INTRODUCING VLAD, THE VAMPIRE WITH HIS FANGS ON THE PULSE

Forgive Vlad for refusing to live in the past. While it’s true he was stronger and more

agile, disposing of the bodies was cumbersome, a necessity with a diet that is very specific in its

nutritional demands.

The six-hundred-something vampire prefers a less chaotic life, gladly sipping on

questionably obtained blood pouches rather than indulging in meals that, inevitably, would lead

to torches, pitchforks, and hasty relocations.

He’s found Upton Arms the perfect place to live out his years. He enjoys being among his

contemporaries, those whose proclivities made them round pegs in the square hole of life. Many

of the relationships he’s formed surprise him.

“Until I met Luis, I thought werewolves were filthy beasts,” Vlad recounts. “All teeth and

claws, no taste for the finer things. They’d as soon feast upon a raccoon or a pretentious

Millennial without second thought. Yet Luis often uses appropriate flatware with meals and

knows what a napkin is for. I’ve even seen him use it properly, if not as frequently as he should.”

Vlad has also developed a fondness for Darnell, a taciturn zombie who rarely socializes,

as well as Beatrice, a witch who cares more for others than she prefers to let on. The vampire has

developed a tolerance for Patrick, an irritable leprechaun whose mind is as narrow as his

acceptance of others.

Upton’s laid-back routines – at least when fairies aren’t causing commotions with gossip,

rumors and glitter – has helped Vlad find a rhythm he hadn’t known before.

“It was an adjustment,” he notes. “Back in the day, I’d rise at the crack of dusk and

wonder who I’d have to kill that day to have a nice meal. The hunt, the chase, all the pleas of

‘Don’t kill me, I have children, what about that guy across the street.’ Exhausting. At Upton, I

can sleep in, have a leisurely blood pouch either stolen or purchased on the black market. Best

thing is no one dies. Mostly.”

While life is simpler for a man who witnessed the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution,

and the rise of social media, his most difficult struggle has been with time itself. Not simply the

aching shoulders and creaky knees, but the slow dwindling of powers once vital to his survival.

No longer can Vlad sprout wings and take to the night, the effort resulting in a painful

rash around his shoulder blades. Nor can he mesmerize anyone, even if all he wants them to fly if

he’ll buy.

“To be honest, I bought into that immortality crap for centuries,” Vlad admits. “Now I

find myself yearning for early-bat specials, and hitting the casket two hours before sunrise. Still,

it’s nice to have a routine that doesn’t adversely affect mortality rates.”

Read more about Vlad and his friends in “Upton Arms: A Retirement Home of

Supernaturals,” available Oct. 7, 2025, everywhere books are sold.