MARCUS AURELIUS SPEAKS.. On The Study of Magic 2/22/13

This is wilkravitz. It's all coming from me tonight. Tomas fixed it up. He wants a moment by moment account. And he has enough abilities of his own to arrange it. So I think. I speak in my head and it appears on the screen. I don't even have the laptop with me. I don't even know where it is. Probably somewhere back in the 'mews' house. But here'

what's going on now....

Francis and Miranda ushered us into a fairly spacious, neo-classical entry hall. Black and white marble tiles on the floor. White, plastered walls. Niches with Greco-Roman busts.  Just right for this type of house, I'm told. And it was quiet. So quiet. Yet I could hear... no, not hear...'feel' the presence of other souls deep within the building, as if the interior was bigger than the exterior.... a difficult transformation to achieve....At least I know that now.

A man came out to greet us. And you know who he looked like?... Like Adam Sandler with curly hair and a curly beard.... just like in Don't Mess With The Zohan. For real. I mean it. I kid you not ... To quote Jack Paar, who I'm told was also somewhere deep inside there too. ...!!! How do I know how Jack Paar sounded? He was before my time. But I know. I've 'seen' it. I know things!!!???

The bearded one approached and Francis said - 'Divinity,' I'd like to present my esteemed friend, the venerable life-eater, Jonathon ben Macabi and his entourage, late of the New World city of Philadelphia....... The one time Roman emperor acknowledged our leader's presence with a raised eyebrow and a nod. Mr. Spock, upon the bridge of The Star Ship Enterprise could not have done any better..... With that we entered a small, though comfortable sitting room adjacent to the clean, spare hall. The Imperial One sat down first, right by the fire, I must add, and we found chairs nearby. 

For perhaps twelve heartbeats no one spoke. The emperor adjusted the crease in his trousers (Hugo Boss... Sarah told me). Annie stared at a fine collection of small pieces of Egyptian funerary art running the length of the mantle piece. The rest of us just looked at the floor, waiting to be addressed. This man commanded the Praetorian Guard, after all. And no one wanted to be thrown to the lion. 

He turned to Jonathon (also known as Tomas) and said - Ben Macabi, Judean, am I right? ..... Our leader said - Of that line, at least originally, Eminence, though with a fair admixture of Visigoth and Celt-Iberian, since I hail from what was once, your western province of Hispania, though born to this world some eight hundred and fifty years later.

Four heartbeats later he turned from Tomas (also known as Jonathon) to question Francis. And in the voice of a trained orator asked - Why are they here?.... To taste magic, my lord. To be sure, they've seen it many times in the past. Indeed, some stem from the one known as 'Papa.' - said Francis. But they've never seen the source. They know not stoic wisdom and... (Francis would have said more, but the noble Roman held up his hand, so the dapper Brit demurred).

The Great Aurelius said - I am a philosopher. Perhaps you know my 'Meditations?..... We all nodded. Who would have done otherwise?.... And he continued - A 'stoic,' such as I, strives to control passion. We value calm, clear logic. We learn from nature and do what has to be done.

Then he lapsed back into silence. We all just sat there. Annie sighed. She was bored. The emperor saw. She smiled at him. He smiled at her, revealing his small, sharp fangs...... He spoke once more and said - I sit here in this place today, because of a gift received long ago in the trans-alpine city of Vindabona (ancient Vienna). I was near death at the time and so... it was necessary.... Of course you know there are gradations... of magic, I mean. First you learn what 'is.' Then you learn to manipulate. Last comes understanding..... I suppose you could say we follow some of the Hermetic Order... but Hermes didn't know everything.

He addressed Miranda and asked - Will they be here for the spring equinox? ...... I think not, Divinity. - she said...... He pondered a moment, whispering  - Then we'll have to provide them a varied assortment of treats.... 

The emperor stood up. We all did like wise and followed him through a door into another place. I looked up and beheld the Great Dome of The Pantheon in Rome, bathed in a warm, golden light streaming in through the high, round opening, known as 'the occulus.' 

That, in itself was more than enough. But when I looked down, I saw that my friends were all children.... Sarah, Baylah,Tomas, Edith...all of them, giggling with a simple, innocent joy, each dressed in the clothes of their youth.

Only Annie, already in the body of perhaps a seven year old, remained unchanged.

And doves flew 'round our heads....

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The House on Hoxton Street.. 2/21/13 after THE REVELS, in London

Many of the properties along the way have been modernized and are essentially the same as similar residences in say Chicago or Washington. But this house was different. Yes, it was brought up to date, although the date it was brought up to was nineteen twenty five.  And that, in itself, tells us something.  Modern kitchens are not a priority for night-folks. They value deep wing chairs covered in old mohair and tall clocks almost as ancient as they are. 

This house had a library with the requisite detailed paneling... a necro-torium for intelligent magical exploration and a small, but inviting chamber of adepts used for debates and discussions. The furnishings come from the Privy Council of Schloss von Hohenstein and belonged to the sixteenth Elector, who converted to a Vampirian creed in later years and penned many respected essays on Life-Eating.

Tomas had never been to this place. Experimentation occurred elsewhere in his day, primarily tucked away in back alleys near Black Friars and the like, blending right in with the rather bohemian theatrical crowd. But for developments in contemporary space/time/matter manipulation, this was ground zero. That's what Francis said and he knows..

The ride over, bracing as it was, proved trying. Edith moaned the whole way. wilkravitz almost slid off, but Baylah grabbed him. You know dragon skin is very much like snake skin. At least in this bloodline it is. Not slimy, but dry and smooth.... a bit too smooth for those not blessed with the proper 'seat.' Miranda doesn't mind. Francis rather enjoys it, especially this one , Gold Claw,  a gift from the second son of a high born Han nobleman. The beast itself contained it's own magic. All dragons do. How else do you think they survived the Great Comet? No, they're not that old. I don't mean to imply anything like that, but, how else?... As a species, I mean....

Now there was no identifying sign or mark upon the house...nothing. In all respects it looked like a fine, impressive, three story, red brick. Georgian, or neo- Georgian residence, fit for a gentleman born and bred, or perhaps a rather astute businessman. The heavy, oaken door gleamed under a flawless gloss of dark green paint. And the knocker (polished brass) was in the form of a mermaid. I think merfolk were symbolic in the early nights of the Hermetic Order, but now it's just a tradition. 

Gold Claw was trained. She knew what to do and smoothly de-materialized as they drew up to their destination, depositing four night-folk and two mortals upon the carefully laid down, granite pavement. Yes, they were invisible while en-route. And mortal traffic passed right through them. But there was no place for her here...no stable ... no dragon harem, so she slipped back through the ether to her commodious quarters, there to await her master's call.

Francis gestured toward the door and said - Shall we? ...Then he quietly chanted a few words in Old Eastern Vahmperigo (rather like a blend of Old Slavonic with Tartar and Persian overtones) and stepped aside as the portal slowly opened.

Three heartbeats later, after carefully peering inside, the Philadelphia contingent entered. Miranda and her dapper companion followed. The door closed...

And The Emperor Marcus Aurelius came out to greet them....

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DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?...POST REVEL NIGHTS IN LONDON 2/20/13

In many ways, The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn is only a name 'borrowed' by various associations aspiring to some form of metaphysical power and enlightenment. The true organization began over one hundred and twenty five years ago, deep within the winding lanes of late Victorian London. If you've ever seen the film, Young Sherlock, by Steven Spielberg, you've seen snippets of a distorted order centered on sacrificial violence and pseudo-Kemetic (Kemet being the true name for ancient Egypt) mythology. Well, the venue in question tonight is not like that. In truth, it goes back long before The Golden Order and even predates the Masonic and Rosicrucian brotherhoods believed to be it's source.

Those familiar with our strange kind of 'fiction' know about La Ciencia Vampirismo. Tomas has an old, handwritten copy. Sometimes he hides it deep within the Jersey Pine Barrens. Sometimes where they live. I don't know every hiding place. The title can be translated as 'the science of vampirism,' or 'the science of the vampires.' Most present day cognoscenti hold with the second interpretation.  Magic has always been there. Vampires are but one manifestation, though they tend to be true vessels of the creed... if you want to call it a creed. 

The 'Temple,' if you want to call it a temple, rests in a district just to the east of 'The City,' that old, original core dating from the Romans. Today, it's a trendy place, filled with spare and stylish galleries, artistic dining spots and luxurious  boutiques. Some claim The Ripper hid there.  But you'll just have to ask him.

Beatrice fixed toddies. Vampires enjoy hot toddies, rich with the fragrance of cinnamon and cloves. She uses rum. The Philadelphia group prefers vodka or gin, but they did not say anything. And old, seventeenth century chamber music played in the background, on a discretely positioned Bose radio.

They were waiting for Francis and Miranda, Tomas' night-folk friends from the court of The Merry Monarch. Ever see Ralph Fiennes and Uma Thurman in that Avengers re-make they did? Well then no further description is necessary...... Wait a minute. Sarah's giving me a dirty look. (teeth sucking noise).. How can she see me? I hide so well... a creature of the ether...been 'dead' more than two thousand years.... Yeah, hello, It's me, Zebulon. Nice to see you. I'm the pretentious thirteen year old what got hisself stoned for consorting with witches in thirty-eighth century ('first' to most of you)  Jerusalem. Pretty much the only stoning they did during that period.. Stonings were exceedingly rare. But I was the lucky one.... Now, what was I gonna say?... Oh yeah. Francis had on a slim black suit. Google the Vera Wang tuxedo. You'll see what I mean. Miranda wore one too. But her's was even slimmer. I think he did have a bowler,  just not on his head. 

When they came in, sublimating through the garden wall, Tomas smiled. Three hundred and thirty years since the last time, yet he remembered it all. Nell Gwynne was quite the hostess. Vampires don't bother much with introductions, They all possess some level of telepathy. He might have said something for wilkravitz and Edith, but even they have a certain heightened sensitivity.....

Then they all wrapped themselves in warm coats (gloves and scarves too, I might add) and walked out to join the night. 

A long, sinewy, undulating Chinese dragon waited by the curb, ebony black with golden claws. In fact, it took up most of the tiny thoroughfare. But the isolated pedestrian or two never saw it. And a man carrying a large, zipped, leather artist's portfolio walked right through the dragon's lower back and kidneys without causing the slightest stir. The 'temple' is a place of magic, you know. 

So following Francis' lead, they all climbed onto the creature's back, grabbing hold of thick, gold cords circling its body. And after the life-eater helmsman issued a clipped command in flawless Mandarin, they took off through the streets, as the snake-like steed bore them on their way.

London after midnight offers many such sights. Pity so few can see them... 

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FORTY EIGHT HOURS IN LONDON ... THE VAMPIRE REVELS..an epilogue .. 2/19/13

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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We'll Meet Again. Don't Know Where. Don't Know When .. THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2/18/13

A few of the mortals left early. Cars came and took them away. I think they were glad to depart. Some humans take to the vampires and come back frequently. They like the talk. They like the atmosphere. It's probably therapy for them. Maybe they want to kill? But most never come back. Most try and forget.  The movie industry contingent is like that. Some think it's the thing to do, so they come. Buy a whole bunch of somber black outfits. Not just black. Some buy dark violet, gray, or hunter green too. Nice suede boots. This is just a diversion for them. 

Those souls left are all down in the great hall. 'King' Rafe gives a talk. It's his thing. Really like a gimmick. He has this ability to cause a 'voice' to spring forth from the ether through a point just in front of his face. Sometimes he sits there with a grin. Sometimes he's expressionless. But the voice always has a muffled, distant, metallic sound to it. Makes people feel cold. But they listen, because he's rich in years and exceptionally powerful. Not like Papa, or, dare I say, the Lady Renate, yet strong enough.  And it never makes sense. More like talking in tongues. Some say it's a seminal dialect of Vahmperigo, akin to ancient Basque.  But they're just guessing. One year he 'said' 'Klactu borada nicto' over and over for perhaps three thousand, two hundred and forty heartbeats. Vampires just sat there, staring into space, afraid to move. Once he transformed a supposedly disrespectful vampirino into an earthworm. No, not an earthworm. A blood-worm, I think it was. And he never brought him back. So now he exists, crawling through the mud, for all eternity, or whatever does actually constitute eternity in el mundo vampirido. I don't know what he's mumbling. sometimes it sounds like a prayer. But I don't know who he's praying to.

The space is dark. Not all dark, but almost. The fires are banked down. A headless, female harpist provides soft, harmonious chords in the shadows. No, this one is not the same one as Tomas and Sarah had upstairs, I believe he has a few of them.... captured daughters of a long dead king. Don't know where he keeps the heads. 

But it's like he's commanding some poor, impressionable life-eater to come forth for a 'release.' 'King' Rafe likes a good sublimation, he does.  Some try to melt back into the shadows, only that's impossible, because the dogs are here. The huge hounds silently pad 'round, pausing in front of whoever tries to be most inconspicuous. So most just sit there, breathing evenly and waiting for it to be over. 

A lone vampirino from Croatia clears his throat. Vampires don't get phlegm, so they know he wants to speak. Then he says three words --- I seek release... 'King' Rafe positively  claps and giggles like a little girl, as a tongueless functionary takes the 'young' man's hand and leads him toward destruction. 

He stands inside the inlaid, bronze circle and looks down. 'King' Rafe says - Who frees this soul?...And another vampirino of indeterminate nationality, stands up . All eyes fall upon him, as he scrapes back his chair and walks toward the spot, never slowing, never hesitating, nor swerving to the left, or to the right. Then he locks eyes with the victim, whispers 'Forgive me,' and sublimates right through him. 

Now, as Mister Never-you-Mind said last night, the one doing the walking cuts the still and quiet one to shreds. I don't know why the magic works that way. But it does. Fortunately, the vampirino of indeterminate nationality was a big man, so no part of the 'young' Croatian remained intact. And his body held its form for perhaps six heartbeats, before raining down onto the cold stones. 

'King' Rafe went - 'Awwwww.' But all could tell he was quite pleased.  No one moved, as the dogs lapped up the mess.

Then drinks were served. Icy, thick bottomed, glasses of Grey Goose, I think it was. They switch it up. The headless, long dead king's daughter played a song.... 'We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.' .... 

After that it was over and everyone prepared to leave.  Annie stayed close to Tomas. She whispered - I don't think I like these vampires..... Tomas kissed the top of her head and guided her out through the commodious vestabule and toward the waiting limousine. Sarah, Baylah, Edith and wilkravitz followed.

All their things were already stowed inside and so they left. No one said much, as they slid through the cold, North country night, on the road to London.

Other night-folk did the same, leaving 'King' Rafe all alone. The hearths were cold. The wide expanse was dark, save for weak and silvery beams dancing in through small clerestory windows set high up, under the eaves.

And he threw out his arms and danced, til all the enchanted furnishings and what-nots, conjured especially for THE REVELS evaporated into the gloom and disappeared. 

After that, he simply walked into the ether and vanished. I don't know what happened to the tongueless functionaries. I really don't. 

But the old, great, venerable 'house' went back to its ruined state and slept. 

While somewhere up above, a lonely harp still played..

Adieu, from THE VAMPIRE REVELS...

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LEFTOVER CATTLE-PEOPLE.. THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2/17/13

People got quiet. They wandered around the castle looking in all the old rooms. Some read ancient tomes in the library. 'King' Rafe has a big collection of ancient Vahmperigo (vampire dialect) works. Just in case you don't know, 'To Serve Man' is more or less a cook book. I think it goes back to Byzantine times. 

A few went skating on the pond. Some slaughtered left-over cattle-people. They had like a rodeo...like The Calgary Stampede. Couple Canadian life-eaters organized that. Annie went. Tomas and Sarah didn't want her to, but Larry was going and people said the dealers in Russia were only gonna sell 'em for dog food anyway... No, not dog food... cat food. I got confused. She dressed up like a cowgirl. Wonder if there ever was any real cowgirls? Baylah took her to this big store they had down the road. Like a TARGET or a CAREFOUR or something. They stay open til eleven o'clock, so it was OK. Baylah says let her learn what it's like. Let her see if she wants to wind up a 'noxious.' But Tomas is afraid that's exactly what she wants.  

Did it all out in the 'close.'  Let 'em run 'free.' Poor bastards. Imagine, they saw Tomas redeem some a them. But they didn't make the cut. Then they think they're gonna be cat food, only now it's bronco-time. Vampires were swoopin' down from the battlements yellin' Kai-Yai-Yippie-Yippie-Yay... But they don't know what cowboy supposed a be like, 'cause some a them got Davey Crockett hats on and that's all wrong. Gave 'em branding irons. Tongueless functionaries kept 'em hot. Each vampire get a different one. First they burnin' up cattle-people's butt cheeks. Then they look at all the ass welts and separate 'em so no vampire gets gypped. Each one gets to kill the ones they marked. Annie, bein' puny-like only got three, but two were real fat, so she was satisfied. A few God damned vultures went crazy. 'King' Rafe was laughing and laughing. then he go all catatonic again. 

Human guests get buffet too. Give 'em all the crap what's left over.... dried up rib eye. Gluey mac and cheese. Think it got some 'rubber' bacon in it too. Shrimp so old it taste like pee- pee. Nobody ask no questions though. They all busy trading 'links' and makin' like they love each other. Hollywood contingent snatchin' all the goody bags. Few a them get little vials a vampire blood, but just a few. You can tell who they are. Just look real close. Got mugs like Jack Nicholson when he the 'Joker,' only not made up so nice.

They still cleanin' up from the rodeo. Couple real ugly people still left, 'cause nobody want a bite 'em. Gonna donate 'em to a home for blind vampires. What they know?

Ain't had no vampire-suicide-sublimation yet. Wait'll they get drunk. It'll happen. 

Tomas, Sarah and most a the other real 'noble' ones in the scriptorium, playin' Yahtzee. They can hear some a the noise, but they pretend like they don't. He did call (Tomas, I mean) some made to order shoe guy in London. Wanna get some more trim, black, leather bootkins. You know how he is for shoes....

Edith and wilkravitz lookin' for souvenirs. She found this old, brown skull under a chair in some sitting room. Don't know who it belong to. Skull won't say. Other one, wilkravitz, gettin' phone numbers from people what say they big time promoters and agents. Got a diamond ring he saw layin' on the rug in the hallway. Baylah says it a cubic zirconium. But Tomas says he'll have one of his 'familiars' evaluate it when they get back home.

Look, #SNL over now, so why you not round up your friends and get 'em to read this? 

Mister Never-You-Mind wanna go say goodbye to some ghosts...

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LAST RITES... THE VAMPIRE REVELS.. 2/16/13

Tomas and Sarah walked over the hills, under a chalk white moon and twinkling stars. Words were few. They just weren't necessary. She held his hand and she knew. She felt his soul and tasted each emotion. He liked his life. He valued his purpose. Tomas missed Philadelphia and wanted to go back. Yes, they might pass through The City. They might go to London. But only for a night or two. 

He missed the narrow cobbled lanes of Society Hill, Queens Village, Old City and all that. He missed the quiet churchyards filled with cool, gray stones.. True, London had such places... very similar places. And it was once his home. Perhaps that's why Philadelphia felt so right? It was built to be the New World London, after all. The huge clock tower atop City Hall. The small antique shops on Pine Street. The tea room in The Wanamaker Building. Even the street accents in some districts. Ever hear how they say bee-yoo-tee-ful? A true Cockney could do no better.

They passed through ghosts and other things. Most pretended not to notice, though one or two said hello.... a child, a little girl exposed to the cold in Druid times, asked their names.... an old man minus half a skull told jokes. He wanted to know by what means they kept their flesh. Sarah told him they were life-eaters...they were vampires. But he was unfamiliar with the breed and so he wandered on.

Baylah helped Annie dress for 'Last Dance.' She brushed her hair and sprayed in an aerosol 'thickener.' It apparently works on vampire hair too. She should write them. Maybe they'll put that on the label? And the headless, female harpist plucked away in the shadows. I believe it was 'Old Man River.' The sad creature had quite a large repertoire.  Annie talked to her from time to time. She was curious. She wanted to know what the strange thing was. But the fleshly automaton never responded in any way. She could have gestured, or maybe even answered with music. But she did not. Baylah thought she was primarily a magical construct, layered over some convenient, brainless corpse.... like a puppet, preserved and dead... 

After 'Old Man River,' she went into 'Eleanor Rigby.' That sounded nice. 

'Last Dance' was special. They had a promenade. They danced a Stompanada. Every once in a while some vampire came forth to 'testify,' asking for release. And that was provided, usually via a sublimation. The petitioning party dressed accordingly, sometimes in their finest, occasionally in plainer clothes. Few came naked. It just seemed too vulnerable.  When it was time they stood in the circle, an inlaid, old bronze ring, created many years ago, waiting for their 'savior' to appear. After a few heartbeats, for prayer and the like (funny, but even the 'noxious' prayed) the savior came forth, walking straight toward the waiting soul in the center. Never slowing. Never hesitating. Never turning, til they passed right through them.... That was it. Very quick. Very simple. 

The body in movement is not harmed. But the body at rest is destroyed. Every particle of the sublimating entity cuts through the stationary soul like a tiny, razor sharp, obsidian knife.... For a moment, the 'victim' stands there. The form remains intact. But then blood runs forth from an infinity of cuts, til the stationary body disappears, cascading down onto the old, stone surface in a fast, red torrent. Even the bones disappear. .... Now so there not be any piece of skull, or hand, or foot, or torso 'living' passed 'the act,' larger people usually sublimate through smaller individuals. That usually works. Dogs come out to lick up all the blood. There's no cleansing blue flame. That does not happen in instances like this. And, no, the dogs don't become vampire dogs. At least I don't think so.

Maybe we'll see one tonight? Then we'll know. Big dogs... they use big dogs, like Irish Wolfhounds. 

But watch their eyes, if such a thing takes place. You'll never see dogs with eyes like that again.....

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