Plot devices are very strange and mysterious things, I have always felt. What could the odds possibly be of my being given mints of anti-vampirism, instead of the many thousands of other things they could have been? But I shall not question the fluke that allowed me to return to being my usual self, rather than living for all eternity as some sort of genial, English Lestat.

After we had arrived at a modest Hotel 666 at the outskirts of the horror genre, we checked into our room and, after eating a couple of the aforesaid pastilles, I felt the sudden and strong urge to sleep, which I obeyed. When I awoke the next morning- well, in truth, it was the early afternoon- I was pleased to find that my fangs were almost completely retracted, and my skin had taken on a much more natural colour. However, I was surprised to hear voices coming from the other room. I dressed as quickly as I could and went to see who could be visiting, and soon beheld a young, cheerful naval officer sitting opposite my wife, in animated conversation.

"I'm glad you are finally up." said the latter, rising to meet me. "William has been here for several hours now and I was beginning to fear that you would miss him altogether!"

"Yes." said my brother-in-law cordially. "Fanny tells me that you have had some very interesting adventures lately, and I'd like to hear all about it."

Of course I obliged him, and related the events of the last few weeks with as much drama as I could, though I fear that my delivery might have been less the animation of a storyteller as the steady but dull recounting of a parson.

"How interesting." said William, though I could tell that his mind had been wandering a little during my tale. "But you know- I've done something of that sort myself. Did I ever tell you the story of how I came by your amber cross, Fanny?"

"I don't believe that you mentioned it."

"Well then, if my cousin doesn't mind my taking up a chapter or so, I would be happy to tell it."

I had no objection, and did not feel up to supplying my own adventure for a little while, so he proceeded. I know that it is highly irregular, but so great is my regard for my in-law that I simply must give his tale a title of its own, and I hope you will pardon my taking this liberty.

Portsmouth Price and the Castle of Reasonable Peril

"It was a dark and stormy night-"

"That beginning sounds very familiar…" I thought, glancing at him. He blushed, as if he knew that I had found him out, but continued.

"At any rate, we were off the coast of Sicily when a terrible storm arose. We were very lucky that we were able to land our ship with only moderate damage and no loss of life, but we found that we were miles away from where we had planned- in fact, we had no idea where we were at all. A small group of us set out the next morning to try to find a nearby town where we could buy foodstuffs and supplies to repair our ship. We looked for some time, but didn't find either a town or really anybody at all. At last we came to the top of a steep hill and found an old ruined castle, just like you read about in Mrs. Radcliffe's books. There was nowhere else for us to go, and by that time it was beginning to be dark, so we decided to go in and see if there was a place where we could pass the night. I said before that it was ruined, but it wasn't long before one of the men discovered a stone staircase leading down into a secret passageway or dungeon beneath. Of course, our curiosity wouldn't allow us to ignore it, so down we went into pitch blackness.

We continued in this way for some time, until I happened to spot a hole in the wall that seemed to lead somewhere else. The chaplain and I were of the last in the party, and requested leave to go have a look inside, which was granted. Stepping through the hole, we found a large room that probably hadn't been used for centuries, since everything in it was covered in dust. We searched the room thoroughly and I found a very pretty little enameled box on a table in the middle. No sooner had I taken it though, but at least ten of Buonaparte's soldiers suddenly burst into the room. I don't understand French, but my friend said that they were demanding the box I was holding, as it had something very valuable inside it. Of course, I couldn't just give into them (what sort of Englishman would I be then?), but we couldn't fight them all at once either, so we ran for one of the other doors, leaving them shouting something or other at us and trying to follow."

"Good heavens!" said Fanny. "Didn't your comrades come to your rescue?"

"No- we found out later that they had been taken captive- surprised them, I guess. But as I was saying, they followed and we ran for what seemed like ages, until we no longer heard their voices behind us. We were very happy that we had lost them, but soon realized that we ourselves were completely lost.

'"What shall we do?"' asked my friend.

'"I suppose there's nothing for it except to keep going until we find a way out."'

'"The Price is right! -err… sorry, William, but I have been waiting for a chance to say that…"'

And so, other than a few cheap pop-culture references, we went on for a minute or two in silence, and all the while went deeper and deeper into the dungeon. It would be dull to tell you of all of the traps that were meant to kill us along the way, but we were near death by impaling, poisonous insects or ninjas at least a dozen times."

"Why would there be ninjas in Sicily?" I asked.

"Umm… maybe Buonaparte imported them from Japan- you know, as his secret weapon!"

"Then why do we never hear of them being used in any battles, or as spies?"

"Ninjas are very stealthy, you know."

"So stealthy that they have never been mentioned in either any contemporary accounts or modern day history books?"

"Whose story is this, anyway?" asked William pointedly, and I allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

"And so, after we had battled the ninjas and escaped from an enormous boulder that came rolling down at us for no good reason, we finally found ourselves outside, not far from a large bonfire where another group of Frenchmen were gathered. We crouched down behind a low stone wall, but of course nobody bothered to look behind it, so we were safe. Just then they brought out a few captives, which I immediately recognized as our crewmates.

'"Do you have a plan?"' I asked my friend.

'"Creating a distraction usually works well for this sort of thing."' he said, and ran off to do just that, waving his arms and yelling (I assume) French insults.

While the soldiers chased him around angrily, I went over to my mates and cut them loose, since they were bound and gagged, as is customary. You would think that a few would have stayed behind to guard them, but fortunately they had been making free with the wine and didn't have much common sense by the time we got there. We escaped into the night and were eventually joined by my friend the chaplain, and happened to come upon a village the next morning, where we were able to get supplies and a ride back to the ship. When we arrived, we found that it had already been repaired and was just waiting for us to depart. It was only after we had been at sea a couple days that I remembered the box that I had picked up. Inside, I found a very fine amber cross-

'Just the right gift for Fanny.' I thought, and so I kept it safe in my chest until my return to England."

"So my cross is a stolen artifact?" asked Fanny with some shock.

"They would have taken it if I hadn't." said William. "Besides, I thought that you liked it."

"Oh believe me, I do, and it was very kind of you to think of me, but did you ever learn why the French wanted it so badly?"

"I didn't wait to ask them!"

"I wonder what it does, then…" she pondered, fingering the pendant, which she was wearing on a bit of ribbon.

I am sure that some of my more fastidious readers will question the truthfulness of my brother-in-law's narrative, but all I shall say is that in spite of his including some slightly odd, anachronistic details, at least no one can accuse him of lacking imagination.