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Please hold still, Madrina. Your lips haven’t dried yet.”

The woman fidgeted on the long steel table, her fingers twitching and flexing with the urge to reach up and touch her new face. Robin stood above the Madrina Dominique with needle and thread. Just one more tuck under the eyes. The pliant rubber Robin was using to sculpt the Madrina’s new cheekbones with was falling slightly just under the eyebrow. If the Madrina wasn’t careful—if she laughed and sang and did all those things that vampires do when gathered together for a party—she’d have humongous bags before the night was out.

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“Vampires do not exist.”

The man, statement concluded, raised the chipped china cup to his lips. He wore a gray sharkskin suit with matching shirt and tie. His deeply tanned skin, like his almond hair, looked almost black in the dim lobby of the hotel.

Frank had just concluded his presentation regarding scientific support for vampires. Only a couple dozen interested souls attended the lecture, but those numbers were twice his last count. He was gaining a following.

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Part One

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ hierarchies? And even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.”
‘The First Elegy’ Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell

“The Nephilim were on earth in those days – And also afterward – when the sons of God went to The daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.”
Genesis 6:4

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The lover:

A single candle flares to life in a curtained night chamber, and I know my journey is over. I came here to watch outside the manor house in the silent darkness of early morning, standing in anxious vigil as I awaited a sign. The light speaks to me, tells me I have not quested in vain.

But what power has called me here?

I thought never to return to this land, this land of my birth, this land where once my ancestors ruled with the law of sword and knout, and townsman and peasant alike abased themselves in the dust as our curtained carriages rumbled past.

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Okay, people. Here we go. Let’s do it by the numbers and get it right. Don’t forget, this is going out live, and any mistakes certainly will be seen. Camera one, focus on Slippery Dick. Adjust that white balance; get that tooth glare down.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Miss Undead 2003. My name’s Dick Wetting and I am your host for this evening of old-world grandeur and tradition,

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