Vampiric Rage

From Dusk till Dawn

2008-10-29T10:32:00.003-06:00

Stars
Harvey Keitel
George Clooney
Quentin Tarantino
Juliette Lewis
Salma Hayek

Runtime: 108 minutes

Release Date: 1996

MetaCritic Rating: 52% / 100%

89% Austin Chronicle Marc Savlov (Highest)
This is horror with a wink and a nod to drive-in theatres and sweaty back seats. This is how it's done.

0% San Francisco Chronicle Mick LaSalle (Lowest)
Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez had their fun with From Dusk Till Dawn, and now they need to stay away from each other. For their own good. Forever.

Plot
George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino star as the Gecko brothers -- two dangerous outlaws on a wild crime spree. After kidnapping a father (Keitel) and his two kids (Lewis), the Geckos head south to a seedy Mexican bar to hide out in safety. But when they face the bar's truly notorious clientele, they're forced to team up with their hostages in order to make it out alive.

About Us

2008-09-08T09:00:00.000-06:00

Hi from the site webmaster,

I thought I would write a little about myself and post it here.

I have quite a few interests, and never enough time it seems. My career isn’t website design (I know that is obvious), but it is in Information Technology. I fix computers by day, and update sites and Squidoo by night. During the early evenings, and weekend I spend time with my family. And do chores.

I have been a gamer for over 30 years now, which is how Mygear Photos Blog came into being. I currently own a Wii, PS3, Xbox 360, and a PC. I try and show the equal love but the PC and PS3 get the most at the moment. You can find my set-up picture under the name Conflict Universe if you are interested.

My next favorite past time is movies. I love fantasy, and sci-fi the most. I’ve been a huge Marvel fan since the last 80’s and I’m overjoyed with the movies Marvel is putting out over the last few year. I was also a Dungeons and Dragons nerd during the 80’s and early 90’s. In honor of these past times, I created Conflict Universe. This site focuses on Marvel, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Dungeons and Dragons.

Since becoming a father, I took a real interest in what toys he plays with after a crib he was using was recalled after a child died. I created Ban Lead Toys because I wanted a way to keep up to date with toy safety, and let other parents know too. I have tried to make it user friendly, and I am constantly tweaking it’s design.

As a favor to my wife, I created a blog based on her Grandma’s family cook book. This is a collection of over 150 recipes submitted by over 150 people. Each family member or friend could submit only their favorite recipe, so in a way, it’s a collection of the best of the best. You can find it here. How to cook like your Mother

I was born in England, and lived there for 32 years before moving to America. I ended up in a small city called Helena, in Montana. This Capitol city has a lot of charm about it, and is a great place to raise kids. I enjoy it here so much, I decide to create a blog all about it. The City of Helena travel guide. Come visit sometime.

Another interest of mine is a little on the dark side. I really enjoy watching vampire movies. Not sure why. Perhaps it because they live forever, or are so mysterious. Or their powers remind me of Marvel heroes. Either way, I attempted to write a book about it twice, and I’m hoping 3rd time lucky on that. Till then I still have my website dedicated to vampire stuff. Vampiric Rage Oh and in case you are wondering, I don’t dress up like a vampire (sorry to disappoint), not even on Halloween. If I ever do, I will post a picture on the site.

Since I enjoy funny pictures, movies, and jokes, I created a fun site called Funny-As-Fook It’s not exactly safe for all eyes, so beware.

Not sure what I was thinking when I created this blog. Uwe Boll is without doubt the worst directory since Ed Wood. But he has an attitude you just love to hate. If you are focus about his movies, he might just try and beat you up, or he might settle by calling you a retard. Love him, or hate him (most hate him to be honest), he is worth reading about. Uwe Boll

My last site is a collection of my blogs which grew. It started out as my own database but now have over 75 blogs on it. If you have a blog, why not submit it too us here. The blog Database

Thank you for visiting my site, and reading a little about me.
Gary

Contact Us

2008-09-08T08:58:00.000-06:00

If you have any comments or suggestions about this site, you can contact me at the following email address.

submit.mygear@gmail.com

Thanks you for visiting
Vampiric Rage

Lost Boys: the Tribe (2008)

2008-07-31T13:20:00.005-06:00

Stars
Corey Feldman
Corey Haim

Runtime: 94 Minutes

Release Date: 2008

MetaCritic Rating: Not Rated

Plot
According to Corey Feldman in an interview with MTV: "Once again, you have a fish-out-of-water story of two young folks who move into a new town to visit their relatives and find themselves caught up with a bunch of bloodsuckers. I really like the script because it is very close and very true to the structure of the original film — same kind of scares, same kind of laughs, same kind of relationships."

In a press release in Business Wire, Warner Premier expanded on that, saying, "This sequel takes us to the shady surf city of Luna Bay, California, where vampires quickly dispatch anyone who crosses their path. Into this dark world arrive Chris Emerson (Hilgenbrink) and his younger sister, Nicole (Reeser). Having just lost their parents in a car accident, the siblings move in with their eccentric Aunt Jillian and become new prey for the locals’ way of life. When Nicole unwittingly falls for a local vampire, Chris must locate and destroy the gang’s lifeline before his sister’s transformation is complete; to do this Chris finds himself relying on the expertise of none other than Edgar Frog (Feldman). Subtle references to characters from the original film, and cameos from returning actors offer homage to the Lost Boys legend and set a sinister tone of impending doom."

Official Website: http://lostboysthetribe.warnerbros.com/

Underworld Evolution

2008-07-10T14:34:00.005-06:00

Stars
Kate Beckinsale
Scott Speedman
Tony Curran
Derek Jacobi
Bill Nighy
Michael Sheen

Runtime: 106 minutes

Release Date: 2006

Metacritic Rating: (36% Average Rating)

70% Variety Joe Leydon (Highest Rating)
Overall package is potent. A few rock-the-house scenes of slam-bang derring-do -- are nothing short of sensationally exciting.

20% Empire James Dyer (Lowest Rating) (2 Ratings at 20%)
But for all her slinky, undead-chic looks, Beckinsale can't carry the film on curves alone and there's not much else here worthy of attention. Evolution's action sequences are as horribly bungled as its plot, resulting in a string of repetitive confrontations that feel toothless even by the last movie’s standards.

Plot:
Underworld: Evolution continues the saga of war between the aristocratic Death Dealers and the barbaric Lycans (werewolves). The film traces the beginnings of the ancient feud between the two tribes as the beautiful vampire heroine Selene (Beckinsale) discovers that she has been betrayed by her own kind and seeks her revenge. (Screen Gems)

Offical Site : http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/underworldevolution/index.html

Underworld

2008-06-27T09:18:00.009-06:00

Stars
Kate Beckinsale
Scott Speedman
Michael Sheen
Bill Nighy

Runtime: 121 minutes

Release Date: 19th October 2003

MetaCritic Ratings: (42% average)

75% New York Daily News Jami Bernard (Highest Rating) (4 ratings at 75%)
The filmmakers' decision to go with prosthetic enhancements rather than CGI gives the snouts, fangs and snapping jaws a refreshingly tactile look.

20% Washington Post Desson Thomson (Lowest Rating) (2 Ratings at 20%)
It needs a wooden stake AND a silver bullet through its script.

Plot
Underworld reimagines Vampires as a secretive clan of modern aristocratic sophisticates whose mortal enemies are the Lycans (werewolves), a shrewd gang of street thugs who prowl the city's underbelly. (Screen Gems)

Kate Beckinsale

Offical Site: http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/underworld/index.html

Dracula: Origin

2008-06-09T11:07:00.009-06:00

Dracula: Origin
Format: Windows
Released: May 2008
DEVELOPER: Frogwares
ESRB RATING: T (Teen)

Plot:
Assume the role of Professor Van Helsing, the celebrated vampire hunter, on the hunt for Dracula, who himself is on a quest for a mysterious manuscript that will give him the power to raise the dead. Your goal is to prevent Dracula from finding and using this manuscript, and killing him in order to liberate the souls of all those who have had the misfortune to cross his path. Using conventional Point & Click gameplay, Dracula: Origin is an adventure supported by impeccable graphics and a rich storyline taking you to London, Egypt, Austria and, of course, to Transylvania; the famous home of the great vampire. The world, inspired by the celebrated author Bram Stoker, is reproduced through 2D environments and animated 3D characters. All of the elements essential to the Dracula story, including horror, love, blood, crucifixes, stakes and garlic, are included in a disturbing and absorbing Gothic atmosphere.

80% IGN (Highest Rating)
An elegant piece of work visually, using well-known fictional characters and blending it into a fun and challenging adventure game. Everything ranging from the puzzles to the music fit in perfectly with the story. Note that this game is not ground-breaking in any way.

70% GameSpot (Lowest Rating)
Spooky atmosphere and a great story save Dracula: Origin from being a formulaic pixel hunt.

Offical Website: http://www.dracula-origin.com/en/

30 days of night

2008-05-22T14:24:00.003-06:00

Stars
Josh Hartnett
Melissa George
Ben Foster

Runtime: 113 minutes

Release Date: October 2007

Metacritic Ratings
80% Empire James Dyer (Highest Rating)
This slick and sticky horror is the most accomplished treatment of vampire lore since Near Dark.
25% New York Post Kyle Smith (Lowest Rating)
The movie approaches the final scene with a straight face, but it left the audience giggling spasmodically. This script probably should have gone all the way and thrown in a few quips: If your movie is a joke, at least be intentionally funny.

Plot
This is the story of an isolated Alaskan town that is plunged into darkness for a month each year when the sun sinks below the horizon. As the last rays of light fade, the town is attacked by a bloodthirsty gang of vampires bent on an uninterrupted orgy of destruction. Only the small town's husband-and-wife Sheriff team stand between the survivors and certain destruction. Written by Risin' Outlaw

Vampirsm, what do you prefer poll

2008-05-06T11:00:00.002-06:00

Here are the result of April 2008 poll.

The question was, "Vampirsm, what do you prefer?"

Here are the results.

Watching Movies came in first
Reading Books, and playing games tied for second
Third went to Halloween

Thanks to those who voted.

Blade III

2008-05-06T10:31:00.004-06:00

Stars
Wesley Snipes
Kris Kristofferson
Jessica Biel
Ryan Renolds

Runtime: 113 Minutes

Release Date: December 2004

63% Chicago Tribune Robert K. Elder (Highest Rating)
Thankfully, Reynolds (bearded, looking a bit like Jason Lee) adds some scrappiness and humor to a series that might otherwise have collapsed under self-parody.

20% Austin Chronicle Marc Savlov (Lowest Rating)
Of all the missteps made and absurdities offered, the most glaring is the casting of what appears to be a steroidal Eurotrash pimp as no less than Dracula.

Plot
The vampires succeed in framing Blade for the killing of a human (a familiar being used as bait when posing as a vampire). Blade, now in the public's eye and wanted by the FBI, is chased down to his hideout where his mentor, Abraham Whistler, triggers an explosion inside the building, sacrificing himself to protect their operation.

After being captured by the police, who are about to hand him over to the vampires, Blade is rescued by the Nightstalkers, a human clan of vampire hunters. They are led by Hannibal King (Ryan Reynolds), an ex-vampire, and Abigail Whistler (Jessica Biel), Abraham's daughter. They ask his help to go after Danica Talos (Parker Posey), a powerful vampire leader, who has succeeded in locating and resurrecting the ancient first vampire Dracula, or Drake (Dominic Purcell), as he is now commonly known. Talos hopes that she will finally be able to kill Blade.
In his first confrontation with Blade, Drake shows a sort of affinity for the "Day Walker", as they are both "honorable warriors" (somewhat ironically, while Drake is delivering his speech about honor, he is hiding behind a newborn baby he has taken hostage).

Blade realizes that normal combat won't be enough to take down Drake, and he learns of a bioweapon, Day Star, that the Night Stalkers had been working on, that will wipe out all vampires. The catch: They need a sample of Drake's blood, as his vampiric genes are "pure", to make the virus work. The second catch: The virus may also kill Blade due to the fact that he is half-vampire.

While Blade and Abigail are out hunting, Drake finds their base of operations, and, disguised as Whistler, kills the entire staff, and captures King, who had been injured in their last encounter. When Blade and Abigail return, they discover their comrades dead and King missing. Meanwhile, at Drake's skyscraper fortress, Talos has her henchmen torture King to get the information of what his group was working on.

In a desperate attempt to rescue the soon to be re-vamped King, Blade and Whistler storm Drake's skyscraper fortress, during which Blade confronts Drake. After a prolonged battle, Blade impales Drake with a Daystar arrow and draws Drake's blood releasing Daystar and wiping out all nearby vampire life, also killing Danica Talos. Drake then dies from the Day Star virus soon after it is released and Blade seemingly dies as well.

Favorite Blade Poll

2008-04-01T13:35:00.003-06:00

Here are the result of March 2008 poll.

The question was, "Favorite Blade"

Here are the results.

Blade II (50%)
Blade III (33%)
Blade I (16%)
Blade TV (0%)

Thanks to those that vote, and check out Aprils poll.

Blade II (Movie)

2008-03-28T09:30:00.002-06:00

Stars
Wesley Snipes
Kris Kristofferson
Ron Perlman
Luke Goss (From Bros)
Matt Schulze

Runtime: 117 Minutes

Budget: 55 Million (Approx)

Released: March 2002

IMDB Rating: 6.5 / 10
MetaCritic: 52%

90% Washington Post Desson Thomson (Highest Rating)
To appreciate the movie, you have to be okay with vampire violence. I don't mean subtle little nips at the neck and, ooooh, it's directed by Werner Herzog.

0% San Francisco Chronicle Mick LaSalle (OUCH Lowest Rating)
Duller than first version.

Plot Summary (Provided by Wiki)
Two years have passed since Blade defeated Deacon Frost, and he has been keeping himself busy in the hunt for Whistler, who killed himself after being bitten by vampires in an effort to avoid 'turning', but came back as a vampire anyway. Blade has been sweeping across Russia and eastern Europe searching for his old friend and mentor, enlisting the aid of a young man named Scud to design him a new line of equipment and weapons. Blade fights his way through a large gang of vampires, leaving a bloodsucker named Rush alive after getting information from him, yet telling him he'll be back for him. Finding Whistler locked in a tank of blood by the gang, who were keeping the old man alive for purposes of torture, Blade rescues him and brings him to Prague.
Meanwhile, a crisis has arisen in the vampire community. A seemingly more developed strain of vampirism (dubbed the "Reaper virus") is sweeping through their ranks, giving its carriers fearsome new powers and features. The original carrier of the strain appears to be Jared Nomak, a one-time vampire who appears to have mutated into a creature even more dangerous - one that prefers the blood of vampires to human blood, in the process transforming his vampiric victims into Reapers themselves (albeit far less stable).
In order to combat the virus, the vampire elder / overlord Eli Damaskinos and his familiar servant Karel Kounen (a lawyer) send their minions Asad and Nyssa (who is Damaskinos' daughter) to find and strike an uneasy treaty with Blade, convincing him with the argument that though vampires kill humans for food, they do so only in a controlled fashion. Reapers are even more dangerous as they feed almost constantly and once they finish the vampire population, they will doubtlessly descend on humankind. Whilst Blade may hate vampires, the Reapers are far more dangerous and neither side can attack them without uniting first.
To this end, Blade teams up with the Bloodpack, a group of vampire warriors and assassins who were originally assembled to kill Blade. The Bloodpack are Nyssa and Asad, along with Reinhardt, Priest, Chupa, Lighthammer, Snowman and Verlaine. Reinhardt (Ron Perlman), challenges Blade with a racist insult: "Can you blush?" After Blade responds by goading him, Reinhardt attacks him, but Blade sizes him up, attaching a bomb to the back of his head, promising to kill him if he gets out of line. Setting their mutual hatred aside, Blade leads the Bloodpack in the fight against the Reapers and the investigation into their origins. Heading to a vampire nightclub, which they believe will prove good bait for the Reapers, Blade and the Bloodpack are attacked, learning that ultraviolet light is the only effective weapon against them. Priest is bitten multiple times and Blade executes him as he changes into a Reaper. Lighthammer is also bitten once but does not immediately turn, or tell anyone. They find a Reaper near a sewer entrance, dying, but not from its injuries. They take it back to base for autopsy.
The Reapers bear a certain resemblance to Blade, being far stronger than common vampires and lacking an allergy to silver, but they also possess radical physical mutations: three-way jaws, leech-like tongues and hearts encased in a thick layer of bone at the front and back – in short, their only major vulnerability is ultraviolet light. All these advantages are countered by an incredibly fast metabolism - they must feed at least daily to avoid starving to death. However, Nomak is the only one who can survive long-term, and maintain higher brain activity; for the others it is a losing battle - they only function on basic instinct, and their metabolism is unstable, causing them to sicken and die shortly after being turned, regardless of feeding pattern. Realizing the Reaper base is in the sewer, Scud develops UV light grenades and passes them out, also making a bomb from some of them, in order to flood the sewer with light and kill all the Reapers at once. He also creates Reaper luring devices, using their pheromones. During this time, Blade forms something of a intimate relationship with Nyssa.
In the sewers, Blade splits the team into groups. Reinhardt and Chupa corner Whistler, and Chupa proceeds to savagely beat Whistler on behalf of the death of Priest: "We lose a partner, and Blade loses one!" Reinhardt quickly grows bored and abandons Chupa, hunting for more Reapers. Whistler releases a batch of Reaper pheromones into the air in a bid to save himself. As Chupa is about to finish Whistler off with an M16A3, the Reapers attack and maul Chupa to death, allowing Whistler to escape. Meanwhile, Lighthammer transforms into a Reaper and feeds on, and kills, Snowman. His lover Verlaine gets him to chase her up a manhole, so that when she removes the cover, both of them are killed by the sunlight. When the Reapers kill Asad, it's left to Reinhardt, Nyssa, Blade and Whistler to defeat them.
After a climactic battle, Blade activates the UV Bomb, incinerating all the Reapers except Nomak. Nomak confronts Whistler, but spares him to pass information along to Blade. Blade is suddenly apprehended by Damaskinos' forces, along with Whistler and Scud, led by a somewhat UV wounded Reinhardt. Back at the overlord's base, Whistler tells Blade the Reaper strain is not a virus at all, but rather a genetic experiment gone wrong. In his efforts to replicate Blade – a day-walking silver-immune vampire, Damaskinos had numerous experiments performed on Nomak, who is in fact his estranged son. He remarks that Nomak was the first carrier of the strain but ultimately flawed, seeing as he was vulnerable to daylight, as were all the other carriers whom he'd infected. Damaskinos then reveals another horrible truth — he has been creating many more vampire prototypes, intended as the next step of vampire evolution, all of them kept in fetal form in a massive incubator. All they require now is Blade's biological make-up to give them protection from the sun, and the vampire nation will all be Daywalkers. In order to achieve this, Damaskinos plans to have Blade killed and dissected.
During his captivity, Blade attempts to activate the pre-placed explosive in Reinhardt's skull, but Scud reveals that the bomb (which he himself had crafted) was never designed to go off. Scud is in fact one of Damaskinos' familiars and planned to side with the vampires rather than fighting against them. Figuring that it would all be over for the human race once all vampires were immune to daylight, he decided "[he] would rather be a pet than cattle." However, Blade has a trump card - he has always suspected Scud's servitude to Damaskinos, and his backhanded double dealing. Activating a second switch on his remote, Blade kills the unfortunate Scud, who unluckily happened to be holding the bomb at the time. After Whistler rescues him from the dissection (after escaping from Reinhardt with a gun himself) by killing Karel Kounen, who was watching over Blade, Blade fights his way through Damaskinos' henchmen, and after bisecting Reinhardt with his sword, heads towards the lead vampire himself while Whistler destroys the vampire fetuses by shooting them.
Meanwhile, a vengeful Nomak has entered Damaskinos' stronghold, seeking revenge on the father who mutilated him and turned him into the first Reaper. Just before he can escape, Damaskinos is betrayed by Nyssa (disgusted with herself and her father's extreme methods) and killed by Nomak. In order to "complete the circle", Nomak also bites Nyssa at her request and then makes to leave, whereupon he is confronted by Blade. After a very brutal fight, Blade finds the weak spot in Nomak's physical defenses and jams his sword beneath his arm, partially penetrating his heart from the side, bypassing the bone shield over it. Blade then falls to the floor, nearly finished due to broken ribs and internal bleedings sustained during the fight. Severely injured, Nomak crawls away and props himself up against a pillar. He is mortally wounded, but happier that way, so he puts himself out of his misery by shoving the broken sword the final inch into his heart. Before he dies he comments that “it hurts no more” (the Reaper Virus seems to cause him great pain at all times).
With Nomak dead, Blade then carries Nyssa outside for the sunrise at her request, where she disintegrates in his arms before she becomes a Reaper.
Finally, the vampire Rush is in a London strip club, preparing to make use of one of the booths. However, as soon as the curtains open, he is shocked to find Blade on the other side of the glass, who casually remarks "You didn't think I'd forget about you, did you?", and stabs his sword into his skull.

Blade I (Movie)

2008-03-19T10:50:00.007-06:00

Stars:
Wesley Snipes
Kris Kristofferson
Stephen Dorff
Tracy Lords

Runtime : 120 minutes

Budget: 45 Million (Est)
Gross Revenue: 131 Million

Released: 1998

IMDB Rating: 6.9 / 10
MetaCritic: 45 / 100

80% Film.com Tom Keogh (Highest Rating)
A pulsing, wooshing, visceral experience that amounts to great fun and an entirely disposable movie.

20% LA Weekly Paul Malcolm (Lowest Rating)
Working from a script by David S. Goyer ("Dark City") that lacks any sense of humor or character, Snipes seems unsure if he should vamp it up or play it straight, while Dorff just plain sucks.

Plot Summary (Provided by Wiki)
In 1967, a pregnant woman is hospitalized after being bitten by, as one of the doctors says, some kind of wild animal. In the process of trying to revive her, she goes into labor, requiring a c-section. She gives birth to a baby boy and dies. Approximately 30 years later, a seductive woman (played by Traci Lords) brings an unsuspecting man to a strange nightclub. After a brief time, the man realizes something is amiss in the club yet cannot quite discern why. However, his fears are soon confirmed when blood begins to pour down from the sprinkler system, revealing that most, if not all of the club's patrons are vampires. Unable to escape from the hideous creatures which have now surrounded him, the young man seems doomed until one of the vampires notices an individual who has just entered, whom he calls "the daywalker".

Blade (Wesley Snipes) coolly enters the main dance floor, taking pleasure in the vampires' fear of him. After a brief standoff, one vampire finds the nerve to attack, Blade shoots him, and most of the vampires flee, while several stay to fight. Eventually, after battling his way through numerous guards, Blade singles out one vampire named Quinn (played by Donal Logue), whom he has encountered before, but always seems to survive. After nailing him to the wall with stakes, Blade tells Quinn to "Give my regards to Frost" and sets him on fire, leaving a burnt Quinn along with the confused human as the only surviving inhabitants of his attack. The police arrive, take Quinn's crisp remains and send them for identification.

At the hospital, Dr. Curtis Webb conducts the post-mortem examination on Quinn, along with his ex-girlfriend Dr. Karen Jenson (N'Bushe Wright). During the examination, Quinn shockingly returns to life and feeds on both Webb and Jenson. Although Webb appears to die instantly, Jenson manages to escape into the hall before she is attacked, where Blade, having pre-supposed that Quinn would come back, turns up. He attacks the rejuvenated vampire, who jumps out a window and escapes. As Blade makes to leave, he sees a bleeding Doctor Jensen lying on the floor, beckoning for him to help her. Seeing a similarity to Blade's mother, he rescues Jensen and they head back to his base of operations.

At the same time, there is a meeting of The House of Erebus, a vampire Shadow Council. The Elder Dragonetti (played by Udo Kier) discusses Blade's recent intensified attacks, and berates a young Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff) for his recklessness in running nightclubs. Most vampires believe that they should more or less co-exist with the humans (maintaining a secret, Mafia-like power cabal), whilst renegades such as Frost believe they should rule them outright. There is some sense of superiority from "pure-blood" vampires (i.e. those who are born vampires) against those who are "turned" (born human and later turned into vampires.)

Back at Blade's lair, after patching her up, Jenson meets Abraham Whistler (Kris Kristofferson), Blade's mentor and weapons technician in their fight against vampire-kind. Whistler outlines their current mission and the nature of vampires, along with the power they hold in the outside world. Jenson decides to head home, although Blade reminds her it is is a possibility that, due to Quinn's bite, she too may become a vampire. Blade also receives an injection of some kind of serum that he apparently needs.

Upon arriving in her apartment, Jenson is assaulted by a policeman who is revealed to be a familiar - a human being who serves vampires (a collaborator, essentially, that after years of service might get rewarded by being turned into a vampire). Blade rescues Jenson, having used her as bait to lure the enemy in. On the street, Blade tortures the familiar to find out where his base is, but Jenson becomes disgusted and intervenes, accidentally allowing the familiar to escape. After Blade berates her for not understanding how the "real world" works, they stake out the car until the familiar returns and follow him back to another club of Frost's, there discovering a morbidly obese vampire named Pearl. Blade and Karen attack Pearl with a UV-Lamp, searing the vampire's flesh, and making him spill some details of Frost's plans, including mention of the blood god La Magra. Blade and Karen enter the vampire library but are ambushed by Frost's henchmen, led by Quinn and Mercury (Played by Arly Jover ), Deacon's girlfriend. Although Blade and Jenson are assaulted by Frost's private army, they escape due to the timely arrival of Whistler, though they are unable to fully understand Frost's intentions for La Magra. Jenson also realizes Blade is "one of them" but he corrects her because he is actually "something else."

Back at Blade's lair, Whistler tells Karen how Blade became a hybrid. Blade's mother was bitten by a vampire while pregnant, causing Blade to undergo genetic changes. Jenson begins to work on a permanent cure for the vampire condition, using Whistler's research as her starting ground. During this time, Frost kills Elder Dragonetti by subjecting him to a sunrise, and forcibly gathers the other members of the Shadow Council as "volunteers". Shortly after this, Frost makes a second strike. Whilst Blade heads out to fetch the ingredients for his serum, Frost abducts Dr. Jenson from the lair and badly beats Whistler, leaving Quinn and the rest of his crew to finish him off. Upon Blade's return, he finds a taunting video left from Frost. In a poignant scene, Blade aids a bleeding Whistler in suicide so he doesn't 'turn'. Unable to kill him himself, Blade gives Whistler his gun and walks away, hearing a gunshot behind him. Stricken with grief, Blade vows to find and kill Frost.

Blade arms himself for a raid on Frost's base, taking along with him specially-designed pneumatic syringes loaded with EDTA, which has a highly volatile reaction to vampire blood. During his attack on the base, Blade fights his way through a horde of vampires, yet discovers a horrible truth once he reaches the top floor of the building. He learns that his mother (the pregnant woman from the flashback scene) did not in fact die, and is now Frost's vampire mistress, as it was Frost himself who had bitten his mother during her pregnancy. Overcome with shock, Blade is easily subdued by the guards, who knock him out and take him to the Temple of Eternal Night, where Frost reveals the final stages of his plan.

Using his resources and vast wealth, Frost has managed to rebuild the temple and intends to use it for La Magra's resurrection, a key ingredient of which is Blade's sunlight-resistant vampiric blood, along with the sacrifice of the other twelve "pure-blood" council members (Ashe, Cianteto, Dragonetti, Faustinas who held two seats, Ligaroo, Lemure, Kobejitsu, Lobishomen, Von Esper, Upier, and Pallintine.) Through the ritual, Frost becomes an eminently more powerful vampire, far surpassing any other vampire's strength or speed, and gains the powers and attributes of each sacrificed member, including immunity to silver, instant regeneration of lost limbs, superior strength and speed, red bulging eyes (from the Kobejitsu tribe), and the ability to withstand sunlight (from Blade's blood.)

Prior to the ritual, Dr. Jenson is dropped into a pit with a 'zombie' Curtis Webb (not quite a vampire, as he can only function on basic instinct). Defeating Webb and climbing out of the pit, Jenson makes her way to the sacrifice room, breaking Blade free from his sacrificial housing. After allowing Blade to feed on her, he regains his strength just as his mother attacks. Killing her, with his rage driven to even greater heights, Blade heads to the main chamber seeking Frost. Starting with Quinn, Blade kills all of Frost's minions and Mercury is killed by Jenson. Finally, Blade and Frost meet for one final climactic battle at the base of the temple. Blade quickly discovers that Frost cannot be killed by any conventional means, though his transformation is incomplete as Mercury had killed one of the pure bloods in a rage prior to the ritual. This leaves his blood vulnerable and Blade empties every single EDTA syringe he has on Frost (who is now constituted entirely of vampire blood), causing his body to swell and explode.

Climbing out from the underground temple, Jenson offers Blade her cure. Blade refuses, because "curing" him of his need for blood would also remove his Daywalker powers and he would be unable to hunt vampires, and requests for her to make him a better serum, reminding her that "there's still a war going on". Finally, Blade ends up in Moscow, hunting down and presumably killing a Russian vampire who persuaded a human to follow him to a vampire club, in an echo of the beginning of the film.

Nomak (Picture)

2008-03-05T14:58:00.001-07:00

Nomak - Blade II

Deacon Frost (Picture)

2008-03-05T14:57:00.004-07:00

Deacon Frost - Blade I

Blade (Picture 2)

2008-03-05T14:57:00.003-07:00

Blade - TV series

Blade (Picture)

2008-03-05T14:55:00.004-07:00

Blade - Blade I

Blade Wallpaper

2008-03-05T14:55:00.003-07:00

Hannibal King - Blade III

Danica Talos (Picture)

2008-03-05T14:46:00.002-07:00

Blade - Trinity

Vampire: The Masquerade Redemption

2008-02-26T16:27:00.003-07:00

Vampire: The Masquerade Redemption
Format: Windows / Mac
Released: June 2000
Nihilistic Software

In the game’s storyline, the protagonist Christof falls in love with a nun named Anezka who tends his wounds after he falls in battle. Christof, not fully recovered, ventures into the Bonn Silver Mines (near Prague) to kill Azhra, a twisted Tzimisce vampire. His glorious return to Prague doesn't go unnoticed by the local vampire leaders and soon he is embraced (turned into a vampire) by Ecaterina the Wise, leader of the Brujah clan, as to boost the ranks of vampires in preparation for a brewing battle between vampire clans.

Having been made one of the undead, the passionate crusader has to realize that he deviated from his religious mission long ago; being only a mundane soldier, he was easy prey for the vampires. His rebellious nature, however, urges him to find a way to redeem his soul, perhaps by regaining his mortal state. But before long, in a move designed to torment Christof (in retaliation for dispatching Azhra), the nun is kidnapped and turned into a ghoul.

This changes Christof's part in the course of events, since he is now being wracked with guilt as he feels his affection towards Anezka led her down a path of sin. Christof swears to face the vampires who took her and restore her life as human.

In his quest, being a powerful vampire, he must learn to conquer his dark side and gain experience with his new powers (vampiric disciplines, similar to spells) to fight against a world of darkness that unfolds before him, as he learns more about this new world he is now a part of, while struggling to maintain his humanity and the faith he once had as a holy knight.

Christof eventually finds the vampires responsible only to find the pure woman of God that he fell in love with is now a twisted, violated creature of the night who shuns him as an emotional weakling. In a climactic battle he is buried under tonnes of rubble, only to awaken centuries later in the modern world, uncovered by an archæological dig, and faced by a whole new series of challenges – including as a fearsome new enemy whose actions may well doom the entire world. The game sports three different possible outcomes, depending on certain choices in the game which affected Christof’s humanity level either negatively or positively.

Twelve of the thirteen great vampire clans (from the original storytelling game) feature in Redemption, in one form or another. The only exception are the Ravnos, a nomadic clan of Roma (Gypsy) background.

Offical site: http://www.nihilistic.com/vampire_story.htm

96% Gamer's Pulse
One of the best games I've ever played. Can't get enough of it.

50% Daily Radar
Unfortunately, it also has crippling flaws that suck fun out of gameplay like a starving Nosferatu gnawing on a rat.

Willow (Picture 2)

2008-02-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

Willow - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Willow (Picture 1)

2008-02-12T14:19:00.000-07:00

Willow - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

The Lost Boys (Movie)

2008-02-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

Lost Boys

A divorced mother, Lucy Emerson (Dianne Wiest), and her two teenage sons Michael (Jason Patric) and Sam (Corey Haim) move from Phoenix to live with Lucy's father in the small California town of Santa Carla (based loosely on the city of Santa Cruz, California, the film's primary filming location). Santa Carla is plagued by problems such as a motorcycle gang and unexplained disappearances.

Michael, Lucy's oldest son, is eventually drawn into the motorcycle gang via his attraction to Star (Jami Gertz, the only girl in the gang), and because of a rivalry with their leader, David (Kiefer Sutherland). After a sort of informal initiation ceremony with the gang involving dangerous activities such as motorcycle racing through the fog towards the top of a cliff, and hanging underneath a train bridge while a train passes, Michael drinks blood in the guise of wine after being fooled into thinking that Chinese food containers of rice and noodles were actually maggots and worms. Soon afterwards, he starts showing symptoms of vampirism: he sleeps all day, he becomes sensitive to sunlight, and his reflection is transparent. Michael spends his nights with the motorcycle gang until they reveal that they are indeed vampires when they murder a group of teenagers at a bonfire party. David explains to Michael that he must feed in order to survive, but Michael refuses to kill and leaves the gang.

With the help of Star, Laddie (Chance Michael Corbitt), and his brother Sam, who has joined up with two relatively inept vampire hunters Edgar (Corey Feldman) and Alan Frog (Jamison Newlander), Michael sets out to shake his curse by finding and killing the head vampire. This proves more difficult than it seems, as it is not evident who the leader is. Sam and the Frog Brothers try to prove that Lucy's boyfriend Max (Edward Herrmann) is the leader of the vampire gang, but their tests fail. Towards the end of the movie, it turns out Max is the leader. Their vampire tests didn't work because Michael had invited Max into the house ("Don't ever invite a vampire into your house, you silly boy," Max said to Sam at the end of the movie. "It renders you powerless.")

The boys battle the vampires, killing all of them--so they think. David (Kiefer Sutherland) does not die like the other vampires, who had violent deaths. Rather David's death was rather 'peaceful' and involved bright white light, but also the piercing of his heart on animal antlers. This was explained by the Frog Brothers saying that no two vampires die the same. In an earlier attack on the vampires cave home Edgar staked Marko, Nanook, Sam's dog, knocks Paul into a bathtub full of holy water, Sam shoots Dwayne in the heart with an arrow and Michael impales David on some deer antlers in the grandfather's taxidermy workshop. Max then reveals himself as the head vampire. As Max is about to bite into Lucy's neck, Grandpa drives his jeep through the wall of the house and sends a fence post through Max's heart. Grandpa casually gets one of his root beers from the refrigerator and remarks, "One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach... all the damn vampires," indicating he has known much more about the paranormal activities in the area than anyone suspected.

Information provided by wikipedia.

Lestat de Lioncourt (Vampire)

2008-01-29T10:13:00.000-07:00

Lestat de Lioncourt (pronounced les-tät with a rather French flair, according to Blackwood Farm and Blood Canticle and page 151 in Memnoch the Devil) is a fictional character appearing in several novels by Anne Rice, including The Vampire Lestat. He is a vampire and the main character in the majority of The Vampire Chronicles, narrated in first person.

Lestat is the seventh son of the marquis d'Auvergne and was born in 1760, in Auvergne, France in a castle belonging to his ancestors. Despite his apparent highborn background he grew up in relative poverty; his ancestors squandered the family riches. As the youngest in the family, Lestat stood to inherit nothing. His relationship with his father and brothers is strained due to irreconcilable differences.

Perhaps the most pivotal moment in his mortal life was when the towns people came to him about the wolves coming into the village frightening all the people. In this encounter he was nearly killed by the pack of 8 wolves he was hunting in the mountains surrounding Auvergne. The death of his hounds and his horse in this hunt had a profound effect upon his apparent mental stability. He returned home a different person, determined to follow his own path.
He goes into a deep depression about his encounter with the wolves and the meaning of life, and with a friend, Nicolas, a violinist, he leaves Auvergne and heads for Paris, intending to become an actor. During a performance, he attracted the attention of an ancient vampire named Magnus, who would watch him and soon abduct and hold him prisoner.

As a vampireFinding Lestat, Magnus makes him a vampire, against his wishes. However, Magnus, weary of life, commits suicide soon after by throwing himself on a huge bonfire, leaving Lestat to fend for himself without any kind of guidance. Lestat finds himself heir to nearly inexhaustible wealth, and begins an adventure that leads him all around the world.
Lestat has always been a very lonesome creature. In his childhood the only member of his family that he had any connection with was his solitary mother. Gabrielle de Lioncourt was a beautiful woman of Italian descent from whom Lestat inherited his blond hair and good looks. Gabrielle was the only member of her family who could read and often immersed herself in her novels, neglecting the mundane life around her. Lestat both admired her and hated her for this, yet he was the only person of her family she could also confide in so they developed a silent but strong bond. For this very reason Lestat made Gabrielle his first vampire companion when Gabrielle came to Paris in search of Lestat, wishing to see him before she succumbed to her fatal disease.
Lestat also made his mortal best friend, Nicolas de Lenfent, a vampire as well. Nicolas, having fled Auvergne with Lestat to come with Lestat to Paris, knew him very well and they were very close. They both worked at a small theatre called "Renaud's", Lestat starting off as a stage hand and then, to his surprise, becoming star of the show while Nicolas became a violinist in the theatre's small orchestra. After Lestat was abducted and made a vampire he tried to distance himself from his mortals friends and family, but he still provided for them. He bought Nicolas an apartment and many other luxuries, such as a Stradivarius violin, with his newly acquired "coin of the realm". The whole time Nicolas was very suspicious of Lestat and his new life and that suspicion grew when Lestat disappeared with his mother the night she came to visit and Gabrielle returned magically healed. Lestat eventually gave into the love he felt for Nicolas and made him a vampire as well after saving him from the coven of religious vampires, the self-proclaimed Children of Darkness, which were led by the powerful vampire, Armand. After Nicolas rejected Lestat as his new maker and sunk into madness and Lestat collapsed Armand's coven, Lestat bought Renaud's old theatre and gave it to Armand and Nicolas to do with it whatever they wished, while he and Gabrielle left Paris to explore the world.

Throughout his long life, Lestat is plagued by common philosophical questions, such as "Are my actions good or bad?", "Is there a God?", "Am I in His plan?", "What happens after death?", "What makes a person happy?" He finds himself more in love with humanity than ever before, despite his relationship with mankind being savage. For a while, he sees life as "the Savage Garden", filled with beauty and death.

In the space of only a few centuries, Lestat becomes one of the most powerful of all vampires, surpassed only by the most ancient ones who age in the millennia. This is in part because the blood he receives from Marius, one such ancient, is incredibly powerful, and because he has a relationship with the vampire queen Akasha.

Because of his boldness, Lestat's seniors refer to him affectionately as 'the Brat Prince', a title of which he is very fond. He is very vain and concerned with fashion, and will pause mid-narrative to remind the reader what he is wearing. He is attracted to whomever most interests him at the time. Most of his early experiences are with male companions. He himself explains this by saying the women in previous centuries simply weren't that interesting. Later in the series, Lestat offhandedly mentions that he is frightened of women and finds them extremely and egregiously distracting.

One such male companion is Louis de Pointe du Lac, a young Creole from New Orleans whom Lestat turns into a vampire in the 18th century in 1791. For almost a century, Lestat and Louis live, travel, and kill together. Though Louis claims that Lestat made him into a vampire because Lestat merely wanted his fortune, Lestat refutes these claims in his own book and says it was rather because he fell "fatally in love" with Louis.

Their relationship starts badly with mistrust and half-truths, though Lestat gradually comes to regard his friend as a kind of student, albeit one who often resists his "teachings" on killing and living life as a vampire. There is a certain element of feelings implicit in their relationship, but whether it is actually consummated is a matter of debate.

Lestat and Louis "adopt" a young orphan named Claudia in 1795, and Lestat turns her into a vampire despite Louis' objections, in order to tie Louis to him, who wishes to leave Lestat. While Lestat spoils Claudia and tries to teach her how to become a vampire, it is Louis she truly loves, and ignores Lestat on several occasions, something he resents greatly. In 1860, after 65 years of living together, Claudia struggles with the reality of what she is, an immortal who will never grow into a woman.

Claudia rebels and tries to kill Lestat by giving him a dead boy given poison, who appears merely unconscious from feeding (Anne Rice officially stated that drinking dead blood won't kill a vampire), then cutting his throat and stabbing him multiple times in the chest, and, with the help of Louis, dumps him in a swamp near the Mississippi. After he comes back and assaults them with the help of a young pianist he has converted, Louis flees with Claudia in desperation by burning down the French Quarter house they lived in, horribly disfiguring him and boarding a ferry to Europe. After Claudia and Louis escape Lestat, Armand, the leader of a coven of vampires, briefly takes Louis under his wing, slipping information to him about his feelings and the rules of the vampires.

Stated in Interview, in spring of the year of the interview (though in spring 1988 in the film version), Louis once again discovers Lestat, who is again living in New Orleans in a weakened state. Louis turns his back on him in pity and disgust.

This version of events however is also refuted by Lestat, who says that he had no contact with Louis in that era, although he had been visited by Armand around that time. Whatever the truth, Louis and Lestat reunite in the 1980s, only to be caught in the events that are detailed in

The Queen of the Damned.
Lestat also tends to gloss over his faults and exaggerate (or make up) his virtues. This is confirmed in the book The Tale of the Body Thief, where Louis attacks Lestat for constantly claiming in his books that certain events move him to tears. Louis sarcastically remarks that although he knew Lestat for more than six decades, he did not remember him crying at all.

Interview with a Vampire (Movie)

2008-01-24T17:38:00.002-07:00

Stars:
Brad Pitt
Tom Cruise
Christian Slater
Kirsten Dunst

Runtime: 123 minutes

Budget: 60 Million
Gross Revenue: 223 Million

Released: 1994

IMDB Rating: 7.3 / 10
MetaCritic: 59 / 100

100% Empire Adam Smith (Highest Rating)
Bold, gruesome and melancholic, this Gothic horrorfest offers us much to sink our teeth into: Cruise - who effectively disappears from the screen for half the film's duration - is terrific, Dunst eerily compelling, Banderas hypnotic.

30% Washington Post Rita Kempley (Lowest Rating)
Passionately anticipated and much ballyhooed, the film, alas, is little more than a foppish, fang de siecle costume drama. Its pulse barely registers.

Plot Summary
In present time San Francisco a reporter, Daniel, is sitting in a room with a man named Louis, who claims to be a vampire. Daniel is unconvinced until Louis turns on the light and instantly appears in front of him using extremely fast movement. Daniel agrees to interview Louis, who recalls his previous life and his turn to darkness.

It is 1791. Louis is struggling to cope with the loss of his wife and child, not even caring if he lives or dies. A vampire, Lestat, takes notice of him and attacks him but also offers him a chance to be reborn. Louis decides to take him up on the offer and Lestat proceeds to transform him into a vampire. Lestat begins showing Louis how to live the life of a vampire, sleeping in coffins by day and preying on unsuspecting mortals by night. Louis is not comfortable bringing harm to the humans however, and opts to draining the blood of animals and rats instead. Louis continues to defy every attempt that Lestat makes to turn Louis to the Vampire lifestyle, seemingly having retained his conscience. A fed up Louis finally succumbs though and bites his maid and proceeds to kill her. He then burns down his estate and he and Lestat flee, now homeless.

While venturing the streets of New Orleans, the two continue to terrorize the public with Louis still trying to refuse Lestat's ways. Again Louis gives in to his blood lust and bites a young girl, Claudia. Lestat arrives at the scene and congratulates him but Louis takes off, disgusted by his actions. However, Lestat later takes him to the girl, who has become ill from the blood loss. With a promise to make her better Lestat transforms her too, as part of his plan to make her his and Louis' daughter to prevent Louis from leaving. Louis reluctantly accepts her but his scorn for Lestat grows.

Claudia, under Lestat, soon turns into a merciless killer, draining everyone around her of their blood, while all the time developing a strong bond with Louis as father and daughter. Thirty years pass and Claudia is left wondering why she is stuck in the body of an eternal child. Lestat explains that she can never grow up due to the effects of the transformation, which she resents him for. She asks Louis how she came to be and Louis takes her to the place where he bit her 30 years before. Outraged, Claudia expresses her hate for him too and walks away, leaving Louis by himself in tears. However, Claudia forgives him for the deed, citing him as "my love, my maker", showing their close bond. She wishes that they leave New Orleans but Louis knows Lestat would never allow them to leave. With that in mind, Claudia tricks Lestat into drinking blood from two dead children. Weakened, she slashes his throat and she and Louis dump his body in a swamp but he later returns, having drained the energy from crocodiles and other swamp life to survive. He attacks the two but Louis sets him afire and flees to Paris with Claudia, leaving Lestat for dead.

In Paris, Louis and Claudia live in perfect harmony but he is still bothered by the question of how vampires and such an evil came to be. While walking the streets, he is met by a vampire called Armand, who tells him that there are other vampires in Paris and tells him he knows the answers he has been searching for. With that in mind, Louis takes Claudia to see the vampires' show at the Theater. Armand later takes him to their lair and offers him a place by his side while telling him Claudia must leave him. Louis refuses to leave his beloved daughter and turns to leave. Armand warns him that the vampires know about Lestat's murder and that it is forbidden for vampires to kill another vampire. Louis leaves.

Brad Pitt as Louis

Back at his residence he finds that Claudia has brought home a woman, intent on making the woman, named Madeline, her mother, realizing that Louis may leave her to join Armand. Claudia demands that he transform Madeline but Louis is reluctant to do so. He gives her what she wants and tells her they are finally even, having breathed his last breath of mortality still within him by turning Madeline into a vampire. Soon after the Parisian vampires abduct all three of them, imprisoning Louis in a metal coffin meant for all eternity and exposing Claudia and Madeline to sunlight, destroying them. Armand frees Louis, who searches for Claudia and is horrified and grief-stricken to find that the vampires have killed her and Madeline. He later takes revenge upon them all, save for Armand, and burns them alive in their own theater as they sleep. Armand arrives in time to help him escape and once again offers him a place by his side. Louis once again refuses, knowing that Armand did nothing to prevent the vampires from murdering Claudia, and leaves him for good.

Decades pass with Louis exploring the world by himself, alone. He later finds Lestat, still alive but forever traumatized. He asks Louis to rejoin him, like old times, but Louis rejects him and leaves. At this point Louis concludes the interview, which Daniel, the interviewer, cannot accept. He asks Louis to transform him so he can see what is truly like to be like him, but Louis grasps him in a fit of rage and vanishes. Daniel hurriedly runs out of the hotel room into his parked car and drives away, feeling happy with his interview as he plays it through the cassette player. Just then, Lestat attacks him and takes control of the car. He then offers Daniel "the choice [he] never had."

Information gathered from Wikipedia
Thanks wiki

Loius (Picture 5)

2008-01-15T11:02:00.002-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Loius (Picture 4)

2008-01-15T11:02:00.001-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Loius (Picture 3)

2008-01-15T11:01:00.004-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Loius (Picture 2)

2008-01-15T11:01:00.003-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Loius (Picture)

2008-01-15T11:01:00.001-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Lastat (Picture 3)

2008-01-15T11:00:00.001-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Lastat (Picture 2)

2008-01-15T10:56:00.000-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Lastat (Picture)

2008-01-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Armand (Picture 2)

2008-01-15T10:54:00.000-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Armand (Picture)

2008-01-15T10:52:00.000-07:00

Interview with a Vampire

Abraham Van Helsing (Vampire Hunter)

2008-01-07T16:06:00.000-07:00

Abraham Van Helsing

In the novel, Van Helsing is called in by his former student, Dr. Seward, to assist with the mysterious illness of Lucy Westenra. Van Helsing's friendship with Seward is based in part upon an unknown prior event in which Van Helsing suffered a grievous wound and Seward saved his life by sucking out the gangrene. It is Van Helsing who first realizes that Lucy is the victim of a vampire and he guides Dr. Seward and his friends in their efforts to save Lucy.

In the novel, from the annotations of Leonard Wolf, it is mentioned that Van Helsing had a son who died. Van Helsing says that his son, had he lived, would have had a similar appearance to another character, Arthur Holmwood. Consequently, Van Helsing developed a particular fondness of Holmwood. Van Helsing's wife went insane after their son's death, but as a devout Catholic, he refuses to divorce her. ("with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by Church's law, though no wits, all gone, even I, who am faithful husband to this now-no-wife...")

Van Helsing is one of the few characters in the novel who is fully physically described in one place.

In chapter 14, Mina describes him as: "a man of medium weight, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods.

" Van Helsing's personality is described by John Seward, his former student, thus: He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy.

[Dracula, ch.9] In addition to this, Van Helsing has a well-developed, albeit ironic sense of humor. When Arthur Holmwood/Godalming mournfully proclaims that the transfusion of his blood into the dying Lucy made her truly his bride, Van Helsing laughs (though not in Arthur Holmwood/Godalming's hearing) and tells Jack Seward that if such is the case, both Van Helsing and Lucy are guilty of adultery. Arthur was not alone in donating blood; Seward, his friend Quincey Morris, and Van Helsing himself have done it as well.

Adaptations of the novel have tended to play up Van Helsing's role as the vampire expert, sometimes to the extent that it is depicted as his major occupation. In the novel, however, Dr. Seward is unaware of this side of his old friend, and requests Van Helsing's assistance simply because Lucy's affliction has him baffled and Van Helsing "knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world."

Count Dracula, having acquired ownership of England’s Carfax Abbey through solicitor Jonathan Harker, moved to the abbey and began menacing England. His victims included Lucy Westernra, who lived in Whitby. The aristocratic girl had suitors such as Jack Seward, Arthur Holmwood, and Quincy Morris, and had a friend in Mina Murray, Jonathan Harker’s fiancée. Jack Seward, who worked as a doctor in an insanity asylum - where one of patients, the incurably zoophagous Renfield, secretly served Dracula - contacted Van Helsing about Lucy Westernra’s peculiar loss of blood. Van Helsing, recognizing the mark of the vampire, tried to save Lucy, but she died, returning as a vampire. Eventually, Van Helsing and Arthur destroyed the vampiric Lucy.

Van Helsing and his band of vampire hunters pursued Dracula back to Transylvania. There, they chased him down and cornered him. Armed with knives, Jonathan Harker and Quincy Morris decapitated Dracula and impaled his heart. Dracula's body then crumbled to dust.
Later, Van Helsing took an elder's role in regard to the young Quincey Harker, who was the son of Jonathan and Mina.

Information gathered from Wikipedia
Thanks Wiki

Spike (Picture)

2007-12-31T08:42:00.002-07:00

Spike - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Spike (Picture 2)

2007-12-31T08:42:00.001-07:00

Spike - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel and Buffy (Picture)

2007-12-31T08:41:00.000-07:00

Angel and Buffy - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel (Picture)

2007-12-31T08:37:00.000-07:00

Angel - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel and Angelus (Vampire)

2007-12-27T08:18:00.000-07:00

Angel is a fictional character created by Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt for the television programs Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. He is played by actor David Boreanaz. During the Angel episode "Carpe Noctem", in which Angel switches bodies with an old man, he is portrayed by Rance Howard. Angel is a vampire who is cursed with a soul, a punishment designed to make him atone for his past evil.

Fictional character biography
Pre-Buffy/AngelAngel's story before he met Buffy unfolds in flashbacks scattered among numerous episodes of both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, presented without concern for chronological order.

Angelus during the 18th century.Born in 1727, Liam (no surname given) was born to a middle-class linen merchant in Galway, Ireland. By 1753, at the age of 26, he develops a taste for alcohol, women and sloth. Liam is a hedonist whose only real ambition lies in seeing the world. For a drunken layabout, this seems a laughable dream, until he is expelled from his house by his disapproving father. While engaging a drunken tavern brawl that evening, he catches the eye of Darla, a vampire disguised as a noblewoman. Upon being tossed out of the tavern for causing trouble, Liam is lured into an alley by Darla, who promises to show him the world, then transforms him into a vampire. The price is the loss of his human soul, along with his conscience, freeing Liam to act upon his darker impulses.

On the night he rises from his grave, Liam sets about murdering the entire community, culminating in an attack on his own house. He first kills his little sister, Kathy, who unknowingly invited the demon in, believing that Liam had come back to her as an "angel". This was likely the inspiration for his his vampire name, "Angelus" (the Latinate for "Angel"). He is later described in historical volumes as "the demon with the face of an angel" ("Somnambulist"). Liam kills his mother, and finally his father. After leaving Ireland, Angelus and Darla cut a bloody swath through Wales and northern England. In 1760, Darla leaves the Master and chooses to live with Angelus.

In May 1764, Angelus and Darla killed the family of vampire hunter Daniel Holtz. Holtz devoted himself to capturing Angelus and Darla, chasing them across Europe. Angelus and Darla had a near miss in France, after making too much noise by ordering room service and eating the waiters. Darla flees to Austria, leaving Angelus in a burning barn and riding off on their only horse. After meeting again in Vienna, Angelus and Darla sire the vampires James and Elizabeth. In Marseilles, 1767, Holtz tracks them down and manages to put numerous arrows in Angelus. Holtz briefly lost them in northern Africa, only to track Angelus to Rome, Italy in 1771. Instead of killing Holtz, Angelus and Darla realize that they have come to view him "like family" and make a sport of ruining his life. Holtz abandons his hunt and retires to York, England, until in 1773 a demon named Sahjhan offers to take him to the future where he may continue his revenge.

Angelus later sires a Puritan by the name of Penn, who mimics Angelus by wreaking havoc on his father and killing his family. Over time he begins copying Angelus' 'signature' of leaving a cross-shaped mark on the face of his victims in order to spite God. In 1789, Angelus encounters the Beast in Prussia, standing in a field of bodies. When he declines to join with the Beast, he is met with violent reprisal. Luckily, a group of Svear priestesses banish the Beast while Angelus is passed out.

In 1860, Drusilla from London, England, a young woman "cursed" with the "sight", something her mother saw as "an affront to the Lord", catches the attention of Angelus. Drusilla and her sisters are all noted to be virgins, and Drusilla is described as having been "sweet, pure and chaste". Angelus killed her family, which caused Drusilla to flee to a convent. On the day she was to take her holy orders, Angelus massacred the convent (he had an obsession with nuns, including a massacre of those at "Our Lady of Lochenbee"). Then he proceeded to rape her and drive her insane, before he finally sired her. Drusilla is Angelus' "masterpiece", an everlasting example of his finest cruelty.

Drusilla, in turn, sires William the Bloody, for whom Angelus largely served as a mentor and "role model." William, who later becomes known as "Spike", goes so far as to call the elder vampire his "Yoda". Angelus taught William about the art of mass slaughter, including an incident during a wedding party where Angelus beat the groom to death with his own arm. Angelus threatens to stake Spike in a London mine shaft in 1888, as punishment for putting the vampire quartet on the run after attracting too much attention. Angelus introduces Spike to the existence of the Slayer as a cautionary tale.

In 1890, Angelus attended a production of Giselle by the Blinnikov, a Russian ballet troupe run by Count Kurskov. Despite being evil, he is moved to tears during the performance (Angel refers to this incident in an episode, saying that he "cried like a baby, and I was evil!"). In 1894, Angelus and Spike are captured by the Immortal's henchmen in Rome, Italy and tortured while the Immortal had a threesome with Darla and Drusilla. Darla and Angelus were also present at an earthquake in Budapest, Hungary around the turn of the century, where Angelus was a particularly "bad boy".

In 1898, while in Borşa, Romania, Angelus tortured and killed the favorite daughter of a tribe of Kalderash gypsies. To avenge her death, the Kalderash gypsies curse him by restoring his human soul, thus afflicting him with a conscience and condemning him to an eternity of remorse for the crimes he has committed. Darla finds Angel huddling in their apartment muttering about all the atrocities they have committed. Repulsed by his "filthy human soul", Darla tries to coerce the father of the dead Gypsy girl to reverse the curse; an overeager Spike kills the rest of the tribe while Darla is busy negotiating with the man. Seeing her leverage has been wasted, a frustrated Darla snaps the father's neck and leaves. Angelus is left homeless and scavenging the streets for rats. He attempts to kill a woman, but finds that he cannot bring himself to.
During the Boxer Rebellion in Beijing, China, the ensouled vampire, now known as "Angel", tries and fails to resume his life with Darla. To satisfy her, he starts killing humans again, but Darla notices that he is only hunting rapists and murderers. Darla catches Angel trying to hide a group of Christian missionaries from her. When Angel goes to feed on rats down at the waterfront, Darla kills the missionary family and brings back their infant child as a test for Angel. Unable to kill it, Angel flees with the baby and separates from Darla for good..

Angel arrives in New York City, New York through Ellis Island in 1902. During World War II, Angel is coerced by The Demon Research Initiative into undertaking a secret mission: He must rescue an American submarine crew from three vampires (including Spike) who were captured by the Nazis. During the mission, Angel is forced to sire a fatally-injured Sam Lawson in order for him to repair the submarine's engine, which was damaged during a German attack. Angel later claims to have known Bugsy Siegel around this time, in the early days of Las Vegas, Nevada.

In 1952, while in Los Angeles, California, Angel was a resident at the Hyperion Hotel, the future base of Angel Investigations. Although he tried to isolate himself, Angel was sought out by Judy, who had fled her home town after stealing a sum of money from her job. Things quickly deteriorate when a string of murders and suicides gripped the hotel, and the guests become increasingly paranoid. As Angel learns, this is the result of a Thesulac demon, a demon living off fear. Although he initially tried to kill the demon, the guests at the hotel turn against him, and Angel is lynched. Surviving the hanging, and disgusted with the humans, Angel freely allows the demon to consume everyone inside the hotel.

Angel claims to have known the Rat Pack and to have been present during Elvis Presley's wedding reception after his marriage to Priscilla Ann Beaulieu in Las Vegas, Nevada on May 1, 1967.

In New York during the 1970s, Angel witnesses a robbery at a doughnut shop. After the robber shoots an employee and runs away, Angel stays with the man as he dies, and then proceeds to feed on him. Disgusted with himself, Angel then exiles himself to the alleyways, where he spends another 20 years homeless and feeding on rats.

Two decades later, a shadow of his former self, the reclusive Angel is sought out by a demon named Whistler in 1996. Whistler persuades Angel join the fight against evil. He then brings Angel to meet the newly-called Vampire Slayer, Buffy Summers. The following year, when he and Buffy finally meet in Sunnydale, he introduces himself, not as Angelus, but as Angel.
Buffy the Vampire SlayerAlthough Angel already sees Buffy while she is still in L.A. he does not introduce himself to her until after her move to Sunnydale, and after her first day at Sunnydale High. The two fall in love, but Buffy does not realize Angel is a vampire until several weeks later in the episode "Angel". Though they try to deny their feelings, they cannot resist the passion growing between them. When they finally consummate their relationship in "Surprise", Angel experiences one moment of pure happiness, which breaks the Gypsy curse, and loses his soul. Without the compassion and conscience instilled by his human soul, Angel instantly reverts to his former evil self, Angelus, in the following episode.

Angelus becomes the "Big Bad" of Buffy's second season.Angelus allies himself once again with Spike and Drusilla, who have recently settled in Sunnydale. Resenting the humiliation he felt because Buffy had made Angel feel like a human being, Angelus takes immense pleasure in tormenting the Slayer and her friends. First, he helps Spike and Dru deploy a powerful demon known as the Judge. After Buffy destroys the Judge, Angelus embarks on a guerilla campaign, lurking in the shadows, preying on Buffy's classmates, sending her gruesome messages, even drawing pictures of her and her mother as they sleep and leaving them in her bedroom.
He proceeds to murder Jenny Calendar, which serves him in two ways; First, he eliminates an enemy (Jenny was born Janna of the Kalderash clan) and destroys her work just as she manages to successfully decipher the lost Gypsy curse which could be used to restore Angel's soul. Second, Angelus uses Jenny's death to viciously torment Rupert Giles, Jenny's paramour and the person on whom Buffy depends most. After this, Angelus widens his focus and begins a scheme to awaken the demon Acathla and bring about the end of the world. Buffy is determined to stop him despite their history, and is able to overcome him in combat. Just as she prepares for the finishing blow however, Willow Rosenberg is able to restore Angel's soul. Since Acathla can only be stopped by the blood of the individual who activated him, Buffy is forced to sacrifice Angel to save the world. Impaled on the Slayer's enchanted sword, Angel is sucked into Acathla's vortex which suddenly snaps closed.

Angel returns to Earth in "Faith, Hope & Trick". Because time moves differently in Acathla's dimension, he has experienced several hundred years of torment, and when he reappears in his mansion, he is in a feral state. Buffy finds him and helps restore him to sanity, but he begins to suspect that whatever force returned him from his Hell has a purpose of its own. He begins to experience what he believes to be hallucinations of his many past victims, most notably Jenny Calendar, taunting him to kill Buffy. He discovers that the First Evil is not only responsible for his return to Earth, but is responsible for the "hallucinations" (The First has the ability to take the form of anyone who has died, and to make itself visible only to whom it wishes). He resists, choosing instead to commit suicide by staying outside when the sun rises, but a sudden, unexplained snow clouds the Sun.

Angel and Buffy attempt to resume their relationship, but Angel begins to doubt that he will ever be able to give Buffy a remotely human life. When Buffy's mother and even the season's "Big Bad," Mayor Richard Wilkins, tell him that he cannot give her a real future, he tells Buffy that he is leaving Sunnydale after they stop Wilkins. In an attempt to distract Buffy, rogue slayer Faith Lehane shoots him with arrow coated with a poison that can only be cured with the blood of a Slayer. When Buffy is unable to bring him the body of Faith, she tells him to drink from her. He is cured, but nearly kills her in the process. He tells Buffy that he's just going to leave without saying goodbye; when they win the fight against Wilkins, Angel and Buffy share a look, and then he leaves for Los Angeles.

Angel the seriesIn L.A., Angel spends a few months alone, patrolling dives and dark alleys, battling vampires who hunt there. Soon enough, he receives support in his attempts to redeem himself in the service of others. First, Doyle, a half-demon and fellow Irishman, is sent by The Powers That Be. Almost immediately thereafter, Angel runs into Cordelia Chase, a former classmate of Buffy's who has moved to L.A. to find wealth and fame. The trio form Angel Investigations, a shoestring operation whose mission statement is to "Help the Helpless."
Doyle, Angel's trusted friend and sole connection to the Powers, sacrifices himself in the episode "Hero" to save others, leading Angel to become even more protective of those few he holds dear. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, who had briefly served as Watcher to both Buffy and Faith in Sunnydale, arrives in L.A. claiming to be a "rogue demon hunter," a lone wolf sort who only works solo. After their first case, however, Wesley is eager to stay and assist Angel and Cordelia in their mission. A few months later, they are joined by lifelong demon fighter, Charles Gunn. During this time, three young Wolfram and Hart associates, Lindsey McDonald, Lee Mercer, and Lilah Morgan, attempt to have Angel killed by the rogue vampire slayer, Faith. Under Angel's influence, the deeply troubled Faith starts along her own path to redemption, ultimately turning herself in to the police as the first step toward making amends for her crimes.

As Angel continues to help the helpless in Los Angeles, his good deeds begin seriously to disrupt the plans of the evil inter-dimensional law firm, Wolfram and Hart. In an attempt to control him, the firm resurrects his sire and former lover, Darla, who comes back as a human rather than as a vampire. Wolfram and Hart then summons Drusilla, who turns Darla into a vampire again. Angel turns to a darker side of himself, firing his crew and embarks on a vendetta against both the law firm and the newly reunited Darla and Drusilla. During this time, Angel refuses to prevent the slaughter of a very large group of Wolfram & Hart employees at the hands of Dru and Darla. After a devastating spiritual defeat by Holland Manners, Angel attempts to shed his soul by having sex with Darla, but instead of happiness, finds despair. A moment of clarity follows the desperate act, and Angel realizes that his purpose is still to do all the good he can, even if he can't do all the good he wants. Having hoped to get her boy Angelus back, Darla is horrified and infuriated by Angel's epiphany, and flees Los Angeles. After a difficult reconciliation that involves Wesley taking over the official position of leader of the group, the Angel Investigations team find themselves transported to the demon dimension, Pylea in the episode "Over the Rainbow". Eventually, after Angel defeats the undefeated Champion of Pylea, the Groosalugg, they return with a new team member, Winifred Burkle, in tow, and to the news that the love of Angel's life, Buffy, has died. During this time the Angel Investigations team also enlists the help of demon karaoke bar-owner Lorne, known initially only as The Host.

Despite Buffy's miraculous resurrection a few months later, Angel finds that his previously platonic love for Cordelia has grown to be romantic. Before he has a chance to confess his feelings, however, Darla returns, pregnant with his son, to be named Connor. False prophecies, time travelers and betrayal lead to Angel losing his infant son to an old enemy, Holtz, who abducts Connor soon after his birth, taking him to a hell dimension (Quor-Toth) where time passes differently. When Connor returns days later, he is a young man who has been raised by Holtz to believe that Angel is still a soulless monster. Holtz takes his own life in such a way that Connor is led to believe he was killed by Angel and vows to make Angel pay for the suffering he had caused Holtz. That same night, Connor sinks his father to the bottom of the ocean in a steel coffin and Cordelia ascends to a higher plane, the feelings shared between her and Angel still left unspoken.

Rescued by Wesley from his watery prison three months later, Angel's relationship with Connor is strained. It is complicated further by the return of an amnesiac Cordelia, who prefers to stay with Connor because he told her the truth while the others lied to her (albeit because they thought it was for her own good). When a very powerful demon known only as the Beast arrives and begins an attempt to bring forth an apocalypse, Angel's worst fears are realized when he has to strip himself of his soul and revert to his evil alter ego in order to defeat it. Angelus does indeed overcome the Beast, and is also deft enough to realize that the Beast was a mere "flunkie" serving an even deeper evil; the Beast he knew was only interested in smashing and slaughter, and it was unlikely that the Beast would have become smarter since Angelus fought him.

Although he is momentarily free to wreak a little havoc of his own, Angelus is recaptured and re-ensouled with the help of Faith (who almost dies in her quest to capture Angelus) and Willow, culminating in a brief but violent mental battle between Angel and Angelus. After his soul is restored, Angel figures out that the enemy he has been battling is a little closer to home than the group had previously considered, realizing that whatever the Beast's "boss" is, it is using Cordelia's body to carry out its plans. After battling and defeating the divine being known as Jasmine, Angel is offered the L.A. branch of Wolfram & Hart on the grounds that he ended world peace. Angel acts against all of his instincts and makes a deal with his sworn enemy, in exchange for Wolfram & Hart erasing Connor’s memories and giving him a normal life, and trying to find a way to cure Cordelia.

Angel and his team in the final moments of the series finale; "Not Fade Away".The lines between good and evil blur as Angel moves into Wolfram & Hart, and they challenge Angel's perceptions of himself and his destiny. Matters are further complicated when Spike appears as a ghost, emerging from a familiar amulet sent to Angel in the mail. Sharing a complicated history of murder and mayhem, they have spent more than a century as rivals in everything. Now both possessing souls, and both still in love with Buffy, they have evolved into very different heroes in the war against evil. Forced to co-exist, they wage a protracted, insidious battle of wits, ending when they finally come to an understanding and acceptance of their unique brotherhood on their journey to redemption.

In the episode "Destiny," when they prepare to do battle over the Cup of Perpetual Torment, Spike tells Angel "You had a soul forced on you. As a curse. Make you suffer for all the horrible things you've done. Me, I fought for my soul, went through the demon trials, almost did me in a dozen times over, but I kept fighting. Because I knew it was the right thing to do. It's my destiny." Although the Cup turns out to be fake, Angel's defeat at the hands of Spike is a source for inner turmoil in the following episodes. Most of these events turn out to be the machinations of Lindsey McDonald, a returning nemesis, and after he is defeated, Angel grows more confident once more.

This defeat coincides with a last visit from Cordelia, who passes along a single vision to Angel. Now finally understanding that he will never be able to completely stop the forces of evil, Angel decides that temporarily severing the Senior Partners' hold on Earth is enough. Together with his comrades, Angel prepares to suicidally incur the apocalyptic wrath of the Senior Partners as a way of going out in a blaze of glory. They assassinate the members of the Circle of the Black Thorn, the Senior Partners' instruments on Earth for pulling all the political and economic strings. In this effort, Gunn is badly wounded, and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce is killed. Lorne is instructed to kill Lindsey, temporarily an ally, after they've completed their mission, and he does so, leaving behind Angel and his team afterwards. Gunn manages to make it to the meeting point, the alley behind the Hyperion Hotel, where he, Angel, Spike and Illyria engage in battle with the dark armies that the Senior Partners have sent against them. The last words spoken on screen are, "Let's go to work."

After the Fall Angel has been picked up for a canonical "season 6" comic-book series, written by Brian Lynch and plotted by Joss Whedon, a twelve issue mini-series titled "Angel: After The Fall." Both Angel and Spike are known to have survived the showdown with Wolfram & Hart's forces on Earth. Season Six is kicked off showing an overall loss for Team Angel after the battle. In retaliation to Angel's stance Wolfram & Hart has seemingly moved the city of Los Angeles to a hell dimension, turning it into a Post-Apocalyptic territory filled with demons.

Angel is still based at the demolished Wolfram and Hart building and is under the watch of the Senior Partner's newest liasion, Wesley. Angel is however planning to take the fight to the Senior Partners and free Los Angeles, first by destroying all of the demon lords of Los Angeles. (Spike may be one of these.) While preparing for the war, though, he rescues citizens in peril and sends them, anonymously, to his son Connor who has set up a safehouse with Nina and Gwen. Angel is not alone however. With him is his newest friend and companion, the dragon that had been sent by the Senior Partners. After befriending the dragon in the alley, they had joined forces to make a powerful team.

Angel has the powers and vulnerabilities of a Buffyverse vampire, though he is considerably stronger than the average vampire. He is a highly skilled combatant and generally fights unarmed, using circular attacks such as spinning kicks and back hands. He has, however, mastered many varieties of weapons, favoring the axe and the broadsword. Angel also possesses some cognitive abilities; he has a photographic memory ("Habeas Corpses") which is triggered on occasion and has displayed a psychic connection to those he has sired on at least one occasion ("Somnabulist"). In "Power Play", he reveals that Cordelia passed on her visions to him earlier that season in "You're Welcome". However, he believes that this was a "one-time deal." As Angelus, he displays considerable skill in manipulating others emotional states and has driven his victims insane, as seen with Drusilla. With or without his soul, he is shown to be an expert in torture, having tortured Giles as Angelus ("Becoming, Part Two") and Linwood as Angel ("Forgiving").

As well as his supernatural abilities and fighting skills, Angel displayed a number of other talents. He apparently has "very nice handwriting" and is a skilled artist, first seen in the episode "Passion", using charcoal crayon and China ink to draw portraits. He can speak several languages, including Korean, Italian, Spanish, French, Latin, Greek, Belarusian, Romanian, German and in "Harm's Way" tries to learn the language of the Vinji and Sahrvin demons from an instruction tape. He is a convincing improvisational actor, as seen in the episodes "Enemies", "Five by Five", and "The Shroud of Rahmon." Angelus enjoys certain levels of pain.
CharacterizationBoreanaz said that when he auditioned for the role of Angel, the role was described to him: "He may get hit, but he'll always come back. He has the grace and movements of a boxer, and he's mysterious". Originally, Angel was supposed to be a one-time character until David Boreanaz was found. However, when it was planned that Angel would lose his soul, Joss Whedon was doubtful of David Boreanaz being capable of portraying the cruelty of Angelus. Joss changed his mind after he saw David performing Angelus and said that he never saw anyone creeping him out like that.

Although Angel is meant to be an immortal, and thus never physically age, Angel's appearance does change in accordance with David Boreanaz's age. When Boreanaz first appears in Buffy the Vampire Slayer as Angel, he is 27 (filming started in the summer of 1996). By the air date of the last episode in 2004, he is 35 (34 when last filmed). This element of the fictional universe calls for a suspension of disbelief, although it has been a source of humour on DVD commentaries. Consistently though, along with his trademark messy-spiky hairdo, Angel has a tattoo on his shoulder-blade of a griffin from The Book of Kells with the addition of the letter 'A' beneath it.

Angel is born in Ireland, and in flashbacks his Irish accent is extremely strong. By the time of his first appearance on Buffy, Angel has developed an American accent, having lived in the country for close to a century. During the 1970's while in America, Angel becomes somewhat of a "Fanilow" (a fan of Barry Manilow), particularly loving the song "Mandy". As he quotes, "I think it's kinda pretty". During his mental battle with Angelus, his demon stated that he particularly hated Angel's visits to Manilow's concerts. He also stated in Season 5 that he enjoyed William the Bloody's poetry, to which Spike retorts, "You like Barry Manilow."

Other preferences, include, according to the character Cordelia Chase, a "thing" for petite blondes. She most likely drew this conclusion from his romantic relationships with Buffy Summers and Darla. Angel is also a fan of ice hockey (he watches the game in "Life of the Party") and he hopes Connor will grow up playing ice hockey, one of the reasons being that it is a sport where most games are played indoors, and at night (allowing for vampires to spectate).
Over the course of the show, Angel has been able to do things that a normal vampire cannot. Angel once insisted, "There are three things I don't do: tan, date, and sing in public," although he has broken all of those rules on occasion; he sang in Caritas, dated Nina and Buffy, and endured sunlight by various methods: during "In the Dark" he possessed the Gem of Amara, allowing him to go to the beach during the day; in "I Will Remember You" he was temporarily restored to human life; he was unaffected by the sun of Pylea; and throughout Season 5 he had an office protected by "necro-tempered" glass that prevented the sun from affecting him.

Similarly, although Angel is technically dead, he has experienced a heartbeat on three separate occasions; once when he was temporarily resurrected by the blood of a Mohra demon ("I Will Remember You"), when he was temporarily transferred into the body of an old man with a heart condition ("Carpe Noctem"), and when his heart was briefly restarted during a fight with Gwen ("Ground State").

The character's villainous streak as Angelus has been well-received and documented. In Buffy & Angel: Official Yearbook 2006, Angelus was voted number two by fans as "Best Buffyverse Villain", with Glory as number one and the Mayor as number three.

A hybrid of man and vampire, Angel constantly deals with vampiric urges, as well as a human conscience which prevents him from ever forgetting his past misdeeds. The early seasons of Buffy express the view that when a human becomes a vampire, "You die, and a demon sets up shop in your old home; it walks like you and it talks like you - but it's not you" ("Lie to Me"). However, later seasons of Buffy and Angel show the relationship between Angelus and Angel as more intertwined. They share the same memories, and Angel never resumed his original human name, Liam (except while amnesiac in "Spin the Bottle"). Also, in Season One's "Eternity", Angel reverts back to his evil self without even losing his soul, after he is drugged and enters a state of 'bliss' that allows Angelus to regain control.

Angel: When you become a vampire the demon takes your body, but it doesn't get your soul. That's gone. No conscience, no remorse... It's an easy way to live. You have no idea what it's like to have done the things I've done... and to care. (Episode 1.07 (Buffy) "Angel")
Angel: ...there is no guilt, there is no torment, no consequences... It's pure. I remember what that was like. Sometimes I miss that clarity. (Episode 1.21 (Angel) "Blind Date")
Angelus gleefully enjoys inflicting harm on those Angel cares about most.The relationship between Angel and Angelus has been depicted in numerous ways. Both personae are shown battling for control inside Angel's mind in the episode "Orpheus". In Season Four, Jasmine threatens Angelus by telling him that she will lock him away inside Angel forever, where he will be forever watching, unable to escape his prison. Angelus particularly resents Angel's two decades of eating rats after an incident where he succumbed to temptation and fed from a murder victim. As seen in "Becoming, Part One" and "Becoming, Part Two", it takes a few moments for Angel to remember the crimes he has committed after the curse comes into effect.
Angelus frequently postpones a kill in order to psychologically terrorize his victim first. He is prone to brutal displays of what he would see as affection, such as nailing a puppy to a tree. Another example of Angelus's grisly acts of love was when he brought Drusilla a still-warm human heart on Valentine's Day. Angelus always had an obsession with elevating death to an art form; a truly satisfying kill must be perfectly framed and appreciated. He delights at the prospect of torturing a bound Giles in "Becoming, Part Two," mentioning that that the last time he tortured someone, they hadn't even invented the chainsaw. In the episode "Amends", The First Evil references him killing a man's three children, then propping them up in bed so that they appeared to be sleeping. It was only after the father kissed one of them good night that he felt how cold they were. This is mirrored in a prior episode when Angelus places the recently-slain body of Jenny Calender in Giles' bed, making Giles believe she had set up a romantic evening for them.

Angelus has a weakness in that he is prone to excessive talking, a quirk which his potential victims are sometimes able to exploit. Spike once observes, "you bloody well talk them to death before you kill them!"

Angelus is often referred to as 'Angel,' the former typically being used to distinguish the two if necessary.

His original human name was "Liam," presumably given to him by his upper-middle class parents. He was later known as "Angelus," signifying his reputation of being "the demon with the face of an Angel," during his 100 year reign of terror with his partner Darla. Sometime after his re-ensoulment he simply went by "Angel."

After being summoned by "The Powers That Be," he was often called their "Champion," and served as the Champion for a pregnant woman protecting her holy daughter. By Angel's third year serving the cause of good, Cordelia, his liaison to The Powers That Be, considered him to be "The World's Champion." Angel's team has often referred to him as their Champion.
His rival Spike refers to him as, "Captain Forehead," alluding to his prominent forehead. In their earlier years, Spike called Angelus his "Yoda," due to the fact that Angelus trained Spike in the ways of evil. Spike has also been known to refer to Angel as "Peaches" or " The Poof", as well as "Grand Sire" or "Grandaddy Sire", with reference to that fact that Angel, as Angelus, sired Drusilla, who in turn sired Spike. However, these above nicknames may be strictly non-canon.

Darla: Angel was sired by Darla. The pair were lovers until Angelus' transformation into Angel drove them apart, although he briefly tried to redeem himself in her eyes. stay with her. Because Darla sired Angel, he sees her as something of a a maternal figure. During Darla's brief moments of humanity - when she is resurrected by Wolfram and Hart - Angel goes above and beyond in trying to help her atone. When Darla becomes pregnant with her and Angel's son, Connor, Darla tells Angel that their son is "the only good thing" that they ever did together; she then stakes herself in order to allow Connor to be born.

Buffy Summers: When Angel first sees Buffy, he realizes that he wants to be someone and his faith in humanity is inspired. When they sleep together for the first time, Angel loses his soul, becoming Angelus. Buffy is forced to kill him, to save the world, even though Willow has just ensouled him. After he returns from Hell, he and Buffy still love each other, and attempt a relationship. After realizing this relationship is unfair to Buffy and he needs to begin his path to redemption, he leaves. Buffy comes to L.A., and for a brief time, Angel becomes human. He has to rewind the day, because being human will eventually lead to Buffy's death and that the Powers That Be have not released him from his atonement, nor offered him "forgiveness". After Buffy dies in the fifth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel spends months away at a monastery in Asia. He comes to help Buffy in the Buffy finale and provides aid to Buffy in the final fight against Caleb. He gives her an amulet that proves important in the final confrontation with the First. He goes to seek Buffy out in Italy during the last season of Angel, albeit unsuccessfully. Angel and Spike's relationships with Buffy are left on even grounds with Andrew saying Buffy loves them both. Buffy stated in "Selfless", "I loved Angel more than I will ever love anything in this life." She also expresses that she sometimes still thinks about a future with Angel in "Chosen".

Kate Lockley: Kate serves as Angel's contact in the police force as he starts his private detective business. The strong possibility of a relationship is hinted at, but ultimately doesn't materialize as she is unable to accept her discovery of his vampire nature, blaming him for the death of her father when her father was killed by vampires and wouldn't invite Angel in to help. Rebecca Lowell: A short-lived love interest introduced in the episode "Eternity," Rebecca is an actress who hires Angel as her bodyguard. Learning about his vampire nature, she tries to convince him to sire her, not wanting to become old and unattractive, but her attempts only result in Angel briefly reverting to Angelus when she drugs his drink, inducing a feeling of bliss. After this, she leaves the office and is never seen again.

Cordelia Chase: Friends for years, Angel and Cordelia eventually realize that they have fallen in love with one another, only to be torn apart by her ascension and transformation and his imprisonment underwater by Connor before they can tell each other. Upon their subsequent returns, they do not pursue the relationship; Cordelia instead, under the control of Jasmine, forms a relationship with Angel's son, which results in her falling into a coma when Jasmine uses her body to create an independent host for itself. In Angel's perfect day dream-sequence, Angel ends it by consummating the relationship, but calls out "Buffy!" as he is losing his soul. Later, Cordelia returns to put Angel back on track to stopping the Apocalypse. She does this and just before she dies, Cordelia and Angel share their first and only real kiss. In doing so, one last vision (which is only a one-shot deal) that shows Angel who the true power holders are, is passed to him, helping him to stop the Apocalypse from the inside.

Nina Ash: A werewolf who Angel saves from being eaten, she develops feelings for Angel and he is eventually convinced to give a relationship a shot. This relationship establishes that Angel is able to have positive sex (unlike his "perfect despair" moment with Darla) and still keep his soul.

Drusilla: Angelus tormented the human Drusilla, sired her and kept her on as a companion afterwards; Angelus regarded her as his greatest work. The two might have resumed a sexual relationship in Season Two of Buffy after Angel loses his soul.

Spike: Spike mentions in the fifth season episode, "Power Play", that "Angel and me have never been intimate. Except that one--" Whedon has confirmed the possibility of a sexual encounter, and in the DVD commentary for the episode "A Hole In The World", he says: "You know, um, I just wanna say Angel and Spike, they were hanging out, uh, for years and years and years, they were in, you know, all kinds of deviant, they were vampires... Are we thinking they never...? Come on, people! I'm just sayin'. I'm just sayin'. You know, they're open-minded guys. They may be evil but, you know, they're not bigoted or closed-minded."

The Transuding Furies: The Furies are the three beautiful, powerful beings who cast the anti-demon-violence spell on Lorne's bar, Caritas. When Angel needs the spell removed to fight Gunn's rogue former gang, the Furies tell Cordelia that they will require 'payment' for such an act, and only Angel is 'equipped' to repay the debt (Whenever he is mentioned all three of them say, "Mmmm... Angel"). The general tone seems to imply a past sexual relationship between the Furies and Angel. Gwen Raiden: A thief with command over electricity, Angel shares a kiss with Gwen after she gives him an electro-shock that (temporarily) reawakens his dead heart. He subsequently flirts with her to make Cordelia jealous while they are trying to protect the Ra-Tet from the Beast, but later seems to develop a slight affection for her; he almost appears jealous when she asks for Gunn's help over his.

Eve: Angel's liaison to the Senior Partners, she and Angel have a one-time encounter at Wolfram & Hart's Halloween party, when Lorne loses control of his empathic powers and he begins to unintentionally write destinies instead of reading them (he tells Angel and Eve to "get a room", saying that "you could cut the sexual tension with a knife"). When Angel thinks they should talk about it, Eve remarks, "It's not as if this is the first time I've had sex under mystical influence. I went to UC Santa Cruz". After this, however, their relationship becomes increasingly hostile due to Eve's relationship with Angel's old foe Lindsey, particularly following her attempt to infect Angel with a dream-inducing parasite.

Faith Lehane — When Faith first crosses the line by killing a man, Angel is the first person to attempt to rehabilitate her. However, he is interrupted when Wesley tries to hand her over to the Watchers Council. While working for Mayor Wilkins, Faith attempts to remove Angel's soul by seducing him. At this point Faith harbors a sexual interest to Angel, but this is likely out of jealousy toward Buffy. After awakening from her coma and fleeing Sunnydale Faith goes to Los Angeles. Shortly after her arrival Wolfram and Hart hire Faith to kill Angel. After torturing Wesley, Angel confronts Faith, and during the fight he realizes what Faith really wants; she wants Angel to kill her. He refuses, and again tries to help her, defending her from both Buffy and agents of the Watcher's Council. Thanks to Angel's help Faith starts down the path to redemption by confessing to her crimes and going to prison. He visits her to make sure she is alright and prison is where she stays for several years. She later breaks out, but only because Angel needs her help, due to Angelus having been restored. Despite the difficulties involved in such a task, Faith makes sure he is brought in and protected so he can be re-ensouled by Willow, even defeating Connor to prevent him from staking his father. The two share a strong bond based on their mutual desire for redemption; Faith also states that Angel is the one person that has never given up on her, a factor that doubtless plays an important role in her decision to fight so hard to save him.

Willow Rosenberg - Angel shares deep affection and mutual confidence with Willow, and not just because she restored his soul not once but twice; in several occasions he asks for her help, looking at her as a reliable ally and friend. During his initial time in Sunnydale, after Buffy, Willow was probably Angel's closest friend in the Scooby Gang, although, as with all the team, his relationship with her was somewhat strained after he came back from Hell. At the end of episode "Orpheus" (the last time they meet onscreen) they hug as old friends.

Winifred Burkle: After he rescues her from the Pyleans during their first meeting, Fred develops a crush on Angel for a time; she gets over it after learning more about the curse, but later kisses Angel as part of a ruse to escape Jasmine's followers. She remains the only person to have seen Angel's demonic side before she knew who he was and not been scared by it, creating a close bond between the two of them even without a romantic relationship.

Information gathered from Wikipedia

Thanks Wiki

Spike (Vampires)

2007-12-18T14:02:00.000-07:00

Spike (a.k.a. William "the Bloody"), played by James Marsters, is a fictional character created by Joss Whedon for the cult television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Spike is a vampire and played various roles on the shows, ranging from villain to comic-relief to anti-hero. He is considered a 'breakout character'.

Early History Spike's story before he appears in Sunnydale unfolds in flashbacks scattered among numerous episodes of both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. They are not presented in chronological order. The first flashback occurs in Buffy Season Five's "Fool for Love", and reveals that William was in fact an ineffectual gentleman who lived in London, England with his mother Anne. Anne would often sing the folksong "Early One Morning" to her son when he was a baby, right up until the time he was turned into a vampire. William's surname is given as "Pratt" in the non-canon comic Old Times; however, Joss Whedon has not confirmed this, lending question to its canonicity.

William, before becoming a vampire In 1880, William was a struggling poet, often mocked by his peers who called him "William the Bloody" behind his back because his poetry was so "bloody awful." The true origins of this nickname were not revealed until three years after it was first mentioned in Season Two, when it was believed to have purely violent connotations. William showed a strong capacity for loyalty and devoted love, which followed him after his siring. After his romantic overtures were rejected by the aristocratic Cecily, a despondent William, while wandering the streets, bumped into Drusilla. She then bit him and transformed him into a vampire. (This seems to contradict a scene in "School Hard", when Spike calls Angel his 'sire', though it can be speculated that Spike was using the term in a metaphorical rather than literal sense.) Whereas new vampires in the Buffyverse often delight in killing their families once they become evil, William was a notable exception. Having always been very close to his mother, he turned her into a vampire to prevent her from dying from tuberculosis. Unfortunately, his mother, as a vampire, taunted William and insinuated that William had always had a sexual fascination with her. He was forced to stake her because he could not bear to see his mother in such a twisted form. He would later write a poem about this traumatic experience entitled "The Wanton Folly of Me Mum," which was mentioned but not recited in the Angel finale "Not Fade Away".

Spike kills his first Slayer After staking his mother, William began a new life with Drusilla, to whom he was utterly devoted. Euphoric with his newfound vampiric abilities he became a rebel, adopting a working class North London accent and embracing impulsiveness and violence. He adopted the nom de guerre "Spike" based on his habit of torturing people with railroad spikes, perhaps as a result of the insult one of his acquaintances used about his poetry: "I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff" (from Fool for Love). In the company of Drusilla, Angelus (later known as Angel) and Darla, Spike terrorized Europe and Asia for almost two decades. He had a strained relationship with Drusilla's sire Angelus; who continued a sexual relationship with her despite Spike's strong disapproval. Although Angelus did enjoy the company of another male vampire in their travels, he found Spike's eagerness for battle to be an unnecessary risk. Angelus regarded killing as an art, not a sport, and killed for the sheer act of evil; Spike did it for amusement and the rush.

In 1894, Spike and Angelus developed a rivalry with the enigmatic Immortal; who later had Spike sent to prison for tax evasion. In 1900, Spike killed a Slayer in China during the Boxer Rebellion, and in 1943, he was captured by Nazis for experimentation and taken aboard a submarine, where he was briefly reunited with Angel(us). By the 1950s, Spike had reunited with Drusilla and they traveled to Italy. At some point, Spike also became rivals with famous vampire Dracula. The source of the rivalry remains unknown, but apparently includes the fact that Dracula owes Spike "eleven pounds". Spike attended Woodstock, and later fought and killed the Slayer Nikki Wood aboard a subway train in New York City, 1977, taking from her the leather duster he wore throughout his appearances on Buffy and Angel until it is destroyed in an explosion in season 5 of Angel.

Season 2
Spike first arrives in Sunnydale in the second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in the episode "School Hard", accompanied by Drusilla. Spike and Dru were fashioned after Sid and Nancy; punk, badass vampires to contrast sharply with the religiosity of the Master and the Order of Aurelius from Season One. Spike is in fact a fan of Sid Vicious' band, the Sex Pistols; in the final scene of the episode "Lovers Walk, he can be seen singing to a cover of "My Way" by Gary Oldman, who portrayed Sid Vicious in the film Sid and Nancy." Notably, Spike's first act in Sunnydale is to attack Buffy and a large group of people at her school, making his first appearance the deadliest of any of Buffy's "Big Bads." Throughout Season Two, Spike and Dru show for the first time on Buffy that vampires can be affectionate towards each other, and display the humanity and intricacies of vampire relationships. Spike was initially created as a disposable villain that was going to be killed off, however, he proved so popular with fans that Joss Whedon decided to simply injure him instead, in the episode "What's My Line, Part Two".

Spike's first appearance in the episode "School Hard"
Spike and Drusilla are major enemies of Buffy for much of the second season. They arrive shortly after Drusilla is seriously weakened by an angry mob in Prague, the details of which are revealed in the canon comic book "The Problem with Vampires". Spike is a devoted caretaker to Drusilla in her weakened condition, and initially hopes that the Hellmouth's energy can help restore her strength. He reunites with Angel, but is disgusted to find that he has a soul, and is in love with the current Slayer, Buffy Summers. When Angel loses his soul and rejoins Spike and Dru, Spike's initial celebration soon turns to resentment when Angelus starts pursuing Drusilla as a lover and taunting him. Spike decides to ally himself with Buffy against Angelus; he explains to Buffy that, in addition to wanting Drusilla back, he also wants to "save the world"

"We like to talk big, vampires do. I'm going to destroy the world. That's just tough guy talk. Strutting around with your friends over a pint of blood. The truth is, I like this world. You've got – the dog racing, Manchester United, and you've got people: billions of people walking around like Happy Meals with legs. It's all right here. But then someone comes along with a vision, with a real passion for destruction. Angel could pull it off. Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester bloody Square." — Spike (cf. "Becoming, Part Two").

Season 3 Spike reappears in the Season Three episode "Lovers Walk", in a drunken depression after Drusilla dumps him for a Chaos Demon. After toying with the idea of using a love spell, he eventually resolves to win Drusilla back by simply torturing her until she likes him again. He also tells Buffy and Angel that no matter what happens, they will never be friends because of their love for one another. This insight foreshadows Spike's later role as the "truth-seer" of the group.

Season 4 and chip implant Spike returns to Sunnydale alone in Season Four, in the episode "The Harsh Light of Day," briefly dating Harmony Kendall, a shallow young vampire. After being implanted by The Initiative with a microchip which prevents him from harming humans, Spike turns to the Scooby Gang for protection. This inability to bite is comically compared to impotence, much to Spike's constant humiliation. From then on, he becomes a Buffy cast regular and an unofficial member of the Scooby Gang, occasionally helping them out in exchange for cash, but having no qualms about betraying them to such enemies as Faith and Adam. In Season Four, Spike was introduced to fill a similarly antagonistic role as Cordelia had in seasons One to Three; as Joss Whedon explains on the DVD featurette, "All of our characters got to the point where they were loving and hugging, and it was sort of like, where's Cordelia?"

Season 5 In Season Five, Spike becomes aware after some erotic dreams that, to his horror, he has fallen in love with Buffy. He becomes a more active participant in the Scooby Gang, jumping into several of Buffy's fights to provide assistance whether she wants it or not. When Buffy rejects his advances in the episode "Crush", Spike attempts to prove his love by kidnapping her to witness him killing Drusilla for her, to little avail. Not wanting to give up his obsession, Spike has Warren Mears make a robot in Buffy's likeness that is programmed to love and obey him. Disgusted, particularly after witnessing the full extent of Spike's obsession, Buffy rejects Spike again. However, her disdain softens to some extent when she discovers that, even under intense torture, Spike refused to reveal the identity of 'The Key' (Dawn Summers) to Glory. Buffy is moved by his unexpected loyalty and kisses him, telling she will not forget what he has done. In the days and hours leading up to the final showdown with Glory, Spike fights by Buffy's side, earning her trust. After Buffy dies in the showdown with Glory, Spike honors her memory by remaining loyal to the Scoobies, fighting at their side and serving the role of baby-sitter/father figure/protector to Dawn.
Season 6 After Buffy is resurrected at the beginning of the sixth season, she is despondent and detached from her friends. During this time, her relationship to Spike deepens and she is able to talk to him about things she feels she cannot share with the Scoobies. After a demon's spell makes them express their emotions in song, and Buffy sings, "I want the fire back.", Buffy and Spike begin a physical relationship that is consummated two episodes later. The relationship is frequently violent, with Buffy most often initiating both the violence and the sex between them. She also threatens to kill Spike if he ever tells anyone about their relationship. Both are unsatisfied with the relationship; Buffy is ashamed of her dark desires, while Spike obsessively craves the love, trust, and affection that she is unwilling to give. In the episode "As You Were", Buffy tells Spike that she is using him and ends their relationship. Believing he still has a chance with Buffy after seeing her reactions of jealousy and hurt when he has a drunk sexual encounter with Anya, Spike corners her and makes aggressive sexual advances. When she refuses him, he grows desperate and unsuccessfully tries to rape her. Horrified by his own actions and intentions, Spike heads to a remote area of Africa, where he seeks out a legendary demon shaman and undergoes the Demon Trials, a series of grueling physical challenges. Proving his worthiness by surviving the trials, Spike earns his soul back.

Season 7 and soul Spike's soul is restored In Season Seven, a re-ensouled Spike must cope with the guilt of his past actions and try to win back Buffy's trust. When Buffy asks him why he had fought for his soul, Spike explains that it was done in an effort to become the kind of man she deserves. Under influence of the First Evil's hypnotic trigger, Spike unknowingly starts killing again. After he discovers what he has done, he begs Buffy to stake him, but she refuses and takes him into her house, telling him she has seen him change.
Buffy guards and cares for Spike throughout his recovery, telling Spike that she believes in him, a statement which later sustains him throughout his imprisonment and torture at the hands of the First. When Spike's chip begins to malfunction, causing him intense pain and threatening to kill him, Buffy trusts him enough to order the Initiative operatives to remove it from his head. When Nikki Wood's son Robin tries to kill Spike, he unwittingly frees Spike from his hypnotic trigger: the song "Early One Morning" that Spike's mother sang when he was human. The song evokes Spike's traumatic memories of his mother's abusive behavior toward him after she turned; after Spike is able to address these issues, he realizes that his mother had always loved him, knowledge which frees him from the First's control. Later in the season, Spike and Buffy achieve an emotional closeness; they spend two nights together, one of which Spike describes as the best night of his life, just holding her. It is unclear whether they resume their sexual intimacy the second night; creator Joss Whedon says on the DVD commentary for "Chosen" that he intentionally left it to the viewers to decide how they felt the relationship progressed, though Whedon had earlier stated on the commentary that he personally felt having them resume a sexual relationship would send the wrong message. In the final battle inside the Hellmouth, Spike, wearing a mystical amulet, sacrifices himself to destroy the Turok-Han and close the Hellmouth. He is slowly incinerated in the process, but not before Buffy tells him "I love you." He replies, "No, you don't — but thanks for saying it". Even as he burns and crumbles to dust, Spike laughs and revels in the destruction around him and the burning presence of his soul, glad to be able to see the fight to its end. In dying to save the world, he becomes a Champion.
"Now, you listen to me. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you. And dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine- done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood. Which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain. I've made a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You." — Spike (cf. "Touched").

Angel Season 5 and resurrection Spike returns as a ghost in Angel's fifth season Despite his apparent death at the end of Buffy's final season, Spike returns in the fifth and final season of the spin-off series Angel. Resurrected by the amulet in the Los Angeles branch of supernatural law firm Wolfram & Hart, he spends the first seven episodes of the series as an incorporeal being akin to a ghost. As well as battling enemies such as "the Reaper" Matthias Pavayne and psychotic Slayer Dana, Spike also takes on Angel to prove which one of them is the Champion spoken of in the Shanshu Prophecy. Spike defeats Angel, but the prophecy remains ambiguous. Manipulated by Lindsey McDonald into "helping the helpless", Spike becomes a sort of rival to Angel; resembling the heroic Champion Angel was in earlier seasons before becoming disillusioned and corrupted by the bureaucracy of Wolfram & Hart. Cordelia comments on this strange turn of events after coming out of her coma in "You're Welcome", exclaiming to Angel, "Okay, Spike's a hero, and you're CEO of Hell, Incorporated. What freaking bizarro world did I wake up in?" When Fred is killed by Illyria, Spike mourns her death and decides to join Team Angel in her honour. Angel and Spike discover that Buffy is now dating The Immortal, and travel to Rome to find her, but fail to catch up with her. During the final episodes of Angel, Spike is the first to vote for Angel's plan to wound the Senior Partners by taking out the Circle of the Black Thorn. He then spends what might be his last hours on earth returning to his mortal roots as a frustrated poet, triumphantly knocking them dead (figuratively) in an open mic poetry slam at a bar. After single-handedly rescuing an infant and destroying the Fell Brethren, Spike joins Angel, Illyria, and a badly-wounded Charles Gunn in the alley behind the Hyperion as the series draws to an end, preparing to incur the apocalyptic wrath of the Senior Partners, as a way of going out in a blaze of glory. The question of whether Spike survived this battle was left unanswered by the show.

Personality
Spike is seen as something of a paradox amongst vampires in the series, and frequently challenges vampire conventions and limitations. He embraces certain elements of humanity, such as love and loyalty, that would be considered too human (and therefore offensive or impure) by other vampires. With or without a soul, Spike often displays a strong sense of honor and loyalty; leaving anonymous flowers to show respect for Joyce Summers' death[47], enduring torture at the hands of Glory rather than reveal Dawn's identity[23], and continuing to aid the Scooby Gang after Buffy's death.[48] Many of Spike's actions, good or evil, are motivated by love for either Drusilla or Buffy.
One of Spike's most notable personality traits is his lust for violence and his love of brawling. He has noted that he finds the very act of violence therapeutic: in the episode "School Hard," he responds to a lackey's incompetence by snapping the neck of a hostage he considers to be 'too old to eat' and notes that he feels better afterward.[4] Similarly, during his drunken pining for Drusilla in the episode "Lovers Walk," he notes that getting pent-up aggression out of his system by staking and driving off several vampires 'put(s) things in perspective' for him.[11] After a prolonged period of being unable to bite or hurt humans, Spike is delighted to discover that he is able to fight demons and gladly accompanies the Scooby Gang on patrol, proving that it does not much matter to him what he is fighting for so long as he can fight.[16] Even in the episode Bargaining, Part Two, when Spike is a protector and pseudo-big-brother for Dawn, they look outside to see demons destroying the town and Spike smiles. Dawn asks why he's smiling. He shrugs and responds, "Just... looked like fun."

Spike insults Xander with the bowfinger in "Hush"
Spike has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. A polar opposite to his callow and simpering human nature, Spike as a vampire possesses a swaggering posture and enjoys living by nobody's rules save his own. He has a habit of making pithy remarks and glib insults, even toward the few he does not view as antagonists. Among his favorite targets is his grandsire and rival Angel (often making fun of Angel's large forehead, constantly groomed appearance, and his attempts to be a 'big, strapping hero'); other targets include Xander Harris, Rupert Giles and to a lesser degree, Buffy Summers. Joss Whedon credits this antipathy as what convinced him in the episode "Lovers Walk" to bring Spike back as a cast regular. As James Marsters put it, "I was supposed to be the one who stood at the side and said, 'Buffy, you're stupid, and we're all gonna die'."[20]
Spike often nicknames people, both as insults and as terms of endearment. He speaks with a strong English accent and slang; while suffering from amnesia[49], he labels Giles a "nancy boy" for being English, before realising, "Bloody hell! Sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks, oh God! I'm English!" However, Spike also retains something of his literary intellect from his human side, routinely referencing poetry, songs, and literature; he on occasion even waxes poetic on the nature of love and life (and unlife) as being driven by blood, reasoning that blood is more powerful than any supernatural force because it is what separates the living from the dead.[11][24]
Spike often treats his vulnerability to the sun as simply an annoying inconvenience, rather than a limitation; he drives in broad daylight in vehicles with blacked-out windows, and he regularly travels outside during the day, using a blanket for cover. Indeed, he has a remarkably stronger resistance to sunlight than all other vampires, those usually get on fire just by the slightest sun's ray. He also has a taste for human food and drink, such as beer, whiskey [50], hot chocolate (even asking Joyce Summers if she has any of "those little marshmallows")[11], chocolates, Buffalo wings [2], and onion blossoms [51], constituting the most varied diet of any vampire on the show. Sometimes he adds extra ingredients into his blood, such as Weetabix (for texture)[52], and spices and burba weed (for flavor)[53]. He also smokes cigarettes (as do many vampires); preferring the fictional brand Morley [54], which he lights with a trademark silver Zippo lighter.
Spike appears to be a fan of pop culture; when held captive by the Scooby Gang in Buffy Season Four, his biggest concern is missing his favourite soap Passions.[55] Over the course of the series, he makes references to movies and shows such as Star Wars [4], Dawson's Creek [21], It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown [53], Ghostbusters [34], Knight Rider and The Nightmare Before Christmas. [41] In the Angel episode "You're Welcome", after his hands are cut off and subsequently reattached, he is instructed to play video games for physical therapy, including Donkey Kong and Crash Bandicoot, and can be seen playing a Game Boy Advance in "The Girl in Question."[7]
In contrast to Angel, Spike's personality remains relatively the same whether he has a soul or not.

Appearance
“
Bouncer: [When asked if he has seen Spike] "Yeah, yeah, I know the guy. Billy Idol wannabe?"
Buffy: "Actually, Billy Idol stole his look from - never mind."[31]
”

Spike's appearance in the 1970s
Spike has a punk look which strongly resembles that of English rock musician Billy Idol's. His hair is platinum blonde for the duration of his time on Buffy and Angel, although in flashbacks it can be seen in its natural medium brown state as well as dyed black.[8] Marster's V/Y-shaped scar on his left eyebrow, which he received during a mugging[56], was worked into the show; make-up artist Todd McIntosh decided to shave out his eyebrow in order to make it more prominent. He also included the scar on Spike's "vamp face" prosthetic, albeit slightly altered as though the skin has stretched.[57] In Spike's first appearance in the series, the wound still looks fresh, but it gradually blends in over the course of the series. In Season Five's "Fool for Love", it is revealed through a flashback that Spike received the scar from the sword of the first Slayer he killed in 1900.[2]
Spike usually wears long black leather coats, including one that he took from a Nazi officer[8] and another that he took as a trophy from Nikki Wood, the second Slayer he killed[2]. He wore the Slayer's black duster for over twenty-five years. When the coat was destroyed by a bomb from the Immortal in Italy, Spike heartbrokenly declared it to be irreplaceable. However, the Italy branch of Wolfram & Hart quickly supplied him with a whole wardrobe of new, nearly identical ones which he happily began wearing.[7] His trademark look includes the leather duster, a black t-shirt or v-neck shirt and black denim pants, usually with heavy boots. He also wore a red long-sleeve shirt fairly often, particularly during the earlier seasons of Buffy. (Note: The jacket he wore in Angel is not the same coat he wore in Buffy.)

Powers and abilities
Spike has the standard powers and vulnerabilities of a Buffyverse vampire and is highly skilled and adaptable in both armed and unarmed combat. For example, he is able to briefly overcome Illyria during a testing of her abilities when she is at the height of her powers. Illyria criticizes his (and others') ability to adapt, calling it "compromise."[58] He is able to withstand excessive amounts of pain for extended periods of time, particularly when properly motivated, as seen in the episodes "Intervention"[23] and "Showtime."[59] While not as skilled or as cruel as Angelus, Spike also proves himself to be effective at torture, noting that he had gained "screams, various fluids, and a name" from Doctor Sparrow.[42]
Spike often displays insight and skills in perception and observation, especially with regard to relationships and personalities. This ability allows him to wield powerful psychological weapons as easily and effectively as physical ones. For example, when he wants to create disharmony among the Scoobies, Spike divides-and-conquers with the "Yoko Factor," exploiting tensions that exist under the surface to alienate Buffy and her friends against each other.[19]He explains to Buffy that he was able to defeat two Slayers because he sensed and exploited their secret desires to be free of their burden.[2] Spike's skills of analysis allowed him to see through Tara's abusive and controlling family[60], forced Buffy and Angel to admit that they were more than "just friends"[11] and identify when and why some relationships, such as that between Buffy and Riley, are not meant to last. Although capable of developing sound battle strategies, Spike (particularly in the days before receiving his chip and being ensouled) often loses patience with anything more complicated than outright attack, as mentioned in the episode "In the Dark".
“
Spike: I had a plan.
Angel: You, a plan?
Spike: Yeah, a good plan. Smart. Carefully laid out. But I got bored.
”
He is also impatient to fight the Slayer upon his initial arrival in Sunnydale; the attack is supposed to coincide with the Night of St. Vigeous (when a vampire's natural abilities are enhanced), but he "couldn't wait" to go after the Slayer and attacks the night before. However, Spike did exercise patience throughout the latter half of Buffy Season Two; feigning weakness and enduring tortuous weeks watching Angelus sexually pursue Dru as he waits for the right time to strike.
Spike's "vampire constitution" provides him with an extremely high tolerance for alcohol (which he regularly consumes in copious quantities). He is also seen picking locks; driving a car, a motorcycle, and a motor home; using video game systems and a computer; treating injuries; pick-pocketing; and playing poker and pool. Spike is also seen speaking Latin, Luganda (a language of Uganda, where he meets the demon shaman), and the language of Fyarl Demons.
When Spike was transformed into a ghost-like intangible state following the destruction of Sunnydale and the Hellmouth and his subsequent materialization at Wolfram & Hart, he was capable of walking through solid objects. He was initially unable to make contact with objects around him until he learned how to focus his abilities through desire, allowing him to make brief contact with people and things if he concentrated enough. However, this ability was relatively useless in a fight, as he was unable to pick up a wooden bar to hit an attacking demon in "The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco", and required a few moments to properly punch a cyborg in "Lineage".

Relationships

Romantic interests and sexual liaisons
Cecily — Cecily is the object of William's affections and poetic efforts when he was human; her rejection makes him open to Drusilla's seduction and subsequent siring.[2] Spike sees Cecily as Halfrek, a vengeance demon, when they meet again over a century later in the episode "Older and Far Away."
Drusilla — While vampires in the Buffyverse, as souless beings are incapable of genuine love, they are certainly capable of intense attachment, passion and loyalty. For example, Spike and Dru are a devoted couple for over a century. They spend their time traveling, feeding, and enjoying themselves. While Spike is single-mindedly devoted to her, Dru is never consistently faithful (maintaining a sexual relationship with Angelus despite Spike's obvious jealousy and discomfort, and, along with Darla, fornicating with the Immortal). She becomes disillusioned with Spike after his betrayal of Angelus, and she perceives his growing feelings for Buffy, and cheats on him with a Chaos Demon ("All slime and antlers!") in South America before breaking up with him, which sends him into a deep depression.[11] By the time Drusilla returns to Sunnydale to reclaim her former love, Spike attempts to stake her to prove his love for Buffy, but Buffy tells him it would prove nothing and Spike cannot go through with it. Drusilla is disappointed at Spike's actions and departs from him.
Angelus — Spike's relationship with his grand-sire is complicated. Despite their constant brotherly antagonism, there seems to be some affection between them; Spike appears genuinely happy to see him in "School Hard" and Angelus greets Spike with a kiss on the forehead in "Innocence." In the Angel episode "Destiny", Spike reveals that the majority of his conflict with Angel stems from the time(s) he caught him having sex with Drusilla. The two may also have some kind of sexual history; Spike mentions in the episode "Power Play" that "Angel and me have never been intimate. Except that one--" Joss Whedon has confirmed in numerous interviews and forum posts the possibility of at least a one-night stand between the pair. In the DVD commentary to the episode "A Hole in the World," Whedon explicitly says: "You know, um, I just wanna say Angel and Spike, they were hanging out, uh, for years and years and years, they were in, you know, all kinds of deviant, they were vampires... Are we thinking they never...? Come on, people! I'm just sayin'. I'm just sayin'. You know, they're open-minded guys. They may be evil but, you know, they're not bigoted or closed-minded."
Harmony Kendall — Spike and Harmony are involved from Season Four through early Season Five of Buffy. Despite Harmony's obvious adoration of him, Spike frequently ignores and mistreats her. Although he tolerates her annoying habits in return for sex, his constant abuse, endless broken promises, and growing obsession with Buffy eventually bring about their break-up. Spike celebrates his re-corporealisation in Angel Season Five by having sex with Harmony, largely because she was the nearest female available, but she becomes possessed and attacks him, marking the end of their relationship.[6] Harmony's embarrassing nickname for Spike, "Blondie Bear", is later picked up and used at Spike's expense by Angel[7] and Gunn.[6] James Marsters explains that Spike's abusive behaviour towards Harmony stems from his bitterness at all females after being dumped by Drusilla, stating, "It's beyond rebound at that point, it's really revenge."[20]
Buffy Summers — Spike reluctantly becomes Buffy's ally during Seasons Two and Four, and in Season Five realizes he has fallen in love with her. Despite Buffy's initial repulsion at his feelings for her, she sees another side to him in "Intervention" and begins to regard him as an ally. In Season Six, they enter into a sexual relationship which ends badly, primarily because Spike seeks love and intimacy while Buffy merely wants physical comfort. After they break up, Spike tries to rape her, and this aborted attack becomes the catalyst which drives the remorseful Spike to regain his soul. When Buffy begins to trust him again, they develop a deep emotional closeness. Buffy also shows more than a bit of jealousy when she finds him bonding with Faith in "Dirty Girls". Spike continues to love her and his support of her, when all others abandon her, grants her the courage and strength to take the first step in destroying the Hellmouth. Shortly before the final showdown with The First, Buffy tells Angel that Spike would always be in her heart, and just before Spike dies in the Hellmouth to save the world, Buffy tells him that she loves him. Spike replies, "No you don't, but thanks for saying it". In the fifth and final season of Angel, Spike decides not to let Buffy know he has been resurrected because he wants her to remember him as a hero who died to save the world. He intended to meet up with her in Rome, where he and Angel are attempting to prevent a demon war, but their paths never quite crossed.[7]
Buffybot — After being rejected by Buffy, Spike commissions Warren to build him a robotic replica of Buffy to be single-mindedly devoted to him. Although he initially enjoys the toy, it is damaged in a fight with Glory. After Buffy's death, Willow reprograms the robot, and it becomes a useful and important tool in the fight against evil until Buffy's resurrection, although bits of the original programming occasionally resurface, causing Spike, who is deep in mourning for Buffy, significant pain.
Anya Jenkins — Spike and Anya bond over their mutual loss of demonic powers in the episode "Where the Wild Things Are." Later, in Season Six, after Xander leaves Anya at the altar and Buffy discontinues her relationship with Spike, they seek solace in one another in a drunken sexual encounter at the Magic Box in the episode "Entropy." [61] They later flirt and argue in the Season Seven episodes "Beneath You", "Sleeper", and "Get It Done", with Anya joking about having sex during a night out.

Other
Clem - Clement is a friendly demon, shown to be Spike's closest friend during Buffy Season Six. They watch tv, and play kitten poker. While Spike is away, he watches Spike's crypt to prevent other demons from squatting.

Joyce and Dawn Summers — Spike treats Buffy's mother Joyce with continuing (and uncharacteristic) affection, honoring her kindness to him even after she dies. Following his painful break-up with Drusilla, she offers him hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on, and they later bond over their mutual love of Passions in the episode "Checkpoint". While discussing his character's relationship with Joyce, James Marsters laughs, "Well, Spike, just maybe he just needs a mom. Maybe sometimes he just needs some chocolate milk and a little mom's love." Spike's relationship with Buffy's sister Dawn is that of a big brother/father figure. He continues to care for his "lil' bit" after Buffy's death, which, according to Marti Noxon in her commentary for "Bargaining", assured, and convinced, many fans that he was genuinely good.

Willow Rosenberg — Spike confesses his attraction to Willow in episode "The Initiative", offering to sire her rather than simply kill her ("I can let you stay dead... or... bring you back, to be like me."). When Spike becomes an ally to the Scoobies, their relationship remains more or less friendly, with Spike inferring for himself that Willow is gay. Willow often defends Spike against angry prejudices of other Scoobies (mostly Xander's and Buffy's).
Spike, on his part, is highly respectful of Willow's power as a witch, as well the depth of her love for her girlfriend Tara; following Glory's attack on Tara in "Tough Love", he asks Buffy "So you're saying that... a powerful and mightily pissed-off witch... was plannin' on going and spillin' herself a few pints of god blood until you, what, 'explained'?" He also shows a sincere preoccupation about her ever-growing addiction to magic, intervening slightly on her behalf in a confrontation with Anya (cf. "Older and Far Away"). Spike calls Willow "Red", usually in a fond way.

Faith Lehane — Spike and Faith first meet in the Buffy Season Four episode "Who Are You?". Faith has heard of Spike and flirts with him teasingly, but he believes her to be Buffy after she switched bodies with her fellow Slayer. The next time they meet, in the Season Seven episode "Dirty Girls", they fight and later acknowledge their previous encounter with good humour. Drew Goddard reveals in his commentary for that episode that this scene was created to showcase Faith and Spike's relationship, as Spike was originally intended to appear as a main character in the planned Faith spin-off. However, such a spin-off never materialised, so their relationship never progresses further, although later in Season Seven, they exchange blows over Faith's perceived betrayal of Buffy.

Andrew Wells — Andrew appears to have a crush on Spike, being mesmerised by the sight of him having sex with Anya in "Entropy" and imagining him shirtless in "Storyteller." The two later bond over their mutual love of onion blossoms and play "amusing games" together while on a mission to discover more about Caleb (one of Season Seven's villains). Andrew is deeply affected by Spike's death, requiring therapy to cope with the loss, and is overjoyed to find him alive in "Damage." Spike, while not returning Andrew's romantic feelings, does appear to have some exasperated affection for him, putting up with multiple hugs and claiming that "there's hope for the little ponce yet" after hearing how he stood up to Angel.
Winifred Burkle — When he first meets Fred early in season five of Angel, Spike initially flirts with her, but his feelings quickly evolve into affection and esteem. Fred is the first person in Los Angeles who believes that Spike is "worth saving" and she works tirelessly to find a way to recorporealize him (while denying being taken in by his charm). Spike sacrifices a chance at becoming corporeal to save Fred's life, and he later chooses to remain at Wolfram & Hart in tribute to her sacrifice. Spike says in the episode "A Hole in the World" that he loves her, albeit in a platonic way.

Illyria — While their relationship is not romantic, Illyria and Spike share an emerging bond; each is on a path from demon to hero, and they share a love of violence. Their sparring sessions are mutually satisfactory; Spike hones his fighting techniques and Illyria is able to regularly inflict pain and dominate in combat. She, at one point, expresses a desire to keep Spike as a pet. After Illyria's powers are diminished, Spike helps her regain confidence and venture into the world again, the two teaming up to defeat a demon that is after Drogyn. Their relationship remains non-romantic, but develops into mutual respect.

Information gathered from Wikipedia.
Thank you Wiki.

Buffy (Picture)

2007-12-18T14:01:00.001-07:00

Buffy - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Vampire Game (Picture)

2007-12-18T13:56:00.001-07:00

L.X.G (Picture)

2007-12-18T13:55:00.000-07:00

Vampire Face (Picture)

2007-12-18T13:54:00.001-07:00

Croglin Vampire (picture)

2007-12-18T13:52:00.001-07:00

Vampire Rain

2007-12-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines
Format: Xbox 360
Released : 2007
Online: Up to 8 players
AQ Interactive / Microsoft

You are a part of a Special Forces team tasked with removing the Nightwalkers in all their gore and supernatural strength before they overrun the world – and before the public finds out about them. Features powerful, wicked fast Nightwalkers. Utilize weapons, strategy and even the environment (Rain weakens Nightwalker power). Mix it up; missions have a beginning and end – you decide everything in the middle. Dark, intense, eerie world expands as you play.

Office Site: http://www.microsoft.com/xbox/vampirerain/

Highest review.
64% GameBrink

A very mediocre game from developer Artoon just like their last effort "Bullet Witch." If you love the genre then you might consider this one a rainy day at the bargain bin. [JPN Import]

Lowest Review
15% Xbox 360 Advanced
In the end, the game suffers from the biggest sin you could think of: It’s just not fun to play.

Over all, probably one to avoid.

Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines

2007-12-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines

Format: PC
Released :2004
Activision

Presenting Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines, a visually stunning first-person role-playing adventure that combines intense first-person action with an open, non-linear world, rich character development and an immersive storyline. Built using Valve Source Technology - the same game engine technology used to power Half-Life 2, Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines is based on White Wolf's pen-and-paper RPG series, and developed by renowned RPG developer - Troika Games. The game plunges players into the dark and gritty vampire underworld of modern day L.A. as a creature of the night, interacting with and battling mortals and other creatures of darkness with an incredible array of vampire powers, skills and traits. [Activision]

Offical Site: www.vampirebloodlines.com/

The game has an 80% average, from 61 reviews.

Highest review.
94% GamingTrend
The use of the Source engine gave Troika the ability to use their talents on fleshing out the incredible storyline and remarkable atmosphere.

Lowest Review
60% Edge Magazine
It remains compelling, but much of that compulsion is in expecting the game to truly deliver - a moment you'll likely still be awaiting at the anticlimactic conclusion.

Over all, I here great things about this game.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (31)

2007-12-09T01:27:00.000-07:00

XXXI

With the first flush of the morning Ethel appeared at the door of the house on Riverside Drive. She had not heard from Ernest, and had been unable to obtain connection with him at the telephone. Anxiety had hastened her steps. She brushed against Jack, who was also directing his steps to the abode of Reginald Clarke.
At the same time something that resembled Ernest Fielding passed from the house of the Vampire. It was a dull and brutish thing, hideously transformed, without a vestige of mind.
"Mr. Fielding," cried Ethel, beside herself with fear as she saw him descending.
"Ernest!" Jack gasped, no less startled at the change in his friend's appearance.
Ernest's head followed the source of the sound, but no spark of recognition illumined [Pg 190]the deadness of his eyes. Without a present and without a past ... blindly ... a gibbering idiot ... he stumbled down the stairs.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (30)

2007-12-09T01:26:00.002-07:00

XXX

Silently the two men faced each other. Then Ernest hissed:
"Thief!"
Reginald shrugged his shoulders.
"Vampire!"
"So Ethel has infected you with her absurd fancies! Poor boy! I am afraid.... I have been wanting to tell you for some time.... But I think.... We have reached the parting of our road!"
"And that you dare to tell me!"
The more he raged, the calmer Reginald seemed to become.
"Really," he said, "I fail to understand.... I must ask you to leave my room!"
"You fail to understand? You cad!" Ernest cried. He stepped to the writing-table and opened the secret drawer with a blow. A bundle of manuscripts fell on the floor with a [Pg 182]strange rustling noise. Then, seizing his own story, he hurled it upon the table. And behold—the last pages bore corrections in ink that could have been made only a few minutes ago!
Reginald smiled. "Have you come to play havoc with my manuscripts?" he remarked.
"Your manuscripts? Reginald Clarke, you are an impudent impostor! You have written no word that is your own. You are an embezzler of the mind, strutting through life in borrowed and stolen plumes!"
And at once the mask fell from Reginald's face.
"Why stolen?" he coolly said, with a slight touch of irritation. "I absorb. I appropriate. That is the most any artist can say for himself. God creates; man moulds. He gives us the colours; we mix them."
"That is not the question. I charge you with having wilfully and criminally interfered in my life; I charge you with having robbed me of what was mine; I charge you with being utterly vile and rapacious, a hypocrite and a parasite!"
[Pg 183]"Foolish boy," Reginald rejoined austerely. "It is through me that the best in you shall survive, even as the obscure Elizabethans live in him of Avon. Shakespeare absorbed what was great in little men—a greatness that otherwise would have perished—and gave it a setting, a life."
"A thief may plead the same. I understand you better. It is your inordinate vanity that prompts you to abuse your monstrous power."
"You err. Self-love has never entered into my actions. I am careless of personal fame. Look at me, boy! As I stand before you I am Homer, I am Shakespeare ... I am every cosmic manifestation in art. Men have doubted in each incarnation my individual existence. Historians have more to tell of the meanest Athenian scribbler or Elizabethan poetaster than of me. The radiance of my work obscured my very self. I care not. I have a mission. I am a servant of the Lord. I am the vessel that bears the Host!"
He stood up at full length, the personification of grandeur and power. A tremendous force trembled in his very finger tips. He was [Pg 184]like a gigantic dynamo, charged with the might of ten thousand magnetic storms that shake the earth in its orbit and lash myriads of planets through infinities of space....
Under ordinary circumstances Ernest or any other man would have quailed before him. But the boy in that epic moment had grown out of his stature. He felt the sword of vengeance in his hands; to him was intrusted the cause of Abel and of Walkham, of Ethel and of Jack. His was the struggle of the individual soul against the same blind and cruel fate that in the past had fashioned the ichthyosaurus and the mastodon.
"By what right," he cried, "do you assume that you are the literary Messiah? Who appointed you? What divine power has made you the steward of my mite and of theirs whom you have robbed?"
"I am a light-bearer. I tread the high hills of mankind ... I point the way to the future. I light up the abysses of the past. Were not my stature gigantic, how could I hold the torch in all men's sight? The very souls that I tread underfoot realise, as their [Pg 185]dying gaze follows me, the possibilities with which the future is big.... Eternally secure, I carry the essence of what is cosmic ... of what is divine.... I am Homer ... Goethe ... Shakespeare.... I am an embodiment of the same force of which Alexander, Cæsar, Confucius and the Christos were also embodiments.... None so strong as to resist me."
A sudden madness overcame Ernest at this boast. He must strike now or never. He must rid humanity of this dangerous maniac—this demon of strength. With a power ten times intensified, he raised a heavy chair so as to hurl it at Reginald's head and crush it.
Reginald stood there calmly, a smile upon his lips.... Primal cruelties rose from the depth of his nature.... Still he smiled, turning his luminous gaze upon the boy ... and, behold ... Ernest's hand began to shake ... the chair fell from his grasp.... He tried to call for help, but no sound issued from his lips.... Utterly paralysed he confronted ... the Force....
[Pg 186]
Minutes—eternities passed.
And still those eyes were fixed upon him.
But this was no longer Reginald!
It was all brain ... only brain ... a tremendous brain-machine ... infinitely complex ... infinitely strong. Not more than a mile away Ethel endeavoured to call to him through the night. The telephone rang, once, twice, thrice, insistingly. But Ernest heard it not. Something dragged him ... dragged the nerves from his body dragged, dragged, dragged.... It was an irresistible suction ... pitiless ... passionless ... immense.
Sparks, blue, crimson and violet, seemed to play around the living battery. It reached the finest fibres of his mind.... Slowly ... every trace of mentality disappeared.... First the will ... then feeling ... judgment ... memory ... fear even.... All that was stored in his brain-cells came forth to be absorbed by that mighty engine....
The Princess With the Yellow Veil appeared ... flitted across the room and [Pg 187]melted away. She was followed by childhood memories ... girls' heads, boys' faces.... He saw his dead mother waving her arms to him.... An expression of death-agony distorted the placid features.... Then, throwing a kiss to him, she, too, disappeared. Picture on picture followed.... Words of love that he had spoken ... sins, virtues, magnanimities, meannesses, terrors ... mathematical formulas even, and snatches of songs. Leontina came and was swallowed up.... No, it was Ethel who was trying to speak to him ... trying to warn.... She waved her hands in frantic despair.... She was gone.... A pale face ... dark, dishevelled hair.... Jack.... How he had changed! He was in the circle of the vampire's transforming might. "Jack," he cried. Surely Jack had something to explain ... something to tell him ... some word that if spoken would bring rest to his soul. He saw the words rise to the boy's lips, but before he had time to utter them his image also had vanished. And Reginald ... Reginald, too, [Pg 188]was gone.... There was only the mighty brain ... panting ... whirling.... Then there was nothing.... The annihilation of Ernest Fielding was complete.
Vacantly he stared at the walls, at the room and at his master. The latter was wiping the sweat from his forehead. He breathed deeply.... The flush of youth spread over his features.... His eyes sparkled with a new and dangerous brilliancy.... He took the thing that had once been Ernest Fielding by the hand and led it to its room.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (29)

2007-12-09T01:26:00.001-07:00

XXIX

The next morning's mail brought a letter from Ethel, a few lines of encouragement and affection. Yes, she was right; it would not do for him to stay under one roof with Reginald any longer. He must only obtain the manuscript and, if possible, surprise him in the attempt to exercise his mysterious and criminal power. Then he would be in the position to dictate terms and to demand Jack's safety as the price of his silence.
Reginald, however, had closeted himself that day in his studio busily writing. Only the clatter of his typewriter announced his presence in the house. There was no chance for conversation or for obtaining the precious manuscript of "Leontina."
Meanwhile Ernest was looking over his papers and preparing everything for a quick departure. Glancing over old letters and notes, [Pg 176]he became readily interested and hardly noticed the passage of the hours.
When the night came he only partly undressed and threw himself upon the bed. It was now ten. At twelve he had promised Ethel to speak to her over the telephone. He was determined not to sleep at all that night. At last he would discover whether or not on the previous and other nights Reginald had secretly entered his room.
When one hour had passed without incident, his attention relaxed a little. His eyes were gradually closing when suddenly something seemed to stir at the door. The Chinese vase came rattling to the floor.
At once Ernest sprang up. His face had blanched with terror. It was whiter than the linen in which they wrap the dead. But his soul was resolute.
He touched a button and the electric light illuminated the whole chamber. There was no nook for even a shadow to hide. Yet there was no one to be seen. From without the door came no sound. Suddenly something soft touched his foot. He gathered all his will [Pg 177]power so as not to break out into a frenzied shriek. Then he laughed, not a hearty laugh, to be sure. A tiny nose and a tail gracefully curled were brushing against him. The source of the disturbance was a little Maltese cat, his favourite, that by some chance had remained in his room. After its essay at midnight gymnastics the animal quieted down and lay purring at the foot of his bed.
The presence of a living thing was a certain comfort, and the reservoir of his strength was well nigh exhausted.
He dimly remembered his promise to Ethel, but his lids drooped with sheer weariness. Perhaps an hour passed in this way, when suddenly his blood congealed with dread.
He felt the presence of the hand of Reginald Clarke—unmistakably—groping in his brain as if searching for something that had still escaped him.
He tried to move, to cry out, but his limbs were paralysed. When, by a superhuman effort, he at last succeeded in shaking off the numbness that held him enchained, he awoke just in time to see a figure, that of a man, dis[Pg 178]appearing in the wall that separated Reginald's apartments from his room....
This time it was no delusion of the senses. He heard something like a secret door softly closing behind retreating steps. A sudden fierce anger seized him. He was oblivious of the danger of the terrible power of the older man, oblivious of the love he had once borne him, oblivious of everything save the sense of outraged humanity and outraged right.
The law permits us to shoot a burglar who goes through our pockets at night. Must he tolerate the ravages of this a thousand times more dastardly and dangerous spiritual thief? Was Reginald to enjoy the fruit of other men's labour unpunished? Was he to continue growing into the mightiest literary factor of the century by preying upon his betters? Abel, Walkham, Ethel, he, Jack, were they all to be victims of this insatiable monster?
Was this force resistless as it was relentless?
No, a thousand times, no!
He dashed himself against the wall at the place where the shadow of Reginald Clarke [Pg 179]had disappeared. In doing so he touched upon a secret spring. The wall gave way noiselessly. Speechless with rage he crossed the next room and the one adjoining it, and stood in Reginald's studio. The room was brilliantly lighted, and Reginald, still dressed, was seated at his writing-table scribbling notes upon little scraps of paper in his accustomed manner.
At Ernest's approach he looked up without evincing the least sign of terror or surprise. Calmly, almost majestically, he folded his arms over his breast, but there was a menacing glitter in his eyes as he confronted his victim.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (28)

2007-12-09T01:25:00.002-07:00

XXVIII

Terrible as was his loneliness, a meeting with Jack would have been more terrible. And, after all, it was true, a gulf had opened between them.
Ethel alone could bring solace to his soul. There was a great void in his heart which only she could fill. He hungered for the touch of her hand. He longed for her presence strongly, as a wanton lusts for pleasure and as sad men crave death.
Noiselessly he stole to the door so as not to arouse the attention of the other two men, whose every whisper pierced his heart like a dagger. When he came to Ethel's home, he found that she had gone out for a breath of air. The servant ushered him into the parlor, and there he waited, waited, waited for her.
Greatly calmed by his walk, he turned the details of Clarke's conversation over in his mind, and the conviction grew upon him that [Pg 168]the friend of his boyhood was not to blame for his course of action. Reginald probably had encircled Jack's soul with his demoniacal influence and singled him out for another victim. That must never be. It was his turn to save now. He would warn his friend of the danger that threatened him, even if his words should be spoken into the wind. For Reginald, with an ingenuity almost satanic, had already suggested that the delusion of former days had developed into a monomania, and any attempt on his part to warn Jack would only seem to confirm this theory. In that case only one way was left open. He must plead with Reginald himself, confront at all risks that snatcher of souls. To-night he would not fall asleep. He would keep his vigil. And if Reginald should approach his room, if in some way he felt the direful presence, he must speak out, threaten if need be, to save his friend from ruin. He had fully determined upon this course when a cry of joy from Ethel, who had just returned from her walk, interrupted his reverie. But her gladness changed to anxiety when she saw how pale he was. Ernest [Pg 169]recounted to her the happenings of the day, from the discovery of his novel in Reginald's desk to the conversation which he had accidentally overheard. He noticed that her features brightened as he drew near the end of his tale.
"Was your novel finished?" she suddenly asked.
"I think so."
"Then you are out of danger. He will want nothing else of you. But you should have taken it with you."
"I had only sufficient presence of mind to slip it back into the drawer. To-morrow I shall simply demand it."
"You will do nothing of the kind. It is in his handwriting, and you have no legal proof that it is yours. You must take it away secretly. And he will not dare to reclaim it."
"And Jack?"
She had quite forgotten Jack. Women are invariably selfish for those they love.
"You must warn him," she replied.
"He would laugh at me. However, I must speak to Reginald."
[Pg 170]"It is of no avail to speak to him. At least, you must not do so before you have obtained the manuscript. It would unnecessarily jeopardise our plans."
"And after?"
"After, perhaps. But you must not expose yourself to any danger."
"No, dear," he said, and kissed her; "what danger is there, provided I keep my wits about me? He steals upon men only in their sleep and in the dark."
"Be careful, nevertheless."
"I shall. In fact, I think he is not at home at this moment. If I go now I may be able to get hold of the manuscript and hide it before he returns."
"I cannot but tremble to think of you in that house."
"You shall have no more reason to tremble in a day or two."
"Shall I see you to-morrow?"
"I don't think so. I must go over my papers and things so as to be ready at any moment to leave the house."
"And then?"
[Pg 171]"Then—"
He took her in his arms and looked long and deeply into her eyes.
"Yes," she replied—"at least, perhaps."
Then he turned to go, resolute and happy. How strangely he had matured since the summer! Her heart swelled with the consciousness that it was her love that had effected this transformation.
"As I cannot expect you to-morrow, I shall probably go to the opera, but I shall be at home before midnight. Will you call me up then? A word from you will put me at ease for the night, even if it comes over the telephone."
"I will call you up. We moderns have an advantage over the ancients in this respect: the twentieth-century Pyramus can speak to Thisbe even if innumerable walls sever his body from hers."
"A quaint conceit! But let us hope that our love-story will end less tragically," she said, tenderly caressing his hair. "Oh, we shall be happy, you and I," she added, after a while. "The iron finger of fate that lay so heavily [Pg 172]on our lives is now withdrawn. Almost withdrawn. Yes, almost. Only almost."
And then a sudden fear overcame her.
"No," she cried, "do not go, do not go! Stay with me; stay here. I feel so frightened. I don't know what comes over me. I am afraid—afraid for you."
"No, dear," he rejoined, "you need not be afraid. In your heart you don't want me to desert a friend, and, besides, leave the best part of my artistic life in Reginald's clutch."
"Why should you expose yourself to God knows what danger for a friend who is ready to betray you?"
"You forget friendship is a gift. If it exacts payment in any form, it is no longer either friendship or a gift. And you yourself have assured me that I have nothing to fear from Reginald. I have nothing to give to him."
She rallied under his words and had regained her self-possession when the door closed behind him. He walked a few blocks very briskly. Then his pace slackened. Her words had unsettled him a little, and when he reached home he did not at once resume his [Pg 173]exploration of Reginald's papers. He had hardly lit a cigarette when, at an unusually early hour, he heard Reginald's key in the lock.
Quickly he turned the light out and in the semi-darkness, lit up by an electric lantern below, barricaded the door as on the previous night. Then he went to bed without finding sleep.
Supreme silence reigned over the house. Even the elevator had ceased to run. Ernest's brain was all ear. He heard Reginald walking up and down in the studio. Not the smallest movement escaped his attention. Thus hours passed. When the clock struck twelve, he was still walking up and down, down and up, up and down.
One o'clock.
Still the measured beat of his footfall had not ceased. There was something hypnotic in the regular tread. Nature at last exacted its toll from the boy. He fell asleep.
Hardly had he closed his eyes when again that horrible nightmare—no longer a nightmare—tormented him. Again he felt the [Pg 174]pointed delicate fingers carefully feeling their way along the innumerable tangled threads of nerve-matter that lead to the innermost recesses of self....
A subconscious something strove to arouse him, and he felt the fingers softly withdrawn.
He could have sworn that he heard the scurrying of feet in the room. Bathed in perspiration he made a leap for the electric light.
But there was no sign of any human presence. The barricade at the door was undisturbed. But fear like a great wind filled the wings of his soul.
Yet there was nothing, nothing to warrant his conviction that Reginald Clarke had been with him only a few moments ago, plying his horrible trade. The large mirror above the fireplace only showed him his own face, white, excited,—the face of a madman.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (27)

2007-12-09T01:25:00.001-07:00

XXVII

Reginald Clarke had hardly left the room when Ernest hastily rose from his seat. While it was likely that he would remain in undisturbed possession of the apartment the whole morning, the stake at hand was too great to permit of delay.
Palpitating and a little uncertain, he entered the studio where, scarcely a year ago, Reginald Clarke had bidden him welcome. Nothing had changed there since then; only in Ernest's mind the room had assumed an aspect of evil. The Antinous was there and the Faun and the Christ-head. But their juxtaposition to-day partook of the nature of the blasphemous. The statues of Shakespeare and Balzac seemed to frown from their pedestals as his fingers were running through Reginald's papers. He brushed against a semblance of Napoleon that was standing on the [Pg 162]writing-table, so that it toppled over and made a noise that weirdly re-echoed in the silence of the room. At that moment a curious family resemblance between Shakespeare, Balzac, Napoleon—and Reginald, forcibly impressed itself upon his mind. It was the indisputable something that marks those who are chosen to give ultimate expression to some gigantic world-purpose. In Balzac's face it was diffused with kindliness, in that of Napoleon sheer brutality predominated. The image of one who was said to be the richest man of the world also rose before his eyes. Perhaps it was only the play of his fevered imagination, but he could have sworn that this man's features, too, bore the mark of those unoriginal, great absorptive minds who, for better or for worse, are born to rob and rule. They seemed to him monsters that know neither justice nor pity, only the law of their being, the law of growth.
Common weapons would not avail against such forces. Being one, they were stronger than armies; nor could they be overcome in single combat. Stealth, trickery, the outfit of [Pg 163]the knave, were legitimate weapons in such a fight. In this case the end justified the means, even if the latter included burglary.
After a brief and fruitless search of the desk, he attempted to force open a secret drawer, the presence of which he had one day accidentally discovered. He tried a number of keys to no account, and was thinking of giving up his researches for the day until he had procured a skeleton key, when at last the lock gave way.
The drawer disclosed a large file of manuscript. Ernest paused for a moment to draw breath. The paper rustled under his nervous fingers. And there—at last—his eyes lit upon a bulky bundle that bore this legend: "Leontina, A Novel."
It was true, then—all, his dream, Reginald's confession. And the house that had opened its doors so kindly to him was the house of a Vampire!
Finally curiosity overcame his burning indignation. He attempted to read. The letters seemed to dance before his eyes—his hands trembled.
[Pg 164]At last he succeeded. The words that had first rolled over like drunken soldiers now marched before his vision in orderly sequence. He was delighted, then stunned. This was indeed authentic literature, there could be no doubt about it. And it was his. He was still a poet, a great poet. He drew a deep breath. Sudden joy trembled in his heart. This story set down by a foreign hand had grown chapter by chapter in his brain.
There were some slight changes—slight deviations from the original plan. A defter hand than his had retouched it here and there, but for all that it remained his very own. It did not belong to that thief. The blood welled to his cheek as he uttered this word that, applied to Reginald, seemed almost sacrilegious.
He had nearly reached the last chapter when he heard steps in the hallway. Hurriedly he restored the manuscript to its place, closed the drawer and left the room on tiptoe.
It was Reginald. But he did not come alone. Someone was speaking to him. The voice seemed familiar. Ernest could not make [Pg 165]out what it said. He listened intently and—was it possible? Jack? Surely he could not yet have come in response to his note! What mysterious power, what dim presentiment of his friend's plight had led him hither? But why did he linger so long in Reginald's room, instead of hastening to greet him? Cautiously he drew nearer. This time he caught Jack's words:
"It would be very convenient and pleasant. Still, some way, I feel that it is not right for me, of all men, to take his place here."
"That need not concern you," Reginald deliberately replied; "the dear boy expressed the desire to leave me within a fortnight. I think he will go to some private sanitarium. His nerves are frightfully overstrained."
"This seems hardly surprising after the terrible attack he had when you read your play."
"That idea has since then developed into a monomania."
"I am awfully sorry for him. I cared for him much, perhaps too much. But I always feared that he would come to such an end.[Pg 166] Of late his letters have been strangely unbalanced."
"You will find him very much changed. In fact, he is no longer the same."
"No," said Jack, "he is no longer the friend I loved."
Ernest clutched for the wall. His face was contorted with intense agony. Each word was like a nail driven into his flesh. Crucified upon the cross of his own affection by the hand he loved, all white and trembling he stood there. Tears rushed to his eyes, but he could not weep. Dry-eyed he reached his room and threw himself upon his bed. Thus he lay—uncomforted and alone.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (26)

2007-12-09T01:24:00.000-07:00

XXVI

For over an hour Ernest paced up and down his room, wildly excited by Ethel's revelations. It required an immense amount of self-control for him to pen the following lines to Jack: "I need you. Come."
After he had entrusted the letter to the hall-boy, a reaction set in and he was able to consider the matter, if not with equanimity, at least with a degree of calmness. The strangest thing to him was that he could not bring himself to hate Reginald, of whose evil influence upon his life he was now firmly convinced. Here was another shattered idol; but one—like the fragment of a great god-face in the desert—intensely fascinating, even in its ruin. Then yielding to a natural impulse, Ernest looked over his photographs and at once laid hold upon the austere image of his master and friend. No—it was preposter[Pg 156]ous; there was no evil in this man. There was no trace of malice in this face, the face of a prophet or an inspired madman, a poet. And yet, as he scrutinised the picture closely a curious transformation seemed to take place in the features; a sly little line appeared insinuatingly about Reginald's well-formed mouth, and the serene calm of his Jupiter-head seemed to turn into the sneak smile of a thief. Nevertheless, Ernest was not afraid. His anxieties had at last assumed definite shape; it was possible now to be on his guard. It is only invisible, incomprehensible fear, crouching upon us from the night, that drives sensitive natures to the verge of madness and transforms stern warriors into cowards.
Ernest realised the necessity of postponing the proposed investigation of Reginald's papers until the morning, as it was now near eleven, and he expected to hear at any moment the sound of his feet at the door. Before retiring he took a number of precautions. Carefully he locked the door to his bedroom and placed a chair in front of it. To make doubly sure, he fastened the handle to an exquisite[Pg 157] Chinese vase, a gift of Reginald's, that at the least attempt to force an entrance from without would come down with a crash.
Then, although sleep seemed out of the question, he went to bed. He had hardly touched the pillow when a leaden weight seemed to fall upon his eyes. The day's commotion had been too much for his delicate frame. By force of habit he pulled the cover over his ear and fell asleep.
All night he slept heavily, and the morning was far advanced when a knock at the door that, at first, seemed to come across an immeasurable distance, brought him back to himself. It was Reginald's manservant announcing that breakfast was waiting.
Ernest got up and rubbed his eyes. The barricade at the door at once brought back to his mind with startling clearness the events of the previous evening.
Everything was as he had left it. Evidently no one had attempted to enter the room while he slept. He could not help smiling at the arrangement which reminded him of his childhood, when he had sought by similar [Pg 158]means security from burglars and bogeys. And in the broad daylight Ethel's tales of vampires seemed once more impossible and absurd. Still, he had abundant evidence of Reginald's strange influence, and was determined to know the truth before nightfall. Her words, that thought is more real than blood, kept ringing in his ears. If such was the case, he would find evidence of Reginald's intellectual burglaries, and possibly be able to regain a part of his lost self that had been snatched from him by the relentless dream-hand.
But under no circumstances could he face Reginald in his present state of mind. He was convinced that if in the fleeting vision of a moment the other man's true nature should reveal itself to him, he would be so terribly afraid as to shriek like a maniac. So he dressed particularly slowly in the hope of avoiding an encounter with his host. But fate thwarted this hope. Reginald, too, lingered that morning unusually long over his coffee. He was just taking his last sip when Ernest entered the room. His behaviour was of an almost bourgeois kindness. Benevolence fair[Pg 159]ly beamed from his face. But to the boy's eyes it had assumed a new and sinister expression.
"You are late this morning, Ernest," he remarked in his mildest manner. "Have you been about town, or writing poetry? Both occupations are equally unhealthy." As he said this he watched the young man with the inscrutable smile that at moments was wont to curl upon his lips. Ernest had once likened it to the smile of Mona Lisa, but now he detected in it the suavity of the hypocrite and the leer of the criminal.
He could not endure it; he could not look upon that face any longer. His feet almost gave way under him, cold sweat gathered on his brow, and he sank on a chair trembling and studiously avoiding the other man's gaze.
At last Reginald rose to go. It seemed impossible to accuse this splendid impersonation of vigorous manhood of cunning and underhand methods, of plagiarisms and of theft. As he stood there he resembled more than anything a beautiful tiger-cat, a wonderful thing of strength and will-power, indomitable and insatiate. Yet who could tell whether [Pg 160]this strength was not, after all, parasitic. If Ethel's suspicions were justified, then, indeed, more had been taken from him than he could ever realise. For in that case it was his life-blood that circled in those veins and the fire of his intellect that set those lips aflame!

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (25)

2007-12-09T01:23:00.002-07:00

XXV

Only three hours had passed since Ethel had startled Ernest from his sombre reveries, but within this brief space their love had matured as if each hour had been a year. The pallor had vanished from his cheeks and the restiveness from his eyes. The intoxication of her presence had rekindled the light of his countenance and given him strength to combat the mighty forces embodied in Reginald Clarke. The child in him had made room for the man. He would not hear of surrendering without a struggle, and Ethel felt sure she might leave his fate in his own hand. Love had lent him a coat of mail. He was warned, and would not succumb. Still she made one more attempt to persuade him to leave the house at once with her.
"I must go now," she said. "Will you not come with me, after all? I am so afraid to think of you still here."
[Pg 150]"No, dear," he replied. "I shall not desert my post. I must solve the riddle of this man's life; and if, indeed, he is the thing he seems to be, I shall attempt to wrest from him what he has stolen from me. I speak of my unwritten novel."
"Do not attempt to oppose him openly. You cannot resist him."
"Be assured that I shall be on my guard. I have in the last few hours lived through so much that makes life worth living, that I would not wantonly expose myself to any danger. Still, I cannot go without certainty—cannot, if there is some truth in our fears, leave the best of me behind."
"What are you planning to do?"
"My play—I am sure now that it is mine—I cannot take from him; that is irretrievably lost. He has read it to his circle and prepared for its publication. And, no matter how firmly convinced you or I may be of his strange power, no one would believe our testimony. They would pronounce us mad. Perhaps we are mad!"
[Pg 151]"No; we are not mad; but it is mad for you to stay here," she asserted.
"I shall not stay here one minute longer than is absolutely essential. Within a week I shall have conclusive proof of his guilt or innocence."
"How will you go about it?"
"His writing table—"
"Ah!"
"Yes, perhaps I can discover some note, some indication, some proof—"
"It's a dangerous game."
"I have everything to gain."
"I wish I could stay here with you," she said. "Have you no friend, no one whom you could trust in this delicate matter?"
"Why, yes—Jack."
A shadow passed over her face.
"Do you know," she said, "I have a feeling that you care more for him than for me?"
"Nonsense," he said, "he is my friend, you, you—immeasurably more."
"Are you still as intimate with him as when I first met you?"
"Not quite; of late a troubling something, [Pg 152]like a thin veil, seems to have passed between us. But he will come when I call him. He will not fail me in my hour of need."
"When can he be here?"
"In two or three days."
"Meanwhile be very careful. Above all, lock your door at night."
"I will not only lock, but barricade it. I shall try with all my power to elucidate this mystery without, however, exposing myself to needless risks."
"I will go, then. Kiss me good-bye."
"May I not take you to the car?"
"You had better not."
At the door she turned back once more. "Write me every day, or call me up on the telephone."
He straightened himself, as if to convince her of his strength. Yet when at last the door had closed behind her, his courage forsook him for a moment. And, if he had not been ashamed to appear a weakling before the woman he loved, who knows if any power on earth could have kept him in that house where from every corner a secret seemed to lurk!
[Pg 153]There was a misgiving, too, in the woman's heart as she left the boy behind,—a prey to the occult power that, seeking expression in multiple activities, has made and unmade emperors, prophets and poets.
As she stepped into a street car she saw from afar, as in a vision, the face of Reginald Clarke. It seemed very white and hungry. There was no human kindness in it—only a threat and a sneer.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (24)

2007-12-09T01:23:00.001-07:00

XXIV

Very quietly, with difficulty restraining her own emotion so as not to excite him further, Ethel had related to Ernest the story of her remarkable interview with Reginald Clarke. In the long silence that ensued, the wings of his soul brushed against hers for the first time, and Love by a thousand tender chains of common suffering welded their beings into one.
Caressingly the ivory of her fingers passed through the gold of his hair and over his brow, as if to banish the demon-eyes that stared at him across the hideous spaces of the past. In a rush a thousand incidents came back to him, mute witnesses of a damning truth. His play, the dreams that tormented him, his own inability to concentrate his mind upon his novel which hitherto he had ascribed to nervous disease—all, piling fact on fact, became one monstrous monument of Reginald Clarke's crime. At last Ernest understood the parting [Pg 142]words of Abel Felton and the look in Ethel's eye on the night when he had first linked his fate with the other man's. Walkham's experience, too, and Reginald's remarks on the busts of Shakespeare and Balzac unmistakably pointed toward the new and horrible spectre that Ethel's revelation had raised in place of his host.
And then, again, the other Reginald appeared, crowned with the lyric wreath. From his lips golden cadences fell, sweeter than the smell of many flowers or the sound of a silver bell. He was once more the divine master, whose godlike features bore no trace of malice and who had raised him to a place very near his heart.
"No," he cried, "it is impossible. It's all a dream, a horrible nightmare."
"But he has himself confessed it," she interjected.
"Perhaps he has spoken in symbols. We all absorb to some extent other men's ideas, without robbing them and wrecking their thought-life. Reginald may be unscrupulous in the use of his power of impressing upon others the [Pg 143]stamp of his master-mind. So was Shakespeare. No, no, no! You are mistaken; we were both deluded for the moment by his picturesque account of a common, not even a discreditable, fact. He may himself have played with the idea, but surely he cannot have been serious."
"And your own experience, and Abel Felton's and mine—can they, too, be dismissed with a shrug of the shoulder?"
"But, come to think of it, the whole theory seems absurd. It is unscientific. It is not even a case of mesmerism. If he had said that he hypnotised his victims, the matter would assume a totally different aspect. I admit that something is wrong somewhere, and that the home of Reginald Clarke is no healthful abode for me. But you must also remember that probably we are both unstrung to the point of hysteria."
But to Ethel his words carried no conviction.
"You are still under his spell," she cried, anxiously.
A little shaken in his confidence, Ernest re[Pg 144]sumed: "Reginald is utterly incapable of such an action, even granting that he possessed the terrible power of which you speak. A man of his splendid resources, a literary Midas at whose very touch every word turns into gold, is under no necessity to prey on the thoughts of others. Circumstances, I admit, are suspicious. But in the light of common day this fanciful theory shrivels into nothing. Any court of law would reject our evidence as madness. It is too utterly fantastic, utterly alien to any human experience."
"Is it though?" Ethel replied with peculiar intonation.
"Why, what do you mean?"
"Surely," she answered, "you must know that in the legends of every nation we read of men and women who were called vampires. They are beings, not always wholly evil, whom every night some mysterious impulse leads to steal into unguarded bedchambers, to suck the blood of the sleepers and then, having waxed strong on the life of their victims, cautiously to retreat. Thence comes it that their lips are very red. It is even said that they can [Pg 145]find no rest in the grave, but return to their former haunts long after they are believed to be dead. Those whom they visit, however, pine away for no apparent reason. The physicians shake their wise heads and speak of consumption. But sometimes, ancient chronicles assure us, the people's suspicions were aroused, and under the leadership of a good priest they went in solemn procession to the graves of the persons suspected. And on opening the tombs it was found that their coffins had rotted away and the flowers in their hair were black. But their bodies were white and whole; through no empty sockets crept the vermin, and their sucking lips were still moist with a little blood."
Ernest was carried away in spite of himself by her account, which vividly resembled his own experience. Still he would not give in.
"All this is impressive. I admit it is very impressive. But you yourself speak of such stories as legends. They are unfounded upon any tangible fact, and you cannot expect a man schooled in modern sciences to admit, as having any possible bearing upon his life, the crude belief of the Middle Ages!"
[Pg 146]"Why not?" she responded. "Our scientists have proved true the wildest theories of mediæval scholars. The transmutation of metals seems to-day no longer an idle speculation, and radium has transformed into potential reality the dream of perpetual motion. The fundamental notions of mathematics are being undermined. One school of philosophers claims that the number of angles in a triangle is equal to more than two right angles; another propounds that it is less. Even great scientists who have studied the soul of nature are turning to spiritism. The world is overcoming the shallow scepticism of the nineteenth century. Life has become once more wonderful and very mysterious. But it also seems that, with the miracles of the old days, their terrors, their nightmares and their monsters have come back in a modern guise."
Ernest became even more thoughtful. "Yes," he observed, "there is something in what you say." Then, pacing the room nervously, he exclaimed: "And still I find it impossible to believe your explanation. Reginald a vampire! It seems so ludicrous. If [Pg 147]you had told me that such creatures exist somewhere, far away, I might have discussed the matter; but in this great city, in the shadow of the Flatiron Building—no!"
She replied with warmth: "Yet they exist—always have existed. Not only in the Middle Ages, but at all times and in all regions. There is no nation but has some record of them, in one form or another. And don't you think if we find a thought, no matter how absurd it may seem to us, that has ever occupied the minds of men—if we find, I say, such a perennially recurrent thought, are we not justified in assuming that it must have some basis in the actual experience of mankind?"
Ernest's brow became very clouded, and infinite numbers of hidden premature wrinkles began to show. How wan he looked and how frail! He was as one lost in a labyrinth in which he saw no light, convinced against his will, or rather, against his scientific conviction, that she was not wholly mistaken.
"Still," he observed triumphantly, "your vampires suck blood; but Reginald, if vampire he be, preys upon the soul. How can a [Pg 148]man suck from another man's brain a thing as intangible, as quintessential as thought?"
"Ah," she replied, "you forget, thought is more real than blood!"

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (23)

2007-12-09T01:22:00.002-07:00

XXIII

Ernest conducted Ethel Brandenbourg to his room and helped her to remove her cloak.
While he was placing the garment upon the back of a chair, she slipped a little key into her hand-bag. He looked at her with a question in his eyes.
"Yes," she replied, "I kept the key; but I had not dreamed that I would ever again cross this threshold."
Meanwhile it had grown quite dark. The reflection of the street lanterns without dimly lit the room, and through the twilight fantastic shadows seemed to dance.
The perfume of her hair pervaded the room and filled the boy's heart with romance. Tenderness long suppressed called with a thousand voices. The hour, the strangeness and unexpectedness of her visit, perhaps even a boy's [Pg 136]pardonable vanity, roused passion from its slumbers and once again wrought in Ernest's soul the miracle of love. His arm encircled her neck and his lips stammered blind, sweet, crazy and caressing things.
"Turn on the light," she pleaded.
"You were not always so cruel."
"No matter, I have not come to speak of love."
"Why, then, have you come?"
Ernest felt a little awkward, disappointed, as he uttered these words.
What could have induced her to come to his rooms? He loosened his hold on her and did as she asked.
How pale she looked in the light, how beautiful! Surely, she had sorrowed for him; but why had she not answered his letter? Yes, why?
"Your letter?" She smiled a little sadly. "Surely you did not expect me to answer that?"
"Why not?" He had again approached her and his lips were close to hers. "Why not? I have yearned for you. I love you."
[Pg 137]His breath intoxicated her; it was like a subtle perfume. Still she did not yield.
"You love me now—you did not love me then. The music of your words was cold—machine-made, strained and superficial. I shall not answer, I told myself: in his heart he has forgotten you. I did not then realise that a dangerous force had possessed your life and crushed in your mind every image but its own."
"I don't understand."
"Do you think I would have come here if it were a light matter? No, I tell you, it is a matter of life and death to you, at least as an artist."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Have you done a stroke of work since I last saw you?"
"Yes, let me see, surely, magazine articles and a poem."
"That is not what I want to know. Have you accomplished anything big? Have you grown since this summer? How about your novel?"
"I—I have almost finished it in my mind, [Pg 138]but I have found no chance to begin with the actual writing. I was sick of late, very sick."
No doubt of it! His face was pinched and pale, and the lines about the mouth were curiously contorted, like those of a man suffering from a painful internal disease.
"Tell me," she ventured, "do you ever miss anything?"
"Do you mean—are there thieves?"
"Thieves! Against thieves one can protect oneself."
He stared at her wildly, half-frightened, in anticipation of some dreadful revelation. His dream! His dream! That hand! Could it be more than a dream? God! His lips quivered.
Ethel observed his agitation and continued more quietly, but with the same insistence: "Have you ever had ideas, plans that you began without having strength to complete them? Have you had glimpses of vocal visions that seemed to vanish no sooner than seen? Did it ever seem to you as if some mysterious and superior will brutally interfered with the workings of your brain?"
[Pg 139]Did it seem so to him! He himself could not have stated more plainly the experience of the last few months. Each word fell from her lips like the blow of a hammer. Shivering, he put his arm around her, seeking solace, not love. This time she did not repulse him and, trustingly, as a child confides to his mother, he depicted to her the suffering that harrowed his life and made it a hell.
As she listened, indignation clouded her forehead, while rising tears of anger and of love weighed down her lashes. She could bear the pitiful sight no longer.
"Child," she cried, "do you know who your tormentor is?"
And like a flash the truth passed from her to him. A sudden intimation told him what her words had still concealed.
"Don't! For Christ's sake, do not pronounce his name!" he sobbed. "Do not breathe it. I could not endure it. I should go mad."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (22)

2007-12-09T01:22:00.001-07:00

XXII

The last rays of the late afternoon sun fell slanting through Ernest's window. He was lying on his couch, in a leaden, death-like slumber that, for the moment at least, was not even perturbed by the presence of Reginald Clarke.
The latter was standing at the boy's bedside, calm, unmoved as ever. The excitement of his conversation with Ethel had left no trace on the chiselled contour of his forehead. Smilingly fastening an orchid of an indefinable purple tint in his evening coat, radiant, buoyant with life, he looked down upon the sleeper. Then he passed his hand over Ernest's forehead, as if to wipe off beads of sweat. At the touch of his hand the boy stirred uneasily. When it was not withdrawn his countenance twitched in pain. He moaned as men moan under the influence of some anæsthetic, without possessing the power to break through [Pg 128]the narrow partition that separates them from death on the one side and from consciousness on the other. At last a sigh struggled to his seemingly paralysed lips, then another. Finally the babbling became articulate.
"For God's sake," he cried, in his sleep, "take that hand away!"
And all at once the benignant smile on Reginald's features was changed to a look of savage fierceness. He no longer resembled the man of culture, but a disappointed, snarling beast of prey. He took his hand from Ernest's forehead and retired cautiously through the half-open door.
Hardly had he disappeared when Ernest awoke. For a moment he looked around, like a hunted animal, then sighed with relief and buried his head in his hand. At that moment a knock at the door was heard, and Reginald re-entered, calm as before.
"I declare," he exclaimed, "you have certainly been sleeping the sleep of the just."
"It isn't laziness," Ernest replied, looking up rather pleased at the interruption. "But I've a splitting headache."
[Pg 129]"Perhaps those naps are not good for your health."
"Probably. But of late I have frequently found it necessary to exact from the day-hours the sleep which the night refuses me. I suppose it is all due to indigestion, as you have suggested. The stomach is the source of all evil."
"It is also the source of all good. The Greeks made it the seat of the soul. I have always claimed that the most important item in a great poet's biography is an exact reproduction of his menu."
"True, a man who eats a heavy beefsteak for breakfast in the morning is incapable of writing a sonnet in the afternoon."
"Yes," Reginald added, "we are what we eat and what our forefathers have eaten before us. I ascribe the staleness of American poetry to the griddle-cakes of our Puritan ancestors. I am sorry we cannot go deeper into the subject at present. But I have an invitation to dinner where I shall study, experimentally, the influence of French sauces on my versification."
[Pg 130]"Good-bye."
"Au revoir." And, with a wave of the hand, Reginald left the room.
When the door had closed behind him, Ernest's thoughts took a more serious turn. The tone of light bantering in which the preceding conversation had taken place had been assumed on his part. For the last few weeks evil dreams had tortured his sleep and cast their shadow upon his waking hours. They had ever increased in reality, in intensity and in hideousness. Even now he could see the long, tapering fingers that every night were groping in the windings of his brain. It was a well-formed, manicured hand that seemed to reach under his skull, carefully feeling its way through the myriad convolutions where thought resides.
And, oh, the agony of it all! A human mind is not a thing of stone, but alive, horribly alive to pain. What was it those fingers sought, what mysterious treasures, what jewels hidden in the under-layer of his consciousness? His brain was like a human gold-mine, quaking under the blow of the pick and the [Pg 131]tread of the miner. The miner! Ah, the miner! Ceaselessly, thoroughly, relentlessly, he opened vein after vein and wrested untold riches from the quivering ground; but each vein was a live vein and each nugget of gold a thought!
No wonder the boy was a nervous wreck. Whenever a tremulous nascent idea was formulating itself, the dream-hand clutched it and took it away, brutally severing the fine threads that bind thought to thought. And when the morning came, how his head ached! It was not an acute pain, but dull, heavy, incessant.
These sensations, Ernest frequently told himself, were morbid fancies. But then, the monomaniac who imagines that his arms have been mangled or cut from his body, might as well be without arms. Mind can annihilate obstacles. It can also create them. Psychology was no unfamiliar ground to Ernest, and it was not difficult for him to seek in some casual suggestion an explanation for his delusion, the fixed notion that haunted him day and night. But he also realized that to explain a phenomenon is not to explain it away. The man who [Pg 132]analyses his emotions cannot wholly escape them, and the shadow of fear—primal, inexplicable fear—may darken at moments of weakness the life of the subtlest psychologist and the clearest thinker.
He had never spoken to Reginald of his terrible nightmares. Coming on the heel of the fancy that he, Ernest, had written "The Princess With the Yellow Veil," a fancy that, by the way, had again possessed him of late, this new delusion would certainly arouse suspicion as to his sanity in Reginald's mind. He would probably send him to a sanitarium; he certainly would not keep him in the house. Beneficence itself in all other things, his host was not to be trifled with in any matter that interfered with his work. He would act swiftly and without mercy.
For the first time in many days Ernest thought of Abel Felton. Poor boy! What had become of him after he had been turned from the house? He would not wait for any one to tell him to pack his bundle. But then, that was impossible; Reginald was fond of him.
[Pg 133]Suddenly Ernest's meditations were interrupted by a noise at the outer door. A key was turned in the lock. It must be he—but why so soon? What could have brought him back at this hour? He opened the door and went out into the hall to see what had happened. The figure that he beheld was certainly not the person expected, but a woman, from whose shoulders a theatre-cloak fell in graceful folds,—probably a visitor for Reginald. Ernest was about to withdraw discreetly, when the electric light that was burning in the hallway fell upon her face and illumined it.
Then indeed surprise overcame him. "Ethel," he cried, "is it you?"

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (21)

2007-12-09T01:21:00.001-07:00

XXI

Reginald's revelations were followed by a long silence, interrupted only by the officiousness of the waiter. The spell once broken, they exchanged a number of more or less irrelevant observations. Ethel's mind returned, again and again, to the word he had not spoken. He had said nothing of the immediate bearing of his monstrous power upon her own life and that of Ernest Fielding.
At last, somewhat timidly, she approached the subject.
"You said you loved me," she remarked.
"I did."
"But why, then—"
"I could not help it."
"Did you ever make the slightest attempt?"
"In the horrible night hours I struggled against it. I even implored you to leave me."
"Ah, but I loved you!"
[Pg 122]"You would not be warned, you would not listen. You stayed with me, and slowly, surely, the creative urge went out of your life."
"But what on earth could you find in my poor art to attract you? What were my pictures to you?"
"I needed them, I needed you. It was a certain something, a rich colour effect, perhaps. And then, under your very eyes, the colour that vanished from your canvases reappeared in my prose. My style became more luxurious than it had been, while you tortured your soul in the vain attempt of calling back to your brush what was irretrievably lost."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"You would have laughed in my face, and I could not have endured your laugh. Besides, I always hoped, until it was too late, that I might yet check the mysterious power within me. Soon, however, I became aware that it was beyond my control. The unknown god, whose instrument I am, had wisely made it stronger than me."
"But why," retorted Ethel, "was it neces[Pg 123]sary to discard me, like a cast-off garment, like a wanton who has lost the power to please?"
Her frame shook with the remembered emotion of that moment, when years ago he had politely told her that she was nothing to him.
"The law of being," Reginald replied, almost sadly, "the law of my being. I should have pitied you, but the eternal reproach of your suffering only provoked my anger. I cared less for you every day, and when I had absorbed all of you that my growth required, you were to me as one dead, as a stranger you were. There was between us no further community of interest; henceforth, I knew, our lives must move in totally different spheres. You remember that day when we said good-bye?"
"You mean that day when I lay before you on my knees," she corrected him.
"That day I buried my last dream of personal happiness. I would have gladly raised you from the floor, but love was utterly gone. If I am tenderer to-day than I am wont to be, it is because you mean so much to me as the [Pg 124]symbol of my renunciation. When I realised that I could not even save the thing I loved from myself, I became hardened and cruel to others. Not that I know no kindly feeling, but no qualms of conscience lay their prostrate forms across my path. There is nothing in life for me but my mission."
His face was bathed in ecstasy. The pupils were luminous, large and threatening. He had the look of a madman or a prophet.
After a while Ethel remarked: "But you have grown into one of the master-figures of the age. Why not be content with that? Is there no limit to your ambition?"
Reginald smiled: "Ambition! Shakespeare stopped when he had reached his full growth, when he had exhausted the capacity of his contemporaries. I am not yet ready to lay down my pen and rest."
"And will you always continue in this criminal course, a murderer of other lives?"
He looked her calmly in the face. "I do not know."
"Are you the slave of your unknown god?"
"We are all slaves, wire-pulled marionettes:[Pg 125] You, Ernest, I. There is no freedom on the face of the earth nor above. The tiger that tears a lamb is not free, I am not free, you are not free. All that happens must happen; no word that is said is said in vain, in vain is raised no hand."
"Then," Ethel retorted, eagerly, "if I attempted to wrest your victim from you, I should also be the tool of your god?"
"Assuredly. But I am his chosen."
"Can you—can you not set him free?"
"I need him—a little longer. Then he is yours."
"But can you not, if I beg you again on my knees, at least loosen his chains before he is utterly ruined?"
"It is beyond my power. If I could not rescue you, whom I loved, what in heaven or on earth can save him from his fate? Besides, he will not be utterly ruined. It is only a part of him that I absorb. In his soul are chords that I have not touched. They may vibrate one day, when he has gathered new strength. You, too, would have spared yourself much pain had you striven to attain success in different [Pg 126]fields—not where I had garnered the harvest of a lifetime. It is only a portion of his talent that I take from him. The rest I cannot harm. Why should he bury that remainder?"
His eyes strayed through the window to the firmament, as if to say that words could no more bend his indomitable will than alter the changeless course of the stars.
Ethel had half-forgotten the wrong she herself had suffered at his hands. He could not be measured by ordinary standards, this dazzling madman, whose diseased will-power had assumed such uncanny proportions. But here a young life was at stake. In her mind's eye she saw Reginald crush between his relentless hands the delicate soul of Ernest Fielding, as a magnificent carnivorous flower might close its glorious petals upon a fly.
Love, all conquering love, welled up in her. She would fight for Ernest as a tiger cat fights for its young. She would place herself in the way of the awful force that had shattered her own aspirations, and save, at any cost, the brilliant boy who did not love her.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (20)

2007-12-09T01:20:00.001-07:00

They were sitting in a little Italian restaurant where they had often, in the old days, lingered late into the night over a glass of Lacrimæ Christi. But no pale ghost of the past rose from the wine. Only a wriggling something, with serpent eyes, that sent cold shivers down her spine and held her speechless and entranced.
When their order had been filled and the waiter had posted himself at a respectful distance, Reginald began—at first leisurely, a man of the world. But as he proceeded a strange exultation seemed to possess him and from his eyes leaped the flame of the mystic.
"You must pardon me," he commenced, "if I monopolise the conversation, but the revelations I have to make are of such a nature that I may well claim your attention. I will start with my earliest childhood. You remember [Pg 112]the picture of me that was taken when I was five?"
She remembered, indeed. Each detail of his life was deeply engraven on her mind.
"At that time," he continued, "I was not held to be particularly bright. The reason was that my mind, being pre-eminently and extraordinarily receptive, needed a stimulus from without. The moment I was sent to school, however, a curious metamorphosis took place in me. I may say that I became at once the most brilliant boy in my class. You know that to this day I have always been the most striking figure in any circle in which I have ever moved."
Ethel nodded assent. Silently watching the speaker, she saw a gleam of the truth from afar, but still very distant and very dim.
Reginald lifted the glass against the light and gulped its contents. Then in a lower voice he recommenced: "Like the chameleon, I have the power of absorbing the colour of my environment."
"Do you mean that you have the power of [Pg 113]absorbing the special virtues of other people?" she interjected.
"That is exactly what I mean."
"Oh!" she cried, for in a heart-beat many things had become clear to her. For the first time she realised, still vaguely but with increasing vividness, the hidden causes of her ruin and, still more plainly, the horrible danger of Ernest Fielding.
He noticed her agitation, and a look of psychological curiosity came into his eyes.
"Ah, but that is not all," he observed, smilingly. "That is nothing. We all possess that faculty in a degree. The secret of my strength is my ability to reject every element that is harmful or inessential to the completion of my self. This did not come to me easily, nor without a struggle. But now, looking back upon my life, many things become transparent that were obscure even to me at the time. I can now follow the fine-spun threads in the intricate web of my fate, and discover in the wilderness of meshes a design, awful and grandly planned."
His voice shook with conviction, as he ut[Pg 114]tered these words. There was something strangely gruesome in this man. It was thus that she had pictured to herself the high-priest of some terrible and mysterious religion, demanding a human sacrifice to appease the hunger of his god. She was fascinated by the spell of his personality, and listened with a feeling not far removed from awe. But Reginald suddenly changed his tone and proceeded in a more conversational manner.
"The first friend I ever cared for was a boy marvellously endowed for the study of mathematics. At the time of our first meeting at school, I was unable to solve even the simplest algebraical problem. But we had been together only for half a month, when we exchanged parts. It was I who was the mathematical genius now, whereas he became hopelessly dull and stuttered through his recitations only with a struggle that brought the tears to his eyes. Then I discarded him. Heartless, you say? I have come to know better. Have you ever tasted a bottle of wine that had been uncorked for a long time? If you have, you have probably found it flat—the essence was [Pg 115]gone, evaporated. Thus it is when we care for people. Probably—no, assuredly—there is some principle prisoned in their souls, or in the windings of their brains, which, when escaped, leaves them insipid, unprofitable and devoid of interest to us. Sometimes this essence—not necessarily the finest element in a man's or a woman's nature, but soul-stuff that we lack—disappears. In fact, it invariably disappears. It may be that it has been transformed in the processes of their growth; it may also be that it has utterly vanished by some inadvertence, or that we ourselves have absorbed it."
"Then we throw them away?" Ethel asked, pale, but dry-eyed. A shudder passed through her body and she clinched her glass nervously. At that moment Reginald resembled a veritable Prince of Darkness, sinister and beautiful, painted by the hand of a modern master. Then, for a space, he again became the man of the world. Smiling and self-possessed, he filled the glasses, took a long sip of the wine and resumed his narrative.
"That boy was followed by others. I ab[Pg 116]sorbed many useless things and some that were evil. I realised that I must direct my absorptive propensities. This I did. I selected, selected well. And all the time the terrible power of which I was only half conscious grew within me."
"It is indeed a terrible power," she cried; "all the more terrible for its subtlety. Had I not myself been its victim, I should not now find it possible to believe in it."
"The invisible hand that smites in the dark is certainly more fearful than a visible foe. It is also more merciful. Think how much you would have suffered had you been conscious of your loss."
"Still it seems even now to me that it cannot have been an utter, irreparable loss. There is no action without reaction. Even I—even we—must have received from you some compensation for what you have taken away."
"In the ordinary processes of life the law of action and reaction is indeed potent. But no law is without exception. Think of radium, for instance, with its constant and seemingly inexhaustible outflow of energy. It is a diffi[Pg 117]cult thing to imagine, but our scientific men have accepted it as a fact. Why should we find it more difficult to conceive of a tremendous and infinite absorptive element? I feel sure that it must somewhere exist. But every phenomenon in the physical world finds its counterpart in the psychical universe. There are radium-souls that radiate without loss of energy, but also without increase. And there are souls, the reverse of radium, with unlimited absorptive capacities."
"Vampire-souls," she observed, with a shudder, and her face blanched.
"No," he said, "don't say that." And then he suddenly seemed to grow in stature. His face was ablaze, like the face of a god.
"In every age," he replied, with solemnity, "there are giants who attain to a greatness which by natural growth no men could ever have reached. But in their youth a vision came to them, which they set out to seek. They take the stones of fancy to build them a palace in the kingdom of truth, projecting into reality dreams, monstrous and impossible. Often they fail and, tumbling from their airy [Pg 118]heights, end a quixotic career. Some succeed. They are the chosen. Carpenter's sons they are, who have laid down the Law of a World for milleniums to come; or simple Corsicans, before whose eagle eye have quaked the kingdoms of the earth. But to accomplish their mission they need a will of iron and the wit of a hundred men. And from the iron they take the strength, and from a hundred men's brains they absorb their wisdom. Divine missionaries, they appear in all departments of life. In their hand is gathered to-day the gold of the world. Mighty potentates of peace and war, they unlock new seas and from distant continents lift the bars. Single-handed, they accomplish what nations dared not hope; with Titan strides they scale the stars and succeed where millions fail. In art they live, the makers of new periods, the dreamers of new styles. They make themselves the vocal sun-glasses of God. Homer and Shakespeare, Hugo and Balzac—they concentrate the dispersed rays of a thousand lesser luminaries in one singing flame that, like a giant torch, lights up humanity's path."
[Pg 119]She gazed at him, open-mouthed. The light had gone from his visage. He paused, exhausted, but even then he looked the incarnation of a force no less terrible, no less grand. She grasped the immensity of his conception, but her woman's soul rebelled at the horrible injustice to those whose light is extinguished, as hers had been, to feed an alien flame. And then, for a moment, she saw the pale face of Ernest staring at her out of the wine.
"Cruel," she sobbed, "how cruel!"
"What matter?" he asked. "Their strength is taken from them, but the spirit of humanity, as embodied in us, triumphantly marches on."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (19)

2007-12-09T01:19:00.002-07:00

XIX

The summer was brief, and already by the middle of September many had returned to the pleasures of urban life. Ethel was among the first-comers; for, after her resolve to enter the life of the young poet once more, it would have been impossible for her to stay away from the city much longer. Her plan was all ready. Before attempting to see Ernest she would go to meet Reginald and implore him to free the boy from his hideous spell. An element of curiosity unconsciously entered her determination. When, years ago, she and Clarke had parted, the man had seemed, for once, greatly disturbed and had promised, in his agitation, that some day he would communicate to her what would exonerate him in her eyes. She had answered that all words between them were purposeless, and that she hoped never to see his face again. The experi[Pg 106]ence that the years had brought to her, instead of elucidating the mystery of Reginald's personality, had, on the contrary, made his behaviour appear more and more unaccountable. She had more than once caught herself wishing to meet him again and to analyse dispassionately the puzzling influences he had exerted upon her. And she could at last view him dispassionately; there was triumph in that. She was dimly aware that something had passed from her, something by which he had held her, and without which his magnetism was unable to play upon her.
So when Walkham sent her an invitation to one of his artistic "at homes" she accepted, in the hope of meeting Reginald. It was his frequentation of Walkham's house that had for several years effectively barred her foot from crossing the threshold. It was with a very strange feeling she greeted the many familiar faces at Walkham's now; and when, toward ten o'clock, Reginald entered, politely bowing in answer to the welcome from all sides, her heart beat in her like a drum. But she calmed herself, and, catching his eye, so [Pg 107]arranged it that early in the evening they met in an alcove of the drawing-room.
"It was inevitable," Reginald said. "I expected it."
"Yes," she replied, "we were bound to meet."
Like a great rush of water, memory came back to her. He was still horribly fascinating as of old—only she was no longer susceptible to his fascination. He had changed somewhat in those years. The lines about his mouth had grown harder and a steel-like look had come into his eyes. Only for a moment, as he looked at her, a flash of tenderness seemed to come back to them. Then he said, with a touch of sadness: "Why should the first word between us be a lie?"
Ethel made no answer.
Reginald looked at her half in wonder and said: "And is your love for the boy so great that it overcame your hate of me?"
Ah, he knew! She winced.
"He has told you?"
"Not a word."
There was something superhuman in his [Pg 108]power of penetration. Why should she wear a mask before him, when his eyes, like the eyes of God, pierced to the core of her being?
"No," she replied, "it is not love, but compassion for him."
"Compassion?"
"Yes, compassion for your victim."
"You mean?"
"Reginald!"
"I am all ear."
"I implore you."
"Speak."
"You have ruined one life."
He raised his eyebrows derogatively.
"Yes," she continued fiercely, "ruined it! Is not that enough?"
"I have never wilfully ruined any one's life."
"You have ruined mine."
"Wilfully?"
"How else shall I explain your conduct?"
"I warned you."
"Warning, indeed! The warning that the snake gives to the sparrow helpless under its gaze."
[Pg 109]"Ah, but who tells you that the snake is to blame? Is it not rather the occult power that prescribes with blood on brazen scroll the law of our being?"
"This is no solace to the sparrow. But whatever may be said, let us drop the past. Let us consider the present. I beg of you, leave this boy—let him develop without your attempting to stifle the life in him or impressing upon it the stamp of your alien mind."
"Ethel," he protested, "you are unjust. If you knew—" Then an idea seemed to take hold of him. He looked at her curiously.
"What if I knew?" she asked.
"You shall know," he said, simply. "Are you strong?"
"Strong to withstand anything at your hand. There is nothing that you can give me, nothing that you can take away."
"No," he remarked, "nothing. Yes, you have changed. Still, when I look upon you, the ghosts of the past seem to rise like live things."
"We both have changed. We meet now [Pg 110]upon equal grounds. You are no longer the idol I made of you."
"Don't you think that to the idol this might be a relief, not a humiliation? It is a terrible torture to sit in state with lips eternally shut. Sometimes there comes over the most reticent of us a desire to break through the eternal loneliness that surrounds the soul. It is this feeling that prompts madmen to tear off their clothes and exhibit their nakedness in the market-place. It's madness on my part, or a whim, or I don't know what; but it pleases me that you should know the truth."
"You promised me long ago that I should."
"To-day I will redeem my promise, and I will tell you another thing that you will find hard to believe."
"And that is?"
"That I loved you."
Ethel smiled a little sceptically. "You have loved often."
"No," he replied. "Loved, seriously loved, I have, only once."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (18)

2007-12-09T01:19:00.001-07:00

XVIII

After Ernest's departure Ethel Brandenbourg's heart was swaying hither and thither in a hurricane of conflicting feelings. Before she had time to gain an emotional equilibrium, his letter had hurled her back into chaos. A false ring somewhere in Ernest's words, reechoing with an ever-increasing volume of sound, stifled the voice of love. His jewelled sentences glittered, but left her cold. They lacked that spontaneity which renders even simple and hackeneyed phrases wonderful and unique. Ethel clearly realised that her hold upon the boy's imagination had been a fleeting midsummer night's charm, and that a word from Reginald's lips had broken the potency of her spell. She almost saw the shadow of Reginald's visage hovering over Ernest's letter and leering at her from between the lines in sinister triumph. Finally reason came [Pg 102]and whispered to her that it was extremely unwise to give her heart into the keeping of a boy. His love, she knew, would have been exacting, irritating at times. He would have asked her to sympathise with every phase of his life, and would have expected active interest on her part in much that she had done with long ago. Thus, untruth would have stolen into her life and embittered it. When mates are unequal, Love must paint its cheeks and, in certain moods at least, hide its face under a mask. Its lips may be honeyed, but it brings fret and sorrow in its train.
These things she told herself over and over again while she penned a cool and calculating answer to Ernest's letter. She rewrote it many times, and every time it became more difficult to reply. At last she put her letter aside for a few days, and when it fell again into her hand it seemed so unnatural and strained that she destroyed it.
Thus several weeks had passed, and Ernest no longer exclusively occupied her mind when, one day early in September, while glancing over a magazine, she came upon his name in [Pg 103]the table of contents. Once more she saw the boy's wistful face before her, and a trembling something stirred in her heart. Her hand shook as she cut the pages, and a mist of tears clouded her vision as she attempted to read his poem. It was a piece of sombre brilliance. Like black-draped monks half crazed with mystic devotion, the poet's thoughts flitted across the page. It was the wail of a soul that feels reason slipping from it and beholds madness rise over its life like a great pale moon. A strange unrest emanated from it and took possession of her. And again, with an insight that was prophetic, she distinctly recognised behind the vague fear that had haunted the poet the figure of Reginald Clarke.
A half-forgotten dream, struggling to consciousness, staggered her by its vividness. She saw Clarke as she had seen him in days gone by, grotesquely transformed into a slimy sea-thing, whose hungry mouths shut sucking upon her and whose thousand tentacles encircled her form. She closed her eyes in horror at the reminiscence. And in that moment it became [Pg 104]clear to her that she must take into her hands the salvation of Ernest Fielding from the clutches of the malign power that had mysteriously enveloped his life.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (17)

2007-12-09T01:18:00.001-07:00

XVII

The next day Ernest wrote a letter of more or less superficial tenderness to Ethel. She had wounded his pride by proving victorious in the end over his passion and hers; besides, he was in the throes of work. When after the third day no answer came, he was inclined to feel aggrieved. It was plain now that she had not cared for him in the least, but had simply played with him for lack of another toy. A flush of shame rose to his cheeks at the thought. He began to analyse his own emotions, and stunned, if not stabbed, his passion step by step. Work was calling to him. It was that which gave life its meaning, not the love of a season. How far away, how unreal, she now seemed to him. Yes, she was right, he had not cared deeply; and his novel, too, would be written only at her. It was the heroine of his story that absorbed his interest, not the living prototype.
Once in a conversation with Reginald he [Pg 98]touched upon the subject. Reginald held that modern taste no longer permitted even the photographer to portray life as it is, but insisted upon an individual visualisation. "No man," he remarked, "was ever translated bodily into fiction. In contradiction to life, art is a process of artificial selection."
Bearing in mind this motive, Ernest went to work to mould from the material in hand a new Ethel, more real than life. Unfortunately he found little time to devote to his novel. It was only when, after a good day's work, a pile of copy for a magazine lay on his desk, that he could think of concentrating his mind upon "Leontina." The result was that when he went to bed his imagination was busy with the plan of his book, and the creatures of his own brain laid their fingers on his eyelid so that he could not sleep.
When at last sheer weariness overcame him, his mind was still at work, not in orderly sequence but along trails monstrous and grotesque. Hobgoblins seemed to steal through the hall, and leering incubi oppressed his soul with terrible burdens. In the morning he [Pg 99]awoke unrested. The tan vanished from his face and little lines appeared in the corners of his mouth. It was as if his nervous vitality were sapped from him in some unaccountable way. He became excited, hysterical. Often at night when he wrote his pot-boilers for the magazines, fear stood behind his seat, and only the buzzing of the elevator outside brought him back to himself.
In one of his morbid moods he wrote a sonnet which he showed to Reginald after the latter's return from a short trip out of town. Reginald read it, looking at the boy with a curious, lurking expression.
O gentle Sleep, turn not thy face away,But place thy finger on my brow, and takeAll burthens from me and all dreams that ache;Upon mine eyes a cooling balsam lay,Seeing I am aweary of the day.But, lo! thy lips are ashen and they quake.What spectral vision sees thou that can shakeThy sweet composure, and thy heart dismay?Perhaps some murderer's cruel eye agleam[Pg 100] Is fixed upon me, or some monstrous dreamMight bring such fearful guilt upon the headOf my unvigilant soul as would arouseThe Borgian snake from her envenomed bed,Or startle Nero in his golden house.
"Good stuff," Reginald remarked, laying down the manuscript; "when did you write it?"
"The night when you were out of town," Ernest rejoined.
"I see," Reginald replied.
There was something startling in his intonation that at once aroused Ernest's attention.
"What do you see?" he asked quickly.
"Nothing," Reginald replied, with immovable calm, "only that your state of nerves is still far from satisfactory."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (16)

2007-12-09T01:17:00.000-07:00

XVI

While the train sped to New York, Ethel Brandenbourg was the one object engaging Ernest's mind. He still felt the pressure of her lips upon his, and his nostrils dilated at the thought of the fragrance of her hair brushing against his forehead.
But the moment his foot touched the ferry-boat that was to take him to Manhattan, the past three weeks were, for the time being at least, completely obliterated from his memory. All his other interests that he had suppressed in her company because she had no part in them, came rushing back to him. He anticipated with delight his meeting with Reginald Clarke. The personal attractiveness of the man had never seemed so powerful to Ernest as when he had not heard from him for some time. Reginald's letters were always brief. "Professional writers," he was wont to say,[Pg 92] "cannot afford to put fine feeling into their private correspondence. They must turn it into copy." He longed to sit with the master in the studio when the last rays of the daylight were tremulously falling through the stained window, and to discuss far into the darkening night philosophies young and old. He longed for Reginald's voice, his little mannerisms, the very perfume of his rooms.
There also was a deluge of letters likely to await him in his apartment. For in his hurried departure he had purposely left his friends in the dark as to his whereabouts. Only to Jack he had dropped a little note the day after his meeting with Ethel.
He earnestly hoped to find Reginald at home, though it was well nigh ten o'clock in the evening, and he cursed the "rapid transit" for its inability to annihilate space and time. It is indeed disconcerting to think how many months, if not years, of our earthly sojourn the dwellers in cities spend in transportation conveyances that must be set down as a dead loss in the ledger of life. A nervous impatience against things material overcame Ernest [Pg 93]in the subway. It is ever the mere stupid obstacle of matter that weights down the wings of the soul and prevents it from soaring upward to the sun.
When at last he had reached the house, he learned from the hall-boy that Clarke had gone out. Ruffled in temper he entered his rooms and went over his mail. There were letters from editors with commissions that he could not afford to reject. Everywhere newspapers and magazines opened their yawning mouths to swallow up what time he had. He realised at once that he would have to postpone the writing of his novel for several weeks, if not longer.
Among the letters was one from Jack. It bore the postmark of a little place in the Adirondacks where he was staying with his parents. Ernest opened the missive not without hesitation. On reading and rereading it the fine lines on his forehead, that would some day deepen into wrinkles, became quite pronounced and a look of displeasure darkened his face. Something was wrong with Jack, a slight change that defied analysis. Their souls were [Pg 94]out of tune. It might only be a passing disturbance; perhaps it was his own fault. It pained him, nevertheless. Somehow it seemed of late that Jack was no longer able to follow the vagaries of his mind. Only one person in the world possessed a similar mental vision, only one seemed to understand what he said and what he left unsaid. Reginald Clarke, being a man and poet, read in his soul as in an open book. Ethel might have understood, had not love, like a cloud, laid itself between her eyes and the page.
It was with exultation that Ernest heard near midnight the click of Reginald's key in the door. He found him unchanged, completely, radiantly himself. Reginald possessed the psychic power of undressing the soul, of seeing it before him in primal nakedness. Although no word was said of Ethel Brandenbourg except the mere mention of her presence in Atlantic City, Ernest intuitively knew that Reginald was aware of the transformation that absence had wrought in him. In the presence of this man he could be absolutely himself, without shame or fear of mis-[Pg 95]understanding; and by a strange metamorphosis, all his affection for Ethel and Jack went out for the time being to Reginald Clarke.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (15)

2007-12-09T01:16:00.002-07:00

Thus three weeks passed without apparent change in their relations. Ernest possessed a personal magnetism that, always emanating from him, was felt most deeply when withdrawn. He was at all times involuntarily exerting his power, which she ever resisted, always on the alert, always warding off.
When at last pressure of work made his immediate departure for New York imperative, he had not apparently gained the least ground. But Ethel knew in her heart that she was fascinated, if not in love. The personal fascination was supplemented by a motherly feeling toward Ernest that, sensuous in essence, was in itself not far removed from love. She struggled bravely and with external success against her emotions, never losing sight of the fact that twenty and thirty are fifty.
Increasingly aware of her own weakness, [Pg 84]she constantly attempted to lead the conversation into impersonal channels, speaking preferably of his work.
"Tell me," she said, negligently fanning herself, "what new inspiration have you drawn from your stay at the seaside?"
"Why," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "volumes and volumes of it. I shall write the great novel of my life after I am once more quietly installed at Riverside Drive."
"The great American novel?" she rejoined.
"Perhaps."
"Who will be your hero—Clarke?"
There was a slight touch of malice in her words, or rather in the pause between the penultimate word and the last. Ernest detected its presence, and knew that her love for Reginald was dead. Stiff and cold it lay in her heart's chamber—beside how many others?—all emboxed in the coffin of memory.
"No," he replied after a while, a little piqued by her suggestion, "Clarke is not the hero. What makes you think that he casts a spell on everything I do?"
"Dear child," she replied, "I know him.[Pg 85] He cannot fail to impress his powerful personality upon all with whom he comes in contact, to the injury of their intellectual independence. Moreover, he is so brilliant and says everything so much better than anybody else, that by his very splendor he discourages effort in others. At best his influence will shape your development according to the tenets of his mind—curious, subtle and corrupted. You will become mentally distorted, like one of those hunchback Japanese trees, infinitely wrinkled and infinitely grotesque, whose laws of growth are not determined by nature, but by the diseased imagination of the East."
"I am no weakling," Ernest asserted, "and your picture of Clarke is altogether out of perspective. His splendid successes are to me a source of constant inspiration. We have some things in common, but I realise that it is along entirely different lines that success will come to me. He has never sought to influence me, in fact, I never received the smallest suggestion from him." Here the Princess Marigold seemed to peer at him through the veil of the past, but he waved her aside. "As for [Pg 86]my story," he continued, "you need not go so far out of your way to find the leading character?"
"Who can it be?" Ethel remarked, with a merry twinkle, "You?"
"Ethel," he said sulkingly, "be serious. You know that it is you."
"I am immensely flattered," she replied. "Really, nothing pleases me better than to be immortalised in print, since I have little hope nowadays of perpetuating my name by virtue of pencil or brush. I have been put into novels before and am consumed with curiosity to hear the plot of yours."
"If you don't mind, I had rather not tell you just yet," Ernest said. "It's going to be called Leontina—that's you. But all depends on the treatment. You know it doesn't matter much what you say so long as you say it well. That's what counts. At any rate, any indication of the plot at this stage would be decidedly inadequate."
"I think you are right," she ventured. "By all means choose your own time to tell me. Let's talk of something else. Have you writ[Pg 87]ten anything since your delightful book of verse last spring? Surely now is your singing season. By the time we are thirty the springs of pure lyric passion are usually exhausted."
Ethel's inquiry somehow startled him. In truth, he could find no satisfactory answer. A remark relative to his play—Clarke's play—rose to the threshold of his lips, but he almost bit his tongue as soon as he realised that the strange delusion which had possessed him that night still dominated the undercurrents of his cerebration. No, he had accomplished but little during the last few months—at least, by way of creative literature. So he replied that he had made money. "That is something," he said. "Besides, who can turn out a masterpiece every week? An artist's brain is not a machine, and in the respite from creative work I have gathered strength for the future. But," he added, slightly annoyed, "you are not listening."
His exclamation brought her back from the train of thoughts that his words had suggested. For in his reasoning she had recognised the [Pg 88]same arguments that she had hourly repeated to herself in defence of her inactivity when she was living under the baneful influence of Reginald Clarke. Yes, baneful; for the first time she dared to confess it to herself. In a flash the truth dawned upon her that it was not her love alone, but something else, something irresistable and very mysterious, that had dried up the well of creation in her. Could it be that the same power was now exerting its influence upon the struggling soul of this talented boy? Rack her brains as she might, she could not definitely formulate her apprehensions and a troubled look came into her eyes.
"Ethel," the boy repeated, impatiently, "why are you not listening? Do you realise that I must leave you in half an hour?"
She looked at him with deep tenderness. Something like a tear lent a soft radiance to her large child-like eyes.
Ernest saw it and was profoundly moved. In that moment he loved her passionately.
"Foolish boy," she said softly; then, lowering her voice to a whisper: "You may kiss me before you go."
[Pg 89]His lips gently touched hers, but she took his head between her hands and pressed her mouth upon his in a long kiss.
Ernest drew back a little awkwardly. He had not been kissed like this before.
"Poet though you are," Ethel whispered, "you have not yet learned to kiss."
She was deeply agitated when she noticed that his hand was fumbling for the watch in his vest-pocket. She suddenly released him, and said, a little hurt: "No, you must not miss your train. Go by all means."
Vainly Ernest remonstrated with her.
"Go to him," she said, and again, "go to him."
With a heavy heart the boy obeyed. He waved his hat to her once more from below, and then rapidly disappeared in the crowd. For a moment strange misgivings cramped her heart, and something within her called out to him: "Do not go! Do not return to that house." But no sound issued from her lips. Worldly wisdom had sealed them, had stifled the inner voice. And soon the boy's golden head was swallowed up in the distance.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (14)

2007-12-09T01:16:00.001-07:00

XIV

It was the third day after their meeting. Hour by hour their intimacy had increased. Ethel was sitting in a large wicker-chair. She restlessly fingered her parasol, mechanically describing magic circles in the sand. Ernest lay at her feet. With his knees clasped between his hands, he gazed into her eyes.
"Why are you trying so hard to make love to me?" the woman asked, with the half-amused smile with which the Eve near thirty receives the homage of a boy. There is an element of insincerity in that smile, but it is a weapon of defence against love's artillery.
Sometimes, indeed, the pleading in the boy's eyes and the cry of the blood pierces the woman's smiling superiority. She listens, loves and loses.
Ethel Brandenbourg was listening, but the idea of love had not yet entered into her mind.[Pg 78] Her interest in Ernest was due in part to his youth and the trembling in his voice when he spoke of love. But what probably attracted her most powerfully was the fact that he intimately knew the man who still held her woman's heart in the hollow of his hand. It was half in play, therefore, that she had asked him that question.
Why did he make love to her? He did not know. Perhaps it was the irresistible desire to be petted which young poets share with domesticated cats. But what should he tell her? Polite platitudes were out of place between them.
Besides he knew the penalty of all tender entanglements. Women treat love as if it were an extremely tenuous wire that can be drawn out indefinitely. This is a very expensive process. It costs us the most precious, the only irretrievable thing in the universe—time. And to him time was song; for money he did not care. The Lord had hallowed his lips with rhythmic speech; only in the intervals of his singing might he listen to the voice of his heart—strangest of all watches, that tells [Pg 79]the time not by minutes and hours, but by the coming and going of love.
The woman beside him seemed to read his thoughts.
"Child, child," she said, "why will you toy with love? Like Jehovah, he is a jealous god, and nothing but the whole heart can placate him. Woe to the woman who takes a poet for a lover. I admit it is fascinating, but it is playing va banque. In fact, it is fatal. Art or love will come to harm. No man can minister equally to both. A genuine poet is incapable of loving a woman."
"Pshaw! You exaggerate. Of course, there is a measure of truth in what you say, but it is only one side of the truth, and the truth, you know, is always Janus-faced. In fact, it often has more than two faces. I can assure you that I have cared deeply for the women to whom my love-poetry was written. And you will not deny that it is genuine."
"God forbid! Only you have been using the wrong preposition. You should have said that it was written at them."
Ernest stared at her in child-like wonder.
[Pg 80]"By Jove! you are too devilishly clever!" he exclaimed.
After a little silence he said not without hesitation: "And do you apply your theory to all artists, or only to us makers of rhyme?"
"To all," she replied.
He looked at her questioningly.
"Yes," she said, with a new sadness in her voice, "I, too, have paid the price."
"You mean?"
"I loved."
"And art?"
"That was the sacrifice."
"Perhaps you have chosen the better part," Ernest said without conviction.
"No," she replied, "my tribute was brought in vain."
This she said calmly, but Ernest knew that her words were of tragic import.
"You love him still?" he observed simply.
Ethel made no reply. Sadness clouded her face like a veil or like a grey mist over the face of the waters. Her eyes went out to the sea, following the sombre flight of the sea-mews.
[Pg 81]In that moment he could have taken her in his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness.
But tenderness between man and woman is like a match in a powder-magazine. The least provocation, and an amorous explosion will ensue, tumbling down the card-houses of platonic affection. If he yielded to the impulse of the moment, the wine of the springtide would set their blood afire, and from the flames within us there is no escape.
"Come, come," she said, "you do not love me."
He protested.
"Ah!" she cried triumphantly, "how many sonnets would you give for me? If you were a usurer in gold instead of in rhyme, I would ask how many dollars. But it is unjust to pay in a coin that we value little. To a man starving in gold mines, a piece of bread weighs more than all the treasures of the earth. To you, I warrant your poems are the standard of appreciation. How many would you give for me? One, two, three?"
"More."
[Pg 82]"Because you think love would repay you with compound interest," she observed merrily.
He laughed.
And when love turns to laughter the danger is passed for the moment.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (13)

2007-12-09T01:14:00.000-07:00

XIII

Lazily Ernest stretched his limbs on the beach of Atlantic City. The sea, that purger of sick souls, had washed away the fever and the fret of the last few days. The wind was in his hair and the spray was in his breath, while the rays of the sun kissed his bare arms and legs. He rolled over in the glittering sand in the sheer joy of living.
Now and then a wavelet stole far into the beach, as if to caress him, but pined away ere it could reach its goal. It was as if the enamoured sea was stretching out its arms to him. Who knows, perhaps through the clear water some green-eyed nymph, or a young sea-god with the tang of the sea in his hair, was peering amorously at the boy's red mouth. The people of the deep love the red warm blood of human kind. It is always the young that they lure to their watery haunts, never the [Pg 72]shrivelled limbs that totter shivering to the grave.
Such fancies came to Ernest as he lay on the shore in his bathing attire, happy, thoughtless,—animal.
The sun and the sea seemed to him two lovers vying for his favor. The sudden change of environment had brought complete relaxation and had quieted his rebellious, assertive soul. He was no longer a solitary unit but one with wind and water, herb and beach and shell. Almost voluptuously his hand toyed with the hot sand that glided caressingly through his fingers and buried his breast and shoulder under its glittering burden.
A summer girl who passed lowered her eyes coquettishly. He watched her without stirring. Even to open his mouth or to smile would have seemed too much exertion.
Thus he lay for hours. When at length noon drew nigh, it cost him a great effort of will to shake off his drowsy mood and exchange his airy costume for the conventional habilaments of the dining-room.
He had taken lodgings in a fashionable [Pg 73]hotel. An unusual stroke of good luck, hack-work that paid outrageously well, had made it possible for him to idle for a time without a thought of the unpleasant necessity of making money.
One single article to which he signed his name only with reluctance had brought to him more gear than a series of golden sonnets.
"Surely," he thought, "the social revolution ought to begin from above. What right has the bricklayer to grumble when he receives for a week's work almost more than I for a song?"
Thus soliloquising, he reached the dining-room. The scene that unfolded itself before him was typical—the table over-loaded, the women over-dressed.
The luncheon was already in full course when he came. He mumbled an apology and seated himself on the only remaining chair next to a youth who reminded him of a well-dressed dummy. With slight weariness his eyes wandered in all directions for more congenial faces when they were arrested by a lady on the opposite side of the table. She was [Pg 74]clad in a silk robe with curiously embroidered net-work that revealed a nervous and delicate throat. The rich effect of the net-work was relieved by the studied simplicity with which her heavy chestnut-colored hair was gathered in a single knot. Her face was turned away from him, but there was something in the carriage of her head that struck him as familiar. When at last she looked him in the face, the glass almost fell from his hand: it was Ethel Brandenbourg. She seemed to notice his embarrassment and smiled. When she opened her lips to speak, he knew by the haunting sweetness of the voice that he was not mistaken.
"Tell me," she said wistfully, "you have forgotten me? They all have."
He hastened to assure her that he had not forgotten her. He recollected now that he had first been introduced to her in Walkham's house some years ago, when a mere college boy, he had been privileged to attend one of that master's famous receptions. She had looked quite resolute and very happy then, not at all like the woman who had stared so [Pg 75]strangely at Reginald in the Broadway restaurant.
He regarded this encounter as very fortunate. He knew so much of her personal history that it almost seemed to him as if they had been intimate for years. She, too, felt on familiar ground with him. Neither as much as whispered the name of Reginald Clarke. Yet it was he, and the knowledge of what he was to them, that linked their souls with a common bond.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (12)

2007-12-09T01:13:00.002-07:00

XII

Somehow the night had passed—somehow in bitterness, in anguish. But it had passed.
Ernest's lips were parched and sleeplessness had left its trace in the black rings under the eyes, when the next morning he confronted Reginald in the studio.
Reginald was sitting at the writing-table in his most characteristic pose, supporting his head with his hand and looking with clear piercing eyes searchingly at the boy.
"Yes," he observed, "it's a most curious psychical phenomenon."
"You cannot imagine how real it all seemed to me."
The boy spoke painfully, dazed, as if struck by a blow.
"Even now it is as if something has gone from me, some struggling thought that I cannot—cannot remember."
[Pg 66]Reginald regarded him as a physical experimenter might look upon the subject of a particularly baffling mental disease.
"You must not think, my boy, that I bear you any malice for your extraordinary delusion. Before Jack went away he gave me an exact account of all that has happened. Divers incidents recurred to him from which it appears that, at various times in the past, you have been on the verge of a nervous collapse."
A nervous collapse! What was the use of this term but a euphemism for insanity?
"Do not despair, dear child," Reginald caressingly remarked. "Your disorder is not hopeless, not incurable. Such crises come to every man who writes. It is the tribute we pay to the Lords of Song. The minnesinger of the past wrote with his heart's blood; but we moderns dip our pen into the sap of our nerves. We analyse life, love art—and the dissecting knife that we use on other men's souls finally turns against ourselves.
"But what shall a man do? Shall he sacrifice art to hygiene and surrender the one attribute that makes him chiefest of created [Pg 67]things? Animals, too, think. Some walk on two legs. But introspection differentiates man from the rest. Shall we yield up the sweet consciousness of self that we derive from the analysis of our emotion, for the contentment of the bull that ruminates in the shade of a tree or the healthful stupidity of a mule?"
"Assuredly not."
"But what shall a man do?"
"Ah, that I cannot tell. Mathematics offers definite problems that admit of a definite solution. Life states its problems with less exactness and offers for each a different solution. One and one are two to-day and to-morrow. Psychical values, on each manipulation, will yield a different result. Still, your case is quite clear. You have overworked yourself in the past, mentally and emotionally. You have sown unrest, and must not be surprised if neurasthenia is the harvest thereof."
"Do you think—that I should go to some sanitarium?" the boy falteringly asked.
"God forbid! Go to the seashore, somewhere where you can sleep and play. Take your body along, but leave your brain behind—[Pg 68]at least do not take more of it with you than is necessary. The summer season in Atlantic City has just begun. There, as everywhere in American society, you will be much more welcome if you come without brains."
Reginald's half-bantering tone reassured Ernest a little. Timidly he dared approach once more the strange event that had wrought such havoc with his nervous equilibrium.
"How do you account for my strange obsession—one might almost call it a mania?"
"If it could be accounted for it would not be strange."
"Can you suggest no possible explanation?"
"Perhaps a stray leaf on my desk a few indications of the plot, a remark—who knows? Perhaps thought-matter is floating in the air. Perhaps—but we had better not talk of it now. It would needlessly excite you."
"You are right," answered Ernest gloomily, "let us not talk of it. But whatever may be said, it is a marvellous play."
"You flatter me. There is nothing in it that you may not be able to do equally well—some day."
[Pg 69]"Ah, no," the boy replied, looking up to Reginald with admiration. "You are the master."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (11)

2007-12-09T01:13:00.001-07:00

The music of Reginald Clarke's intonation captivated every ear. Voluptuously, in measured cadence, it rose and fell; now full and strong like the sound of an organ, now soft and clear like the tinkling of bells. His voice detracted by its very tunefulness from what he said. The powerful spell charmed even Ernest's accustomed ear. The first page gracefully glided from Reginald's hand to the carpet before the boy dimly realised that he was intimately familiar with every word that fell from Reginald's lips. When the second page slipped with seeming carelessness from the reader's hand, a sudden shudder ran through the boy's frame. It was as if an icy hand had gripped his heart. There could be no doubt of it. This was more than mere coincidence. It was plagiarism. He wanted to cry out. But the room swam before his eyes.[Pg 60] Surely he must be dreaming. It was a dream. The faces of the audience, the lights, Reginald, Jack—all phantasmagoria of a dream.
Perhaps he had been ill for a long time. Perhaps Clarke was reading the play for him. He did not remember having written it. But he probably had fallen sick after its completion. What strange pranks our memories will play us! But no! He was not dreaming, and he had not been ill.
He could endure the horrible uncertainty no longer. His overstrung nerves must find relaxation in some way or break with a twang. He turned to his friend who was listening with rapt attention.
"Jack, Jack!" he whispered.
"What is it?"
"That is my play!"
"You mean that you inspired it?"
"No, I have written it, or rather, was going to write it."
"Wake up, Ernest! You are mad!"
"No, in all seriousness. It is mine. I told you—don't you remember—when we returned [Pg 61]from Coney Island—that I was writing a play."
"Ah, but not this play."
"Yes, this play. I conceived it, I practically wrote it."
"The more's the pity that Clarke had preconceived it."
"But it is mine!"
"Did you tell him a word about it?"
"No, to be sure."
"Did you leave the manuscript in your room?"
"I had, in fact, not written a line of it. No, I had not begun the actual writing."
"Why should a man of Clarke's reputation plagiarise your plays, written or unwritten?"
"I can see no reason. But—"
"Tut, tut."
For already this whispered conversation had elicited a look like a stab from a lady before them.
Ernest held fast to the edge of a chair. He must cling to some reality, or else drift rudderless in a dim sea of vague apprehensions.
Or was Jack right?
[Pg 62]Was his mind giving way? No! No! No! There must be a monstrous secret somewhere, but what matter? Did anything matter? He had called on his mate like a ship lost in the fog. For the first time he had not responded. He had not understood. The bitterness of tears rose to the boy's eyes.
Above it all, melodiously, ebbed and flowed the rich accents of Reginald Clarke.
Ernest listened to the words of his own play coming from the older man's mouth. The horrible fascination of the scene held him entranced. He saw the creations of his mind pass in review before him, as a man might look upon the face of his double grinning at him from behind a door in the hideous hours of night.
They were all there! The mad king. The subtle-witted courtiers. The sombre-hearted Prince. The Queen-Mother who had loved a jester better than her royal mate, and the fruit of their shameful alliance, the Princess Marigold, a creature woven of sunshine and sin.
Swiftly the action progressed. Shadows of [Pg 63]impending death darkened the house of the King. In the horrible agony of the rack the old jester confessed. Stripped of his cap and bells, crowned with a wreath of blood, he looked so pathetically funny that the Princess Marigold could not help laughing between her tears.
The Queen stood there all trembling and pale. Without a complaint she saw her lover die. The executioner's sword smote the old man's head straight from the trunk. It rolled at the feet of the King, who tossed it to Marigold. The little Princess kissed it and covered the grinning horror with her yellow veil.
The last words died away.
There was no applause. Only silence. All were stricken with the dread that men feel in the house of God or His awful presence in genius.
But the boy lay back in his chair. The cold sweat had gathered on his brow and his temples throbbed. Nature had mercifully clogged his head with blood. The rush of it drowned the crying voice of the nerves, deadening for a while both consciousness and pain.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (10)

2007-12-09T01:12:00.001-07:00

That night a brilliant crowd had gathered in Reginald Clarke's house. From the studio and the adjoining salon arose a continual murmur of well-tuned voices. On bare white throats jewels shone as if in each a soul were imprisoned, and voluptuously rustled the silk that clung to the fair slim forms of its bearers in an undulating caress. Subtle perfumes emanated from the hair and the hands of syren women, commingling with the soft plump scent of their flesh. Fragrant tapers, burning in precious crystal globules stained with exquisite colours, sprinkled their shimmering light over the fashionable assemblage and lent a false radiance to the faces of the men, while in the hair and the jewels of the women each ray seemed to dance like an imp with its mate.
A seat like a throne, covered with furs of tropic beasts of prey, stood in one corner of [Pg 54]the room in the full glare of the light, waiting for the monarch to come. Above were arranged with artistic raffinement weird oriental draperies, resembling a crimson canopy in the total effect. Chattering visitors were standing in groups, or had seated themselves on the divans and curiously-fashioned chairs that were scattered in seeming disorder throughout the salon. There were critics and writers and men of the world. Everybody who was anybody and a little bigger than somebody else was holding court in his own small circle of enthusiastic admirers. The Bohemian element was subdued, but not entirely lacking. The magic of Reginald Clarke's name made stately dames blind to the presence of some individuals whom they would have passed on the street without recognition.
Ernest surveyed this gorgeous assembly with the absent look of a sleep-walker. Not that his sensuous soul was unsusceptible to the atmosphere of culture and corruption that permeated the whole, nor to the dazzling colour effects that tantalised while they delighted the eye. But to-night they shrivelled into insig[Pg 55]nificance before the splendour of his inner vision. A radiant dreamland palace, his play, had risen from the night of inchoate thought. It was wonderful, it was real, and needed for its completion only the detail of actual construction. And now the characters were hovering in the recesses of his brain, were yearning to leave that many-winded labyrinth to become real beings of paper and ink. He would probably have tarried overlong in this fanciful mansion, had not the reappearance of an unexpected guest broken his reverie.
"Jack!" he exclaimed in surprise, "I thought you a hundred miles away from here."
"That shows that you no longer care for me," Jack playfully answered. "When our friendship was young, you always had a presentiment of my presence."
"Ah, perhaps I had. But tell me, where do you hail from?"
"Clarke called me up on the telephone—long-distance, you know. I suppose it was meant as a surprise for you. And you certainly looked surprised—not even pleasantly.[Pg 56] I am really head-over-heels at work. But you know how it is. Sometimes a little imp whispers into my ears daring me to do a thing which I know is foolish. But what of it? My legs are strong enough not to permit my follies to overtake me."
"It was certainly good of you to come. In fact, you make me very glad. I feel that I need you to-night—I don't know why. The feeling came suddenly—suddenly as you. I only know I need you. How long can you stay?"
"I must leave you to-morrow morning. I have to hustle somewhat. You know my examinations are taking place in a day or two and I've got to cram up a lot of things."
"Still," remarked Ernest, "your visit will repay you for the loss of time. Clarke will read to us to-night his masterpiece."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. I only know it's the real thing. It's worth all the wisdom bald-headed professors may administer to you in concentrated doses at five thousand a year."
"Come now," Jack could not help saying,[Pg 57] "is your memory giving way? Don't you remember your own days in college—especially the mathematical examinations? You know that your marks came always pretty near the absolute zero."
"Jack," cried Ernest in honest indignation, "not the last time. The last time I didn't flunk."
"No, because your sonnet on Cartesian geometry roused even the math-fiend to compassion. And don't you remember Professor Squeeler, whose heart seemed to leap with delight whenever he could tell you that, in spite of incessant toil on your part, he had again flunked you in physics with fifty-nine and a half per cent.?"
"And he wouldn't raise the mark to sixty! God forgive him,—I cannot."
Here their exchange of reminiscences was interrupted. There was a stir. The little potentates of conversation hastened to their seats, before their minions had wholly deserted them.
The king was moving to his throne!
Assuredly Reginald Clarke had the bear[Pg 58]ing of a king. Leisurely he took his seat under the canopy.
A hush fell on the audience; not a fan stirred as he slowly unfolded his manuscript.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (9)

2007-12-09T01:11:00.000-07:00

It seemed, indeed, as if work was to Ernest what the sting of pleasure is to the average human animal. The inter-play of his mental forces gave him the sensuous satisfaction of a woman's embrace. His eyes sparkled. His muscle tightened. The joy of creation was upon him.
Often very material reasons, like stone weights tied to the wings of a bird, stayed the flight of his imagination. Magazines were waiting for his copy, and he was not in the position to let them wait. They supplied his bread and butter.
Between the bread and butter, however, the play was growing scene by scene. In the lone hours of the night he spun upon the loom of his fancy a brilliant weft of swift desire—heavy, perfumed, Oriental—interwoven with bits of gruesome tenderness. The thread of his own life intertwined with the thread of [Pg 48]the story. All genuine art is autobiography. It is not, however, necessarily a revelation of the artist's actual self, but of a myriad of potential selves. Ah, our own potential selves! They are sometimes beautiful, often horrible, and always fascinating. They loom to heavens none too high for our reach; they stray to yawning hells beneath our very feet.
The man who encompasses heaven and hell is a perfect man. But there are many heavens and more hells. The artist snatches fire from both. Surely the assassin feels no more intensely the lust of murder than the poet who depicts it in glowing words. The things he writes are as real to him as the things that he lives. But in his realm the poet is supreme. His hands may be red with blood or white with leprosy: he still remains king. Woe to him, however, if he transcends the limits of his kingdom and translates into action the secret of his dreams. The throng that before applauded him will stone his quivering body or nail to the cross his delicate hands and feet.
Sometimes days passed before Ernest could concentrate his mind upon his play. Then the [Pg 49]fever seized him again, and he strung pearl on pearl, line on line, without entrusting a word to paper. Even to discuss his work before it had received the final brush-strokes would have seemed indecent to him.
Reginald, too, seemed to be in a turmoil of work. Ernest had little chance to speak to him. And to drop even a hint of his plans between the courses at breakfast would have been desecration.
Sunset followed sunset, night followed night. The stripling April had made room for the lady May. The play was almost completed in Ernest's mind, and he thought, with a little shudder, of the physical travail of the actual writing. He felt that the transcript from brain to paper would demand all his powers. For, of late, his thoughts seemed strangely evanescent; they seemed to run away from him whenever he attempted to seize them.
The day was glad with sunshine, and he decided to take a long walk in the solitude of the Palisades, to steady hand and nerve for the final task.
He told Reginald of his intention, but met [Pg 50]with little response. Reginald's face was wan and bore the peculiar pallor of one who had worked late at night.
"You must be frightfully busy?" Ernest asked, with genuine concern.
"So I am," Reginald replied. "I always work in a white heat. I am restless, nervous, feverish, and can find no peace until I have given utterance to all that clamours after birth."
"What is it that is so engaging your mind, the epic of the French Revolution?"
"Oh, no. I should never have undertaken that. I haven't done a stroke of work on it for several weeks. In fact, ever since Walkham called, I simply couldn't. It seemed as if a rough hand had in some way destroyed the web of my thought. Poetry in the writing is like red hot glass before the master-blower has fashioned it into birds and trees and strange fantastic shapes. A draught, caused by the opening of a door may distort it. But at present I am engaged upon more important work. I am modelling a vessel not of fine-spun glass, but of molten gold."
[Pg 51]"You make me exceedingly anxious to know what you have in store for us. It seems to me you have reached a point where even you can no longer surpass yourself."
Reginald smiled. "Your praise is too generous, yet it warms like sunshine. I will confess that my conception is unique. It combines with the ripeness of my technique the freshness of a second spring."
Ernest was bubbling with anticipated delights. His soul responded to Reginald's touch as a harp to the winds. "When," he cried, "shall we be privileged to see it?"
Reginald's eyes were already straying back to his writing table. "If the gods are propitious," he remarked, "I shall complete it to-night. To-morrow is my reception, and I have half promised to read it then."
"Perhaps I shall be in the position soon to let you see my play."
"Let us hope so," Reginald replied absent-mindedly. The egotism of the artist had once more chained him to his work.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (8)

2007-12-09T01:10:00.000-07:00

VIII

The moon was shining brightly.
Swift and sure the prow of the night-boat parted the silvery foam.
The smell of young flesh. Peals of laughter. A breathless pianola. The tripping of dancing-feet. Voices husked with drink and voices soft with love. The shrill accents of vulgarity. Hustling waiters. Shop-girls. Bourgeois couples. Tired families of four and upward. Sleeping children. A boy selling candy. The crying of babies.
The two friends were sitting on the upper deck, muffled in their long rain-coats.
In the distance the Empire City rose radiant from the mist.
"Say, Ernest, you should spout some poetry as of old. Are your lips stricken mute, or are you still thinking of Coney Island?"
"Oh, no, the swift wind has taken it away.[Pg 42] I am clean, I am pure. Life has passed me. It has kissed me, but it has left no trace."
He looked upon the face of his friend. Their hands met. They felt, with keen enjoyment, the beauty of the night, of their friendship, and of the city beyond.
Then Ernest's lips moved softly, musically, twitching with a strange ascetic passion that trembled in his voice as he began:
"Huge steel-ribbed monsters rise into the airHer Babylonian towers, while on high,Like gilt-scaled serpents, glide the swift trains by,Or, underfoot, creep to their secret lair.A thousand lights are jewels in her hair,The sea her girdle, and her crown the sky;Her life-blood throbs, the fevered pulses fly.Immense, defiant, breathless she stands there."And ever listens in the ceaseless din,Waiting for him, her lover, who shall come,Whose singing lips shall boldly claim their own,And render sonant what in her was dumb,[Pg 43] The splendour, and the madness, and the sin,Her dreams in iron and her thoughts of stone."
He paused. The boat glided on. For a long time neither spoke a word.
After a while Jack broke the silence: "And are you dreaming of becoming the lyric mouth of the city, of giving utterance to all its yearnings, its 'dreams in iron and its thoughts of stone'?"
"No," replied Ernest, simply, "not yet. It is strange to what impressions the brain will respond. In Clarke's house, in the midst of inspiring things, inspiration failed me. But while I was with that girl an idea came to me—an idea, big, real."
"Will it deal with her?"
Ernest smiled: "Oh, no. She personally has nothing to do with it. At least not directly. It was the commotion of blood and—brain. The air—the change. I don't know what."
"What will it be?" asked Jack, with interest all alert.
[Pg 44]"A play, a wonderful play. And its heroine will be a princess, a little princess, with a yellow veil."
"What of the plot?"
"That I shall not tell you to-day. In fact, I shall not breathe a word to any one. It will take you all by surprise—and the public by storm."
"So it will be playable?"
"If I am not very much mistaken, you will see it on Broadway within a year. And," he added graciously, "I will let you have two box-seats for the first night."
They both chuckled at the thought, and their hearts leaped within them.
"I hope you will finish it soon," Jack observed after a while. "You haven't done much of late."
"A similar reflection was on my mind when you came yesterday. That accounts for the low spirits in which you found me."
"Ah, indeed," Jack replied, measuring Ernest with a look of wonder. "But now your face is aglow. It seems that the blood rushes [Pg 45]to your head swifter at the call of an idea than at the kiss of a girl."
"Thank God!" Ernest remarked with a sigh of relief. "Mighty forces within me are fashioning the limpid thought. Passion may grip us by the throat momentarily; upon our backs we may feel the lashes of desire and bathe our souls in flames of many hues; but the joy of activity is the ultimate passion."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (7)

2007-12-09T00:57:00.000-07:00

VII

The two boys had bathed their souls in the sea-breeze, and their eyes in light.
The tide of pleasure-loving humanity jostling against them had carried their feet to the "Lion Palace." From there, seated at table and quenching their thirst with high-balls, they watched the feverish palpitations of the city's life-blood pulsating in the veins of Coney Island, to which they had drifted from Brighton Beach.
Ernest blew thoughtful rings of smoke into the air.
"Do you notice the ferocious look in the mien of the average frequenter of this island resort?" he said to Jack, whose eyes, following the impulse of his more robust youth, were examining specimens of feminine flotsam on the waves of the crowd.
"It is," he continued, speaking to himself [Pg 38]for want of an audience, "the American who is in for having a 'good time.' And he is going to get it. Like a huntsman, he follows the scent of happiness; but I warrant that always it eludes him. Perhaps his mad race is only the epitome of humanity's vain pursuit of pleasure, the eternal cry that is never answered."
But Jack was not listening. There are times in the life of every man when a petticoat is more attractive to him than all the philosophy of the world.
Ernest was a little hurt, and it was not without some silent remonstrance that he acquiesced when Jack invited to their table two creatures that once were women.
"Why?"
"But they are interesting."
"I cannot find so."
They both had seen better times—of course. Then money losses came, with work in shop or factory, and the voice of the tempter in the commercial wilderness.
One, a frail nervous little creature, who had instinctively chosen a seat at Ernest's side, [Pg 39]kept prattling in his ear, ready to tell the story of her life to any one who was willing to treat her to a drink. Something in her demeanour interested him.
"And then I had a stroke of luck. The manager of a vaudeville was my friend and decided to give me a trial. He thought I had a voice. They called me Betsy, the Hyacinth Girl. At first it seemed as if people liked to hear me. But I suppose that was because I was new. After a month or two they discharged me."
"And why?"
"I suppose I was just used up, that's all."
"Frightful!"
"I never had much of a voice—and the tobacco smoke—and the wine—I love wine."
She gulped down her glass.
"And do you like your present occupation?"
"Why not? Am I not young? Am I not pretty?"
This she said not parrotwise, but with a simple coquettishness that was all her own.
On the way to the steamer a few moments [Pg 40]later, Ernest asked, half-reproachfully: "Jack—and you really enjoyed this conversation?"
"Didn't you?"
"Do you mean this?"
"Why, yes; she was—very agreeable."
Ernest frowned.
"We're twenty, Ernest. And then, you see, it's like a course in sociology. Susie—"
"Susie, was that her name?"
"Yes."
"So she had a name?"
"Of course."
"She shouldn't. It should be a number."
"They may not be pillars of society; still, they're human."
"Yes," said Ernest, "that is the most horrible part of it."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (6)

2007-12-09T00:56:00.000-07:00

Several weeks had elapsed since the conversation in Reginald Clarke's studio. The spring was now well advanced and had sprinkled the meadows with flowers, and the bookshelves of the reviewers with fiction. The latter Ernest turned to good account, but from the flowers no poem blossomed forth. In writing about other men's books, he almost forgot that the springtide had brought to him no bouquet of song. Only now and then, like a rippling of water, disquietude troubled his soul.
The strange personality of the master of the house had enveloped the lad's thoughts with an impenetrable maze. The day before Jack had come on a flying visit from Harvard, but even he was unable to free Ernest's soul from the obsession of Reginald Clarke.
Ernest was lazily stretching himself on a [Pg 32]couch, waving the smoke of his cigarette to Reginald, who was writing at his desk.
"Your friend Jack is delightful," Reginald remarked, looking up from his papers. "And his ebon-coloured hair contrasts prettily with the gold in yours. I should imagine that you are temperamental antipodes."
"So we are; but friendship bridges the chasm between."
"How long have you known him?"
"We have been chums ever since our sophomore year."
"What attracted you in him?"
"It is no simple matter to define exactly one's likes and dislikes. Even a tiny protoplasmic animal appears to be highly complex under the microscope. How can we hope to analyse, with any degree of certitude, our souls, especially when, under the influence of feeling, we see as through a glass darkly."
"It is true that personal feeling colours our spectacles and distorts the perspective. Still, we should not shrink from self-analysis. We must learn to see clearly into our own hearts if we would give vitality to our work. Indis[Pg 33]cretion is the better part of literature, and it behooves us to hound down each delicate elusive shadow of emotion, and convert it into copy."
"It is because I am so self-analytical that I realise the complexity of my nature, and am at a loss to define my emotions. Conflicting forces sway us hither and thither without neutralising each other. Physicology isn't physics. There were many things to attract me to Jack. He was subtler, more sympathetic, more feminine, perhaps, than the rest of my college-mates."
"That I have noticed. In fact, his lashes are those of a girl. You still care for him very much?"
"It isn't a matter of caring. We are two beings that live one life."
"A sort of psychic Siamese twins?"
"Almost. Why, the matter is very simple. Our hearts root in the same soil; the same books have nourished us, the same great winds have shaken our being, and the same sunshine called forth the beautiful blossom of friendship."
[Pg 34]"He struck me, if you will pardon my saying so, as a rather commonplace companion."
"There is in him a hidden sweetness, and a depth of feeling which only intimate contact reveals. He is now taking his post-graduate course at Harvard, and for well-nigh two months we have not met; yet so many invisible threads of common experience unite us that we could meet after years and still be near each other."
"You are very young," Reginald replied.
"What do you mean?"
"Ah—never mind."
"So you do not believe that two hearts may ever beat as one?"
"No, that is an auditory delusion. Not even two clocks beat in unison. There is always a discrepancy, infinitesimal, perhaps, but a discrepancy nevertheless."
A sharp ring of the bell interrupted the conversation. A moment later a curly head peeped through the door.
"Hello, Ernest! How are you, old man?" the intruder cried, with a laugh in his voice. Then, noticing Clarke, he shook hands with [Pg 35]the great man unceremoniously, with the nonchalance of the healthy young animal bred in the atmosphere of an American college.
His touch seemed to thrill Clarke, who breathed heavily and then stepped to the window, as if to conceal the flush of vitality on his cheek.
It was a breath of springtide that Jack had brought with him. Youth is a Prince Charming. To shrivelled veins the pressure of his hand imparts a spark of animation, and middle age unfolds its petals in his presence, as a sunflower gazing at late noon once more upon its lord.
"I have come to take Ernest away from you," said Jack. "He looks a trifle paler than usual, and a day's outing will stir the red corpuscles in his blood."
"I have no doubt that you will take very good care of him," Reginald replied.
"Where shall we go?" Ernest asked, absent-mindedly.
But he did not hear the answer, for Reginald's scepticisms had more deeply impressed him than he cared to confess to himself.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (5)

2007-12-09T00:54:00.000-07:00

"Yes," said Walkham, the sculptor, "it's a most curious thing."
"What is?" asked Ernest, who had been dreaming over the Sphinx that was looking at him from its corner with the sarcastic smile of five thousand years.
"How our dreams of yesterday stare at us like strangers to-day."
"On the contrary," remarked Reginald, "it would be strange if they were still to know us. In fact, it would be unnatural. The skies above us and the earth underfoot are in perpetual motion. Each atom of our physical nature is vibrating with unimaginable rapidity. Change is identical with life."
"It sometimes seems," said the sculptor, "as if thoughts evaporated like water."
"Why not, under favorable conditions?"
"But where do they go? Surely they cannot perish utterly?"
[Pg 26]"Yes, that is the question. Or, rather, it is not a question. Nothing is ever lost in the spiritual universe."
"But what," inquired Ernest, "is the particular reason for your reflection?"
"It is this," the sculptor replied; "I had a striking motive and lost it."
"Do you remember," he continued, speaking to Reginald, "the Narcissus I was working on the last time when you called at my studio?"
"Yes; it was a striking thing and impressed me very much, though I cannot recall it at the moment."
"Well, it was a commission. An eccentric young millionaire had offered me eight thousand dollars for it. I had an absolutely original conception. But I cannot execute it. It's as if a breeze had carried it away."
"That is very regrettable."
"Well, I should say so," replied the sculptor.
Ernest smiled. For everybody knew of Walkham's domestic troubles. Having twice figured in the divorce court, he was at pres[Pg 27]ent defraying the expenses of three households.
The sculptor had meanwhile seated himself at Reginald's writing-table, unintentionally scanning a typewritten page that was lying before him. Like all artists, something of a madman and something of a child, he at first glanced over its contents distractedly, then with an interest so intense that he was no longer aware of the impropriety of his action.
"By Jove!" he cried. "What is this?"
"It's an epic of the French Revolution," Reginald replied, not without surprise.
"But, man, do you know that I have discovered my motive in it?"
"What do you mean?" asked Ernest, looking first at Reginald and then at Walkham, whose sanity he began to doubt.
"Listen!"
And the sculptor read, trembling with emotion, a long passage whose measured cadence delighted Ernest's ear, without, however, enlightening his mind as to the purport of Walkham's cryptic remark.
[Pg 28]Reginald said nothing, but the gleam in his eye showed that this time, at least, his interest was alert.
Walkham saw the hopelessness of making clear his meaning without an explanation.
"I forget you haven't a sculptor's mind. I am so constituted that, with me, all impressions are immediately translated into the sense of form. I do not hear music; I see it rise with domes and spires, with painted windows and Arabesques. The scent of the rose is to me tangible. I can almost feel it with my hand. So your prose suggested to me, by its rhythmic flow, something which, at first indefinite, crystallised finally into my lost conception of Narcissus."
"It is extraordinary," murmured Reginald. "I had not dreamed of it."
"So you do not think it rather fantastic?" remarked Ernest, circumscribing his true meaning.
"No, it is quite possible. Perhaps his Narcissus was engaging the sub-conscious strata of my mind while I was writing this passage. And surely it would be strange if the under[Pg 29]currents of our mind were not reflected in our style."
"Do you mean, then, that a subtle psychologist ought to be able to read beneath and between our lines, not only what we express, but also what we leave unexpressed?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Even if, while we are writing, we are unconscious of our state of mind? That would open a new field to psychology."
"Only to those that have the key, that can read the hidden symbols. It is to me a matter-of-course that every mind-movement below or above the threshold of consciousness must, of a necessity, leave its imprint faintly or clearly, as the case may be, upon our activities."
"This may explain why books that seem intolerably dull to the majority, delight the hearts of the few," Ernest interjected.
"Yes, to the few that possess the key. I distinctly remember how an uncle of mine once laid down a discussion on higher mathematics and blushed fearfully when his inno[Pg 30]cent wife looked over his shoulder. The man who had written it was a roué."
"Then the seemingly most harmless books may secretly possess the power of scattering in young minds the seed of corruption," Walkham remarked.
"If they happen to understand," Clarke observed thoughtfully. "I can very well conceive of a lecherous text-book of the calculus, or of a reporter's story of a picnic in which burnt, under the surface, undiscoverable, save to the initiate, the tragic passion of Tristram and Iseult."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (4)

2007-12-09T00:53:00.002-07:00

"I am so happy you came," Reginald Clarke said, as he conducted Ernest into his studio. It was a large, luxuriously furnished room overlooking the Hudson and Riverside Drive.
Dazzled and bewildered, the boy's eyes wandered from object to object, from picture to statue. Despite seemingly incongruous details, the whole arrangement possessed style and distinction.
A satyr on the mantelpiece whispered obscene secrets into the ears of Saint Cecilia. The argent limbs of Antinous brushed against the garments of Mona Lisa. And from a corner a little rococo lady peered coquettishly at the gray image of an Egyptian sphinx. There was a picture of Napoleon facing the image of the Crucified. Above all, in the semi-darkness, artificially produced by heavy draperies, towered two busts.
[Pg 20]"Shakespeare and Balzac!" Ernest exclaimed with some surprise.
"Yes," explained Reginald, "they are my gods."
His gods! Surely there was a key to Clarke's character. Our gods are ourselves raised to the highest power.
Clarke and Shakespeare!
Even to Ernest's admiring mind it seemed almost blasphemous to name a contemporary, however esteemed, in one breath with the mighty master of song, whose great gaunt shadow, thrown against the background of the years has assumed immense, unproportionate, monstrous dimensions.
Yet something might be said for the comparison. Clarke undoubtedly was universally broad, and undoubtedly concealed, with no less exquisite taste than the Elizabethan, his own personality under the splendid raiment of his art. They certainly were affinities. It would not have been surprising to him to see the clear calm head of Shakespeare rise from behind his host.
Perhaps—who knows?—the very presence [Pg 21]of the bust in his room had, to some extent, subtly and secretly moulded Reginald Clarke's life. A man's soul, like the chameleon, takes colour from its environment. Even comparative trifles, the number of the house in which we live, or the colour of the wallpaper of a room, may determine a destiny.
The boy's eyes were again surveying the fantastic surroundings in which he found himself; while, from a corner, Clarke's eyes were watching his every movement, as if to follow his thoughts into the innermost labyrinth of the mind. It seemed to Ernest, under the spell of this passing fancy, as though each vase, each picture, each curio in the room, was reflected in Clarke's work. In a long-queued, porcelain Chinese mandarin he distinctly recognised a quaint quatrain in one of Clarke's most marvellous poems. And he could have sworn that the grin of the Hindu monkey-god on the writing-table reappeared in the weird rhythm of two stanzas whose grotesque cadence had haunted him for years.
At last Clarke broke the silence. "You like my studio?" he asked.
[Pg 22]The simple question brought Ernest back to reality.
"Like it? Why, it's stunning. It set up in me the queerest train of thought."
"I, too, have been in a whimsical mood to-night. Fancy, unlike genius, is an infectious disease."
"What is the peculiar form it assumed in your case?"
"I have been wondering whether all the things that environ us day by day are, in a measure, fashioning our thought-life. I sometimes think that even my little mandarin and this monkey-idol which, by the way, I brought from India, are exerting a mysterious but none the less real influence upon my work."
"Great God!" Ernest replied, "I have had the identical thought!"
"How very strange!" Clarke exclaimed, with seeming surprise.
"It is said tritely but truly, that great minds travel the same roads," Ernest observed, inwardly pleased.
"No," the older man subtly remarked,[Pg 23] "but they reach the same conclusion by a different route."
"And you attach serious importance to our fancy?"
"Why not?"
Clarke was gazing abstractedly at the bust of Balzac.
"A man's genius is commensurate with his ability of absorbing from life the elements essential to his artistic completion. Balzac possessed this power in a remarkable degree. But, strange to say, it was evil that attracted him most. He absorbed it as a sponge absorbs water; perhaps because there was so little of it in his own make-up. He must have purified the atmosphere around him for miles, by bringing all the evil that was floating in the air or slumbering in men's souls to the point of his pen.
"And he"—his eyes were resting on Shakespeare's features as a man might look upon the face of a brother—"he, too, was such a nature. In fact, he was the most perfect type of the artist. Nothing escaped his mind. From life and from books he drew his material, each [Pg 24]time reshaping it with a master-hand. Creation is a divine prerogative. Re-creation, infinitely more wonderful than mere calling into existence, is the prerogative of the poet. Shakespeare took his colours from many palettes. That is why he is so great, and why his work is incredibly greater than he. It alone explains his unique achievement. Who was he? What education did he have, what opportunities? None. And yet we find in his work the wisdom of Bacon, Sir Walter Raleigh's fancies and discoveries, Marlowe's verbal thunders and the mysterious loveliness of Mr. W.H."
Ernest listened, entranced by the sound of Clarke's mellifluous voice. He was, indeed, a master of the spoken word, and possessed a miraculous power of giving to the wildest fancies an air of vraisemblance.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (3)

2007-12-09T00:53:00.001-07:00

III

Long before the appointed time Ernest walked up and down in front of the abode of Reginald Clarke, a stately apartment-house overlooking Riverside Drive.
Misshapen automobiles were chasing by, carrying to the cool river's marge the restlessness and the fever of American life. But the bustle and the noise seemed to the boy only auspicious omens of the future.
Jack, his room-mate and dearest friend, had left him a month ago, and, for a space, he had felt very lonely. His young and delicate soul found it difficult to grapple with the vague fears that his nervous brain engendered, when whispered sounds seemed to float from hidden corners, and the stairs creaked under mysterious feet.
He needed the voice of loving kindness to call him back from the valley of haunting shadows, where his poet's soul was wont to [Pg 14]linger overlong; in his hours of weakness the light caress of a comrade renewed his strength and rekindled in his hand the flaming sword of song.
And at nightfall he would bring the day's harvest to Clarke, as a worshipper scattering precious stones, incense and tapestries at the feet of a god.
Surely he would be very happy. And as the heart, at times, leads the feet to the goal of its desire, while multicoloured dreams, like dancing-girls, lull the will to sleep, he suddenly found himself stepping from the elevator-car to Reginald Clarke's apartment.
Already was he raising his hand to strike the electric bell when a sound from within made him pause half-way.
"No, there's no help!" he heard Clarke say. His voice had a hard, metallic clangour.
A boyish voice answered plaintively. What the words were Ernest could not distinctly hear, but the suppressed sob in them almost brought the tears to his eyes. He instinctively knew that this was the finale of some tragedy.
[Pg 15]He withdrew hastily, so as not to be a witness of an interview that was not meant for his ears.
Reginald Clarke probably had good reason for parting with his young friend, whom Ernest surmised to be Abel Felton, a talented boy, whom the master had taken under his wings.
In the apartment a momentary silence had ensued.
This was interrupted by Clarke: "It will come again, in a month, in a year, in two years."
"No, no! It is all gone!" sobbed the boy.
"Nonsense. You are merely nervous. But that is just why we must part. There is no room in one house for two nervous people."
"I was not such a nervous wreck before I met you."
"Am I to blame for it—for your morbid fancies, your extravagance, the slow tread of a nervous disease, perhaps?"
"Who can tell? But I am all confused. I don't know what I am saying. Everything is so puzzling—life, friendship, you. I fancied [Pg 16]you cared for my career, and now you end our friendship without a thought!"
"We must all follow the law of our being."
"The laws are within us and in our control."
"They are within us and beyond us. It is the physiological structure of our brains, our nerve-cells, that makes and mars our lives.
"Our mental companionship was so beautiful. It was meant to last."
"That is the dream of youth. Nothing lasts. Everything flows—panta rei. We are all but sojourners in an inn. Friendship, as love, is an illusion. Life has nothing to take from a man who has no illusions."
"It has nothing to give him."
They said good-bye.
At the door Ernest met Abel.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"For a little pleasure trip."
Ernest knew that the boy lied.
He remembered that Abel Felton was at work upon some book, a play or a novel. It occurred to him to inquire how far he had progressed with it.
[Pg 17]Abel smiled sadly. "I am not writing it."
"Not writing it?"
"Reginald is."
"I am afraid I don't understand."
"Never mind. Some day you will."

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE (2)

2007-12-09T00:51:00.001-07:00

With elastic step, inhaling the night-air with voluptuous delight, Reginald Clarke made his way down Broadway, lying stretched out before him, bathed in light and pulsating with life.
His world-embracing intellect was powerfully attracted by the Giant City's motley activities. On the street, as in the salon, his magnetic power compelled recognition, and he stepped through the midst of the crowd as a Circassian blade cleaves water.
After walking a block or two, he suddenly halted before a jeweller's shop. Arrayed in the window were priceless gems that shone in the glare of electricity, like mystical serpent-eyes—green, pomegranate and water-blue. And as he stood there the dazzling radiance before him was transformed in the prism of his mind into something great and [Pg 8]very wonderful that might, some day, be a poem.
Then his attention was diverted by a small group of tiny girls dancing on the sidewalk to the husky strains of an old hurdy-gurdy. He joined the circle of amused spectators, to watch those pink-ribboned bits of femininity swaying airily to and fro in unison with the tune. One especially attracted his notice—a slim olive-coloured girl from a land where it is always spring. Her whole being translated into music, with hair dishevelled and feet hardly touching the ground, the girl suggested an orange-leaf dancing on a sunbeam. The rasping street-organ, perchance, brought to her melodious reminiscences of some flute-playing Savoyard boy, brown-limbed and dark of hair.
For several minutes Reginald Clarke followed with keen delight each delicate curve her graceful limbs described. Then—was it that she grew tired, or that the stranger's persistent scrutiny embarrassed her?—the music oozed out of her movements. They grew slower, angular, almost clumsy. The look of [Pg 9]interest in Clarke's eyes died, but his whole form quivered, as if the rhythm of the music and the dance had mysteriously entered into his blood.
He continued his stroll, seemingly without aim; in reality he followed, with nervous intensity, the multiform undulations of the populace, swarming through Broadway in either direction. Like the giant whose strength was rekindled every time he touched his mother, the earth, Reginald Clarke seemed to draw fresh vitality from every contact with life.
He turned east along Fourteenth street, where cheap vaudevilles are strung together as glass-pearls on the throat of a wanton. Gaudy bill-boards, drenched in clamorous red, proclaimed the tawdry attractions within. Much to the surprise of the doorkeeper at a particularly evil-looking music hall, Reginald Clarke lingered in the lobby, and finally even bought a ticket that entitled him to enter this sordid wilderness of décolleté art. Street-snipes, a few workingmen, dilapidated sportsmen, and women whose ruined youth thick lay[Pg 10]ers of powder and paint, even in this artificial light, could not restore, constituted the bulk of the audience. Reginald Clarke, apparently unconscious of the curiosity, surprise and envy that his appearance excited, seated himself at a table near the stage, ordering from the solicitous waiter only a cocktail and a programme. The drink he left untouched, while his eyes greedily ran down the lines of the announcement. When he had found what he sought, he lit a cigar, paying no attention to the boards, but studying the audience with cursory interest until the appearance of Betsy, the Hyacinth Girl.
When she began to sing, his mind still wandered. The words of her song were crude, but not without a certain lilt that delighted the uncultured ear, while the girl's voice was thin to the point of being unpleasant. When, however, she came to the burden of the song, Clarke's manner changed suddenly. Laying down his cigar, he listened with rapt attention, eagerly gazing at her. For, as she sang the last line and tore the hyacinth-blossoms from her hair, there crept into her voice a [Pg 11]strangely poignant, pathetic little thrill, that redeemed the execrable faultiness of her singing, and brought the rude audience under her spell.
Clarke, too, was captivated by that tremour, the infinite sadness of which suggested the plaint of souls moaning low at night, when lust preys on creatures marked for its spoil.
The singer paused. Still those luminous eyes were upon her. She grew nervous. It was only with tremendous difficulty that she reached the refrain. As she sang the opening lines of the last stanza, an inscrutable smile curled on Clarke's lips. She noticed the man's relentless gaze and faltered. When the burden came, her singing was hard and cracked: the tremour had gone from her voice.

THE HOUSE OF THE VAMPIRE(1)

2007-12-09T00:49:00.000-07:00

BY
George Sylvester Viereck
Author of
Nineveh and Other Poems
New YorkMOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY1912
Copyright, 1907, byMOFFAT, YARD & COMPANYNEW YORK
Published September, 1907Reprinted October, 1907
THE PREMIER PRESSNEW YORK

I
The freakish little leader of the orchestra, newly imported from Sicily to New York, tossed his conductor's wand excitedly through the air, drowning with musical thunders the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates.
Yet neither his apish demeanour nor the deafening noises that responded to every movement of his agile body detracted attention from the figure of Reginald Clarke and the young man at his side as they smilingly wound their way to the exit.
The boy's expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his lucid eyes betrayed the poet and the dreamer. The smile of Reginald Clarke was the smile of a conqueror. A suspicion of silver in his crown of dark hair only added dignity to his bearing, while the infinitely ramified lines above the heavy-set mouth spoke at[Pg 2] once of subtlety and of strength. Without stretch of the imagination one might have likened him to a Roman cardinal of the days of the Borgias, who had miraculously stepped forth from the time-stained canvas and slipped into twentieth century evening-clothes.
With the affability of complete self-possession he nodded in response to greetings from all sides, inclining his head with special politeness to a young woman whose sea-blue eyes were riveted upon his features with a look of mingled hate and admiration.
The woman, disregarding his silent salutation, continued to stare at him wild-eyed, as a damned soul in purgatory might look at Satan passing in regal splendour through the seventy times sevenfold circles of hell.
Reginald Clarke walked on unconcernedly through the rows of gay diners, still smiling, affable, calm. But his companion bethought himself of certain rumours he had heard concerning Ethel Brandenbourg's mad love for the man from whose features she could not even now turn her eyes. Evidently her passion was unreciprocated. It had not always been so.[Pg 3] There was a time in her career, some years ago in Paris, when it was whispered that she had secretly married him and, not much later, obtained a divorce. The matter was never cleared up, as both preserved an uncompromising silence upon the subject of their matrimonial experience. Certain it was that, for a space, the genius of Reginald Clarke had completely dominated her brush, and that, ever since he had thrown her aside, her pictures were but plagiarisms of her former artistic self.
The cause of the rupture between them was a matter only of surmise; but the effect it had on the woman testified clearly to the remarkable power of Reginald Clarke. He had entered her life and, behold! the world was transfixed on her canvases in myriad hues of transcending radiance; he had passed from it, and with him vanished the brilliancy of her colouring, as at sunset the borrowed amber and gold fade from the face of the clouds.
The glamour of Clarke's name may have partly explained the secret of his charm, but, [Pg 4]even in circles where literary fame is no passport, he could, if he chose, exercise an almost terrible fascination. Subtle and profound, he had ransacked the coffers of mediæval dialecticians and plundered the arsenals of the Sophists. Many years later, when the vultures of misfortune had swooped down upon him, and his name was no longer mentioned without a sneer, he was still remembered in New York drawing-rooms as the man who had brought to perfection the art of talking. Even to dine with him was a liberal education.
Clarke's marvellous conversational power was equalled only by his marvellous style. Ernest Fielding's heart leaped in him at the thought that henceforth he would be privileged to live under one roof with the only writer of his generation who could lend to the English language the rich strength and rugged music of the Elizabethans.
Reginald Clarke was a master of many instruments. Milton's mighty organ was no less obedient to his touch than the little lute of the troubadour. He was never the same; [Pg 5]that was his strength. Clarke's style possessed at once the chiselled chasteness of a Greek marble column and the elaborate deviltry of the late Renaissance. At times his winged words seemed to flutter down the page frantically like Baroque angels; at other times nothing could have more adequately described his manner than the timeless calm of the gaunt pyramids.
The two men had reached the street. Reginald wrapped his long spring coat round him.
"I shall expect you to-morrow at four," he said.
The tone of his voice was deep and melodious, suggesting hidden depths and cadences.
"I shall be punctual."
The younger man's voice trembled as he spoke.
"I look forward to your coming with much pleasure. I am interested in you."
The glad blood mounted to Ernest's cheeks at praise from the austere lips of this arbiter of literary elegance.
An almost imperceptible smile crept over the other man's features.
[Pg 6]"I am proud that my work interests you," was all the boy could say.
"I think it is quite amazing, but at present," here Clarke drew out a watch set with jewels, "I am afraid I must bid you good-bye."
He held Ernest's hand for a moment in a firm genial grasp, then turned away briskly, while the boy remained standing open-mouthed. The crowd jostling against him carried him almost off his feet, but his eyes followed far into the night the masterful figure of Reginald Clarke, toward whom he felt himself drawn with every fiber of his body and the warm enthusiasm of his generous youth.

Best Vampire Movies of 2007

2007-11-28T02:14:00.001-07:00

Brotherhood of Blood (2007) Rating: N/A

Slaughter of the Vampires (1962) (DVD) Rating: 4.1 /10

Jess Franco's Count Dracula (1970) (DVD) Rating: 5.7 / 10

Frostbiten (2006) (DVD) Rating: 5.6 / 10

Vegas Vampires (2003) Rating 2.9 / 10

Dracula (Masterpiece Theatre) (2006) Rating: N/A

Hellboy Animated: Blood and Iron (2007) (TV) Rating: 7.2 / 10

Witches Hammer, The (2006) (UK DVD) Rating: 3.9 / 10

Kingdom of the Vampire (2007) Rating: N/A

Double Feature: Bucket of Blood (1934) Rating 6.7 / 10
/ My Son the Vampire (1952) (DVD release) Rating: 2.4 / 10

The Thirst (2006) Rating: 4.3 / 10

Gothic Vampires from Hell (2007) Rating: 5.3 / 10

Vampire Noir (2007) Rating: N/A

Day Watch (2006) Limited US Release Rating: 6.9 / 10

Rise: Blood Hunter (2007) Rating: 5.4 / 10

The Lair (2007) Rating: 5.7 / 10

Mamma Dracula (1980) (DVD release) Rating 2.5 / 10

Hellboy Animated: Blood and Iron (2007) (DVD release)

80s Double Feature: Once Bitten (1985) Rating: 4.9 / 10
/ Vampire's Kiss (1989) (DVD release) Rating: 5.7 / 10

Perfect Creature (2006) (DVD release) Rating: 5.5 / 10

The Monster Squad (1987) (DVD release) Rating: 6.8 / 10

Vampire Secrets (2006) (DVD release) Rating: 6.2 / 10

Night Junkies (2007) (DVD release) Rating: 4.9 / 10

BloodRayne II: Deliverance (2007) (DVD release) Rating: 4.0 / 10 (pretty good for Mr Boll)

Blade: The Series (2006) (DVD release) Rating: 6.5 / 10

Insatiable, The (2006) Rating: 5.9 / 10

Count Dracula (1977) (DVD release) Rating: 8.0 / 10 - Editors Choice

Haunted Histories Collection Vampire Secrets + others from the History Channel (DVD boxset)
Rating: 6.2 / 10

"Moonlight" (2007) Rating: N/A

Double Feature: Kingdom of the Vampire (2007) Rating: N/A
and Kingdom of the Vampire (1991) (DVD) Rating: 4.6 / 10

Dracula's Dirty Daughter (2000) AKA Mistress of Seduction (DVD Re-release) Rating: 6.0 / 10

"Blood Ties" (2006) Rating: 4.7 / 10

30 Days of Night (2007) (Theatrical) December 14 2007: Rating: 7.0 / 10

I Am Legend (2007) Rating: Coming soon