The scent of the woman filled his nose with the aroma of warm red wine. "Someone's on the other side of the door!" Lastword called out to the others.

Sweetooth materialized behind him. "I doubt it," he said.

"Yet, here you are, " replied Lastword, his eyebrow raised in an expression of disgust.

"No one has been on the other side of that door for a hundred years," Sweetooth reminded him sweetly. Then, "I smell her!" he said. He tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. "She smells like..."

"....breakfast," Lastword ended the sentence.

"Yes," agreed Sweetooth.

"No!" said Crayzee, materializing behind them. "She smells like trouble." Lastword and Sweetooth welcomed Crayzee coldly. The voice of reason was anathema to them, and Crayzee still insisted on making sense.

The dank of the Vampyres Vault and the cobwebbed Room of the Exalted would little recommend itself to humans, but it was the cozy home of its pale inhabitants for many hundreds of years. They were vampyres of an old breed, from an ancient land far away. They came over with the Spanish on sailing ships, hidden in the cargo bays and bleeding the passengers born to feed them.

In truth, the vampyres believed it, that the whole excursion into the new world was designed solely for them by some distant and nameless Great One, a Cthulhu of the old world who provided endless meals for them and portals to pass through. To say the vampyres had Spanish blood would be a misstatement. To say they preferred Spanish blood would be closer to the truth.

"So what do you want to do?" Lastword asked Crayzee, a stately vampyre and second in command. "I think we should eat her," he continued. "She'll make a tasty Eclair."

"Eclair? Her name is Clair?" Crazyee was always impressed with Lastword's ability to read minds.

"Actually, I think she spells it Clair with an "e." She's a metaphysical writer." They all had a big laugh at that, and the laughter brought them closer together as companions.

"Writers are not on the menu today," said Crayzee with a faint smile. "We will do nothing. Maybe she'll go away."

"And that's why they call you Crayzee," said Sweetooth, sighing in some combination of disrespect and frustration.

"Think about it," Crayzee replied. "We can't afford to be discovered, not after all these centuries of laying low, especially not by a writer. Why not just let her alone, let her stand there to wonder what it means. She won't have the guts to open that door."

"Mmmm, guts," said Lastword with a wicked grin.

"What's to stop her?" said Sweetooth.

"For one thing, 'Vampyres Vault' is carved into the door. Most humans would think twice about opening a door like that. And that's why we carved it there, remember?" Crayzee knew he did not need to remind them. But he also knew how many full moons had passed since the vampyres had been excited about anything. Someone on the other side of the door of Vampyres Vault represented tantalizing excitement. But their existence was a secret to the rest of the town, and so it needed to remain. He didn't know how he would prevent Lastword and Sweetooth from opening the door and feasting on the writer, but he knew he had to try.

Crayzee gave it his best shot. "This is a matter for Govanut," he said. Sweetooth and Lastword stood frozen in the moment. Crayzee's idea was working.

"Now wait a minute," said Lastword. "There's no need for that."

"For what?" said Govanut, materializing behind them and wearing full pirate's regalia and captain's hat. "Someone call me?"

"Yea, me, " said Crayzee, eyeing Govanut in admiration tinged with envy of his costuming flair. The rest of them were resigned to wearing something less dramatic, in hopes of keeping Govanut placated. He became a monster if annoyed. "We got us a situation here," said Crayzee with a faint smile.

"Yum," laughed Govanut. "What's that wonderful smell?" He knew what it was and no one needed to explain the nature of the situation, either. "Here is my ruling," he said, magically enlarging his captain's hat for effect. "We will wait to see if Claire opens the door of the vault. If she does, she's ours. If she doesn't, we let her frightened blood go."

"And if she goes and writes about us, what then?" Lastword took a big chance in challenging Govanut, but he thought he had a valid point and also he thirsted for the writer's blood.

Govanut got that look that everyone feared, the one that told them he was about to call in his Powers. They all quickly assured him they were satisfied with his ruling, and they might as well be since they had no chance of changing it. Govanut was the law. But not for very much longer. The writer on the other side of the door would change all that.

THE WRITER (BEFORE THE FALL)

Dear One:

How are you doing? I hope you are well and happy. I would have written sooner but I moved to St. Augustine, Fl. I just want to continue my research and investigations in a haunted town and I think this is the place. So much better to have the psychic experiences along with the factual research. I can understand things better that way. So come visit me! You will love it here.

You know, I met a three year-old girl here who told me she was a psychic investigator and that she wants to solve a mystery. Can you believe it? She's half-Columbian and born here, so I suppose that explains it because I sure can't. Anyway, just thought I would throw that in as proof of something.

Right away, I found an unusual book and it made me think I was meant to be here. I went into one of those cute shops that you see all over this place, and this one had an interesting, old red book. Etched into the cover and almost worn away are the words, "The Blood Account Book." (I enclose a picture of the book.)

So I asked the shopkeeper about it and he said it probably was a prop used in a movie or local theatrical production. But I don't know. You should see this thing. It's so worn, like someone has been reading it for centuries and it has drawings in it. A pentagram is on the inside cover and I swear I can see thumb prints on it. It also has a local map, at least I think it's local. It looks local but it points to some area off the map. I asked the guy about that and he said it was just for entertainment. I'm thinking, strange entertainment. You know? So I bought it, not that it was cheap. I looked around the shop to see if there were others and he told me it was the only one. He probably tells that to everyone who buys this book. I bet he's got fifty more of them hidden under the counter lol.

The Blood Account Book has one word written on the first page opposite the pentagram. It's "Ghost." I never really associated a pentagram with ghosts, did you? Mostly I thought witches and pentagrams, not ghosts. But I am wondering about the single word because of the color of the book, blood red, and it makes me think of vampyres. I have never heard of vampyres being in St. Augustine, so maybe the word "Ghosts" applies to the local ghosts. I'm going to head on out to library now and see what I can find about vampyres in association with ghosts.

Oh, btw, I'm designing a website to hold the images I find and my research notes. The library here is very friendly. They will order any book I need and they are always polite and respectful to me. Maybe it's because of the books I am ordering, currently the books on witches. I think I might be a witch so I need to do the research to see if I am. Perhaps they think I am a witch and so they don't want to aggravate me. Who knows, I might zap them into a frog or, even worse, cast a spell on them to make their hair thin out. Oh I know, a spell to make hair grow and turn black on their upper lip. Then they will have to pay for waxings hehe

So I guess what I'm getting at is that you might not hear from me again very soon as I have all this reading to do on vampyres and witches. But don't worry. I will write when I can and you can also see my progess on the website. Let me know if you have any ideas and, as always, take care of yourself and think good thoughts.

InLight,

Claire

THE VAMPYRE CLARISSA

Dear One:

Hello again. How are you keeping? I would have written sooner but my time has been spent on adventure rather than chronicle. I have so much to tell and so I would love to see you in the flesh. We could enjoy each other so much better that way.

I have moved again, this time into a lovely place most uncommon in St. Augustine. It's the Vampyres Vault. What a wonderful cozy place and full of old legends and comforting sounds. Cozy catacombs and crypts, that's what I'm talkin' about. I also have a nice coffin in the Huguenot Cemetery where I meet the most interesting folks. That's where I met Gary Gravestone. Gary's not a vampyre, he's just a ghost. But what an illusionist! He taught me so much about illusions. Before Gary came over from the other side, he was a realtor.

My approach to writing has changed somewhat. I feed on the flesh of ideas, and I spill the red blood onto the page just for you. I sink my teeth into my work, and no one dares disturb me. I bloodied some pages so you can read more about me. And what shall you give me in return?

You might think a coffin an uncomfortable place to live and perhaps even a little claustrophobic. I understand you completely and normally I would agree with you that a coffin is awfully small, but there is something you have yet to realize. As you may not know, a vampyre has the power of illusion. One of the uses of that power involves interior design. Oh yes, the coffin is a great place if you know how to produce illusions. Thanks to Gary, I'm getting rather good at it.

One of my favorite coffin illusions is the Dr. Who illusion. I can make the coffin bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. This gives me room for the kitchenette illusion, the bedroom illusion, the living room illusion and the library illusion. Of course, I love luxurious decorations, so I have velvet illusions, furniture illusions and electricity illusions in all the rooms. Oh, and some fashion illusions. I do so love the vampyre styles in fashion now.

You might wonder why a vampyre would need a kitchen in a coffin. Silly you! Where else would you cook up your "ex" when you get the munchies? Oh, this reminds me. I bloodied a very important page for you to read entitled "Vampire Sweethearts." Oh yes, you need to read it! How would you know if your sweetheart is a vampyre if you don't even know a kitchen is necessary in a coffin? I spilled a good bit of blood on this paper and I did it just for you. But take heart. (Any heart will do.) It's not a total loss if you find out your sweetheart is a vampyre. They make great munchies after you've buried the hatchet, so to speak.

Believe me, I really don't make a habit of killing and eating my ex-sweethearts, but in the case of this particular ex-sweetheart, I simply could not resist. And I didn't have much of a dilemma, either, because my ex was the Pied Piper of Hamlin. If you have heard of him then you already know he had it coming to him. He's a real vampyre, you know. Well, he used to be. I met him at a seance party in the Vampyres Vault.

And it wasn't like I didn't give him some warning. I went to the seance party dressed as a Piper, and still he didn't catch on to my plans. In his narcissism, he thought I admired him so much I just wanted to dress like him. I was standing there with my hand out for him to pay me and, duh!, he still didn't get it. What a thick-skulled, egotistical dummie he was! He made a rotten investment on Wall Street that cost him plenty. I bloodied some pages entitled "The Piper at the Wall" so you can read about him. The Piper always looked on the bright side of things, and that's what I will miss about him. He used to tell me, "Well, at least I can't die twice." He was wrong.

Honestly, I have to admit having a corpse in the kitchen does make the coffin a bit funky. You know what I do when the coffin gets smelly? I go out for a little air, even do some night fishing. Oh, you think the dead don't fish? Well, I can prove they do. A couple of friends of mine, JR and JB, stopped by the other day to tell me all about their fishing trip.

What a wonderfully creepy time we had discussing illusions. JR and JB were telling me the downside of illusions is they can really get away from you if you're not careful. I recorded their adventure on my tape recorder illusion and finally got around to scribbling it down. It's entitled "Gone Fishing, Really Gone."

The library is one of my favorite spots in my coffin. It's where I keep The Blood Account Book. I found it, remember, in a silly shop in Upside St. Augustine. Your name is written in blood on one of the pages, by the way. No, I didn't write it there. Ok, maybe I did write it there but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. It won't do you any good anyway to worry. I'll tell you what it means later when we meet in the flesh. Oh, I would love to show you Vampyres Vault. You could join me there in a seance party. If you've got the guts that is. And if you do have the guts, well I hope you can keep them.

Talking of Vampyres Vault really brings back memories for me of when I first discovered it. Some really creepy vampyres hang out in that vault. And they so like to hit on me, if you know what I mean. First time I was there I saw some prophecies written in blood on the wall. Well, I was in such a hurry to escape that moldering, dank ole' place, that I only had a chance to read one of them. Later on, of course, I went back and read the rest. But the first one really surprised me. It's called "The Tombsday Prophecy." I will tell you more about when we finally meet in the flesh, which will be soon, I hope.

I want to introduce you to my new friend Stumbleblock. I warn you, Stumbleblock is a little bit odd. According to the psycho-analysts at the Beulah Land Home for the Clinically Strange, he suffers from post-traumatic haunt syndrome and he is also bi-molar. His fangs are coming in at the back of his mouth. In short, he's done way too many hauntings and his development as a vampyre is stunted on account of his lack of frontal fangs. He conducts a mess of a ghost tour, though, that you don't want to miss.

Enough about me. Oh and by the way, you might want to buy a deadbolt, not that it will help all that much. If the vampyres find out about you, a deadbolt may give you just enough time to escape, but I doubt it. And get some Garlek. Just FYI.

InDark,

Clarissa

Most of us are familiar with the interesting story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin. As I mentioned in "The Editor's Coffin," I knew the Piper personally. He was my sweetheart until he refused to dance to my tune. The best thing about the Piper is the tasty chilled munchies he makes. By this I mean, he doesn't make the munchies himself, he actually is the munchies.

Anyway, to continue with the story, the townspeople hired the Piper to help rid them of the rats. In one version of the story, the Pied Piper hypnotized the children instead and led them into a mysterious land, where they were hopelessly lost without his guidance. There, he held them ransom until the villagers paid a huge amount of gold to get their children back.

The Piper made a fortune and continued on to the next village where he ran the same scam on the people there. Happily for the Piper, there were plenty of villages to loot in his clever way. Nothing lasts forever, though. I know what became of the Pied Piper.

The Piper grew tired of his success and began to look for other ways to profit. With the money he had piled up from kidnapping children, he decided to invest on Wall Street. Unfortunately for him, the mortgage business had recently imploded. He only just missed out on the opportunity of the lifetime to profit from subprime lending. Just as he was about to leave town and go look for some villages to plunder, he received a call from his financial advisor about a new investment banking opportunity. What a good one it turned out to be!

Investment bankers want to purchase "life settlements." These are the life insurance policies sold by ill and elderly people for cash, the amount they receive depending upon when they expect to die. If they are to die very soon, they receive more money as opposed to malingering for awhile. The investment bankers will secure these policies by packaging hundreds together as bonds. Then, they will resell the bonds to investors, who will profit when the people die. The sooner the person dies, the bigger the return. If some should live longer than expected, the investors will get a poor return and maybe even lose money.

The Pied Piper knew this would work because he recognized the tune. It was the same one he always played, but now the bankers were playing it. He wanted to get in on the ground floor because the scheme was certain to hypnotize investors. As soon as the life insurance securitizations made it onto the street, the greedy were sure to follow in crowds.

But the Pied Piper forgot one important thing about making this decision to be bullish and invest in people dying sooner than later. When he buys into this investment, whether he profits does not matter because he secures his result. The time will come when even the Pied Piper has to pay the Piper.