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Bram - (c) 2012-0810.1621 Kevin Foxboy, all rights reserved [Any similarity to other literary characters or writers is coincidental. Any similarity to historical figures, real or imagined, is coincidental except as may be inferred from records. It's a spoof, people!]

AT THE OUTSET I do confess that I have become what I once feared, what I once sought to destroy. What I tried and failed to do to the embodiment of Evil I encountered in far eastern Europe would have been called murder but for the fact the thing was already dead.

And yet it lived, or seemed to. My name at the time was Abraham von Schtrocher, a minor player in a minor Prussian aristocratic lineage. I was unsuccesful in bringing fame or fortune to my mother's side, nor heroism to my father's brothers or other sons.

I wrote an account of these strange happenings and was usurped by an Irish writer of almost identical name. Perhaps the English nobles I entrusted my words to were dishonourable, or perhaps simply misled.

Despite my considerable attempts to convince the man of his plagiarism, his work continues to be the definitive novel on the Transylvanian aristocrat of the fifteeth century AD.

In point of fact, the small princedom of Walachia had been coveted by the Turkish Sultanate for some generations. The first great prince to resist their invasion was killed by Vlad Tepes the First, thus called the Usurper.

I do not know the way to spell this name correctly, as it's a Gypsy name and likely as corrupted as the people are. His family name is pronounced as though there's an 'h' at the end. Vlad the Usurper seems not very imaginative, as he named his son Vlad also.

Vlad Tepes the Second was a highly skilled warrior and drove the Turks from Walachia, whereupon he gained the name of the warrior class, the Dragon. He was not particularly concerned about whom he killed, and even his friends called him slaughterer.

In the Gypsy tongue his Order was Dracul, the Dragon. Because Vlad Dracul fought the Turks, who were Islamist, the Holy Roman Empire of Christianity embraced his results, despite the fact Vlad Dracul regularly killed Christians who got in the way of his personal glory. He killed pagans and enemies of Rome.

But the Sultan was as full of hate and greediness as his enemies. Vlad Dracul's sons Vlad (no imagination, remember?) and Radu fought continuing invasions, whereupon both were captured and used as pawns to force the Walachian king back into subservience to Istanbul.

If you offend easily you won't want to hear that the young Tepes brothers were not granted high-class jail cells as befitted their royal station. In fact the Sultan took pleasure in executing the other captives in more and more elaborate and considerably sadistic ways.

Look up the history yourself if you don't believe me. Radu bought his older brother's ransom and return to Walachia as a prisoner of the Turks by giving his personal service to the Sultan. Frequently in the bed.

By this time Vlad Dracul's name had been dragged thrugh the mud quite effectively by the Turkish conquerors, and Vlad the younger hated them with a passion even the Holy Roman Fathers deemed extreme. Yet they did nothing to prevent the young prince from plotting.

As was typical of the mindset at the time, conquered lands were considered as owing their fecundity to the conquerors, and the people were treated worse than cattle, since people could rebel. The concept of just leaving strangers the hell alone never entered anyone's minds, as Turkish prisoners were treated cruelly by the Dragon.

In this hardship the young prince swore revenge, against the Church for failing to support the Dragon's military campaigns, against the Turks for their cruelty, against the nobles of Walachia for conspiring against his father.

Vlad Tepes the Third managed to raise an army against the Turks and drive them back. His hatred of the Sultanate was inflamed furthur by the fact that the great Turkish general who slaughtered most Walachians was none other than his own brother, Radu!

Vlad's hate was so strong that he had his soldiers impale the Turkish prisoners alive on stakes. Not standing, thrust through the heart, the death would be far too quick. Vlad had them impaled along the spine, the sharpened wood forced inch by agonising inch through the pelvis, up through the intestines, through the diaphragm. Prisoners screamed for hours in agony until they finally died.

This Vlad became known as The Impaler. He was the son of the Dragon, so he took on the warrior name which meant 'Son of the Dragon' in the Gypsy tongue. He became Vlad Draculia.

*

IN THE LATE eighteen hundreds, I first discovered this bit of horror from the one witness who survived. Vlad Draculia had so much hate for Turks and the Church Fathers who allowed them to rule that he cursed God himself and swore to outlast the grave.

Apparently he was successful. The Prince had been terrorising the countryside for over four hundred years. He rose from the grave, and his first acts were the merciless slaughter of all the Christian Church Fathers who had dragged him to his own death so long ago.

It was their blood that satisfied his hate, but brought a burning thirst for more and more blood. Vlad Draculia had traveled by night from his hellish castle, biting people and sucking their life to maintain his own.

And yet he remained a man in form, and his human lusts remained intact. The son of the Dragon had become quite adept at seeking sexy women by twilight and seducing them with his unholy power.

It was when he wished to acquire land legally in far-away England that he contacted one R.M. Renfield Esquire, and asked him to come to the Castle in Transylvania. When Renfield fell under the Count's evil power, the poor man went insane in self-protection.

Renfield's replacement was a young lawyer, one Jonathan Harker. His duty took him from his fiancee Wilhelmina Murray and her friend Lucy Westenra. You've read the next part of the story from that Irishman, so I won't bother repeating.

But in fact he got the facts wrong. It's called 'dramatic license' and frankly I only know that he made up Abraham van Helsing because he didn't want to admit I was there first. The novel had to have a happy ending to sell.

*

IN 1895 I MET the thing that Vlad Draculia had become. At the time I was a good Christian and tried to protect poor Lucy from the foul fiend, but he had already broken her virtue as well as her will to refuse his unholy lust.

At least that's what Stoker wrote. The truth was more terrifying as well as a lot more enjoyable. Remember this was Victorian England, and women were supposed to be virtuous and 'proper'. Oh, *please!*

Hell, these silly prudes even covered up their furniture because it had wood legs, and legs were too sensual! I honestly wonder how these prisses ever won wars if they were so squeamish.

The truth is, they weren't. Sex crimes abounded, mostly due to back-lash against all the stupid rules. They just weren't allowed in the papers. Jack the Ripper only got in when he started murdering the prostitutes, not when he just knocked em up a bit rough.

Lucy Westenra chafed against the damn tight corset and the purity laws. When she met Vlad, the Count had come to England on the /Demeter/ and drank the freighter's crew dry. His wolf form easily evaded the idiot unloaders and sniffed out the nubile ladies.

Lucy was fascinated by the tall dark handsome stranger. His apparent youth and royal bearing was such a delightful contrast to the wimpy suitors her family tried to connect her to.

She had the absurd naive notion that love was more important than social rank, probably because she was born to it. The strangeness of the name Vlad lent the Count's air of social ease an exotic seductiveness, and when she saw his eyes, dark pools of forbidden passion and desire, she became lost.

Now Stoker had to claim she was led astray by evil power. Oh, please. Lucy wanted Vlad and was young enough she didn't care about proper behaviour. In fact her parents' warnings against seeing Vlad made her want him more. They should really get the blame for ignoring my claims.

Vlad Dracula was vam-pyre, the Undead, Nos-fer-atu. None of this kept Lucy from waking up and hearing his evil call, opening her window and letting the wolf in the room. She looked deeply into its eyes and willingly began unlacing her nightgown.

The voluptuous young woman brought both hands up to her lovely throat, then let them brush against her heaving bosom to show her lover. She felt warm and it was a cool night, she was alone with Vlad and she wore only a nightgown. Before she heard his seductive whispers she'd wear more layers to stay pure.

But now Lucy Westenra didn't care about socially proper behaviour. The man she'd allowed into her boudoir spoke softly, so softly she had to strain to hear. She hesitantly took a step forward, careful of her bare feet on the cold floor.

She barely felt it. Her whole world was this strong man in her bed-room, staring at her hungrily, and she only partly understood her own desire returning his stare. The man was dressed in formal coat and tie, but his over-coat lay crumpled at his boots.

Slowly Lucy came to him who had slipped into her dreams, into her room, into her mind. She loved him, loved his power over her, his protection. He would never hurt her, never let anyone else hurt her, always wait for her.

Lucy's will was lost in his eyes. They seemed to bore straight into a part of her she hadn't known, hadn't dared to imagine. A place of purity, power, acceptance. His will to own her became her will to surrender totally.

As she came to him Lucy's fingers worked at the nightgown's bodice, allowing the sheer material to slide sexily from her shoulders as she opened the neck, then slowly display her voluptuous breasts. She was young, so they were small, but Vlad knew she needed time to accept the strange longings he was bringing to her loins.

Lucy's areoles peeked out, and an almost imperceptible gesture stopped her trembling hands.

"Lucy, my dear", the soft voice seduced her will, "don't be afraid, don't think I will ever hurt you. Look deeply into my eyes, see my love for you, feel your love for me and my strength."

Somehow Lucy knew the words he wanted, what she must say. "Yes, my lord. I love you and give myself to you. Now and forever I beg you to take me, show me your will..."

Vlad stopped her with a soft touch on her full lips. Somehow he'd walked from the window to the chest at the foot of her bed, and somehow she was there too. She didn't remember walking to her master, or have any fear from calling him that. She just knew and accepted that she was his.

His strong arms held her softly, easily, inescapably. He had held her gaze, held her mind and will as he looked slowly along her cleavage at her warm breasts, perky with youth. Lucy was still lost in his eyes as they feasted on her roundness, her areoles, her nipples.

He held her strongly but softly with his left arm. His right hand lifted along her left flank, up from her hip to her ribs and up to her quivering mouth. Lucy felt his strength flow into her, lifting her up to his lips as she kissed him hesitantly.

Then Vlad kissed her softly, regally, still holding her eyes, her mind, her will. Her desire for him overwhelmed her last thoughts of resistance as she willingly bared her neck and allowed his sharp fangs deep into her left shoulder.

*

THAT DAMN IRISHMAN screwed me out of fame and royalty payments by writing it was Abraham van Helsing who tried to save Lucy Westenra. Bullshit. It was me, Abraham von Schtrocher, who deduced what Vlad was, and how he'd betrayed her virginity.

I bet you didn't read *that* in the novel! That was a work of fiction, based on lies, half-truths, and some really good deduction. He also didn't want Count Vlad to come drink him, so he disguised some facts and invented others.

Vlad was the villain in the story, so he had to be supernatural, and an allegorical threat to get women to want men tp protect them. Oh, please. All men want is some hot pussy, but Queen Vicky got them all emasculated, so it had to be he sucked her blood.

Well he did, but it wasn't from her neck. That's Stoker's bull, as he probably couldn't sell the truth, that the woman's virtue was so seduced that she opened her virgin thighs to the fiend.

And she enjoyed it! So much she gave her life to him. She became what he was, vampyre. And I had to live with the fact I hadn't seen Vlad for the fiend he was until it was too late.

*

THE FIRST NIGHT I awoke in Dracula's castle I was still shocked by the horrific nightmares that tormented my mind. I had been locked in a death struggle with the fiend himself, seeking desperately with my last ounce of vigour to stab the thing.

Dracula had ripped my sword from me like I was a child. Lord, how could any man be so strong? He tossed me the full length of the dining hall like I was a child's rag doll, then leapt upon me as if twenty feet was nothing to him.

His horrible fangs still dripped with my companion's blood. Stanley had saved my life at the cost of his own, and honour demanded I repay the favour. I drew the larger dagger and slashed at the monster's eyes.

Those cold, black eyes! Like a shark killed at the market, that still slashes after death. There was no fear in those eyes even as Dracula drew back unharmed, out of my reach. I hadn't even hurt him although I was sure I'd thrust the entire sword blade deep in his undead corpse.

Dracula had still attacked, stronger than I was. He felt no pain. He had no fear of me, no pity, no remorse. I was merely a slight delay in his taking Stan's life for himself, and in his depthless eyes I saw no hate, only... hunger. He wouldn't stop until I was dead.

I slashed hopelessly back and forth. The one time I connected, I was sure I cut through his forearm all the way to the bone. My fingers went numb with the sudden shock as the dagger blade stopped. But I was the only one injured by the force.

That foul fiend! How could anyone withstand a sword and a dagger, both driven with desperation into his undead flesh? But Dracula didn't howl in pain, didn't stop for an instant.

Even his foul blood splashing on the cold stone merely smoked like the fire of Satan himself! Then Dracula was on me again, knocking the dagger away and tossing me roughly on the table, still laden with food our party had found laid out.

But he had discerned our plan, and the fiend used it to attack us! Theodore and Gustav hadn't made it past the throne at the end of the table; Hans and Corkan had merely been fodder for the foul stench of death. Every man had fed the thing with his dying blood.

And yet the thing lived! Stabbed at least a dozen times, and each time blood ripped from the foul flesh. But Dracula showed his torn clothing, and no more blood flowed from him!

Dracula had thrown off even the combined efforts of six men as if we were barely worthy of his notice! As I lay there on the table, my breath knocked from me, I struggled to draw the final dagger from my boot.

As the fiend swooped on me I turned the blade to expose it from my boot, folded my legs to take his weight and thrust into him with all my remaining strength. I swear I cut into his left intestines before his hideous sharp fangs cut into my shoulder.

I had barely despaired my failure before I blacked out.

*

WHEN I AWOKE AT night, I couldn't believe it must have been just a few minutes. The fiend had drunk from five other men and now me, and taken me from the dining hall to this filthy place. It was dark so I thought it was night, but it was only the black night of damnation.

A lovely young woman poked her head in my room and said hesitantly, "My lord? Have you awakened?" I looked around fearfully, expecting the fiend himself. What other lord could she mean?

"My lord, you are alone here. My master has taken you from death, as he has your friends. But they have died too long, and remain. You are like him now, but young and weak. And you must be thirsty."

She offered a large chalice, gold with jeweled handle. She was only partly dressed despite the chill, barefoot with arms and legs uncovered. I wasn't weak enough from my exertions with Dracula to fail to notice her skimpy clothing, and I didn't know why I was drawn to her loud heartbeat in addition to her ripe body.

"Who are you, wench?" I could see she was a servant, not a family member entertaining a guest. "My name is Abraham von Schtrocher." I clicked my boot heels and bowed formally.

"I am called Mina, my lord", she answered. Called, not named? "What is your real name, girl?" I said not unkindly, but I felt angry when she dropped into a curtsey and said, "beg your pardon, m'lord, but I've been just 'Mina' for so long... I don't remember. Master's orders."

That last bit surprised me. Whoever her master was, he'd ordered her to call herself Mina? I was used to being master to my own servants, and them calling me m'lord, but this was getting stranger and stranger. Had he ordered her to forget?

"Tell me your master's name, wench" for wench she clearly was, "and why I am lord and not simply guest." She seemed more afraid to speak, and even more so when I tried to take her hand to get her standing.

Mina seemed quite terrified, merely at her master's name. "He is Count Vladimir... Dracula, my lord. And he has repelled your attack and made you... like him." Her voice had gotten softer and more strained, as if her words were afraid to come.

But I could still hear them clearly. I could hear the damn mice in between the walls, the bats squeaking to hear their surroundings, the turning of the capstan as my host had the portcullis raised and he clattered forth on his horse.

I spoke commandingly but gently, I didn't want the poor girl scared mindless. But a new part of me wanted her terrified, mindless... mine. "So I am Count Dracula's... what? Guest? Captive? *Pet*?!"

Mina responded to my strong will. "You are his guest, m'lord, his novice. You are young in undeath, you've just resurrected. I heard your movement. I am the Count's prisoner, captive, and yes, pet. He has sent me here to fetch your first meal, if you permit."

I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly. Well of course I *had*, I could hear better than any mere human, and frankly I'd heard someone breathing before she came in. Undeath? Resurrection? He made me... like him?!

"What do you offer me to eat, Mina?" I used her name, at least the one she gave me. "What does someone made by Dracula feed on?" I had a sickening feeling I knew, having watched him drain my five friends.

"I am Master's pet, and it is His wish you feed on others, my lord," Mina said. The way she said Master and His made me shiver. "You mean... I have to drink their blood to live? That fiend!" She whimpered and fell to the floor in fear.

"Get up, wench, or I'll do it for you!" I thundered. Mina stood as if by a puppeteer's hand on her strings. "Yes, my Lord!" she called me Lord? "S-Sir, M-my L-ord" Mina stammered, "Please, you have now become... as the Count is..." she trailed off.

"Say it, girl," I spoke gently. "Say the word!" I commanded her, and she had no mind left to resist. She whispered, "vampire." I expected as much, seeing him make other foul fiends by draining a human's blood, then dripping his own on their lips.

He'd drained my five friends, and I had still fought him, so no blood for them. But I had risen, on the third day after, well, infection. Night actually. I was feeling thirsty, not hungry, and if Dracula told Mina to keep herself for him, I wasn't going to deny the fiend his meal.

For some reason I was having trouble applying the word fiend to Vlad Dracula. It had been quite easy, before my rebith. Now friend, father ... *maker* were the words swirling in my mind.

I did look at Mina with hunger. I did want to stride over, pick her up, toss her against the wall and... kiss her? fondle her body? feel her up until she moaned with lust, giving me her warm delicious blood...

I shook my head to clear it. I shouldn't be thinking about her like that, I should protect the woman and seek a doctor's care. That's what I'd been taught, an aristocrat has duties to the peasants, they're not chattel...

Aren't they though? Just different property than horses and cows. I'd never thought of peasants as anything but low-class people before, now I saw Mina and her kind... humans I had to remind myself... as high-class animals.

Just as people keep horses for labour and cattle for food. Humans were just food for us... vampires. It was strange to feel so clear-headed about what I'd called Dracula fiend for, just... a few days ago. Had I really been... killed... blood drained and then... made to drink the fiend's blood? Thereby losing my humanity and becoming what I'd hated and attacked?

Well, as you know by now, yes. I had become Vampyr, Nosferatu. Undead, and I was willing to try it. Soon I'd start to love it.

*

I ORDERED MINA to bring me food, and the wench crawled to the door in submission. Her round rump and thighs barely concealed in that nightie... I was salivating, and I hated myself for the lewd thoughts. I was brought up to think that carnal thoughts were the work of the Devil, and deadly Sins.

Which I now know is utter nonsense, because God planned us and his Angel Lucifer led the building team. Read Genesis, only if someone else did the real work would God "see that it was good". If he did it himself, of course it would be good.

The word Lucifer literally means 'light-bearer'. He brought the light of knowledge to you humans, and look what happened. You humans can't handle the Truth. Think about it, you've all sinned and fallen short of His glory.

What Vladimir told me was Lucifer said, "OK we got this world and it's your plan so it's good. What do we do with it now?" And God thought and said, "We put animals on it, and they wander around eating the plants and making more animals."

Lucifer took that and made humans to eat the animals so they wouldn't muck the place up. But Lilith was Adam's first wife, made of dust beside him, and she refused to lie under him as if he was superior. So no making more humans. God got pissed and cursed Lilith, then did the Genesis thing and yanked Eve out of Adam. Which is why human men don't have bacula.

OK, y'all know the Apple thing. But did y'know God was so pissed at Lilith, and Adam and Eve, that Lucifer made vampires to eat the humans? Plants feed animals, who feed humans, who feed vampires.

OK, so... what eats vampires? Hmmm?!

Vlad doesn't know, so I don't. But show me where in the Ten Commandments God shoved on the Hebrews where it says, "no sex for you". So how come Christians get all bent about what comes natural, carnal desire? God can't be so insecure that he needs constant praise.

Remember, God planned everything, and Lucifer led the team that made the word flesh. So lust has to be part of God's plan for us, see? Just don't hit someone to get more, and if she says no, try another woman. It's OK to have some human interaction.

Look, holding each other and kissing feels good. Lucifer made it that way, following God's plan, so God can't get upset if humans try a little physics. Reciprocating motion and sloppy fluids give the old man a voyeuristic thrill. If you *don't* fornicate and enjoy God's gift, you insult Lucifer's work and God's plan.

Of course, Vlad Dracula was a foul undead fiend, and now so was I. Whatever his blood did to me, I thank him for opening my eyes to the idea of humans as food. Anyway, philosphy digression over.

When Mina came back she was leading another girl by a leash, just like a dumb animal pet. I knew the girl as a peasant from the next valley over. She'd been serving beer in the tavern where the old woman told us not to travel at night.

Because the dead travel fast. Well, actually the dead just lie there and rot, unless a vampire gives them the blood, and then the flesh rises and obeys. The mind's still dead and it's fine that the warrior can't fight us anymore. We just use the daytime labour.

Or the girls who aren't killed get terrified so much their minds run away. This wench was to be my meal, and she was still shaking in fear. That gives a delightful tang to the blood, and I recommend you try some.

Up to now I'd only had women who said OK, and I wasn't trying to scare them. I've never understood why some men want virgins, cause I prefer them to have a clue what to do to please me. I enjoy ordering a frightened young wench, and she relaxes in obedience.

I was thirsty. I didn't know in my mind what to do, but the fiend's blood did. I still don't remember going to her, but the next moment I had the wench in my arms, Mina was cowering on the floor, and my first meal was mewling and staring at my new fangs with...

Terror? Desire? Lust? I wasn't thinking clearly, I was like a dream as I looked down the wench's heaving bosom. My human lust and my fiendish thirst grew as I ripped the peasant's dress to expose those luscious orbs, and then... and then...

I bent to sink my sharp fangs into the warm, obedient... food.

*

SHE WAS DELICIOUS. Hot and wet and such a sweet taste of fear, I sucked greedily at her life. In case you didn't know, blood is just the carrier for the life force which is what we vampires really feed on.

Just like human food. You don't use it directly, you digest it first, then your body uses the simple sugars and proteins. It's not the meat you need, that's just the carrier. You humans feed on the life of cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, chickens, etc.

As they feed on the life of plants. Remember Lord Lucifer followed God's example and made it like a cycle. So ultimately we vampires depend on the Sun's power, which is ironic because we fry in the sun. A terminal sunburn.

Speaking of hot, wet, sweet women, it had a different meaning when I was human. As a vampire, I was released from responsibility to mortal law, and my released carnal appetite complemented my growing undead appetite for life.

I could enjoy all the taste of human food, but it paled in comparison to blood. Like the finest wine, the finest food gave me sensual pleasure but failed to nourish me. And it was wrong to deplete my maker's food supply.

As a human I'd been told not to play with my food. I suppose if I went to a farm I'd get sentimental and not want to see them butchered. But as a vampire I drank from my maker's horses, and they were rather gamey but palatable.

I learned to be careful, not drain the beast so it died. Dead it was no use to me or my maker, and Vlad Dracula wasn't known for benevolence. A nice suck here and there, on to the next beast.

I could move faster than any human, faster than they could see, but I was slower and weaker than my maker. He tolerated my human lust for Mina, and it'd been centuries since he'd pleasured a female in the human way. Once I'd fed on a human, Dracula would feed on me, taking away the life force I'd stolen from them.

I was newly resurrected, by his unholy power. He could tolerate the sun, wearing dark eyeglasses, and call the beasts of the woods to him. "There is much to be learned from beasts" he told me.

Some of what I learned were carnal acts. I watched the wolves mate, their vigour, their power as the dogs covered the bitches, and their mutual howls in the night. What beautiful music the children of the night make!

The beasts were unhampered by made-up morality. Sure they fought each other, and the bitches, but once the bitch accepted one, he was her world until he was spent. No "should I or shouldn't I?" If she was ready, she'd advertise and select the strongest male.

Now, the foxes were mostly monogamous. Once they mated, the male's sex organs would actually shrink when she wasn't in heat. I suppose that way he wouldn't be so hot to nose around the next vixen. The wolves also shrank with their own sex season.

So the male canids didn't just want sex all the time. I suppose they kept their seed for when a female came in heat. They'd nose around a few days and get bigger and more aggressive.

I discovered how to get them to come to me. Their minds were like pictures, but they didn't really know what people were doing. I could fix an image, and they could remember a few seconds of human work. The wolves and foxes became my scouts by day.

At night my maker became a wolf himself. I was too young to shift, and it was amusing when Vlad let me walk with him. I don't know what he got from running along ahead of me on all fours as a wolf.

Because the peasants were afraid of the wolves. The animal ones were afraid of humans, until my maker and I taught them to come to the Castle to rest and guard us. He often took his wench Mina to his casket and had her lie next to him as he slept.

Throughout the day he would suck at her mind and make her dream of serving him with her body. She had seen what I'd tried to do to save her friend Lucy, and when Lucy succumbed to the fiend's mental control, I'd had to disinter Lucy, drive a wooden stake through her heart and cut her head off.

I do confess that at the time I was more concerned with Lucy's immortal soul than with the ghoulish acts. Lucy's family hated me and forbade me to visit, and Mina had been revolted as well. If I'd been thinking clearly I'd have spared her that horror.

That Irish novelist screwed with the facts because he couldn't sell an immoral ending. He twisted it so Vlad Dracula was the villain, I didn't even exist, and Helsing saved the day by stabbing Vlad in the heart.

In Stoker's version, Vlad had seduced Lucy and taken her soul. Oh, please. Lucy Westenra gave herself willingly to her lover, and that's what those damn prudes couldn't stand.

He seduced Mina, and she was on the brink of giving herself to him, when Lucy's three suitors and I chased the foul fiend across Europe by train and by boat to Varna, where his Gypsies loaded his last coffin on a horse cart and made a mad dash for Castle Dracula.

Can you say 'Overdramatised'? Sure we chased him, and his mind connection to Mina let us track him, but let him know we were chasing. Stoker wrote that Mina became his just at sunset when he exploded from his rest, got skewered by Seward and that yahoo American in the Castle courtyard, staggered to his chapel where he'd cursed God centuries ago.

And there Mina Harker, nee Murray, gave the crippled vampire the rest he'd longed for by driving the sword through his heart. Because you see she was the reincarnation of his beloved wife Elisabeta who'd committed suicide when the Turks tricked her into thinking Prince Vlad was killed on the battlfield.

And every romantic idiot knows that love conquers all, so she was the only one who could break God's curse at Vlad's blasphemy and give the undead Count final peace. Blah, blah, blah, bullshit.

The truth is, the six of us used Mina like a damn bloodhound, tracking Vlad down and attacking him. I told you how clusterf'd that went. Vlad wasn't redeemed, he doesn't wanna be, he's having fun.

Mina became Vlad Dracula's willing sex slave. And I became Vlad's protege. Abraham von Schtrocher became a lot more carnally relaxed, and now I use the name Bram Stroker.

See what I mean about that damn Irishman usurping my name?