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in crypts and open
graves! It is sad that in this, the twenty-first century, myths and
superstitions still hold sway.”
    “Yet, despite centuries living among humans,
we remain misunderstood, invisible, unspoken of. Do you know, no
U.S. President, nor, indeed, the leader of   any   nation
in the world, has   ever   said
the word Vampire? How is that possible? Do we not walk among
humans? Do we not eat and sleep and breathe and work and pay taxes
like humans? Do we not work to save the planet and cure the ills of
humans? How is it then that we are not spoken of, that we have
no   voice , that we have
no   human rights ?”
    “The only reason humans have not enslaved us
as they have enslaved so many others throughout history is that we
are stronger and more clever than they. So, instead they plan to
separate and   contain us. Right
now, there is a proposal before Congress to detain and intern us in
camps. These camps are in the most barren and desolate lands you
can imagine, surrounded by high chain-link fences forged from pure
silver. In these camps, we Vampires—stripped of money and
possessions—will be penned in like so many luckless beasts in a
zoo. But, I tell you, the Vampire nation   cannot   and   will
not   be contained!”
    A cheer rose from the crowd of Vampires.
    Under cover of the noise, a very tall, thin
human wearing a cassock stole into the square behind Malcolm.
Malevolent and unattractive, his drawn face was beet-red. He was
without eyebrows or eyelashes, and his hair had been reduced to
stubble upon his mottled head; he looked as if an attempt had been
made to pluck him.
    “They call us bloodthirsty but they are the
ones thirsting for blood—Vampire blood!” Malcolm thundered jabbing
at the air with his finger.
    Suddenly, the man in the cassock rushed the
podium brandishing a long silver sword with a wooden hilt in the
shape of the cross. As Malcolm leaned forward to address someone in
the audience, the man grabbed Malcolm’s stiff hair, and yanked his
head up, exposing his neck. The assailant towered over Malcolm,
shouting, “In Jesus’ name I do this!”
    He swung the sword against Malcolm’s throat.
Malcolm’s head separated from his body. His body crumbled to the
ground in a heap as the man swung the severed head in victory.
    Malcolm’s eyes opened wide in horror as he
stared at his body-less head on the Jumbotron. The microphone and
earpiece were still in place, and, wincing he spoke, “No, not in
His name! I   knew   Him. He would not have wanted this.
I   know . I was one of his
disciples. I was…” Malcolm’s eyes drooped closed, and his mouth
hung open, the jagged teeth exposed.
    A mix of horror and fright contorted the
assassin’s face. “Blasphemy,” he screamed shaking with righteous
indignation. “Blasphemy,” he repeated, this time less loudly, less
surely. Hundreds of mockingbirds swept across the sky, pink tongues
curling out of their long, thin bills, as their great wings blotted
out the moon, turning the gray-blue evening sky midnight black.
    The Vampire who’d been sitting closest to
the podium sprang to his feet.
    “Vampire rising!” one of the Christian
protesters screamed, pointing.
    The rest of the Vampires unfolded themselves
and, rising, filled the square with motion: spinning, legs licking,
long arms whipping the air like windmills, fangs bared. Gurgling
screams erupted as white teeth, sharp and serrated, malignant with
purpose, tore into delicate throats. Blood, untasted, splashed on
the ground, the waste a sign of contempt.
    Gray mists, like living shrouds, rose from
the ground where the Vampires and humans fought. The mockingbirds,
repeating the sounds of tearing flesh and falling blood, seemed to
be singing a dirge.
    Fleeing the square, and running across the
promenade, frantic to escape the Vampires’ wrath, humans climbed
over bodies torn and slick with blood. The Vampires, like black
avenging angels, chased after them, tossing aside the