“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.”

“Tears fled her eyes as she ran, and they slid into her ears, but she did not wipe them, no, she pressed forward through the many trees, keeping her eyes upon the large shadow that flew forward, almost guiding her out of the woods, but that was preposterous – so why am I following it?What do you mean why are you following it? It’s the only thing that’s putting distance between you and those...monsters back there!But what about Lord Delacroix?What the devil about him?He tried to keep you safe – he truly did attempt to save you—And what did that get him? Crushed by a damned Lycan – again!But I should still go back to save him....I should keep moving!But he’s saved my life – I can’t let him die!Technically, he’s already dead, Alexi....Goddamn it all!Run – run now – come back when you’re safe!Come back? With who?!Help, of course!Where on Earth am I going to find help?!”

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

“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 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…”

“So – I am n-nothing more than – than a bloody job?! On top of not knowing why you must look after me – you only jumped at the chance to help me because your – that V-Vampire thought you couldn’t?! What are you, some – some child?!”“I am no child, human!”“Oh I would not have thought so,” she breathed condescendingly sending his blood to boil despite the ring, “if it were not for the fact that only children react so wondrously juvenile when faced with such a choice! You bargain my life over a show of bravado! And where is your brother, Christian?! He has not been here to see your brilliant work as my watcher, has he?!”

“Alexandria,” he began, the name lingering on the morning air as though it did not belong amongst trees, but instead somewhere much safer, much more enclosed.“Christian,” she breathed after her name had remained uncomfortably within his ears for a most distressing period of time.The tears in her eyes had begun to fill quickly and more tears fell as she stared upon him expectantly, and he was quite suddenly aware that a drink of blood would be most desirable to ease the sheer uncomfortable edge he felt with her stare.”

“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.”

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

“He tore his gaze from the door to eye the medallion at his chest, black and dull, sharply offset by the gold around it and along the chain. She was losing this war, he thought, feeling the dullness of Eleanor Black’s dread swarming against his dead heart where the medallion fell. She was losing it and it did not matter who won: We would cease to be no matter the outcome.”

“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?”