(Scribbled on a ragged bit of parchment smelling of salt and fish)

Mate- shipment was sent. Can't think why it's gone missing. Arranged a disguise as planned- decided on cough syrup- nice 'n innocent. You should 'ave received a large shipment of cough syrup last week. Can't think what's happened. I'm dropping off the elf in the woods across from the castle, so will visit then. Stay calm. Jack.

*********

Memo.

To: Count Vlad Dracul

From: Mrs Primms, housekeeper.

My Lord,

I am writing to inform that we are running low on table napkins. Knowing your Lordship's and Mr de Lioncourt's preference for pristine table-ware, I feel I should draw to your attention the habits of Mr Varney. The lower quarters are now festooned with the creative results of Mr Varney's inability to use a napkin properly. How he manages to chew them into paper-chain figures of dancing children is a mystery, and loath as I am to bring to your attention a deficit in the behaviour of one of your kin, I also have a duty to the linen cupboards, and the image of the household to maintain, as I am sure you can appreciate.

Sincerely,

Mrs Primms.

**********

(From the pink-paper, Myrrh- scented diary)

Monday, December 29th.

Been having a most ghastly week. Well, not ghastly, more confusing, but one thing was ghastly. The beast! The brute! The savage! The- weak-willed slimy toad!!!!! No number of exclamation marks can possibly erase the fact that Louis Pont du Lac is a cretin, a liar and a cheat. After telling me over and over, after I made him promise that there never was, and never will be, anything between him and that slut, Lestat, I get called into a room by Lestat, to see Louis kissing him.

I swear tongues were involved.

Maybe one peck on the cheek would be forgivable since they are, after all, French, but that was no peek on the cheek. That was full-on lip-lock.

I have not spoken to him since, and if it wasn't that he feels more comfortable when he's feeling bleak and miserable, I might get some satisfaction from the moping and drooping he's done since then.

If things were complicated enough, Ruthven signed a note to me on the 19th 'lovingly', and has been the model of courteousness since then. My heart gets all fluttery when I think about how nice he's been about the Louis thing- steering me away from that lily-livered excuse for an undead, talking me for moonlit walks, and passing me amusing snippets from the Dark Press as entertaining diversions. He's a perfect gentleman, and I think he's sanest of the lot (apart from me, of course). Such a pleasant man.

I don't know what to think any more, I'm sure I don't.

Yesterday Selene came to visit. Turns out that she and I have a common ancestor- making us some form of distant cousin. Even more odd, she also shares an ancestor with Varney. He's been leaping about her like an enthusiastic puppy, and she has been very good with him, really, playing with his rabbits, taking him for walks and playing computer games with him. She doesn't smile much, but she seems very grateful to have found some kin. If only the Ricean vampires weren't all so much of a mess (and cads, liars and sluts), then they might be helpful to show Selene that angst for vampires is more a state of being than a state of mind. She arrived with a tall and handsome vampire called Kraven who was wearing a sort of beaten-dog look. But he left soon after to go and pout under the moon. I'm not sure the NIC showed it's best side when she arrived- Dracul hasn't stopped gibbering since Radu baited him at breakfast 4 days ago about Mina (again), Radu is still on his adolescent kick of cough syrup and elf-gambling and was doing a moody, pouty thing in a corner. Lestat was looking far too thoughtful, and had one hand on Louis' shoulder. Louis looked like he'd been made to swallow daylight. Armand and Marius are absent at the moment. Spike was standing under his framed certificate, stroking it in a manner most disturbing. Jean-Claude (down for a few days) was lounging on the nearest chaise-longe being graceful and moody-pouty. Thank goodness for Ruthven, who at least took Selene's bags and bid her welcome and leave some of the happiness she brought with her. Varney sat on a stool by the door and made 'beep' noises, then giggled, when anyone passed by.

She's very into black PVC. Several eyebrows got raised at that. Hmmm. Might have to invest in some myself. She had a hulking great brunette with her, too. At the door she kissed him goodbye and he loped off with a petite black-haired male. I smelled werewolf on them both. Well, at least it saves on sheets.

It's very nice to have another girl to talk to, although Lestat's roving eye has started to swivel again. I did him a service by bundling off Katrina- but I'm still so mad at him, I don't think I'll warn him about Selene. I saw her unpack. Not even Van Helsing's misguided family carries such an arsenal. She told me a girl's got to be careful these days, and has promised to give me lessons with her Colt pistol in the woods. Cute. I said we could go elf-baiting, and she smiled. She's pretty when she smiles- very pretty. Now, now, Carmilla, that sort of thing got you into trouble last time.

Have decided to keep Ruthven to myself- Selene told me she's very taken, so have had to pass on regretful decline to R re: moon howling. Have suggested I wouldn't mind giving it a go…

********

(Written in a once-grand leather-bound tome with the word 'Dierey' imprinted in gold on the front)

minaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaall work and no play makes Dracul a dull boy all work and no play makes Dracul a dull boy all work and no play makes Dracul a dull boy all work and no play makes Dracul a dull boy all work and no play makes Dracul a dull boyminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminaminamina

(etc)

********

(Journal of Varney- daubed in sticky fingerprints)

Very odd week. Breakfast started it and everyone was odd. Odder than usual, that is. Carmilla looked really mean at Louis. Louis looked almost joyously misar- misrib- sad. Maybe they are playing sado-masochistic sex games to spice up their love life, which I wouldn't know about because I haven't been hiding in Lestat's room and I didn't read his sex manual hidden under the bed.

Radu came in late and all baggy-eyed and cross again. He's a poor looser, me and the elves agree. He still owes me 50 badgers from Strip Snap a month ago.

He started having an argument with Dracula, and made Dracula all upset over Mina (again). She must be some girl to do that between such loving brothers.

Ruthven looked like he might be able to have a chat, but when I leaned over, he stoppered my mouth with a napkin. It tasted like the rest-a bit starchy. I don't think he likes to talk at breakfast much. But he does like to talk about women's underwear. I've heard him at it alone in his room. I can't get in there to hide, so I listened at the door. "Oh, yes, yes, black lacy panties…." I looked in the keyhole, but all I could see was Ruthven doing Irish tap dancing with the panties on his head. And people say I am odd.

I am not odd- I am unique. Jean Claude said so. I like Jean Claude; he gives me blood pudding sweeties to suck when he comes by.

I have a new friend! Selene is lovely. She's very solemn, but she's a nice girl; just a bit unloved, I think. We played on Louis' X Box, and she's almost as good at hiding as I am. We hid when Louis came back to his room to stare into a mirror and murmur "End of it all, black, black, Claudia… Claudia…" then he picked up a rose and wandered out again. Selene asked me if it was quite right to play with Louis' X Box when he's not there, and I said of course it was- he was always too depressed to play with it much and it needs playing with regularly to keep it well exercised and healthy. She nodded and asked if Louis was alright. She actually asked if 'Mr Pont du Lac' was alright, so I was confused at first. She's so delightfully formal- what a gem! She seemed to 'feel' for him- she said she felt sorry for him and knew what despair could be like.

I have never felt despair, and if it makes me dress in lace and not play with my rabbits, I don't think I want to, either.

********

Notice of bills due: Messers Twitchett and Tuck

Invoice to: Count Dracula, NIC Castle.

Payment is now due on the following items:

2 pair Spanish linen underpants

2 pair Chinese silk stockings

1 pair cambric breeches

2 pair Egyptian linen suit trousers

2 suit jackets- same

2 pair Chinese silk pyjamas, embroidery extra

Total: £2890.56

With thanks.

(Note handwritten on the bottom in Ruthven's hand:) Dracul- you seen this? Little Radu has been on the spender again.

********

(Scrawled in French with a flamboyant hand in a black leather-bound journal)

Monday, 29 December 2003

Mon dieu! Life can be so complicated!

First, most wonderful to relate, I manage to steal a kiss from Louis, resulting in the rather wonderful break-up of his foolish relationship with that Carmilla woman. Now he is mine again, all mine! And with Armand away, I can enjoy mon beau cher uninterrupted.

Second, it turns out Louis is having too much fun being miserable, and refuses to see me, and won't let me near him. I see him walking with the red, red rose, passing it over his exquisite lips- oh, how he burns me up inside. I know he does it on purpose. I know he does. He wants me, of course he does. The little tease. I shall have to devise a more cunning seduction.

Then- horrors!- it turns out that Spike is a more important player in this game than I first considered. He claims to have proofs of a foolish escapade into Radu's chamber. I cannot remember what it was that made me so mad as to dally there. I see it now; I see it written in my own hand. I think I was possessed. It is true; I'm too sexy for my ghost! Enjoyable as it was, it was foolish, and if Spike cannot be placated, he might pass what evidence he has to Louis, and all is lost. Even worse- merde! What if he passes it to Armand? I could be in mortal trouble from the brat.

And to add insult to injury, Spike has received confirmation from URS, the Undead Registration Service, that he forms a new breed of 'post-modern' vampire. He has framed the damn letter and certificate, and I have to pass it every time I pass the gallery. He moves it around, too, and stands nonchalantly beside it, stroking the frame when anyone walks by. The bloody URS have reduced my kind to a mere footnote for this upstart! Calling it the "Heir to all of the Byronic grandeur and Ricean emotionality." WE ARE NOT OVER EMOTIONAL!!!!!! At least we have style! We don't need to be verified by some academic, officious ponce in a badly cut, cheap little suit in a poky cubby hole somewhere. I am thinking of writing to the Dark Press about this, at the very least. I shall have the UVS (Undead Verification Services) and VCE (Vampire Council of Elders) investigate this. Despite the attractiveness and Gothic splendour of young Selene and the brooding, masculine power of her companion, Kraven (who hasn't been seen since a brief greeting- a pity, for he would be a grand consolation prize for this broken-hearted vampire), I have to disapprove. A letter arrived for her, too (God knows how the URS knows they are here), giving her the same 'post-modern' designation as Spike. I mean! They don't even use surnames, even! Post-modern is so cliché, such a dry, undignified classification. And what a ridiculous name; 'Whedonian'. 'Ricean'- now, there's a name to inspire respect, a name that is masculine and powerful. We WON'T be mocked, we WILL have respect, we WILL overcome!! We WILL, WE WILL, WE WILL!!!!!!

I am quite put out. I shall have to have a manicure and a long, warm, rose-petal bath to recuperate.

********

(Note in an elegant hand postmarked 'Lorien' and faintly scented)

My dear Radu-

It's time to pay up, sweet bonny youth. Captain Jack Sparrow has paid a call, returning a highly excited Prince Legolas. He was mentioning how a valuable shipment of his, labelled 'cough syrup' has gone missing. Now, we all know your favourite hard tipple while you are playing at cards, young Radu, and unless you want to feel the sharp end of a pirate's temper, I suggest you pay up what you owe.

Be a dear. I don't want to send Haldir and the Heavies over unless I have to, and I'm sure no one wants to resort to the Prozac, do we?

Just a gentle reminder, your debt now stands at 23% interest NET.

Sincerely,

Galadriel, Lady of the Golden Woods.

********

(Note hastily scribbled and pushed under Varney's door)

Varney, old chum- in a tight spot, can you lend me some cash?

(Returned a good deal damper under Radu's door a while later)

Sorry, Radu, Dracula told me not to give you any more money. He suggested that "being hung by your own toenails" for a while would be good for you. Sounds like fun. Can I watch?

(Email sent.)

To: EmeraldFlame1766@NIC.net

From: Pinkfluffycloud@NIC.net

Subject: Pictures.

Monsieur Pont du Lac,

Please return to me the pictures I entrusted you with regarding the joint modelling session we undertook for my close friend. Please also return the pictures from the previous modelling session as not suitable for public consumption. I paid for and claim all rights to such property, and I would appreciate a speedy reply.

Please also return my fluffy bunny slippers. If you like them so much, ask your boyfriend to get you a pair. I want what's mine.

Sincerely,

Countess Carmilla Karnestein.

To: Pinkfluffycloud@NIC.net

From: EmeraldFlame1766@NIC.net

Subject: Re: Pictures

Carmilla, at last you have contacted me! I am aflame with shame and I want only to talk to you! I am miserable without you, and it's not all good misery, either. I liked being happy with you, that is how much I love you. Please don't break up with me! Don't leave me alone! I can explain- it's all wrong, and there is nothing between me and Lestat. He thinks there is, but there isn't, I swear! He isn't my boyfriend- that was a most cruel thing to write.

I will drop your slippers by your door in the hope of catching a glimpse of my lovely Carmilla-chick.

I never received the pictures from the courier, I thought maybe they had been sent directly to you, but Armand looked awfully smug that evening, so he might know something. Sorry I can't help more.

I shall stay by your door day and night until I can perhaps once more be allowed a stray beam of your eyes to fall upon and illuminate my wretched soul.

Yours forever,

Louis.

To: EmeraldFlame1766@NIC.net

From: Pinkfluffycloud@NIC.net

Subject: (None)

I am astonished and disgusted. After your last email I thought perhaps we could forgive and forget, but, no! I open my door to find Varney curled up around my slippers. When I awake him, he tells me you wandered off in a daze. I follow his finger and it is towards Lestat's room!! And I peer through the door and I see you drawing his bath!!!

This is it- you slimy cad! No more!!! We are through, goodbye!

Bat Express Telegram

From: Marius de Romanus

To: Lord Ruthven

Nearly home STOP Great time in Bavaria STOP Very tasty people STOP How's things? STOP Amadeo impatient STOP So am I STOP News on pictures? STOP

Bat Express Telegram

From: Lord Ruthven

To: Marius de Romanus

Hell breaking loose STOP Dracula in nervous breakdown STOP Radu in severe debt STOP Spike wants to kill Radu STOP Carmilla split from Louis STOP Louis caught with Lestat STOP Louis claims drugged STOP New visitor cute STOP Jean-Claude too French STOP Varney well STOP Situation normal STOP