He stood just near the club’s steps, his back to me along the foggy English night, and it was not until I’d passed him and began my ascent of the many steps that I’d heard his voice. The voice I knew, in all my years of living upon the Earth, that I would never forget. Even then I had known this. It was the slippery way of his tongue, or perhaps it was the coolness of which his words passed across the air and slid its way into my ears as though they were only meant for me.

Westley stared at him carefully. “Victor…I understand how you must feel but the rules Dracula upheld—”“Were the same very rules that allowed the Dark World to fall,” he finished coldly.

I have seen a stunning amount of death and destruction. Creation yes, but more death than birth. Mankind has learned nothing from their forefathers. Their ancestors. It is true what they say: history does repeat itself, Delacroix, and those after history are left to make it, but how can they,” he removed his hand from the globe, waving it thoughtfully through the air, “when it has already been made?

I do not know…who turned me, your Grace.”His downcast gaze said it all: How terribly sad.For she had known all her life as a Vampire it was most…disgraceful to never know the one who turned you; that was where a Vampire could find a sense of great peace amidst the life that was the constant need for blood. She had only passed by these remarks, this cloud on her person for being ‘Princess of the Vampires,’ Dracula’s special child…

My name is Patricia Lauren Bordeaux, and I, like my creator before me, am a very lonely vampire.

Make no excuses for the devils that will not excuse you of their burdens, Miss Crane." - Darien Nicodemeus; Chapter Sixteen - The Giant's Return