The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

However, the author is best known for her series of historical horror novels featuring the Byronic vampire Saint-Germain, loosely inspired by the real-life eighteenth-century French count of the same name. The first book in the cycle , Hotel Transylvania: A Novel of Forbidden Love appeared in 1978. To date it has been followed by thirteen sequels : The Palace, Blood Games, Path of the Eclipse, Tempting Fate, Out of the House of Life, Darker Jewels, Better in the Dark, Mansions of Darkness, Writ in Blood, Blood Roses, Communion Blood, Come Twilight and A Feast in Exile. A spin-off sequence featuring Saint-Germain's lover Atta Olivia Clemens comprises A Flame in Byzantium, Crusader's Torch and A Candle for D'Artagnan, while the author's short fiction has been collected in The Saint-Germain Chronicles and The Vampire Stories of Chelsea Quinn Yarbro.

" When Robert Eighteen-Bisang of Transylvania Press approached me about doing a 500-copy limited edition collection of my vampire short stories, he asked if I would do a story for that specific volume," recalls Yarbro; "he said he would like it to be a Saint-Germain story and, if possible, have some reference to Dracula. At the time, I said yes to the Saint-Germain part, but told him I doubted I could manage Dracula as well, since the two vampire concepts were so very different as to have almost nothing but Transylvania in common .

"Toying with the possibilities, I finally hit upon Henry Irving, Bram Stoker's boss. I had a look at a few references about him, hoping to find a time I could slip Saint-Germain into his life. The beginning of his career seemed more attractive to me than when he was well-established, as well as giving an indirect link to Stoker, making Saint-Germain someone Stoker might hear about but never meet.

"This story was the result"

Outside it was dank and clammy; inside it was stuffy and over-warm. The clerks in the merchants' emporium office yawned as the afternoon ran quickly down to the early falling November night.

"Do you lock the door, John Henry," said the oldest of the clerks to the youngest, exercising his privilege. "No one will come at this hour."

John Henry Brodribb got off his stool and bowed to the senior clerk with a flourish that amused and annoyed the other clerks; John Henry was known for his lavish, theatrical manner. He pitched his voice to carry. "Whatever you desire, Mr Tubbs, it is my honour to perform for you." His accent was a curious mix of London public school flavoured with a broadness that might be Devon or Cornwall. He was long-headed and lanky with the last remnants of youth; he was three months shy of his eighteenth birthday.

Before he could reach the door, it opened suddenly and a man in a black, hooded cloak stepped into the office, looking like a visitor from another age; a monk from the Middle Ages, perhaps, or an apparition of a Plantagenet in disfavour with his cousins. "Good afternoon. Is Mr Lamkin available?" he asked in a pleasant, foreign voice, taking John Henry's startled surprise in his stride. There was a suggestion of a glint in dark eyes within the shadow of the hood.

"Is he expecting you?" asked John Henry, recovering himself adroitly, and doing his best to match the style of the man.

"Yes, but not necessarily at this time," said the stranger. "I have only just arrived in London, you see." He threw back his hood, revealing an attractive, irregular countenance, fine-browed and mobile if unfashionably clean-shaven; his hair was dark and waved enough to make up for his lack of mutton-chop whiskers or moustache. Although he was somewhat less than average height, he had a presence that was commanding no matter how amiable his demeanour; it originated in his dark, compelling eyes.

"Mr Lamkin has left for the day," said John Henry, glancing towards the door of the office of the man who handled the firm's overseas business. "He will not be back until Thursday next. He is bound for Southampton, to inspect the arrival of a cargo of muslin."

"From Egypt or America?" asked the foreigner with enough curiosity to require an answer.

"From Amer" John Henry began only to be interrupted.

Mr Tubbs, the senior clerk, intervened, shoving himself off his stool and hastening towards the newcomer, prepared to take charge of the unknown gentleman. "I am Parvis Tubbs, the senior clerk; good afternoon. May I, possibly, assist you, Mr ?" He waited for the stranger to give his name.

"Ragoczy," he answered. "Count Ferenc Ragoczy, of Sain"

John Henry cut him short with enthusiasm. "Ragoczy! Of almost everywhere." His eyes lit and he flung out one hand. "I've been copying your accounts, sir, and let me say you are by far the most travelled gentleman of all those buying from us abroad. You have holdings in Bavaria, in Saint Petersburg, in Christiania, in Holland, in Italy, in Prague, in"

Mr Tubbs stopped this catalogue. "I am certain Mr Ragoczy does not wish his affairs bruited about, John Henry."