween continents via antiseptically clean subterranean tunnels. The blind will see. The deaf will hear. The flatulent will stop farting..

I joke. I make light. But this is real. I will have my day, or night, as it is now....

You think they can stop me? Maybe you do. What difference does it make to me what you think?

I dealt with resurrection men, body snatchers, in London from seventeen fifty five to seventeen seventy five. Poisoned adversaries in Britain and America. Brought three dogs and a monkey back from the dead.
Dissolved a common law wife you never heard of in acid...

So what... Who cares?

Artists are mercurial beings...

Get used to it.

<more next time>


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Wednesday, September 7, 2016


A continuation of last night's post ~

Doctor Franklin and the 'Lady' Cressida passed through the finely appointed lobby and entered an elevator. No one so much as glanced at them. An over done 'grand dam' of an older woman laughed at a joke. People returned from the theater, or a late dinner, or Labor Day festivities. A harpist in a long sleeved, fitted black gown, quietly played selections from Sweeney Todd. Vampires, even new ones can remain unnoticed. It's an instinctive thing. Maybe it's telepathic, or simply a look, or a stance, but they have it.

And they exited at the sixth floor, silently gliding down a richly carpeted hallway, passed framed and matted black and white photographs of belle epoque Philadelphia. One picture caught the Doctor's attention and he momentarily stopped... a trim, attractive dandy sitting on a bench and tipping his hat toward the camera. The dandy was Jonathon... A coincidence? An omen? Who knew? Doctor Franklin quietly chuckled. Cressida barely noticed. They went on.

A six paneled, dark, varnished door at the end of the hallway opened. Franklin entered first, his young companion followed. A tweedy 'Miss Hathaway' woman closed the door. Three mature gentlemen attired in dark suits shared a sofa. The one in the middle stroked a small King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. The dog wore tortoise shell spectacles. His human nodded, gestured toward two Louis XV chairs and said - Please, be seated. They sat down.

Franklin said - The glasses, are they real, or merely an affectation?.... Oh, quite real - said the gentlemen. We're planning on reshaping her corneas, but must wait till she stops growing. Vetting physicians now, or at least she is..... The Miss Hathaway type woman smiled, sort of.... Then the gentlemen continued - I believe you know Senor de la Vega and Mister Rush?.... The right hand old man and the left hand old man both nodded. Franklin nodded back.... The dog lover went on - Who's the girl?.... A colleague, a new vampire, as am I - said Franklin.... Yes, I heard - said the dog lover, whose name was French, by the way. What changed your mind?  I thought you were a staunch mortalist?..... I still am, but my health did that. Harmonics didn't cut it anymore, at least not for me. Got me to three hundred plus. Not a bad run. And death doesn't suit me, so I agreed to this.... Nor us either - said French. We plan to go with complete cerebral download. The Japanese are experimenting with our robotic bodies right now..... I'm getting Tyrone Power - said de la Vega... I'm going for Miss Greer Garson - said Rush... Oh? - went Franklin. A clean break, is it?... Yes - said Rush. I figure this is the perfect opportunity. Always liked her. Mrs. Miniver is a favorite of mine..... And you, French, who will you be? - asked Franklin.... Moe, from The Three Stooges - went the dog lover. Don't be funny. You know how private I am. And you? Have you killed anybody yet?..... Please, Mr. French, you know how private I am. But I do have an idea... The three uber billionaires glanced up.... Everyone appreciates a good world domination plan.

Go on, please - said Mr. Rush. Is this something that can be achieved before we translate into the silicon state?..... Well, I can't guarantee that, but we will be able to accomplish a lot - said Franklin. Can you trust the bodyguards?..... They're in the little bedroom playing cards - said French. So if you don't shout we should be alright. Can we trust your little girlfriend?..... Cressida won't betray us. Who could she tell, Star Magazine?.... Cressida rolled her eyes.... Why did you bring her? - asked Senor de la Vega.... Let's just say that she has ties in two worlds. You'll find out.

Then he moved his chair closer to the sofa. They all leaned in, as he began to whisper...

Most little people, the world over, are simple minded, self limiting, superstitious cattle. They live the same lives generation after generation and then blame some 'other' group for their own truncated existence.
They follow coarse exploitive dictators, or elected officials who mirror their own shortcomings. If we can get them to hate and mistrust those fearless leaders we create chaos. You've seen old movies. You've seen the peasants storm the castle with torches and pitchforks. This is that, but on a bigger scale.

And how do you plan to cause this hate and mistrust? - asked French.... Turn them into vampires - said Franklin. They can't be seen in daylight. They can't break bread with fellow rulers. Rumors will get out. Secret videos will appear on line. Clergymen, our clergymen, will issue warnings. A riot here. A riot there. Will the army rebel? Will the army stay loyal to their satanic leader? Can you imagine what would happen in the Middle East? In Russia? In Latin America? India? Africa? Even here. Even Western Europe. Everywhere. China might survive. They're used to cloistered, remote leaders, but I can think of few other places. Can you imagine a vampire pope? Look, now that I'm 'in the business,' so to speak, let me put together a little group. Give me a month or two...
The three mature gentlemen grumbled a bit, but soon everyone was shaking hands. Franklin's wanted to be president since seventeen eighty seven and now he almost could.

The Miss Hathaway look alike secretary sat on a small, upholstered bench pretending not to hear. And they really didn't want to do it, but they forgot about her, so there was no other choice.

Franklin had to feed on her. She whimpered and cried. The three mature gentlemen enjoyed the show. Even the little dog in glasses watched attentively.  After all, she was only an executive assistant.... quite replaceable and not important in any way.

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Monday, September 5, 2016


Doctor Franklin and Cressida rode through the nighttime city in a chauffeur driven, glossy, black Maybach.... Neither spoke. They just watched the passing scene. Crowds of young folk leaving the open air Labor Day Weekend concert streamed by the windows. Cressida studied the girls. How different they were... How casual... They laughed... They talked... They kissed friends. She never had a life like that. From 'mole girl' to vampire. That's how it was. From one specimen of exotica to another. Vampires are entranced by mortals, especially their contemporaries. They speculate on the mortal life that might have been. It's hard to pull back from that, yet still be very much dependent on it.

Doctor Franklin saw everything. The old reprobate never missed a beat. He said - How are you getting along with Jonathon's 'Sarah?'.... What, can't you tell? - asked Cressida. I'm civil. We talk. We shop. Vampires 'shop.' Doesn't that sound strange? She likes Boyd's. I like South Street. She never talks about her kills. I don't think she even enjoys them. You know what she told me?.... Franklin shook his head.... She said that 'thing' sees herself as Wendy, from Peter Pan. And not just now since that song came out. She's always been like that. First, when she had Philadelphia After Dark, her bookshop and all the 'nuts' came in. Then when she became a vampire, it got worse. Jonathon is Peter Pan to her. It's all good deeds. She has boxes of old, little, glass, perfume sample vials. I mean boxes. There's a store room. Like there must be a Sam's Club for night-folk selling vampire supplies. I mean it. Makes tiny cuts in her fingers and collects a few drops in each one. Fills maybe a dozen every night. Stops them up and gives them out to sick, troubled people all over town. Nurses in neonatology and pediatric wards wait for her.... Do they know what she is? - says Franklin..... Sure they do - says Cressida. I mean they used to watch True Blood. They used to read Twilight. Hoped it was real. Dreamt that it was. And then she comes along. A regular 'Miss Jesus.' You've heard the term. You know what I mean.... He nods... Well, what? I'm supposed to be best friends with her? Look, I don't hate her. Just want to push her in front of a train. That's what I want to do? Can we do that to a vampire? Will it kill them?... He shrugs, then adds - Perhaps she'd morph into sentient peanut butter and then slowly mend back to her usual form, or maybe tapioca pudding?..... They laugh..... Cressida says - And look at you, trim black suit, hair neatly swept back, crisp white shirt, silk tie... You look like a reimagined Bernie Madoff. No Eagles' sweat suits?..... No Eagles' sweat suits - he goes.

The young folk spreading out from the concert on the Parkway (the BENJAMIN Franklin Parkway, I might add) disappeared into bars and clubs, leaving the streets to the usual locals and dog walkers. Our duo in the Maybach sits in silence. Then the former 'Aura' (now Cressida) quietly asks - Where are we going?

To meet some people - He said. Just some interesting people.... Then why are we so dressed up? - she asked.... Well, they're 'dressed up' kind of people. Look, 'Papa's' been neglecting you and Sarah's not exactly your cup of tea and ,no, you can't kill folks every night of the week. You're not a 'noxious' vampire. You're 'noble.' We don't do that. Do you understand?... She shrugged.... Franklin said - How bout a little vodka?... She shrugged again... Franklin passed her his flask. She guzzled it down, turned toward the people on the sidewalk and said - Boy, look at all the delicious 'shitheads.' That's what Little Annie calls them, shitheads, because they're all full a shit..... An unavoidable biological necessity, my dear. Animal life is like that. At least they don't leave it on the street, like the dogs... and then, to himself he added, I was made for this life all along.... He blew her a kiss. She blew one back. The driver chuckled. He was a 'familiar.' He understood these things.

Soon after, the sleek, black car glided to a stop by the entrance to a new, stylish boutique hotel. A liveried someone or other smoothly opened the door. They went inside.

Then the night was as before.. warm, dark and enveloping. Even with the lights of the city there are many places to hide. A suite with high end finishes in a fine hotel can be a very good spot for anonymity. The powerful individuals occupying these accommodations knew that.

They knew many things... and many people too.

Cressida was quite impressed. In fact she practically peed herself, if vampirinas peed like mortals do...

<more next time>

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