CKBERG@UGA.cc.uga.edu (Cathy Krusberg)

            Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                  by Catherine B. Krusberg
 
                       INTRODUCTION
 
 The first seventeen parts of this verse adaptation were
 posted in spring 1994; they were all I had completed at the
 time.  I've finally versified the remainder of the movie,
 using the same scheme.  (I've also slightly revised material
 previously posted; hence the repost of parts 1-17).  The
 first part of the adaptation shows more influence of the
 Streamline dub than I'm happy about; I got away from that
 more in the second half, I hope.  Parts 18-31 are not as
 finely wrought as the first half -- you can tell I was
 working under pressure, as the same words get used a little
 too often in the rhyme scheme -- but for me the verse still
 preserves the spirit of the film in its own stylized way.
 
 The poem is, I must stress, an *adaptation*.  Although it
 should be intelligible to anyone, it will probably be most
 palatable to those who have seen VHD once or twice and have
 the basic set of images and actions to match what I have
 written.  If you've seen VHD again and again (or as I have,
 again and again and again....), you *will* notice
 discrepancies from both the original Japanese and the
 Streamline dub.  In addition to altering dialogue to
 accommodate meter and rhyme, I have added various touches,
 such as giving more depth to some characters, to enhance
 pacing and atmosphere.  I have also made some additions for
 the sake of continuity (e.g., the forest D gallops through
 en route to Castle Lee, which *is* there when he leaves).
 More information on what I changed and why can be found in
 the afterword; putting it here would give too many spoilers
 (and make the introduction too long ^_- ).
 
 I have taken a few liberties with descriptions of
 characters.  In the movie, D's eye color seems to be gray or
 blue (when it can be discerned; in the cel reproductions I
 have seen, his eyes are blue), but I have given him green
 eyes to match his auburn hair -- although his hair is not,
 in fact, consistently auburn.  (I think it's whatever shade
 of brown came out of the paint-pot next.)   The nature of
 Rei Ginsei's dark, heavy necklace was revealed to me in
 Julie Froelich's fanfic "For One Day's Rule" (_Anime House
 Presents_ Vol. 1 [1988]).  Julie, if you ever read this:
 Thanks.  For more than you know.
 
 
 A LITTLE ABOUT THE MECHANICS:
 
 I have used tetrameter (four-foot lines) throughout, varying
 the meter in an attempt to capture mood, using iambs (for
 example) to slow action or build suspense.  Count Lee
 *always* speaks in iambs; I hope it makes him sound
 suitably "dead."  I started using an abab rhyme scheme
 wherever Ramika appears but found this too taxing; only her
 speech (whole quatrains) is consistently abab.  (Well,
 almost consistently.)  Rei Ginsei's speech alliterates, in
 honor of alliterative Germanic poetry (as in the original
 _Beowulf_, although I have not observed the alliteration as
 strictly as the _Beowulf_ poet did).  This has made his
 dialogue a bit stilted, but I find the effect not
 unpleasing.  Of course, maybe that's because I'm infatuated
 with Rei.  (He's sooooo good-looking!)
 
 
 SOURCES
 
 My sources include _Vampire Hunter D_ untranslated; VHD
 fansubbed; the Streamline dub; the Dayton Animation Club VHD
 script (ftp-able from the venice site); and a synopsis from
 an unauthorized VHD mook (which, incidentally, I would love
 to get my hands on; I worked from a xeroxed copy of it).  I
 surmise that this last work is based on the novel(s), as it
 contains a number of details that are inconsistent with the
 anime; it is my source for background of the VHD universe.
 
 While I confess responsibility for a number of peculiarities
 of interpretation, the matter of the movie itself must be
 credited to Hideuki Kikuchi, author of _Kyuketsuki Hantaa D_
 (Vampire Hunter D) and subsequent novels in the series of
 the same name; Yasushi Hirano, the _Vampire Hunter D_
 scriptwriter; and Toyoo Ashida, director of _Vampire
 Hunter D_.
 
 When _Vampire Hunter D_ was released (1986), three novels in
 the Kyuketsuki Hantaa D series had been published; as I
 input this (spring 1995), there are to my knowledge nine
 novels plus a book of side stories -- all in Japanese, none
 translated; all feature cover paintings and b/w interior art
 by Yoshitaka Amano, who was also the character designer for
 the anime _Vampire Hunter D_.  I surmise that the anime was
 based on the first novel of the series.
 
 
 DISCLAIMER
 
 My _Vampire Hunter D_ adaptation is a work of fan fiction
 and as such is not intended to infringe on any rights
 associated with any other version of _Vampire Hunter D_.
 I *love* this movie, warts, continuity flaws, and all --
 well, how else could I have ground out nearly 200 K of
 rhymed verse that does little more than retell the story?
 ^_-
 
 The Certifiable Vampire Hunter D Fanatic
 Cathy Krusberg
 Internet: ckberg@uga.cc.uga.edu
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                   by Catherine B. Krusberg
 
  *****************************************************************
   From the animated movie _Vampire Hunter D_.  Based on the novel
   by Hideuki Kikuchi; script by Yasushi Hirano.  Directed by Toyoo
   Ashida.  English-dubbed version adapted, produced, and directed
   by Carl Macek; English-language script by Tom Wyner.
  *****************************************************************
 
                           Part 1
 
 She stalks in the night, in the blue of the moon
 That turns slender grass blades to silver and black
 As they whip side to side in the huntress's path:
 Soft rustle before her, dead still at her back.
 
 Her steady tread murmurs a rhythm of life;
 Two braids, moonlight-silvered, sway time with her stride;
 Between them, a cross-pendant hangs at her neck,
 Lest darkness should take her and make her its bride.
 
 Her gun couched and ready, its bayonet leads,
 And indeed there is cause: a loud rustling ahead,
 A cracking of branches, a juice-sucking crunch:
 She turns and runs toward it, then looks and stops dead;
 
 Upraises her free hand to thumb a remote:
 With a click and a buzz blue light pierces the dark
 From one side, then another; again from a third;
 A great head whips about in a teeth-and-spit arc.
 
 Monstrous hate swiftly narrows the tiny red eyes
 Deep-set in blue scales, as the lizard's thin lip
 Draws back from white scythe-blades that half-hide a tongue
 Growing tense in a snarl, and with fruit pulp a-drip.
 
 Its bayonet levelled, the gun speaks its piece:
 A laser-ray strikes; the beast opens its jaws
 To spit flame in return; but the huntress can dodge
 And shoot yet again without trace of a pause.
 
 Tongue lolling, the great lizard flees with a squeal;
 Heavy toes thud away as the bright shots go wide
 Of the ostrich-like form that recedes in the dark,
 And the huntress half lowers the gun at her side.
 
 Her head alone turns, whipping braids through the air
 In two pale half-haloes; she lifts her free hand
 To teeth and tight lips; whistles clarion-clear
 In a long, falling note: a shrill, wordless command.
 
 "Luke!" she calls; a white head is tossed high against stars,
 With its thick flaxen mane flying up higher still
 For a half-moment frozen, a sunburst of hair,
 As Luke neighs his reply at his mistress's will.
 
 Pale hooves pound the grass; he need not even slow
 As his rider leaps on, clapping heels to his sides.
 This swift pace is enough; she is almost in range
 Of the creature that flees faster still as she rides.
 
 She leans low and couches her rifle to aim:
 One shot pierces the neck in a spatter of red;
 A second bursts through the reptilian heart,
 And a third blasts the top off the sabre-toothed head.
 
 Now eyeless and brainless, the creature runs on
 For a few shortened strides, as if fast-moving death
 Flows from head down to body, to sharp-taloned feet
 So the great carcass falls with its last snort of breath.
 
 It quivers once and then lies still.
 Luke halts beside the outstretched tail
 And bows his neck, at ease once more;
 His mistress' aim could never fail.
 
 His rider swings to touch the ground
 Her bayonet now pointed low
 To pierce hard scales; she leans to watch
 Blood fountain, well--then cease its flow.
 
 One fewer stalks of beasts that steal
 Fruits meant as food for humankind.
 The rider turns to faithful Luke,
 For now relieved in heart and mind;
 
 Caresses muzzle velvet, white;
 Luke speaks a soft horse-tone; she sighs.
 All four eyes close in welcome rest,
 So neither sees the great neck rise--
 
 Still eyeless, still brainless, with jaws open wide
 The huge beast rises up, then swoops down on its prey.
 The blade-curved white teeth pierce Luke's flesh at the neck,
 Lift him up, fling his mistress aside in blood-spray.
 
 As a red flood streams over the once-proud white neck
 Down limp, helpless legs, drips from hooves to the ground,
 The rider half-rises: "Oh, God, it's got Luke!"
 Horror-stricken, recovers her feet in a bound.
 
 At her belt is a whip, leather-brown to the eye
 But shot through with magic; she lashes it out
 With a whistling whir, so it leaps to attack
 The impossible dead thing, and forth like a gout
 
 Of blood from a vein pierced by arrow or sword
 From its tip flashes white-pink; a fierce rope of light
 Buzzes, glowing with power; enwraps the great neck:
 The jaws loose their grip, showing teeth red and white.
 
 Luke falls to one side; to the other the beast.
 No sooner than scales touch the grass comes a shot
 That parts head from neck; three more blasts leave no trace
 Of cold blood, flesh, or bones: only smoke, rising, hot.
 
 "Luke!" cries the brave huntress, recalling her mount.
 She starts to run toward him; stops short as she sees
 The white corpse lifted up in long, slavering jaws
 Of the half-human brute that stalks forth from the trees.
 
 "A werewolf!" she gasps.  "Oh my God!  Get away!"
 Its yellow eyes glow as it growls through the blood
 That flows from Luke's shoulders and past its curled lips,
 Thence to stream to the ground, turning earth to red mud.
 
 Its long gray fur bristles, and nearer it leans
 To stretch forth one talon with delicate grace,
 Pluck the chain at her neck so it snaps like a string,
 And the cross falls from sight in this desolate place.
 
 Luke still in its teeth, the great man-beast leaps high;
 The young woman falls backward, as over her head
 It is gone in a bound, and she half turns to see
 Its form blend with the night, disappeared as if dead.
 
 A silence fills the moonlit world;
 She slowly looks from side to side.
 All nature seems to hold its breath:
 At thunder's voice, her eyes grow wide.
 
 Bright lightning flares; the huntress turns
 Again, and now her keen eyes mark
 A scarp's peak where a figure stands
 Enwrapped in black as night's own dark.
 
 She knows the face--*She knows the face*--
 "No--go away," she murmurs low,
 And rises, rifle firm in hand,
 Fires at the figure; in the glow
 
 Of shots that strike its dark-wrapped chest
 With burst on burst of radiant red
 Its eyes shut tight against the glare,
 But that is all; the white-haired head
 
 Turns not nor bows; the gun is still.
 Its wielder in her thoughts can see
 The talon sharp, the parting chain--
 Her cross, now but a memory.
 
 She lowers the useless rifle now
 From angled high to muzzle down.
 Her blue eyes glare; her mouth grows hard,
 Fair features set in a lowering frown.
 
 Above her head the craggy face
 Relaxes: eyelids slowly part.
 Black iris-dots meet blue-eyed gaze:
 A silent threat to chill the heart.
 
 Like coals on ash that seem extinct
 Until they feel a gust of breath,
 Then burn with red, devouring life,
 So changed unblinking eyes of death:
 
 First black on white and wide to stare
 Upon the human form below,
 They narrow slowly; from within
 An undead fire begins to glow.
 
 Like a sunrise from hell that penumbrates a storm,
 So the old eyes grow brighter, and not far beneath,
 Lips writhe back in a smile, and the jaws open wide
 As a soft growl escapes past the lengthening teeth.
 
 Now the figure's arms move: with a slow, practiced grace
 Of millennia born, one extends to the side,
 Then the other; below them, the spreading black cape
 Rustles soft in the breeze as the arms hold it wide.
 
 He speaks at last in deep, dead tones:
 "You know my name: Count Magnus Lee.
 You know I long have ruled these lands.
 You know that beast belonged to me.
 
 You know the payment I exact
 From those who dare to doubt my might.
 Yet, for your beauty, I demand
 A trifle less than is my right."
 
                         End Part 1
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 2
 
 Ten thousand years the world has aged
 Since wars drove mankind from the light:
 Long centuries beneath the earth,
 A shield from radiation's blight.
 
 At last--or so the story goes--
 Some stalwarts overcame their fears
 And ventured forth to view the land
 That sheltered them for years on years.
 
 They met a brave new world indeed,
 Of cities rebuilt wall by wall;
 Of mutants that could pass for men;
 Of vampires ruling over all.
 
 "Dark Lords" the creatures call themselves,
 And in this world they hold great power,
 Yet they are subject in their turn;
 The vampire culture, like a flower
 
 Has bloomed a time and now must fade,
 Inbred to weakness; age begins
 To overtake the vampire lords
 And humankind now slowly wins
 
 Its cities back; Dark Lords retreat.
 Some die who cannot learn new ways,
 And some are killed, and others flee
 To strongholds of their former days.
 
 In cities now the humans rule,
 But in removes and on frontiers
 Stand castles with obsidian spires
 Unchanged through all a vampire's years.
 
                               |
          --==////////////////[}}====*
                               |
 
 From roots within a chasm dark,
 A castle black as night stands high:
 Arch and buttress, drawbridge strong--
 Spires, arrows dark against the sky.
 
 Below, stones pierce the drought-cracked plain
 From bedrock roots grown sheer and sharp:
 Black summits, like dead adder's fangs
 Above a field of brown-gray scarp.
 
 At plain-edge, overhanging cliffs
 Stand stark and gray; their shade defines
 The borders of Count Lee's own land
 With twilight dim, not hard-drawn lines.
 
 Above the cliffs is earth indeed:
 Mountain and forest and grassy plain
 Where, through the farmland green with crops,
 Feet, hooves, and wheels have worn a lane.
 
 Twin dusty tracks split field from field,
 Sometimes run straight and sometimes wend
 In graceful curves through hill and dale,
 And each horizon seems its end;
 
 But even as the sky's broad dome
 Grows high-noon blue or twilight gray,
 Or red when clouds surround the dawn,
 Or black as sunlight goes away,
 
 But never ends, so rolls the road:
 It widens, narrows, darker grows
 When rain meets dust; becomes a ford
 To make its way where water flows
 
 Or nearly seems to disappear
 As the land grows flat and hard and dry,
 So a rider must have vision keen
 To see where the long day's route may lie.
 
 Each who would travel must choose his own road
 With the knowledge that knowledge is what we all lack
 Of the course of the path: We can only know this:
 That one's own road forbids that a rider turn back.
 
                         End part 2
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
 
            Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 3
 
 From road-end rises a figure dark,
 Its outlines blurred by midday haze:
 Hat brim, high collar, and shouldered hilt
 Slow reveal themselves in the noontide blaze.
 
 A shadow falls about the form
 From the broad-brimmed hat that splits the face
 To dark above and pale below
 Where sun and passion have left no trace,
 
 But broader still are the crown-spread tips
 Of the collar surmounting the long blue cloak,
 Now and then entangled in auburn locks
 That the wind caresses like wayward smoke.
 
 At the rider's chest runs a simple row
 Of red triangles; it has a twin
 At the hem that travels from boot to boot,
 To the saddle's cantle and down again.
 
 Strong brown-gloved hands guide a cyborg horse,
 Steely of hide, its red-lit eye
 As bright as the rounded ruby shapes
 Seen at breast and shoulder and hip to lie.
 
 A fierce wind blows over the green of the fields:
 It seems Nature's own breath can inspirit tall grass
 With the rhythm of life: see it bow, straighten, bow,
 To acknowledge the power of what it lets it pass.
 
 On the brown double track stand sharp-toed boots
 Of the huntress in daylight, her feet astride
 The dry-grassed median, fists on her hips,
 Braids flapping like pennants, fierce blue eyes wide,
 
 Skirt short as the sleevelets that leave her arms bare
 She seeks to hide nothing--except--yes, except--
 Just above the cross-pendant she wears once again
 A round brooch, a broad choker: the secret is kept.
 
 At the hilltop before her a shadow appears
 Like a dark sunrise growing, hat crown and hat brim;
 Collar spread like two horns, and a long sturdy hilt
 At the shoulder; its blade must be heavy and grim.
 
 The horse's eyes glow, and its bushy black mane
 Nearly hides the horned buckle that bears a green stone
 At the tall rider's waist; the wind blows his long hair
 Past the shadowed eyes sought by the huntress's own.
 
 At the crest of the hill the black hooves rest foursquare;
 The steel horse murmurs softly; far louder the snap
 Of the reins that lie loose in long curves by its neck
 As the hard-blowing wind makes them rustle and flap.
 
 Blue eyes challenge the shadow: "No beggar can ride
 Such a beast; but your clothes bear no sigil or sign
 Of a master.  So you are a Hunter for hire?"
 She receives no response but the wind's endless whine.
 
 "Can you speak?" she demands; the wind tugs at his cloak;
 Dark folds flutter and float as it blows them about.
 He sits tall and unmoving, head forward a bit,
 And below on the road blue eyes harden with doubt.
 
 "That's a strange sword indeed, with its snake-twisted guard.
 Can the rest be as fine as the hilt that you bear?
 Is your hand half so good?  Are you swordsman enough
 To defend such a blade as its haft claims you wear?"
 
 No response meets this sally; her ready right hand
 Grabs the whip at her side, lashes out its brown length,
 And the magic it bears lifts her feet from the ground
 As she flings its tip upward with all of her strength.
 
 From the brown tip spring tendrils: first pink as raw flesh,
 They grow stronger, extend with a buzz, lightning-like,
 Glowing paler to white as iron ready to flow:
 Four bright lines of power, each snake-poised to strike.
 
 Now she swings her arm forward; the tendrils reach out;
 As one flies past his face, the dark form moves aside
 By a handbreadth, then straightens: "Nice move!" snarls his foe;
 And the lines spread, surrounding him, netlike and wide,
 
 Then leap inward, ensnaring: one wraps at each wrist
 Glowing red-brown to pink; then a third at his chest:
 The fourth skims past collar and under brown hair
 To encircle his neck, like a python at rest.
 
 Booted feet touch the ground, and the huntress glares up
 The long brown-to-pink line from her hand to the face
 Where she sees no emotion or thought to resist,
 No surprise and no anger; of fear, not a trace,
 
 And she digs in her heels: "Can you not even fight?
 I shall see you dismounted, your fine cape and hat
 In the dust: you'll surrender your sword to my hands,
 You incompetent coward--What say you to that?"
 
 Then she yanks in the whip, pulls with all of her weight.
 The lines brighten, grow taut, give their molten-iron glow.
 In the weird phosphor-light time and motion seem stilled,
 Teeth are gritted, lines pulled hard--and something must go.
 
 Snap-snap!  One wrist, another, is freed as the lines
 Louder buzz, then fall parted and melt to thin air.
 Snap!  His chest is released and the face still unmoved.
 Snap!  The fourth strand dissolves from beneath the long hair.
 
 The huntress falls backward and lands with a grunt
 And a gasp in the dust, open-mouthed can but gape.
 Harness jingles and creaks as the black hooves stride past;
 Forward gazes the rider, wind ruffling his cape.
 
 "Wait!" the woman calls out, feet beneath her once more
 As she rises, ignoring the dust she has gained:
 "You are no common hunter, with no common prey--
 God, how could I have known--" and she pauses, voice pained--
 
 "Vampire Hunter!"  At these words the black hooves are stilled,
 The cloaked rider impassive beneath the bright sun.
 "Wait, don't go--please, I'm sorry!  It's true I lacked cause
 To attack you--I see that you are such a one
 
 As can help in my trouble.  I had to be sure
 That you were no coward; too many I've seen
 Who gave promises bold, but no more could they do.
 May I hire you?  I need you--your service, I mean.
 
 Look--" her voice nearly breaks, and she touches her throat,
 Pulls aside the broad choker, her head turned away.
 "This is where--Magnus Lee--placed his kiss on my flesh."
 Livid marks speak details she cannot bear to say.
 
 Unmoving she stands; the tall rider dismounts,
 One gloved hand takes her chin, turns her head left, then right.
 Blue eyes closed, she protests not; soft sounds from her throat
 Are the only response; she will not flee nor fight.
 
 Through the gloves he can sense it; she speaks but the truth.
 The long fingers glide lower, and two slip between
 Injured flesh and dark velvet, let shadowed eyes probe:
 That a Dark Lord has wronged her can clearly be seen.
 
 "What's your name?" he asks softly; these are his first words.
 "Doris Lang," is the answer.  "Can you help my cause?
 I can pay you, don't worry--it's true I'm not rich--
 But for three meals a day--" she must blush then and pause
 
 To avert half-closed eyes "--and for me, for my bed
 That you'll share if you wish--will you take on this task?
 I'd prefer anything to a vampire's embrace--
 I just want my own life!  Is that so much to ask?"
 
 The tall figure crouches, gaze level with hers,
 Hair still teased by the wind, dancing over his face
 In long, slow-writhing tendrils, the shadowed eyes wide
 With fierce, tacit acceptance.  "There is no disgrace,"
 
 He says, not unkindly, "In what you've endured,
 Except to this vampire; it's those such as he
 That I live to destroy.  That is payment enough.
 Doris Lang, I shall take on this Count Magnus Lee."
 
                         End part 3
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 4
 
 Sheep dash through a field, bleating loudly in fear
 As they jostle each other, their slit-pupilled eyes
 Growing glassy with panic; close-trailing the flock,
 At the heels of a straggler, their nemesis flies:
 
 A thirsty red mist, an elongated globe
 That stretches itself as it shimmers in flight.
 A pseudopod glows, reaching over the back
 Of its woolly, doomed victim, now bathed in red light.
 
 As the mist touches fleece, laser-shots pierce its shape,
 Blasting over the flock; the bright mist gives a leap;
 Splits into four parts while deflecting the bolts
 From its plasma-like substance; alas for the sheep--
 
 The shots strike it instead, crisping flesh to the bone,
 Stripping ribs of their cover; wool flies through the air
 Freed from hide by the heat that makes ichor of blood;
 The four dark legs crumple; unseeing eyes stare
 
 As the quartered mist braids itself; red streamers dance
 Like smoke-ribbons about the bright shots that would kill
 Flesh and blood like the sheep, like a man or a beast,
 But leave plasma unharmed; and the air is now still.
 
 A boy lowers his rifle, eyes frowning, intense;
 Dark hair somewhat astray, as if lifted and tossed
 By the wind of the plains that the mist-creature rides
 To the distance to vanish, to sight and aim lost.
 
 "Damn it," murmurs the child; then his watchful brown eye
 Sights two figures: the first one he knows and loves well--
 But the second!  A tall man, face shadowed, cloak huge,
 Horse steel-skinned; and his sword-hilt bespeaks a blade fell.
 
 "Sis!" he calls, as the two riders rein in their mounts,
 The gray tossing his head twice by way of a sign
 Of resentment at slowing-- "Is all well with you?"
 Doris nods and responds with a single word: "Fine!"
 
 At the Lang barn the stranger offsaddles his horse,
 And the brown-haired young Dan quickly steps to its head:
 "Let me help--this mount must be terrific to ride--
 A DL-4 cyborg!"  When no word is said
 
 By its rider, his saddle draped over one arm,
 Dan grips the beast's reins near the bit, holds them tight,
 And continues, "You don't seem to have much to say.
 Dr. Fering once told me--I hope this is right--"
 
 The rider walks into the barn side-by-side
 With the boy, who is leading the bright-eyed steel gray
 And speaks on: "There are two sorts of men who are quiet
 And generally have very little to say.
 
 One sort is the kind who are busy with plots
 To do wrong to some other, or planning to lure
 Harmless beings to evil; I know there are such,
 But you are not like them.  I know it.  I'm sure.
 
 "You must be the second kind: One who is good
 And knows actions speak louder than words and will say
 Only what is important.  --Your horse is safe here--"
 In a roomy box stall-- "I hope this is okay."
 
 From the door of the barn the tall rider called D
 (It will pass for a name) now surveys the wide field
 Watching sheep herded home like some hoofed, bleating cloud.
 He speaks not; but he wonders what nightfall will yield.
 
                  :
           *//////{<>==================-
                  :
 
 Once a month the Langs travel to town for supplies.
 It is thus the scene opens on Doris's cart
 As it rattles along, D with Dan in the back;
 It is something to do; indeed Doris takes heart
 
 From the newcomer's presence; while she guides the horse,
 Young Dan sits by their guest, both feet firmly in place
 On the floor of the cart; but his quick sideward glance
 At his hero new-found sees the half-shadowed face
 
 (That nearly returns it), arms on the broad chest,
 One boot on the planks and one angled in air.
 Dan pulls one leg (his left) to rest over his knee,
 Then his own arms he crosses.  The two make a pair.
 
 Past wooden buildings, crooked now
 With age tight-packed, the cart rolls on;
 At every roof-peak stands a cross,
 Gray relics of a time not gone.
 
 A fountain's music patters loud;
 The cyborg pony dips its nose
 Into the water; to an edge
 Of town square step three figures, those
 
 Three very different, each from each:
 One tall and heavy, oxen-strong
 With piggish eyes and earrings gold;
 One weasel-faced, short, versed in wrong;
 
 Between them strides one born to lead
 A jackal-pack or peacock-herd.
 He downward glances to spit out
 His cigarillo; speaks one word:
 
 "Doris!"  Then Doris looks up in surprise,
 And her blue eyes grow wide as she takes in the sight
 Of this elegant dandy, his faultless blond hair,
 Each strand coiffed to perfection, each curl watch-spring tight.
 
 White ruffles topped by a round blue stone
 Spill down his chest, between lapels
 Of coral-brown, and at his hip
 An iridescent sheen that tells
 
 Its owner's wealth--if not his aim.
 Brown skin-tight pants wrap slender legs;
 Their stirrups hold white spats in place,
 And patent-leather brightness begs
 
 That passers-by admire each foot--
 But Doris can see none of this.
 She does not care for costly show;
 Her keen blue eyes entirely miss
 
 The fruits of time his tailor spent
 Form-fitting seams for hour on hour;
 She sees behind the ice-blue eyes
 The face of wanton lust for power.
 
 "Greco!" For no other word will suffice;
 Greco nods: "And perhaps it is true, what they say?
 I think we should talk--"  "About what?"  "About that--"
 And he gestures at D-- "But not right out here, hey?"
 
                     ,
                  =={==========-
                     `
 
 Greco's friends flank an alley's mouth; not far within,
 Doris stands back to bricks, does not try to pretend
 To have patience for this: "All right, what is it *now*?"
 "Dear, you needn't be angry; you know I'm a friend,
 
 And you know very well what I'm talking about.
 I can see by your face--and the choker you wear--
 That you can't hide it all: You're to old Count Lee's taste,
 And he's bitten your neck.  You can't hide it--so there!"
 
 Doris snorts in disgust.  "What to you if he did!"
 "Now, now, sh," Greco cautions.  "You might upset Dan!
 And that wouldn't do.  You're so stubborn, you know.
 This is one of those cases that calls for a man!
 
 You should have called me."  (Doris rolls her eyes here.)
 "I can get all you need, for the mayor's my dad.
 I could hire vampire hunters--the best!--all you want!--
 And instead you've found *that*?!  Ah, it's really too bad.
 
 This is no situation for someone like you;
 You're a beautiful girl--I'll forgive and forget
 All the things that you've said and the things that you've done,
 If you'll just let me help, like a dear little pet."
 
 Greco swiftly leans forward, lips pursed, eyes half closed;
 Doris meets them indeed--with a hard-knuckled fist.
 Let the lout learn his place!  Greco staggers back, stares:
 She won't get any younger--it's time she was kissed!
 
 "Ow!"  He rubs his sore lips.  "Why'd you go and do that?
 Are you crazy?"  "Far from it--and not about *you*."
 "But--but--Doris!  I want you--to have what you need.
 Just a favor!  My friendship--and services too."
 
 "A favor?  No, thank you.  I know what you *want*.
 And what kind of 'service' you think that I need.
 Keep it all to yourself--all your favors and lies."
 "Doris, when you're so angry, you're pretty indeed."
 
 Greco lunges at Doris, once more kiss-intent.
 She dodges; his face smashes into the wall.
 "So you want to play rough!"  And he goes for his gun,
 But Doris is faster; she need not use all
 
 Of the powers of her whip; the brown part lashes forth,
 Unadorned by the magic all strong foes demand.
 Though gun-muzzle has barely cleared holster it strikes,
 Knocks the mother-of-pearl from his tightening hand,
 
 Then wraps its dull length at his ankles; he gasps;
 Doris gives it a tug; Greco's arms flail in vain.
 His feet skid from beneath him, and capping his fall,
 Alley filth smacks against his luxuriant mane.
 
 Then the whip frees itself, reeling back to its place
 With a whispering whir, coiling tight as it can.
 Doris slaps it to holster and gives a soft "Hmf!"
 Then she turns on her heel, to resume the day's plan.
 
 Greco's weasel-faced crony regards her return;
 He peers into the alley, brow furrowed in doubt,
 And a scant moment later is shoved to one side:
 Greco, back on his feet, dashes forth to speak out.
 
 Cupping hands to his mouth, he shouts into the square,
 "Listen, everyone!  Count Lee is seeking a bride!
 Doris Lang has been tainted--look under that band!
 You'll see marks of his work that she's trying to hide.
 
 And she hasn't stopped there--see the man at her cart?"
 Greco gestures in triumph at D's moveless form.
 "Vampire Hunter!  She's hired him--you know what that means!"
 And in silence that only can presage a storm
 
 All gazes converge on D's shadowed blue cloak.
 Then Dan turns to Doris.  "Sis!  Say it's not so!"
 Greco smirks; Doris gives him a look that could kill,
 Then turns to her brother: "We've places to go."
 
                         End part 4
 
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
            Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 5
 
 The street was still when Doris drove
 Her cart to town through dusty ways,
 While checkers-players whiled away
 An afternoon of sultry haze.
 
 The faded storefronts now survey
 A crowd that, like a hive of bees,
 Hums, near the courthouse window pressed,
 Each ear, each eye, prepared to seize
 
 Whatever hint of news may flit;
 Talk runs from tales of bygone days
 And old Count Lee to Doris Lang
 And to the stranger's silent ways.
 
       -|----      ----|-
 
 His stern and heavy face outlined
 By muttonchops gone mostly white,
 Runsilva's mayor sits in state;
 He wears judicial robes by right,
 
 For he has led the village folk
 Through good and ill; each one can tell
 Of Mayor Gorman's foresight keen;
 His guidance long has served them well.
 
 They look to him and to those two
 Who stand by him, to either side:
 One is the sheriff, somber-clad,
 Young-faced, yet known as true and tried.
 
 The other is a gray-haired man
 Of stature short and figure slight,
 With thick-lensed glasses, silver-rimmed,
 Face lined with years, but gray eyes bright.
 
 Physician, teacher, village sage
 Is Dr. Fering; he is friend
 To Doris and the mayor both,
 Unhappy that he must contend
 
 With loyalties in conflict now:
 He must protect the people here,
 But Doris, with her parents' death,
 Became his charge, to him as dear
 
 As if she were his child in truth;
 He looks in on her when he can,
 Although she lives outside the town,
 Alone except for brother Dan.
 
 The mayor speaks: "And is this true,
 What may be only Greco's guess--"
 (Here Greco winces) "that you are
 A Vampire Hunter?" D nods: "Yes."
 
 Now Greco grins and Fering draws
 A short, pained breath between his teeth.
 It's just like Greco: count on him
 To act from motives far beneath
 
 Contempt and still smell like a rose.
 Thus thinks the doctor; but it's Dan
 Who tightly hugs his sister's waist
 And speaks as plain as children can.
 
 "You're cowardly, Greco--you wouldn't speak out
 If Count Lee came to town to suck everyone dry!
 You're just mad at my sister because she's got taste
 And she gave you the brush-off--we all know that's why!"
 
 At which Greco goes livid, teeth bared in a snarl,
 Leaning forward and clawing the air in his rage:
 "You damn little brat!  You'll be paying for this!"
 But his father says quietly, "Son, act your age."
 
 And Greco reins his anger in--
 Just barely.  "Father!  Hear him speak!
 Insulting me--"  "My son, enough.
 We are together here to seek
 
 The truth, not salve your wounded pride.
 Now go--before real trouble starts."
 And Greco (with a backward glance
 That says "I'm not done yet!") departs.
 
 "We must uphold our village laws,"
 The mayor says; "With this in mind,
 Our elders made tradition firm:
 All tainted thus must be confined."
 
 Internment camp!  None speak the words,
 But apprehension on each face
 Reveals the knowledge they all share
 Of a half-forgotten dreadful place.
 
 The mayor to the sheriff nods,
 And Doris sees through blinding tears
 His fingers curl about the chains
 Of shackles gone unused for years.
 
 Dan steps before Doris, his arms open wide.
 "I won't *let* you take her and lock her away!"
 Doris gazes astonished at young Dan's resolve
 To protect her in spite of the laws, come what may.
 
 And Fering speaks: "I must agree.
 That camp's unfit for man or beast,
 And better left alone; it's gone
 Unused for fifty years at least."
 
 The mayor shakes his hoary head:
 "You know there is no other way."
 But Fering leans on Gorman's desk
 Intently: "I will have my say.
 
 Have you forgotten?  I have not--
 Events of fifty years ago,
 Why none have gone into the camp
 For decades now.  I do not know
 
 How you could risk that history
 Repeat itself.  Perhaps I might
 Remind you of that time long past.
 A woman marked with Count Lee's bite
 
 Was taken there to be confined.
 When Count Lee learned what we had done
 His anger know no bounds; he came
 For vengeance and killed thirty-one
 
 Of our own folk, not sparing age
 Or youth or strength--I was a child,
 But I remember all he wrought,
 The corpses by his touch defiled,
 
 Their blood not drunk but left to run
 From gaping wounds his talons tore.
 I still can see the staring eyes
 In broken faces--"  "Say no more,"
 
 The mayor snaps.  But Doris speaks
 Despite full eyes and quickened breath.
 "About the woman--what of her?"
 "She soon went mad and found true death."
 
 So Fering answers, voice gone grim
 To tell this; but he will not lie.
 D breaks the silence: "Will you wait?
 A vampire's victim need not die
 
 Nor be a threat to anyone.
 Delay until I've done my work.
 To kill the one who tainted her
 Will cure this ill.  I shall not shirk."
 
 "But what if you in fact should fail?"
 The mayor thus addresses D,
 But Doris answers: "I shall leave."
 To which Dan adds: "And she'll take me!"
 
                         End part 5
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 6
 
 The month's supplies must still be bought;
 While Doris shops, D waits with Dan,
 Who sits upon the cart's hard floor
 And weeps as softly as he can.
 
 D sits on one wheel rim, his gaze
 Upon the cobbles, softly clears
 His throat: "Dan, hear me."  Dan looks up
 Too fast to try to hide his tears.
 
 And at a store some doors away
 A little group enjoys this chance
 To gossip at the keeper's desk.
 The door slides open; every glance
 
 Flicks up, then, even faster, down,
 Or to the side, or anywhere
 But into Doris' wide blue eyes
 As she walks in with Fering there
 
 Beside her.  Sudden silence falls
 About the counter as the two
 Walk past, then part, perusing shelves;
 For most within it will not do
 
 To stay for more, and they skulk out
 In twos and threes; the storekeep stands
 Distracted from his green-lined books:
 He's got a crisis on his hands!
 
 "Afternoon, Mr. Waytry," says Doris with cheer
 (And her back to the exodus at the front door).
 "I'm here for the usual, food for a month--
 Fertilizer--some cans of--"  "Stop there.  Say no more.
 
 I'm sold out of everything you've come to buy
 Or you even might want."  Doris whirls toward him, stares.
 "But you know that's not true!"  And then Fering steps in:
 "As would anyone, Waytry.  You've no lack of wares."
 
 "But if I have her business, I'll lose all the rest!
 Look how everyone's gone--and there's cause for their fears.
 They think that a vampire's a patron of mine."
 Fering gapes, and poor Doris must hold back her tears.
 
 Through tear-blurred eyes Dan looks upon
 The vampire hunter's blue-cloaked back;
 The spreading collar, long sword-hilt;
 The auburn hair, the shadow black
 
 His broad-brimmed hat casts far indeed.
 "Weep if you must," he tells the boy.
 "More evils wait for both of you;
 I hope in time I shall destroy
 
 The vampire; that is my sworn task.
 You have a duty in this, too.
 Your sister needs what you can give:
 Your hope and strength; it's yours to do
 
 The things that are within your power
 To keep her spirits up; you know
 What those things are; you know her best.
 The count has struck a heavy blow
 
 Against her, and she needs your smile.
 Hold back your tears as best you can
 When she is near, for all our sakes;
 I need your courage also, Dan."
 
 Could D need *him*?  Dan longs to ask,
 Yet, in some way that words can't state,
 He knows the truth.  He dries his tears:
 Like D, he'll be content to wait.
 
                         End part 6
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 7
 
 True dark has fallen on the land.
 As in the town, so in the fields:
 Tall crosses dot the rolling hills;
 All know the power that Count Lee wields.
 
 And other creatures haunt the night:
 A jellyfish that swims in air
 Floats toward the Lang house, meets a field
 Invisible--but that it's there
 
 Is proven by the creature's fate.
 Steel boxes hum; the creature tries
 To pass between them; with a *zap*,
 It's gone.  The sight meets Doris' eyes
 
 But does not truly register.
 She might be glad the field's in place
 To keep the Lang home safe from harm
 If she had fewer trials to face.
 
 Near an upstairs window Doris stands,
 Regards the night she does not see;
 She rubs her neck, re-pins the brooch,
 And turns from thoughts of Magnus Lee
 
 To Dan, asleep, bedclothes astray.
 She tucks him in, eyes full of love.
 He gently stirs; meanwhile, downstairs
 D doffs his hat to hang above
 
 His blade, upon its guard that rests
 Against the wall; his face now seen
 Unshaded seems both mild and grim:
 Firm-featured, eyes intensely green.
 
 He sweeps his gaze about the room,
 Past stairs and mounted, antlered head
 To portraits of the senior Langs:
 A man and woman, both now dead;
 
 And fixed upon their own broad frame
 Beneath the portraits weapons hang,
 A handgun and a long, curved sword:
 The relicts of the House of Lang.
 
 With great care D lifts down the one
 He favors, in its dark, slim sheath:
 Its hilt is not so fine as his--
 Before he tries the blade beneath
 
 He sees the guard, two flat L-shapes
 Conjoined, offset; a Cubist snake
 Of steel, hard in his brown-gloved hand.
 He walks across the room to take
 
 A seat upon a well-used couch.
 His knees he crosses; steady, now.
 He pulls the blade a handbreadth out,
 Admires the steel; he savors how--
 
 "Heeheehee!"  It's a voice he's heard often before,
 And it turns his heart bitter; it's too like his own.
 "What's the matter with you?  You've been acting so strange!
 Now let's see--"  It takes on a school-masterish tone:
 
 "You're defending that girl, and I can't fathom why;
 And that isn't enough--let her take you to town--
 Then her brother you treat to a man-to-man talk.
 Do you have a crush on her?"  An ominous frown
 
 Has appeared on D's face; he resheathes the bright sword
 With a click.  "That's ridiculous."  "Well, that may be--
 But she offered herself--she's a virgin, you know--
 That should please you as much as it does old Count Lee,
 
 Whom you've sworn to destroy.  And that's all you can think:
 How you have to be true to your own blood-stained path."
 Sword in hand, D now rises and crosses the room,
 And the voice chatters on: "Don't go turning your wrath
 
 Onto *me*.  I'm the bearer of tidings you know!"
 D replaces the sword and examines the gun,
 Still unspeaking.  "You're lonely as any old fiend
 Who's entrapped in a castle; you cannot claim one
 
 Single lover or helpmeet or friend--except me."
 D pushes the cylinder out of its place
 And a voice from the stairs rips the web of his thoughts.
 "There you are," Doris says.  D does not raise his face
 
 But examines six rounds that he hopes are still good;
 He unloads them, reloads them, his two brown-gloved hands
 Moving slowly and steadily; Doris half-sees
 What he does as she crosses the room, and she stands
 
 Near his side; first she studies his features intent,
 Then his hands; then the portraits that hang on the wall
 Like two sentinels solemn, or two chaperons
 Ever-watching: "I wanted to thank you for all
 
 That you've done in the short time you've been with us here.
 And for talking to Dan.  He admires you, you know.
 He's been trying to cheer me."  D makes no response
 But replaces the gun, turns from Doris to go
 
 To the window; he pushes the curtains aside.
 Doris says, "You're a Hunter.  My father was, too:
 A hunter of werewolves; an expert; the best.
 But he didn't hunt vampires, and he never knew
 
 How to fight them.  He said that it took special skills
 That he lacked."  She joins D peering into the night.
 It's not black: overspreading the trees and the fields
 Is the yellow of moonbeams, a steady, dim light.
 
 "D, what can you tell me about our Lord Count?"
 D studies the sky as if he can foresee
 His own fate in the pock-marks that pepper the moon
 Like the patterns in dregs of a witch-woman's tea.
 
 "Woman's Moon is tomorrow," he tells her at last.
 "'Woman's Moon'?  Once a month, for a night, it shines red.
 Is that what you mean?"  "Yes; on Woman's Moon night
 Your Count Lee will not hunt; among vampires it's said
 
 Female blood is unclean while its color is shown
 From the height of the sky: It seems likely to me
 That he'll seek you before that--and that means tonight.
 Doris Lang, tell me more of this Count Magnus Lee."
 
 Doris pauses, distressed at the prospect D speaks.
 He might seek her tonight!  But she tells what she can.
 "When the village was built here, he'd ruled a long time
 In these lands; and among us you won't find a man
 
 Who can tell for how long.  But his castle was quiet
 'Til two years ago.  That's when someone saw lights
 At its windows.  We knew that the count had returned
 With his minions, once more to rule over our nights.
 
 And no one can tell just how old the count is.
 Five thousand, ten thousand--he's ancient, they say."
 A bolt of heat lightning, engendered in clouds,
 Dances, flickering; fast through the sky makes its way.
 
 It casts hard-angled shadows on D's thoughtful face
 And on Count Lee's as well, where he sits on his throne
 In his castle; his craggy chin rests on his fist;
 His eyes narrow, and then a cold wind starts to moan.
 
 "An old one," D mutters, voice half overcome
 By the thunder and wind.  "They gain strength with the years.
 It is still mine to fight him: that much I have sworn,
 And no fight is won by succumbing to fears."
 
 Not merely wind nor thunder's voice
 Is heard outside; the hunting cry
 Of a creature neither man nor beast
 Draws ever nearer.  D's soft sigh
 
 Is lost beneath the quiet clash
 Of curtain rings on metal bare,
 And coarse, thick fabric takes the place
 Of Doris' view of chill night air.
 
 D dons his hat; the great brim casts
 A masklike shadow past his eyes.
 He buckles on his heavy sword;
 He's heard enough; not mere surmise
 
 But certainty is in his mind.
 "They come," he says.  "And I must go."
 "Then so shall I!  Count Lee's too strong
 For you to fight alone.  I know!"
 
 "Not Lee himself," is D's reply.
 "A vampire we might keep at bay
 With cross or garlic; he will send
 His werewolves, mutants, for this fray."
 
 He tugs the fingers of the glove
 From his left hand.  "So we need more."
 The leather slips away from flesh.
 "I must be sure you're safe before
 
 My fight begins.  Count Lee has placed
 His mark on you--an outward sign
 Of power he wields upon your blood,
 Upon yours acts--it's his design
 
 To call you to him through that bond.
 There's but one way you can resist
 His summons: in a deathlike sleep:
 The refuge of the vampire-kissed."
 
 He raises up his naked palm,
 And Doris gasps: it is not white
 And mapped with lines: a face grins there,
 Its opened mouth as black as night.
 
 Too surprised to recoil, Doris stands gaping, shocked,
 As the cruel face glides closer, its brush like the wing
 Of a moth on her shoulder; her knees start to give
 And her eyelids grow heavy.  "But--what is that *thing*....?"
 
 D has thoughts of his own, better left unvoiced --
 But no time for that now.  He must lay Doris out
 On the couch, gently cover her; let her rest well;
 And he turns toward the door, forehead creasing in doubt.
 
                         End part 7
 
                                 / \
                                /  /
               The Lang sword    \  \    / \
  _________________________________\  \/  ___\________
  ___________________________________\   (____________)
                                       \    / \  \
      with "Cubist snake" guard------->  \/     \  \
        (not drawn to scale)                    /  /
    sword ascii'd by Cathy Krusberg             \ /
 

 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 8
 
 The werewolf dashes through the fields:
 Two feet or four, he does not care.
 He lopes along the dusty roads;
 His nose inhales the chill night air
 
 In snarling pants; a slavering tongue
 Drools from his mouth; he rears to stand
 On hind paws at the wooden fence
 That marks the bounds of Doris' land.
 
 A cross-topped fencepost might deter
 A vampire, but wolf-talons sink
 Into the upright sun-bleached wood:
 It's gone as fast as eye can blink.
 
 The beast sniffs the splinters; no food for him here.
 The compulsion that sent him is suddenly gone.
 He leaps back to the darkness, now using all fours
 To dash off where he pleases; his own hunt is on!
 
 Two more figures approach at a leisurely pace:
 One a woman on horseback, the other a male
 Not much shorter than she, although mounted she is.
 By the moon both look grim and inhumanly pale.
 
 The male is Rei Ginsei: his face is well-known
 As foremost among servants of Count Magnus Lee;
 His features a mutant's, with stark, deadly grace
 And a fierceness like beauty for those who will see.
 
 In a tunic of gray, be it moonlight or day,
 Sleeveless, neck and arms fearlessly plunging so low
 His whole breastbone's revealed, for brave Rei needs no shield:
 Only freedom to use what his nature can show.
 
 On his chest can be seen five stones emerald green,
 Each with facets that glimmer in moon's dimmest light.
 They depend from a thong made of leather so long,
 They swing wildly as Rei leaps or strikes in a fight,
 
 Or they clatter and click on the trapezoids thick
 Of a necklace of silver and cunningly shaped,
 Tarnished black with the years and as heavy as fears
 It lies cold, over ribcage and collarbones draped.
 
 A broad belt, brass-on-brown, keeps the loose tunic down,
 And a lavender garter embraces one thigh
 Over darker gray pants tailored full for the dance
 Where Rei's partner is death for the low or the high.
 
 Topping all a gray flame that no hairbrush can tame,
 A mane flying as if by a breeze upward thrown:
 Gray from birth, not from age; and the color of rage
 Tints a forelock as crimson as rose that has blown
 
 In a garden of hell or beside a dark well.
 A few stray scarlet strands trickle down to Rei's brow,
 And two gray locks hang free, sideburns graceful to see,
 As they sway at his nod or fly up at his bow.
 
 He steps forward with poise; his soft shoes make no noise:
 He does not wear the boots that would spur on a steed,
 But black leather and thin that fits tight as a skin
 For the death-dance he lives by; what more could he need
 
 For the pastime he loves but black fingerless gloves
 From sharp knuckles to elbows; no paler the sheath
 That encases a blade that no prentice hand made:
 A dire weapon that gleams like a snake's venomed teeth.
 
 It looks far too short as it hangs at his hip,
 But now Rei draws his blade; and it's two blades, yet one.
 In a quick fluid motion he unfolds its length
 To a long, single crescent: his night has begun!
 
 With a hiss the steel boomerang flies from his hand;
 It meets three cross-topped fenceposts and slashes through each,
 Then returns to Rei's grasp; now its wielder looks pleased:
 Let his foes learn the lessons he's ready to teach!
 
 The pale horse's rider impassive looks on--
 Ramika, proud daughter of Count Magnus Lee.
 No shyness of youth clouds the visage she shows,
 For her House is an old one, though young she may be.
 
 Eyes of piercing dark blue dominate her pale face;
 A few locks of black hair grace her forehead's expanse.
 The rest is pulled back in the golden embrace
 Of a headdress on which vinelike shapes seem to dance,
 
 Gold on bronze, reaching ear to ear, clasping her head
 In an elegant grasp, from which pendants of gold,
 Axeman's blade-shaped, hang free from the circles of red
 Like great earrings just touching her cheeks with their hold.
 
 From a gold-on-bronze choker depends a blue stone
 At the top of her breast, just above a maillot
 Of a lavender hue, and her arms white as bone,
 Like her shoulders are bare; her cape, too, is cut low,
 
 Outside black as the night or the long braid of hair
 That flows down her back in a column of dark,
 But its lining gleams red as the blood vampires share
 As a family noble; her poise is the mark
 
 Of the power she wields as a scion of Lee.
 She has little regard for bold Rei and his blade:
 He's a lackey, no more, be his skills what they be,
 For a noble knows nobles are born and not made.
 
 Rei stands weapon upraised and regards the faint glow
 From the boxes that hum as they give out the field
 That protects the Lang farm.  Rei's thin face barely smiles:
 To his blade even steel of the boxes will yield.
 
 Within, one switch, another, D's upraised hand flips:
 Outside, the glow falters and then disappears.
 The hum of the field higher grows, then dies off,
 So that silence now falls on the visitors' ears.
 
 Both Rei and Ramika are taken aback
 At this turn of events and stand still in surprise.
 A door opens and closes; a figure steps forth
 Through a gate, clicks it shut, narrows shadowed green eyes.
 
 But Ramika speaks first.  "You're her Hunter, no doubt.
 What a waste!  No mere human can hope to defeat
 Power such as my father's.  You're brave to come out
 In the night--brave and foolish.  It's death you shall meet."
 
 "I don't seek you, my lady, but only the Count,"
 D replies.  "And what business have you in this place?"
 "What *business*?  These lands are my father's domain,
 And I answer to him, who is noble in race.
 
 But I must not be chary toward those who will die:
 Even you are entitled to one last request.
 I have learned that my father of late deigned to try
 This girl's blood--he declared it the sweetest, the best
 
 He had found; and he claimed that her beauty was rare.
 So I came to find proof, and our servant with me.
 But she's still just a human, no matter how fair;
 She forgets the respect due the high House of Lee.
 
 She not only resists, she has hired a sword, too.
 She must suffer for that; and she will, she will pay.
 Her death won't be so quick as what we bring to you."
 And Ramika concludes with a curt nod to Rei.
 
                         End part 8
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 9
 
 The mutant steps forward; his blade is now sheathed,
 And a hint of a smile makes the gray eyes grow bright.
 "I go by Rei Ginsei; now fear me, my foe,
 But flee not; rather savor your brief, final fight."
 
 He leaps forward, fist first, with a half-snarling cry,
 And Ramika's eyes narrow, awaiting a kill.
 Four black-covered knuckles meet D's strong right palm,
 And the force of that blow freezes both of them still.
 
 Then the brown grip grows tight, and Ramika and Rei
 Let their eyes open wider: the lady from shock,
 And Rei from pain also as soft cracking sounds
 Emanate from his glove in a grasp hard as rock.
 
 Rei shouts his defiance and alters his course,
 Swings one leg into action; it ought to connect
 With a few broken bones, but his foe pivots fast,
 Executes one maneuver Rei didn't expect:
 
 It begins as a leap, but D's power surges forth
 Like the blast of a storm; it outspreads cape and hair
 To their fullest extent so the moon is eclipsed
 From Rei's view by D's figure, now high in the air.
 
 Rei Ginsei's a fighter not easily foiled,
 With his own power of flight to bring into the fray.
 His right fist leads now; in an aerial joust
 The two charge past each other, blurred blue and blurred gray.
 
 D gracefully lands; as his feet touch the ground,
 Cape and hair are becalmed to their normal estate.
 With his power no less but now firmly controlled,
 Eyes alert, D stands ready to fight or to wait.
 
 Rei makes a smooth landing some distance from D;
 His face shows he's impressed, but he holds awe in check.
 "Met well, worthy warrior!  It were no waste
 If I blooded or blunted my blade in your neck!"
 
 And he draws it, unfolds it with one practiced flick
 Of a ready right wrist; his eyes once more grow bright
 As he flings the long blade so it whirs through the air
 On its own gleaming path in the chill of the night.
 
 It spins past D's ear as a lover might tease,
 Stirs his hair as it whispers a sharp, gentle breath,
 But behind him and higher reverses its course
 To perform the next step in its keen dance of death.
 
 As it turns so does D, but to reach for the hilt
 At his shoulder; the guard's barely clear of the sheath
 When fell crescent strikes sword; as D draws the full length,
 See the air-blade spin down it, a steel-on-steel wreath.
 
 A flick of D's wrist sends the bright whirling blade
 On a course far from true to its master's intent.
 Now it spins bolt upright, cuts a furrow of dark
 In the earth--straight toward Rei! This is *not* what he'd meant!
 
 Two blades now oppose him--one whirls toward his feet,
 And D wields the other, its concave edge down.
 Rei stares in alarm as two weapons converge:
 One unmanned, and one followed by D's tight-lipped frown.
 
 Rei's blade reaches him first; he swoops down with a gasp
 To snatch it in motion; grasps ends of the blade
 So the points turn toward earth and the arc blocks his gaze
 As D's point hastens closer; first contact is made
 
 By blade edge on blade edge; Rei rocks from the force
 Of the Hunter's sword thrust still aimed straight at his face.
 He draws down both blades; the sharp point hits his chest
 At dead center; but Rei has defenses in place.
 
 Blood spurts where it strikes; sweat beads grow on Rei's brow.
 His eyes widen immensely; the sword plunges in
 Ever deeper--but never goes all the way through.
 Then Rei's grimace transforms to a confident grin
 
 As the long curving blade makes its exit as last
 From *D*'s back!  Blood arcs onto the cloak of dark blue.
 Now it's D's turn to gasp; he retreats a few steps
 To withdraw his own sword from himself--and Rei too.
 
 Rei laughs at this sport and caresses his blade;
 D crouches, his free hand clutched tight to his waist.
 Blood runs through his fingers; he tries not to groan.
 Rei isn't the first of his kind D has faced.
 
 "You are a true mutant--you have--mutant powers--"
 D at last finds his voice, though it's strained as he speaks.
 "You can warp space about you--" his eyes close in pain
 As blood runs from his mouth in a few thin red streaks.
 
 Rei smiles almost kindly at D's crouching form.
 Without haste he approaches and says, "Now you die."
 He raises his weapon; D raises one hand,
 Stops the blow; glares at Rei with a glittering eye.
 
 Rei leaps back--*impossible*!  "Do you not die
 When blade bleeds you so badly?" --shows unfeigned surprise
 But still greater anger; as if in response,
 The blood fades from D's waist under Rei's watchful eyes.
 
 Ramika, too, watches; her horse forward steps
 A few paces, that she may see clearly past Rei,
 Who crouches, face wary, blade poised to attack.
 But Ramika speaks out.  "Enough now.  Come away.
 
 He's a dhampire, Rei Ginsei.  He must be my kill."
 "But--my Lady--!" Rei stammers.  "Be quiet, you fool.
 I have spoken."  Rei straightens; his voice almost snarls:
 "He was meant to be mine--but I bow to your rule."
 
 Ramika dismounts, brushing dark cape aside
 For a moment revealing bare arms and bare thighs
 Above dark, knee-height boots; with a purposeful stride
 A few steps she advances and then almost sighs.
 
 "So you are a dhampire.  I've heard of such things:
 Half human, half vampire--a nobleman's joke.
 Some few vampires are careless of shame that it brings
 When in boredom they mingle with commoner folk.
 
 So now I must deal with you, blot on the land
 That you are--first a mongrel, but what is still worse,
 Vampire Hunter.  In spite you have upraised your hand
 Toward destroying your kin, as if kin were a curse."
 
 Ramika speaks haughtily; noble she is:
 She must uphold her rank and be true to her kind.
 Yet she somehow feels drawn to this Hunter half-breed--
 It's beneath her!  Best shoved to the back of her mind.
 
 "I don't wish to kill you," protests D once more.
 "I seek out the count--"  "Hmph!  You seek out your death!
 Do you think you'll defeat me, my line of descent?"
 She moves faster than mortal can draw in a breath.
 
 Like Doris, a holster she wears at her hip
 For her own favored weapon, hand-sized and blood red,
 A small version of Rei's; this she now flings at D,
 And it glows as it whirls through the air toward his head.
 
 He upraises his sword, and the little red blade
 Bounces off, splits in three, flying each its own way.
 One lands in a field and explodes with a flash,
 Sending up powdered earth; and the next lands near Rei
 
 Not two paces before him; Rei must stand his ground,
 Naked fear on his face; it's a blinding bright blast
 And a deafening noise--just a trifle too close;
 The third at Ramika's feet; it explodes last,
 
 Blowing back her dark cape though it leaves her unharmed.
 D lowers his sword.  "Tell this much to Count Lee.
 To the grim world of darkness some creatures must go,
 And the duty of sending them there falls to me."
 
 Ramika's blue eyes return D's fearless gaze.
 "World of darkness?" she murmurs; Rei catches his breath.
 He stands silent, but hatred devours his heart:
 Vampire Hunter or dhampire, this one must find death.
 
                         End part 9
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 10
 
 Quiet reigns in the Lang house; young Dan lies asleep
 In his half-tangled bedclothes, and Doris sleeps, too,
 On the couch; while alone and in silence and dark,
 D prepares for the struggle he knows must ensue.
 
                 /
         *//////{<>==================-
                 \
 
 In the depths of his castle Count Lee sits enthroned,
 A king reigning in darkness, surrounded by mist
 That thickens and thins; its shapes form and un-form;
 The Dark Lord rests his chin on a loosely clenched fist.
 
 He looks old; he *is* old, and proud of the years
 That have made his hair white; it is swept up and back,
 And cut short, conservative, like his attire:
 Shirt and cummerbund lavender; long cape of black.
 
 He sits on its red lining that drapes his throne's seat,
 Slick against his black pants above spats of bone white,
 Paler still than his flesh, like the whites of his eyes
 With their irises black as the heart of the night.
 
 The mist chitters and moves; hoary eyebrows arc up
 As he takes in a message of unhuman tongue.
 They are squeakings, not words, but Count Lee understands,
 And he sighs at the folly he sees in the young.
 
 "Rei is impatient; that I know.
 But now my daughter--why should she
 Feel moved to stoop in such a way?
 It ill befits the House of Lee.
 
 They must be punished--in good time.
 But tell me: Why this long delay?"
 Mist billows, dances, chitters soft--
 At Lee's expression, backs away.
 
 "A *what*?  A dhampire?  Very strange.
 A dhampire *might* have bested Rei...
 Alone.  But with my daughter, too?
 He must be hunter more than prey.
 
 Well, all the better.  I am bored.
 This sort of challenge might amuse,
 If only briefly.  Let him come,
 Enjoy a fight he's doomed to lose."
 
                 /
         *//////{<>==================-
                 \
 
 Ramika strides swiftly through corridors dark,
 The soft click of her heels flushing moths into flight,
 And the brush of her cape ripping cobwebs to threads;
 Her face tightly controlled, but her eyes fever-bright.
 
 She slows as she enters a huge vaulted room,
 Three walls column-lined, but she faces the one
 That supports a huge portrait, much larger than life,
 Of the being with whom her own line was begun.
 
 For a moment she kneels, then uprises again;
 With new vision she looks at her ancestor's face,
 Darkness-shrouded, yet fresh-looking, noble of mien:
 She owes homage to him, to be paid in this place.
 
 "Lord Dracula, noblest of all of our kind,
 Please forgive my neglect; now I see I was wrong
 Not to honor you daily with at least with my mind:
 But I know now--I know this is where I belong.
 
 My father forgets himself, lewdly desires
 For a wife a low commoner, Doris by name--"
 And her voice nearly breaks "--Thus the blood of our sires
 He pollutes without thought, bringing all of us shame."
 
 Her throat is too tight for more speech to slip through,
 But her full eyes speak volumes that words cannot say.
 She only half-hears as soft footsteps approach
 From behind her: the quiet and quick tread of Rei.
 
 He stands a short distance away from her side.
 "Your pardon I pray if my presence offends.
 Time it is for you now to return to your room."
 Though Rei's tone is respectful, his knee never bends.
 
 Ramika turns neither her head nor her gaze
 From the portrait's pale face: "Do you dare command *me*?
 You forget you're a servant while noble am I,
 Like my ancestor, true to the high House of Lee."
 
 "Not from me do commands come; your father, the Count,
 Is angry with actions we've taken this night.
 I have felt his fell fury; he sent me to say
 You're to rest in your room.  Come; it's truly all right."
 
 Rei's face shows compassion--a rare thing for him,
 But on this night Ramika has suffered a blow
 To her pride--all the worse it was witnessed by Rei.
 But he suffered the same, and he wants her to know.
 
 Toward her shoulder Rei reaches with one graceful hand
 As comfort or guidance, not raising his guard,
 But it never makes contact.  Ramika whirls fast;
 Before Rei sees it coming, she backhands him--*hard*
 
 With a crack that half deafens him, blinds him as well;
 Were his frame merely human, it might break his jaw.
 He stands face turned, eyes lidded; he has little choice
 But to bear this.  Ramika's least wish is his law.
 
 "How dare you!  How *dare* you attempt to touch me!
 Feh!  To think I've polluted my hand on your skin.
 I know you aspire to the high House of Lee,
 And you hope that my father will make you his kin.
 
 Bad enough that a human has caught Father's eye;
 Why he might want to wed her I cannot divine--
 But a creature like you!  It were nobler to die
 Than see mortals and mutants corrupting our line."
 
 On her heel turns Ramika to end the tirade.
 Her dark laughter reechoes off columns and walls;
 Her heels clack like the breaking of solemn-sworn vows,
 The sound fading, receding through long, cobwebbed halls,
 
 While Rei stands head aside and eyes closed from the blow.
 He's been still as a painting so far as he can,
 But his own blood betrays him: a slow, glistening drop
 Oozes out past his lips, leaves a track where it ran.
 
 In the silence gray lashes part; then a pink tongue,
 Long and narrow, point sharp as a dark castle's spire,
 Slips outward and down to lick up the red streak;
 The gray eyes glance to those of the House of Lee's sire,
 
 But no painting draws Rei; it's to flesh that he looks
 With his plans for increasing his own powers' scope.
 Head unbowed now, Rei's thin lips stretch into a smile,
 And he chuckles, enjoying the rich taste of hope.
 
                         End part 10
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 11
 
 Dawn illumines the plain that surrounds Castle Lee;
 Pounding hooves break the silence, strong rhythm and fast,
 A steel horse at a gallop, its rider's eyes set
 On the towers as black as the shadows they cast.
 
 D's cape and long hair whip about as in flight,
 Or as if they themselves fear his enemy's lair.
 The sharp spires seem to rise like some deadly black sun
 That sends forth rays of darkness to poison the air.
 
 As D nearer draws, a new sight meets his eye:
 There is life on the plain; near the castle are trees:
 A small forest, a haven of bright-dappled green,
 A relief from the desert and darkness he sees.
 
 In its midst he perceives it as flashes of brown,
 The warm odor of earth and the sharp scent of yew.
 The green leaves set aflutter, the branches that sway
 Soon are past, so his goal fills the whole of his view:
 
 Count Lee's castle, a fortress obsidian-smooth,
 The great drawbridge almost but not quite fully drawn.
 Far below runs a rapid, a river that foams;
 D surveys the whole scene in the still of the dawn.
 
 So high is the cliff that the river's noise seems
 Little more than a whisper, a snake's warning hiss.
 D's hat brim tilts up and then once again down
 As he gauges the distance across the abyss.
 
 The steel horse backs slowly from cliff-edge to trees,
 Then D urges it into a gallop once more
 To give him momentum: he leaps, cape outspread,
 Gliding over the cliff and the water's fierce roar.
 
 There is just enough clearance to let him slip in
 Through the nearly-closed drawbridge; he lands on his feet
 At the mouth of a tunnel and drops to a crouch,
 Sight and hearing alert to the foes he may meet.
 
              []
         o////||::===========================-
              []
 
 Dark cape wrapped about him, D walks from the light;
 His footsteps reecho off narrowing walls.
 The foreign tread wakens the guards of this realm
 Where the day never breaks and the night never falls.
 
 From one side slug-hued lumps of flesh
 Rise up and quiver, slowly split,
 Revealing huge pink lamprey-mouths,
 Fangs bristling round each slick black pit.
 
 Upon the other, undead *things*,
 All human-like, none human-shaped,
 Slide through the chains that bound them once.
 On some, a hint of skin is draped,
 
 But many seem more bone than flesh.
 They shamble, some with bare-skull grin,
 Some toothless, quivering mouths a-drip
 At living flesh they long to win.
 
 They creep or roll or stumble forth
 And make the way more narrow still:
 A path of jaws and teeth and drool
 And bones and rotting flesh until
 
 From beneath the brass horns of his broad, heavy belt,
 D draws forth a round stone, and it glows in his hand,
 Not with heat, but with brightness to rival the sun's,
 Shining blue-hot and blinding; the sternest command
 
 From Count Lee himself could not cause such a scene.
 The lamprey-mouths swallow themselves and draw back;
 The shambling things stagger, collapse or retreat,
 Or explode into maggots; all thoughts of attack
 
 (If these creatures have thoughts) are abandoned for flight
 Amid screeches of terror and wailings of dread.
 One creature lies frozen, unable to flee,
 And D's striding heel crushes its soft, worm-like head.
 
 At the end of the tunnel D gazes about;
 Behind him, the terrified gibberings fade.
 The stone he tucks into its place once again,
 Frees his hands for the fight that in time will be made.
 
 He's warned by a chittering cry from above
 That his challenge is met; he whirls, drawing a knife.
 Almost in his face are the slit-pupilled eyes
 Of a lithe, bat-like mutant that lusts for his life.
 
 D's short blade meets another; the mutant glides back
 To poise itself, chuckling, as D's eyes take in
 The knife-flyer Gimret, of thin hostile face
 With blunt teeth, hues of purple and gray to the skin.
 
 Wing-membranes extend from his arms to his hips
 Where a long loin-cloth flutters, and on his round head
 Is a tight-fitting cap; he disdains other clothes,
 Any armor or shield for defense; in its stead
 
 Are shining sharp blades at his ankles and wrists,
 And he dives with a cackle, then pivots in air
 So an ankle-blade whispers past D's cheek and eye:
 Yes, it misses--but just by the breadth of a hair!
 
 Gimret readies himself to attack once again,
 But now D draws his sword; Gimret laughs in his flight,
 Flaps upward and backward, then downward feet first;
 Now behind a stone wall, he is lost to D's sight.
 
 Then a growl splits the air, shakes the stone walls and floor,
 And another head rises whence Gimret has flown--
 That of Goreim, a golem twelve times a man's height.
 He might guard Count Lee's castle by main strength alone,
 
 But he too wields a weapon: his upraised left hand
 Grasps a boulder; its fissures breathe yellow-white flame
 That struggles to burst from a magma-hot core
 With an eagerness even a golem can't tame.
 
 Goreim flings it; fire flows like a comet's bright tail,
 Streaks directly toward D, who leaps quickly aside
 And crouches, enwrapped in the folds of his cloak,
 No further, and no more securely to hide
 
 From the blast that ensues; he does not turn his back
 To the hot wind that carries sharp, flaming debris,
 But he wraps half his collar just under his eyes
 To protect nose and mouth; soon enough he can see
 
 Through the tatters of smoke and the uprisen dust.
 In the wall is a double door twice his own height.
 D tries it; it creaks and swings in at his touch,
 And he steps back, expecting an ambush or fight.
 
 But the door is unguarded; D peers side to side
 And steps through; it is quiet, uncrowded and dim.
 His boots click on the stone as he makes his slow way
 Ever forth down the passage that beckons to him.
 
 It is broad, broad enough that his eyes barely see
 Its far wall; and the end he cannot even guess.
 "D," his hand softly says, "you know, this *is* a trap."
 And a few paces later, D simply says, "Yes."
 
                         End part 11
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 12
 
 On a ledge not too far above D's wide-brimmed hat
 There crouch creatures of stone: no two are the same.
 Some are heavy like lions with anteater heads;
 Some are more like the dogs that men use to hunt game;
 
 Some are serpent-like, tails sliding over the edge;
 Some snarl with teeth long and sharp, ready for strife.
 One seems smaller and plainer than all of the rest,
 But when D steps before it, its eyes glow to life.
 
 A gray wraith, a mist cat with great yellow eyes,
 Leaps forth with a snarl that a banshee might shriek.
 D whirls at the sound and again draws his knife:
 Let the fell creature learn what his hard steel can wreak!
 
 The mist cat impales its own breast on D's blade,
 But with no ill effect; the steel causes no pain
 In this gray stuff: it's spirit, not flesh, blood, or bone,
 And D sees this is no mortal foe to be slain
 
 By his blade; his left forearm he raises to guard.
 The mist cat recoils, then leaps forward, mouth wide.
 Although spirit it be, when it worries D's flesh
 The red blood rushes out like an incoming tide.
 
 This is more of a fight than the mist cat expects.
 It flows backward, at last rests its feet on the floor
 And regards D, still snarling and poised to attack
 While D clutches his punctures, a full bleeding score.
 
 Again the beast snarls.  "Damn you," D murmurs low;
 He dislikes losing blood, though the wounds will soon heal.
 He first ignores pain, and then hearing and sight:
 What he seeks he must find by his own inward feel.
 
 "There," he murmurs.  "A sage!"  Now he runs toward the wall;
 With one fist, then the other, he strikes at the rock.
 It cracks and then crumbles and finally parts--
 The mist cat leaps toward him, though too late to block
 
 Or even avenge what the Hunter has wrought.
 Its form fades as D steps through the ragged-edged hole
 To stride toward a broad doorway where two figures stand:
 The one is Rei Ginsei; the other his goal:
 
 The sage!  Or the witch, as most people would say.
 She looks quite inhuman, with wild orange hair
 On a hag's face; her pupil-less, strange-moving eyes
 Can enthrall with a glance or destroy with a stare.
 
 She is not of this world, nor perhaps of the next;
 She does not stand but hovers; a candle-flame ring
 Surrounds her; she clasps her pale, long-taloned hands,
 And she smiles, as one brimming with greetings to bring.
 
 But Rei Ginsei speaks first.  "Wayward, wavering wight!
 You cannot love your life, if your lot leads you here."
 Then the sage says, "Meself, I'm impressed, of a truth!
 Ye might have but one arm--were ye not a dhampeer!"
 
 "For my part," Rei rejoins, "it were more joy to me
 If our swords we unsheathed, soon to settle our score.
 But my master Count Lee thinks it meet that you make
 Your way elsewhere--it seems he has something in store."
 
 Rei flings his wild weapon; it whirs through the air;
 Not at D, but encircling him, acts as a cue:
 The floor under D crumbles, as if a trap door
 Had been sprung to expose an abyss to his view
 
 And indeed, to his person--the weapon flies back
 To Rei's hand as D falls among shattering stone.
 He moves quickly and flings up his great wing-like cape:
 On the cliff-edge he hangs by its corner alone.
 
 He starts to climb up it; Rei moves faster still;
 With a snarl throws his blade so it cuts a half moon
 From the cliff where the cloak's stubborn triangle clings;
 Some would say that swift death were a kindlier boon
 
 Than to plummet head downward among such debris,
 But D's cloak wraps about him: he's still now, resigned;
 Face placid, arms folded, as if the abyss
 Were the one thing he knew he was certain to find.
 
                         End part 12
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 13
 
 In the dark castle's bowels are caverns of stone.
 D's eyes slowly adjust to the unending murk:
 Here roundness pale, there zebra-stripe:
 Who knows what evils in darkness lurk?
 
 As a counterpoint to the drops that drip
 From stalactites high to dank pools below
 Comes a sinister laugh from D's hand--"Heeheehee!
 It's amazing, the places you manage to go!"
 
 D's vision clears: Now he sees the skulls
 And ribs, like barrel-staves bleached to white.
 Many skeletons lie here--truly dead?
 The hand-thing chuckles.  "Now, wasn't I right?
 
 It *was* a trap--and here we are!"
 D's boot-toe nudges a ribcage bare.
 The skull topples over; the ribs collapse
 To dust that falls through the fetid air.
 
 "Well?  Isn't it scenic?" the voice demands.
 "And historic, too.  These bodies fell
 A millennium past, in the last great war.
 It's a nice place to visit--except for the smell!"
 
 D strides through the emptiness cold and dark,
 Cape wrapped about him, the only sounds
 The drip of water and his footfalls soft.
 He notices little of what surrounds:
 
 The sleek, slick walls that barely gleam;
 Bones everywhere, except for those
 Now dust; D follows the gentle slope
 Of the floor, so each step ever-downward goes.
 
 D at last gazes over a lake immense.
 In the air above it he thinks he sees
 Dark slender threads flow from floor to roof.
 They tremble as if in a wayward breeze,
 
 But the air is still; D steps slowly forth;
 His boots meet resistance subtle, cool.
 The water speaks softly; louder far
 Are the notes floating over the limpid pool.
 
 He looks up from the shallows that cover his feet
 Across the still waters; three forms appear,
 Tall female figures: these are the source
 Of the siren-sweet music that D can hear.
 
 Each wears a necklace of adder's fangs
 Almost as pale as her fair, fair skin.
 Each bears a lyre, and each strokes its strings
 To music as sweet as the deadliest sin.
 
 Dark locks flow down past shoulders bare
 Between upright breasts, over rounded thighs,
 To trail the water; no covering more
 Parts their naked flesh from intruding eyes.
 
 Their eyes are the color of long-dried blood;
 Their lips are as red as their teeth are white.
 The three draw closer, while near D's feet
 Curl delicate tendrils as black as night.
 
 Three beautiful faces smile as one.
 "Who are you?" they ask with their lips so red.
 D stands in silence, regards the three
 With a face that reveals neither hope nor dread.
 
 "Won't you answer us, dear?" ask the three sweet tones.
 Slowly D gazes upward, at last to say,
 "But who might *you* be?"  And three smiles respond:
 "Why, dearest, we're creatures that want to play!"
 
 Their eyes grow narrow--then glow bright green!
 At the light D winces but stands his ground.
 The smiles grow broader, reveal long fangs,
 And the beautiful faces shift from round
 
 To flatter and flatter--from human to snake!
 The creatures laugh and saliva drips
 From writhing tongues with tooth-sharp points,
 From the keen brilliant fangs and the snake-thin lips
 
 As six eyes, not glowing but now bright red
 Plunge straight toward D, who cannot retreat,
 For the tendrils in water, the tendrils in air,
 Enwrap both his ankles, entrapping his feet.
 
 He gasps too late as the lamiae laugh;
 From behind and before him the tendrils rise.
 The hair of the creatures who rule in this place
 Like a whiplash encircles his calves and thighs,
 
 Then his arms and chest, so his sword hand lies
 Clenched, helpless, bound; he can but surmise
 What may be in store as in vain he tries
 To writhe free; but the bright, unblinking eyes
 
 Only laugh at his struggles, and these soon cease.
 Between tight-gritted teeth, D says, "So I see
 What you are."  And they laugh.  "Oh, look well, look well,
 While you can, while you can, on the fateful three!"
 
 "We'll savor this one," one of them laughs,
 As their hair, like a fakir's rope, uplifts
 D's stoic form, so that eye to eye
 The three admire him, as each face shifts
 
 From snake to human to snake again.
 "We shall have his strength, we shall have his life;
 We shall drain him slowly and drain him dry--
 What a change in this place where death is rife!"
 
 And they weave about him, at first in play,
 And then in earnest the three entwine
 Like Maypole ribbons their scaly trunks
 And the floating strands of their hair so fine
 
 In a net, in a web, into tender toils;
 They long for life-force--not drawn by teeth,
 But by sharp slick tongues that caress D's face
 As the three form a thirsty, reptilian wreath.
 
                         End part 13
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 14
 
 At the Lang home, Dr. Fering stands
 Before the window, gazes out
 Into the night, at Doris' side,
 While she looks to him with a frown of doubt.
 
 "You need not fear," Dr. Fering says.
 "His body and will are like tempered steel;
 He *will* come back; but I fear for you,
 And for what it seems you have come to feel...."
 
 Doris turns to glare at the dark outside,
 Profile brave as a man's and twice as grim.
 "Doris, don't!" Fering cries.  "He's a fine young man,
 But don't *think* of falling in love with him!
 
 His heart is good, but mark his eyes:
 They seek out danger, death, and strife.
 For him there is neither rest nor love:
 He has spent too long in a fight for life."
 
 There's a question behind Doris' gentle look,
 But it's never voiced; Goreim's giant form
 Appears at the fence, and attack on attack
 Follows fast and strong as a deadly storm.
 
 Goreim's stonelike hand reaches forth to crush
 A barrier-box as a man might squeeze
 An overripe fruit so the box explodes
 With a clap like the breaking of ancient trees
 
 And a shower of sparks; Goreim barely smiles.
 Doris gasps, as does Fering; both turn away
 To arm themselves, just as Dan appears
 On the stairs with his gun, bound to join the fray.
 
 Never one for finesse, Goreim thrusts his head
 Through the Lang house wall with a spray of glass.
 Fering fires his handgun at point blank range
 Into what seems a rust-colored stone-hard mass--
 
 Goreim's massive face; Goreim gapes his jaw,
 Thrusting forth his tongue; on its keen point rides
 Little Tula, a mutant dwarf-sized, green-hued,
 With a pocked cushion-hump on his shoulders that hides
 
 In each hollow a spider, and forth at his whim,
 Sailing over his flat skull and sharp-pointed ears
 They fly on their webs; Fering's bullets go wide
 Of the round bulging eyes and the wee mouth that leers
 
 As Fering's face vanishes under the siege
 Of a hundred red spiders on cheeks, forehead, eyes;
 Quite forgetting his gun, Fering claws at the horde,
 And past Tula and Fering the swift Gimret flies
 
 Straight for Dan, whom he grabs by his gun-arm and lifts,
 Holds him up like an angler's prize catch in the air;
 Doris' rifle is cocked, but before she can aim,
 Rei has worked his own trick; twisting space, he is there
 
 At her back, and he grabs her as Gimret did Dan.
 Doris howls in alarm, whips her head left and right,
 But in vain; Rei smiles at this bloodless coup,
 Won almost before there was thought of a fight.
 
 And he speaks to Doris: "My Lord Count Lee
 Waxes weary of waiting; I work but his will
 When I claim for his keeping and kindly care
 Your sweet self--so you may just as well be still."
 
 Rei holds her so high she need not look up
 But glares at him levelly: "Rei, it's enough
 That you come here for me--Dr. Fering and Dan
 Aren't involved.  Let them go!  Leave them out of this stuff!"
 
 Rei smiles somewhat musingly.  "I'm not so sure.
 My mates matter to me--and they like raw meat!"
 Gimret licks his lips as he sniffs Dan's arm;
 Tula grins at the thought of a tasty treat.
 
 "Let them go!" Doris shouts "--or I'll die, I swear!
 I'll bite off my tongue, and I'll bleed to death!"
 And she thrusts forth her tongue, nearly into Rei's face,
 Clamps her teeth down on it; he draws a breath
 
 And recoils, dismayed, with a silent scowl.
 The bright hopes that he cherishes fade and dim:
 The conniving bitch!  This is so unfair--
 That his future should hang on a young girl's whim!
 
 "You're to come unscathed, by the Count's command.
 Gimret, Tula--release them!"  And then aside
 To Doris: "Your manners need minding, my dear.
 Do at least try to *look* like a Dark Lord's bride."
 
                         End part 14
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 15
 
 Doris looks at Count Lee from before his throne
 In a cavernous hall filled with drifting mists.
 She has come as he wished, and she now stands still
 As if willingly brought; but her hands are fists.
 
 The vampire's eyes return her gaze;
 He smiles a trace: "You need not fear
 That harm or pain will come to you;
 Your place is in my home, my dear.
 
 And by tomorrow you shall be
 Of my own blood and my own kind:
 A vampire noble and my wife,
 For yours is beauty rare to find."
 
 "I'll be *gone* by tomorrow," Doris snaps,
 "And not in the sense that you have in mind!
 You've laid your plans, and you've brought me here,
 But it's one thing to plan--and another to bind!"
 
 "I like your spirit," Count Lee says,
 Still smiling slightly, "so I must
 Forgive this outburst--for your charm.
 I think perhaps you choose to trust
 
 Your Vampire Hunter for his aid."
 The smile is gone.  "Well, look and see.
 He is not far, and he has learned
 How fools may fare in Castle Lee."
 
 The mists flow together to form a wall
 Like a tapestry woven of thick, dead air.
 It shows the image of moveless D
 Bound fast in the toils of the lamiae's lair.
 
 Doris gasps at the sight, clapping hands to mouth,
 And she nearly sobs as she cries out, "D!"
 His face is in shadow, his body entrapped
 In the coils and hair of the lustful three.
 
 "They drink his life-force," Lee explains.
 "A human would be long since dead.
 But he has been there half a day."
 Lee smiles: "The sisters thus have fed.
 
 Such silly creatures."  Lee's hand waves
 Dismissal.  "And I mean all four.
 They *are*, you know.  Your Hunter friend
 You think a man, but he is more.
 
 I should say less: He is a fool,
 This halfling who invades my realm.
 If he were to his being true
 He easily could overwhelm
 
 The creatures who enthrall him now.
 He has some power in my domain,
 Which is the night: You need not frown
 At that, my dear; I shall explain:
 
 Like oil and water, ill and good
 Uneasy lie when forced to mix:
 One rises; therefore one must fall,
 Despite their vessel's foolish tricks.
 
 Thus is his nature: he resists
 His stronger half, though he might die
 Without that strength--pretentious fool!
 To hunt our kind and thus deny
 
 His very being.  Hypocrite!
 He merits only shame and scorn.
 He tries to seem what he is not:
 Not human, he, but dhampire born."
 
 "A *dhampire*!" Doris nearly screams
 As if a viper's venomed teeth
 Had sunk into her bosom pale
 To fasten in her heart beneath.
 
 "But how--but how--he's kin to *you*?"
 "Yes," says Count Lee, face once more grim,
 "But distantly, and on one side;
 The fruit of some Dark Noble's whim:
 
 A half breed, neither fish nor fowl,
 And probably a bastard, too."
 Lee smiles.  "So wrapped up in themselves...
 I think it's picturesque--don't you?"
 
 But Doris sobs, "No!  It's enough!  Make it stop!"
 She cannot close her eyes to the forms in the mist
 Of the slavering three and the unmoving D
 By the cold coils embraced, by the gleaming tongues kissed.
 
 But the vision blurs, either hers from tears
 Or the mist itself that dissolves to gray.
 With the image gone, Doris' eyes are freed
 And close to despair she turns away--
 
 Meeting Count Lee's gaze; it draws in her own
 As a serpent enmeshes its helpless prey
 Within loop after loop of its tightening coils
 Till the dark of its throat ends the foredoomed fray.
 
 No mortal could hope to resist his power:
 Doris' knees give way as her eyelids fall.
 She collapses forward; a single tear
 From her lashes flies through the air of the hall
 
 As if seeking to flee Count Lee's embrace.
 He steps forth resistless to catch the form
 That sags in his arms; he savors the touch
 Of flesh that holds promise, alive and warm.
 
 "I love you, Doris; this I swear.
 Tonight I cannot drink your life.
 But when the moon is pale once more
 Tomorrow, you shall be my wife."
 
                         End part 15
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 16
 
 Far below, in the murk of a cavern dark
 Three ecstatic faces croon and sigh.
 "What a feast we have found!  Now I nearly fear
 We'll exhaust ourselves ere we drain him dry!"
 
 The three laugh at this as they bob and weave,
 Half drunk on a life-force exotic, rare,
 That flows from their prisoner still unmoved,
 Arms and legs entwined in their tight-coiled hair.
 
 D knows his strength; it has not run dry,
 But his will has been drained by the three who seek
 Wanton pleasure; his whole frame trembles now,
 And his last sane thought is that flesh is weak.
 
 His eyes grow wider, their green eclipsed
 By a flame-blue glow as his lips draw back,
 And a growl escapes past the lengthening teeth
 He no longer can check, for they ache to attack.
 
 His eyes now narrow; his jaws gape wide:
 As a hawk might stoop, so his head dips down.
 Twin fangs sink deep in a lamia neck,
 And the blood sprays out in a crimson crown.
 
 The lamia shrieks as her blood spurts forth,
 And her sisters gasp in alarm and dread.
 Meanwhile, far above, in a silent room,
 Doris lies pale and still in a canopied bed.
 
 From its side proud Ramika looks down at this girl,
 This low human the high House of Lee soon will claim,
 And she thinks, "My stepmother?  That's what she'll become
 If this wedding occurs--what unbearable shame!"
 
 A death-shriek flies over the cavern's broad lake,
 Now clear of the strands that the lamiae wield,
 And a severed head lengthens from woman to snake
 As at last its appearance to nature must yield.
 
                |
        0{XXXXX}+======================>
                |
 
 D stands on the shore, his mind once more his own,
 Vision clearing at last so he sees the grim sight
 That his sword and his teeth and his nature have wrought,
 The vast, ruined remains of the just-finished fight:
 
 Huge snake carcasses slashed through or mangled to shreds,
 Roiling waters stained crimson with lamia blood,
 Dank air thick with its scent, and its taste on his tongue,
 Honey-sweet, rich as wine--and as welcome as mud.
 
 His skin crawls at the chuckle his left hand emits.
 "You're so slow to admit it--until you've no choice.
 You at last show your fangs when your blood knows you must."
 D's face grows grimmer still at the symbiot's voice.
 
 "That's enough!" D snaps sharply.  "You give me no peace!"
 "Don't blame *me*--it's your blood.  What you are, you must be.
 It's your nature, your fate--stop the futile pretense
 That you're human.  It's pointless.  Accept yourself, D."
 
 D does not deign to answer; more pressing concerns
 Must be tended.  Again he is deaf, he is blind
 To the cavern, the bodies, the richness of blood
 In the air; what he seeks, he must seek with his mind.
 
                               |
        <======================+{XXXXX}0
                               |
 
 Ramika's frown has grown more stern
 Regarding Doris' sleeping face.
 The girl is lovely, that is true;
 But it is not a human's place
 
 To enter thus the House of Lee.
 "Ah, Father mine!  Why is it I
 Alone who sees the shame in this?"
 Ramika mutters.  "She must die!"
 
 And from her belt Ramika draws
 A gleaming dagger; holds it high,
 Poised like a snake prepared to strike
 With eager and unblinking eye.
 
 But a crash from behind her announces a guest--
 And she whirls as the double doors burst open wide
 Before D!  "You!" she snarls with a murderous glare.
 He leaps forward, half crossing the room in one stride,
 
 Grabs Ramika's knife hand; for a moment they freeze,
 Locked by eyes and by hands and by some other force
 That Ramika finds draws her; their shared blood, no doubt.
 Her glance flickers to Doris; no trace of remorse
 
 Taints her gaze; it is drawn back to D once again.
 The dagger flies free of her grasp, hits the floor,
 And then so does Ramika, and just hard enough
 That she curses D's boldness--but essays no more.
 
 Doris lies unmoving as D swoops down,
 Scoops her up, flings her onto his shoulder in haste,
 Head foremost, so her bare legs sway over his back,
 And her long braids hang free, nearly down to his waist.
 
 He dashes down corridors black with their years,
 Through passages narrow, through cavernous halls
 That widen to space filled with catwalks and murk,
 So huge that it seems to lack ceiling and walls.
 
 Through this cluttered abyss Gimret flies with his laugh,
 His four knives streaking silver; D raises his sword.
 Gimret slashes, then dodges--but not fast enough,
 For D is not slowed by his slender young ward.
 
 Just above Gimret's loincloth the point of D's blade
 Cuts through lavender flesh--and the organs beneath.
 Gimret screeches and stalls, one hand clutching his wound;
 Bright blood gushes alike past both fingers and teeth.
 
 Gimret swoops, gains momentum, retreats on one wing
 In a cramped, awkward flight; to the darkness withdraws.
 D has scarce made a step when another weird laugh
 Sounds before him; the sight would give anyone pause.
 
 Little Tula stands bold on the catwalk's slight width.
 He is short, and his four teeth are dull as his wit,
 But his great hump is filled with his tiny, fierce friends.
 They are quiet with him, and they patiently sit
 
 Till he signals them, flattens his long, pointed ears;
 Then the spiders spew forth from his hump into flight.
 Hundreds hurtle toward D in a writhing red mass,
 But he shows no alarm at the terrible sight.
 
 D slips off his left glove as he lowers his blade.
 Toward the creatures he raises his naked left palm
 With the face that's his tormentor, sidekick, and friend.
 It regards the red horde with unnatural calm,
 
 Then it opens its mouth, and no hurricane's force
 Could push air half so hard as the mouth pulls it in.
 It sucks down every spider and each trace of web
 To itself; briefly chews them; concludes with a grin.
 
 Tula stares at this, staggered, then groans in alarm,
 Whirls in terrified flight; D's blade flashes forth, swung
 In a swift downward arc; Tula's split carcass stands
 For a moment suspended, like butcher's meat hung.
 
 Then the halves part and fall in a spatter of gore
 The whole width of the catwalk; D wipes his blade clean,
 But keeps it at guard; likely more foes await.
 How this labor may end still remains to be seen.
 
 Ever onward D dashes, the rapid tattoo
 Of his boots on the stone like the beat of a heart
 That fears not for itself but feels dread nonetheless
 For a love who would forfeit her life should they part.
 
                         End part 16
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                           Part 17
 
 Now down the broad passage the mist cat once kept,
 Through the double doors set in the high, heavy wall;
 Through the tunnel's wide mouth so the creatures awake,
 But with proof that his stone has not yet cowed them all.
 
 Side by side in strong shackles three thin figures hang;
 Their six eyes come alive with a dull yellow glow.
 The three mouths barely open to stiff, lipless slits,
 And from each slips a spirit as pale as the snow--
 
 As pale and as cold but more deadly by far:
 Like the mist cat they swoop; like the mist cat they bite.
 As D runs, their sharp teeth draw his warm, living blood
 So it spatters the floor on the path of his flight.
 
 D narrows his eyes, but his steps never slow
 As he raises his sword, growling, "Back to your place!"
 The pale wraiths don't deceive him--his blade pierces one
 So it shrieks, and the mist slips to show its true face,
 
 For that shape housed the sage!  Now the wraith-form dissolves
 As the sword slashes through the red mass of her hair,
 Lops her brain clean in half, so her essence leaks out;
 Her skin shrinks like a lung slowly emptied of air.
 
 A great rag with a human face leaflike floats down
 In two pieces: the sage will work magic no more.
 D's steps fade in the distance; so fast is his pace
 That in silence the body and hair meet the floor.
 
 At last there is light; D would sigh with relief
 If his lungs would permit; they're on fire from this flight.
 He grips Doris tighter; toward freedom he runs,
 And the sunshine so painfully, wondrously bright.
 
 The incline is steep, but his steps never flag,
 Nor his clasp on the burden he gently must bear,
 Nor his grip on his sword--there's the end of the bridge,
 Where D leaps--and is halted, pulled back from midair.
 
 D gasps, his eyes widening; swift turns his head
 To see Goreim, who growls at him, "Going somewhere?"
 Goreim's grip on D's ankle would hold a mad bull,
 And it draws D back down like a tightening snare.
 
 D snarls softly; his lips curl to show his white teeth:
 He *will* *not* be foiled here, not with safety in sight.
 He upraises his sword, drives its point forward hard
 So it pierces the hand that has halted his flight.
 
 Goreim roars as a gout of his blood spurts high.
 He releases D, rising; and D rises, too,
 As does Goreim's left hand, with a boulder of flame
 In its grip: where it falls, no small blast will ensue!
 
 D again wields his sword, this time not on his foe,
 But upon the great cables that hold either side
 Of the drawbridge: Snap! Snap!  Amid creakings and groans
 Of inanimate outrage, the bridge long and wide
 
 Starts its fall with a jerk; D stands crouched at its end,
 Rides it down, his long cape and wild hair flying free.
 Goreim loses his footing and falls at full length
 On the bridge, arms outflung, so his great hands flank D.
 
 Swiftly down, swiftly down, in a broad arc they fly:
 D poised on the bridge's thick, fast-plunging lip;
 Goreim prone, clinging one-handed as they descend
 While the fire-boulder sputters and flames in his grip.
 
 Only inches from impact D leaps from his perch.
 When the bridge hits the ground, Goreim roars at the shock,
 But D barely can hear him; the boulder explodes
 In a great burst of flame and a shower of rock.
 
 D crouches against the hot gust of the wind
 That blows back Doris' braids and his own auburn hair
 Till at last through the heat waves and slow-clearing dust
 He sees Goreim--the golem's great shout splits the air.
 
 It is more like the scream a volcano might vent
 Were it given a voice to cry out in its pain
 When it shatters itself with the force of its blast
 So its magma spews forth, falls like boiling hot rain
 
 Or like blood from a shoulder bereft of its arm
 Out a fountain of arteries--thus Goreim bleeds
 From the wound his own missile inflicts at close range.
 Now deprived of his weapon, he nonetheless heeds
 
 His fierce instinct to fight.  His eyes balefully glare;
 He bends down, gapes his jaws, shows a tongue like the sting
 Of a scorpion, tensed to attack with its point,
 But D wields his sword first, not a flesh-slashing swing
 
 But a stab that runs through Goreim's tongue to his throat,
 Then pitches him backward: now dying, now dead.
 Rei arrives at the bridge as the golem's great form
 Crashes down, so he barely avoids Goreim's head.
 
 Rei gasps, "Goreim!" incredulous; how can this be?
 Was his mighty friend felled by a mere dhampire's snare?
 Could a half-vampire vanquish a golem's great strength?
 For what seems half forever, poor Rei can but stare.
 
 Then he comes to himself; more than ever he knows
 He must hunt down the Hunter and see to his end.
 Rei pursues at a run, footsteps skidding in blood;
 In pursuit overhead there glides Gimret, his friend.
 
 At the end of the bridge Rei stands still and intent;
 Eyes searching, ears listening, he scans the dense trees:
 Leaves rustle, a horse neighs: Rei lets his blade fly
 Toward the bare hint of movement he's sure that he sees.
 
 Again running, he follows the swath of his blade.
 It has cut man-thick trees here; it cannot have failed.
 Sure enough, the track ends where the blade pinned its mark
 To a tree: Gimret's corpse hanging bleeding, impaled.
 
 "Gimret," Rei murmurs, shaken.  The Hunter is gone,
 The wood once again quiet; no sound but the drip
 Of the slow, morbid blood Gimret's heart lately pumped
 That flows down his still blades and falls off each sharp tip.
 
 Rei's head bows for a moment of grief for his friends.
 First was Tula: Rei saw the pathetic, halved form
 That the Hunter's blade left; then great Goreim so maimed
 His blood puddled like living lakes, steaming and warm.
 
 Now the knife-flyer; Rei had seen Gimret half soaked
 In his blood; it was then he had learned of D's flight.
 Gimret bound his own wounds, had continued to serve
 Their grim master; and Rei feels remorse at his plight.
 
 Rei upraises his head, tosses back his gray hair;
 Narrowed eyes view the home that for now he must shun.
 "I shall not rest a night in the castle, the keep,
 Till that dhampire is dead and my Dark Lord's will done."
 
                     /
             *//////{<>==================-
                     \
 
 Dreams in darkness, in mist; visions merge, melt, and dance:
 D's caped, shadowed, still form that the snake women tease;
 Count Lee's grim, craggy face; and red spiders that fly;
 And throughout all a voice: "Sis!  Sis, wake up now--please!"
 
 Doris wakes with a start and sits up in her bed.
 "Dan!  Thank God you're all right--and I'm home!  But where's D?"
 "Right outside.  He's amazing!  He brought you back safe
 From the castle--I thought that you'd never get free!
 
 And he went straight to work once he got you inside--
 Now he's fixing the barrier fast as he can.
 I'm so glad that he's here--I'm so glad that you're home--
 And I'm going to be like him when I'm a grown man!"
 
                         End part 17
 
 
             Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 18
 
 Where tavern lights shatter the young evening's dark,
 A high-stepping horse trots Runsilva's main street.
 The crest of Lee gleams on the carriage it draws,
 And heads turn at the sound of the clattering feet.
 
 Eyes grow wide as they take in the black plumes and crest;
 Murmurs shake the night air: "What's *it* doing in town?"
 The sharp hoofbeats are stilled at Runsilva's one inn;
 Every face stares aghast at what grimly steps down.
 
 Well, *almost* every face.  One redheaded and pert
 Rubs against Greco's arm.  "We don't want to stop here!"
 "No!" exclaims a brunette clinging tight to his sleeve.
 "It's so early--we're not going to stop at one beer!"
 
 If Greco hears, he gives no sign;
 His eyes and ears alike are fixed
 Upon the inn, his thoughts awhirl
 With greed and cunning intermixed.
 
 He shoves the flanking belles aside.
 "Go home!" he snaps.  "I've things to do!"
 The redhead nearly hits the ground;
 The brunette shouts, "The same to you!"
 
 Between them now a third is seen,
 Revealed by Greco's sudden flight.
 She adds her voice: "You jerk!"  "You queer!"
 "Grow up!"  "Good riddance--and good night!"
 
 The taunts fall onto empty air,
 Their object gone into the inn
 Across the street; its heavy door
 Shuts out the beauties' furious din.
 
 At the inn's front desk stands the shivering wreck
 Of the manager; even so much bright gold
 As Rei put down for a single room
 Is not enough to preserve his hold
 
 On sanity shattered beneath the stare
 Of the servant of darkness, whose silence is worse
 Than the howl of a wolf or the roar of a lion
 Or the voice of a magus intoning a curse.
 
 Greco slaps his palms on the inn's front desk.
 "Hey, manager!  Service!  Or can't you hear?"
 "The C-C-Count's messenger--"  "Yes, I know.
 Shit!  I don't have time for your stupid fear!"
 
 One hand yanks a broad lapel aside,
 Digs deep in the manager's flashy coat,
 Through pockets perhaps better unexplored
 While whimpers leak from the captive's throat.
 
 "I've got to use the monitor room:
 Where's the key?--Aha!"  Fingers close on steel.
 The lapel is released, and the nerveless form,
 Eyes shut, hits the floor that it cannot feel.
 
 The monitor room and the mayor's son
 Are long-time friends, its video screen
 A familiar sight as it whines to life
 And dissolves from dark to a homely scene
 
 While Greco slips a cassette in place
 To record what may come to see or hear.
 He puts on headphones, seats himself
 At the CRT--where he gulps in fear
 
 At the sight that flickers and sometimes rolls
 On the dim old screen: Rei's humble room
 With its cracking plaster and sagging bed,
 And its one bare bulb to dispel the gloom--
 
 Just a bit too well for Greco's taste.
 There are creatures best neither seen nor heard.
 Two such appear in the room (and some
 Might claim that Rei makes a fitting third).
 
 A dark-robed figure as tall as Rei
 Confronts him; its cowl reveals a face
 Not of flesh or bones but a mass of tubes
 That leave neither mouth nor nose a place
 
 But surround black craters that might be eyes--
 Caverns full of the night or of fathomless space.
 Close by, cape-clad and with wide-brimmed hat
 Stands a silent figure of gnomish race.
 
 Rei looks a bit daunted but still stands erect
 In the face of a being that no blade can slay
 And its small, warped familiar; if they seek his death,
 They will find it, and easily: such is their way.
 
 The messenger of darkness lacks
 Both nose and mouth, yet breath it draws
 In hollow hisses, like the sound
 Of parchment raked by dragon's claws.
 
 It speaks in tones as deep as death.
 "I come here at Count Lee's command
 To seek his foremost servant out
 For motives you will understand."
 
 Rei replies, "The wrath of a ruler royal
 I fail to fear; it were wrong to flee
 From pain or punishment: shame alone
 Has led me far from Castle Lee.
 
 No surprise that you seek me, but that you are seen
 Is a worrisome wonder; your ways I well know.
 You deal death in the darkness and do not delay
 Lest the wary, forewarned, seek to ward off their woe.
 
 My lord is my law; by his leave do I live
 Or to death am doomed by his dark decree.
 I foresee no forgiveness for failing my guard
 So his enemy fled and intended went free."
 
 "Of penalty," the cowled head says,
 "Count Lee spoke not; he only said
 That you had cause as much as he
 To wish the Vampire Hunter dead,
 
 And toward that end he ordered me
 To give you this."  Now in its hands
 Appears a salver; thereupon
 A plain but mystic weapon stands:
 
 A candle burned to half its height,
 The wick a crumbling bit of night,
 With wax-drops leper-pale bedight:
 Naught of this earth should gleam so white.
 
 Its base clings hidden in a cup
 Inlaid with vinelike shapes of gold.
 Black iron, top-turned, its handle stands:
 A crozier for a dark priest's hold.
 
 Rei breathes a half-whisper: "The Mandrake of Blood."
 He had thought it a myth--or long lost to time's wear.
 He feels its dark magic: No mere candle this,
 But a poison, and almost too deadly to bear.
 
 Gray eyes grow wide and thin lips taut:
 Rei seldom comes so close to fear.
 "What weapon this for wight to wield?
 No mage am I, but mortal mere."
 
 "Your fears are groundless," says the thing,
 "So spare us all that look of woe.
 You need not be a witch nor mage
 To use this tool against a foe.
 
 The bearer of the Mandrake-lamp
 Is proof against its light or flame.
 A mortal, mage, or vampire true
 May wield it hurtless all the same.
 
 No vampire else may bear its light
 Without dark magic's shielding charm.
 All vampire-tainted veins its slows,
 And noblest blood feels greatest harm."
 
 Rei knows it; he has heard the tale
 As something of the distant past.
 But *use* the thing?  He hesitates
 And ponders; then he speaks at last:
 
 "By mightiest magic the Mandrake of Blood
 Through the scent of its smoke or the sight of its flame
 May an old vampire slay or his bite's victim slow,
 But to work death by spells is a warrior's shame.
 
 Though edge fly in error or point fail to pierce,
 I take pride in the path of my bright, burnished blade.
 I would win without witchery, honor upheld,
 Or else fall as my due and face Death unafraid."
 
 "Count Lee knows what is in your heart;
 He says if you fulfill this task
 As he envisions, he will grant
 The Noble blood: You need but ask."
 
 Rei blanches, blushes, nearly starts
 To tremble, and his pulse beats fast
 To see his life's most treasured hope
 Within his reach at long-sought last.
 
 He seldom sets scruples so quickly aside
 As when thought of nobility cheers and consoles.
 "That damned dhampire's death and a Dark Lord's long life:
 With the Mandrake of Blood, I shall gain both my goals."
 
                  ,
               =={==========-
                  `
 
 "The Mandrake of Blood."  Greco murmurs the words
 As he watches Rei's grasp seize the iron cold and black.
 Little more than a thought lights the wick, so it seems.
 Blue eyes narrow, prepared to pursue this new tack.
 
                       End part 18
 
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 19
 
 The great mist-creature floats between trees, over rocks,
 Seeks its prey: man or mutant, with four feet or two,
 It cares not; the air cracks with a laser-gun's burst;
 The red mist swoops and coils as no bird ever flew.
 
 Dan fires again, but into four
 It parts; each quarter floats its way.
 Dan runs, pursuing; gasps and halts;
 Looks up, his eyes reflecting gray.
 
 
        _|_       _|_       _|_       _|_
         |         |         |         |
         |         |         |         |
 
 
 At intervals tall crosses stand,
 Fence-uprights, weathered hearts of trees
 Made stout against the elements,
 Their height outstripping even D's.
 
 He gazes on one, green eyes shaded and grim.
 From behind him come Doris's hurrying feet.
 "D, I still can't find Dan!  Have--?" but Doris stops short.
 At the sight of Dan's rifle, her heart skips a beat.
 
 "Dan's gun," she murmurs.  "But up there?"--
 Suspended from the cross-beam high.
 "He's been taken hostage, it seems," D observes.
 "Taken *hostage*?" says Doris.  "For goodness' sake, why?"
 
 With a soft noise of tearing, D pulls down the note
 That a whitethorn spike pins to the gray, weathered wood.
 He reads it in silence.  "D, what does it say?
 They took Dan?--Oh, I know it's not anything good!"
 
 But she snatches it, scans it--or rather, she tries.
 "What is *this*?  I can't read it."  "And few enough can.
 It is called 'The Assassin's Tongue;' vampires and worse
 Know it well.  Count Lee's servant--the mutant--has Dan."
 
 "The count's servant?  But why?  I'm the one the count wants,
 Not my brother--not Dan."  "This is not Count Lee's deed,"
 D explains, "but Rei Ginsei's.  He waits for me now.
 I must meet him alone to see Dan safely freed.
 
 He wants us apart--and he wants his revenge."
 "But Dan!" protests Doris.  "Why not just take me?"
 "No, indeed," D replies; "to use you as a pawn
 Would dishonor the name of his master, Count Lee."
 
 "Dishonor!" cries Doris, and loud thunder rolls
 As if Nature condemns what the Dark Lord has done.
 "Count Lee is a monster, like all of his kin!
 Speak of honor--and vampires--in *two* breaths, not one!"
 
 Then her voice chokes itself; her hand flies to her lips,
 But too late; some small part of D's feelings may show
 In his half-downcast profile; he lets silence fall
 A long moment, then quietly says, "So you know.
 
 I am dhampire, half breed of the Dark Lords you hate;
 While you think me no more, your doubt rightly remains.
 But I stand by my vow, and I will not recant,
 Though the blood of the Nobles runs dark in my veins."
 
 "D," Doris says softly, "I didn't mean you.
 You've proven your honor to me and to Dan.
 I trust in the strength of your brave Hunter's heart,
 And I know you can help us if anyone can."
 
              />
      O[\\\\\(O):<============================-
              \>
 
 The cyborg's black hooves pound the broad, barren track:
 Behind, dust uprises, earth startled to flight;
 Before it the rock stacks grow tall in D's view.
 His eyes narrow: a place chosen well for a fight.
 
                                    <\
     -============================>:(O)/////]O
                                    </
 
 In the shadows of twilight a form tall and cloaked
 Picks its way through the boulders and petrified trees.
 Rei waits in their midst, squarely faces his foe,
 And stands a bit straighter, his gaze meeting D's.
 
 "I salute you, dhampire, soon to die,
 For the courage to come and be killed like a man."
 D regards him passionless, speaks at last
 With the few short words in his mind: "Where is Dan?"
 
 Rei Ginsei's arm sweeps a silent arc:
 In the last low rays of the good sun's light,
 On the broad, flat top of a rock stack tall,
 Dan lies prone, peering down to the deepening night.
 
 It is too far to jump from, a course so sheer
 No mountaineer could descend; only flight
 Such as took him up there could bring him down
 From his narrow perch at its fearful height.
 
 "D, help me!" he calls, voice fragile, thin.
 Rei shouts to him, "Boy, weep not nor wail.
 I have sworn I shall see you safe and sound,
 And a promise once pledged I fulfill without fail.
 
 When the dhampire is dead I shall do as I said--"
 "D, please!" Dan calls.  "It's scary here!"
 "Damn your eyes," D growls.  Rei's retort is swift:
 "Let us fight; may he triumph who feels less fear!"
 
 Rei's blade appears with the hiss and click
 Of steel from a scabbard, of a joint locked tight.
 It whirls through the air, spins the silver length
 Of the Hunter's sword, soon to end its flight.
 
 Rei's own beloved blade was this time little more
 Than a ruse; as resistance, no more than play.
 Rei's arm curls backward; his left hand grasps
 What will burn with a light like the height of the day!
 
 As cool and hard as the iron it grips,
 Rei's fist swings the lamp as he breathes the spell
 Meant to tip the wick with unnatural fire,
 And show truth of the adage: Dark blood will tell.
 
 D watches, sword drawn and teeth half-bared;
 Through his eyes the symbiot, too, can see,
 And exclaims in alarm: "It's the Mandrake of Blood!
 If he lights it, we're done for--be careful, D!"
 
 But the wick stays black: unmoved, cold, dead.
 And a panicked Rei Ginsei exclaims, "It won't light!"
 Then snarls his defiance; though nearly unarmed,
 He will never retreat--not one pace!--from a fight.
 
 Rei leaps forward, failed weapon still tight in his grasp,
 But forgotten, foresworn like his cast-aside blade.
 He pivots, his right fist a challenge again,
 But before more than half of its arc can be made
 
 D's sword flashes forward a shimmering stroke,
 Through leather and sinew, through iron and bone.
 Blood jets like a flame from a candle of flesh;
 Rei screams in pain; his left hand flies, thrown
 
 Ten paces or more away, aside;
 Lands upright on its stump, fist tight and cold,
 Still gripping wrought iron; the cup softly rolls
 On the ground, freed alike from both handle and hold.
 
                /
        *%%%%%%{<>==================-
                \
 
 Doris sits alone in her silent house
 Huddled close to herself, face bathed in tears.
 The cares of her heart overflow into speech,
 Though unheard and unheeded by even her ears.
 
 "Oh, Dan, please be safe ... if he fails ... if you die ....
 How can D say I'm guiltless?  No sister could be,
 When her enemies take her own brother instead--"
 Then a voice interrupts her with: "Doris!  It's me!"
 
 "Dr. Fering!" she cries, and she leaps to her feet,
 Sudden joy overwhelming her heart and her face.
 Fering calls, "Let me in!" Doris turns off the field;
 Lets him in and is caught in his gentle embrace.
 
 Her tears flow anew.  "They have Dan--they have Dan!"
 Fering holds her.  "I'm sorry--there's so much to do.
 A patient was ill, and I couldn't delay.
 It isn't enough that Count Lee molests you--
 
 Now your brother is gone--it's so very unfair
 That you have to endure this--but keep being strong.
 I've found a new hope for you--safety in sight--
 I'll explain on the way.  Doris, please--come along."
 
                              \
          -==================<>}%%%%%%*
                              /
 
 Dan clings to a corner of D's long blue cloak,
 Half behind it he watches, eyes fearful and wide,
 As Rei writhes on the ground, stump clutched tight to his chest;
 Blood pumps out with the rhythm of life's restless tide.
 
 Rei's voice is hoarse with anger and pain:
 "You magicked the Mandrake--my Lord would not lie!
 What warrior witchery will--"  "You are wrong.
 You sought to use witchcraft--*you*, coward; not I.
 
 You held but a copy--the semblance of power,
 With no place in our contest and outside the code
 Of warriors' honor; of blade against blade--
 A mockery dark that your master bestowed.
 
 You sought to use magic, instead found disgrace--"
 Rei rasps in return, "Is a warrior's way
 To add insult to injury?  Mock a man maimed?
 Hunter halfbreed, shame to the words you say!"
 
 Rei's voice and vision alike grow dim,
 Gaze not on the foe that he swore would be killed,
 But on Dan on the ground, a reminder to Rei
 Of a second dishonor: his word unfulfilled.
 
                       End part 19
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 20
 
 Sheer rock to the right; to the left a descent
 Of jagged-edged stones from a mountain's cold heart.
 Inbetween runs a path--broad enough, but no more--
 For the passage of Doris's pony-drawn cart.
 
 In the lanterns' light, Doris holds the reins,
 And to her companion she says, "Is it true?"
 Dr. Fering nods.  "Yes, indeed," he replies.
 "I have seen it myself; soon enough, so shall you.
 
 In the town an old man has been telling the tale
 Of a house half-forgotten; upon its stone wall
 Ancient symbols are carved in a glyph that defends
 Against vampires and any dark force they may call.
 
 It will shelter us both while your Hunter saves Dan,
 And he will, I feel sure."  Doris nods.  "So do I!"
 Then she widens her eyes at an unwelcome sight
 And must muffle her scream to a low, startled cry
 
 At "--Our own Dark Lord's daughter!" as Fering exclaims:
 On the road stands Ramika, her form wrapped in black.
 Doris tugs the reins hard, loudly calling out, "Whoa!"
 Fering says, "Turn around!  Now we've got to go back!"
 
 "There's no room!" Doris answers.  "We have to go on!
 And if that means a fight--"  Her hand moves toward her hip,
 But Fering outreaches her, takes what she seeks;
 Doris gasps at the loss of her energy whip,
 
 But before she finds words for her outrage and shock,
 Fering snatches her cross--the chain snaps at her chest--
 In a gesture that catches her decolletage
 And pulls it down, too, from a single fair breast.
 
 "Dr. Fering!"  She clutches her dress into place
 As he leaps from his perch--an unnatural bound
 For a man of his age--and how smoothly he lands!
 Then he chuckles and turns, looking up from the ground.
 
 "I was--until yesterday," Fering replies.
 His canines grow long, and his eyes bright and wide
 As his collar falls open to give the last proof:
 Two great chewed-looking wounds he no longer need hide.
 
 Doris stares, then sobs:  "Oh my God--not *you!*"
 Her face falls to her hands; cold coils of despair
 Streak their way through her veins, spiral tight in her chest,
 Crowd the hope from her heart as they make it their lair.
 
 Fering turns to Ramika.  "And why are you here?
 I alone was entrusted with serving Count Lee
 In this matter--to bring him his own chosen bride."
 But Ramika says stonily, "Bring her to me."
 
 Fering bows obeisance: "As my lady wills;"
 Then turns to Doris, his tongue's sharp end
 Flicking over his lips; Doris helpless sits
 And weeps at the loss of a trusted friend.
 
 Fering climbs to lean over her: "Lovely you are,
 And your rich maiden's blood is so hard to resist.
 How blind I have been--and how cruel is my lord.
 If I took a few drops, they would scarcely be missed.
 
 He wills that you come to the castle unharmed;
 He has promised me blood if I only obey.
 But--why should I wait?  You are here and alive."
 He leans closer, lips moist, when Ramika shouts, "Hey!"
 
 She has listened, repulsion and shame at his words
 Giving way to fierce anger as nearer she draws.
 She clutches the shaft of a keen whitethorn spike;
 Before Fering can do more than open his jaws
 
 In a shriek of protest, the sharp point seeks his heart
 With a movement too fast for a human to see.
 The force of the blow flings him down from the cart
 To the yawning abyss and its lining of scree.
 
 Poor Doris cries, "Doctor!"--alas, far too late.
 "Doris!" Fering calls back, voice now cracking and pained
 From the blood-gushing wound that indeed seals his fate
 And from sorrow--his former awareness regained.
 
 Doris sobs his name, but her voice is drowned
 By the rattling roar of a rockfall's end
 To an agonized howl--an inhuman sound
 Of farewell to a treasured and much-loved friend.
 
 Ramika's feet skirt the gorge's brim.
 Doris weeps, face in hands, unaware of her foe:
 "The doctor--and Dan--oh my God, and *him*--"
 Grief surpasses her words, choking off their flow.
 
 Ramika climbs up to take Fering's place.
 "*Him*?" she echoes, eyes hard as her upraised blade.
 "That dhampire, you mean?  He's a lesser disgrace
 Than the lust that my father will not see stayed."
 
 Her dagger shines in the lanterns' light.
 Doris makes no move: "Death is not the worst.
 My father taught what I know is right:
 To each mortal's end, honor must come first.
 
 With my brother gone and the blame to me,
 I have no more reason for life or pride.
 Use the knife as you wish: better death to see
 Than mix blood with the Count as a Dark Lord's bride."
 
 Ramika looks stunned, scarce believing her ears;
 Her blade she now lowers and sheathes; no need
 To shed blood of a human so lacking in fears
 And whose very words echo the proud Nobles' creed.
 
 "My father has caused this--no blame falls to you.
 You should flee--and you must!--far beyond his dark reach.
 Once you leave his domain, he lacks power to pursue--"
 From before them a light shines, curtailing her speech.
 
 Both gasp; Doris stares at the red-white glow,
 But Ramika winces and covers her eyes,
 Bows her head to her knees, then flings it back
 With a moan of pain, as she vainly tries
 
 To escape from her agony, mouth gone wide.
 Teeth gleam cat-sharp; lashes try to cling
 Together, but the red rays push them apart,
 Showing whites fringed black as a raven's wing.
 
 "Ramika!" cries Doris, too stunned to do more.
 The young Noble's struggles grow weaker, then cease
 For a moment; her eyelids are lowered at last,
 But some spark in her being denies her release
 
 So soon from the pain of the magical rays
 That suck strength from her body and light from her eyes.
 Her lithe form twists, sideward falls at last
 In a merciful faint, head on Doris's thighs.
 
 The light draws nearer both moveless forms,
 Doris too overcome to do more than stare.
 All is silent now but the footfalls soft
 Of its bearer, eclipsed by the shimmering glare.
 
 Then the candle is lowered, its bearer revealed
 To be "--Greco!" gasps Doris.  He laughs.  "But of course!
 And just look what I've got!  It's the Mandrake of Blood.
 If you need to fight vampires, you go to the source.
 
 You see," he explains, "the old legends are true:
 A vampire can't move when entrapped by its light."
 He approaches the cart, and his voice fairly gloats:
 "But it's better--she seems to feel pain at the sight!
 
 Well--I think it's time that we saw the Count."
 "Greco--what in *hell* are you talking about?"
 "Why dear, it's so simple: his daughter is bait.
 If he knows that we have her, he'll soon be lured out--
 
 And into an ambush, because I'll have this!
 When he's helpless, I'll kill him--just wait and you'll see.
 But I have a condition: You'll be at my side:
 We'll conclude Count Lee's death with your marriage to me!
 
 We'll rule the whole region; that vampire's domain
 Will be ours--can't you see that our fates are entwined?
 We'll both be remembered forever for this--"
 "Greco," Doris says dryly, "you're out of your mind."
 
 Greco does not hear; he now stands on the cart,
 Nearly pushes the light into Doris's face,
 And she winces, recoiling: "Please--don't!  It's too bright!"
 "Now, don't be so shy of my tender embrace."
 
 And he comes closer still.  "It's not too bright for *me*."
 Doris cannot move backward nor even aside
 With Ramika's dark head on her lap.  Greco says,
 "Don't you worry--I'll care for you, once you're my bride."
 
 Then the young Noble's form draws his roving blue eyes.
 "So this is the daughter of Count Magnus Lee."
 The candle moves lower, as does Greco's gaze:
 "She's not half the monster I thought that she'd be.
 
 She's pretty, in fact--even up close like this.
 I'm surprised Mother Nature saw fit to endow
 Her form with such beauty."  The form's eyelids twitch,
 And Ramika finds strength to half sob, "Kill me now!"
 
 "Ooh, look!" exclaims Greco.  "It *is* still alive!"
 Ramika's dark eyes remain closed, overcome.
 The pain of mere speech makes her voice cracked and hoarse,
 But she forces out words: "Coward!  Kill me, you scum!
 
 It's better to die than a prisoner be
 To filth like you."  "What the fuck did you say?--
 Little bitch from hell!"  "I said, Kill me *now*!--
 Or I'll kill you later--with your life you'll pay!"
 
 "Then kill you I shall!"  Greco's voice is a snarl.
 His free hand brings a stake near the candle's bright glow.
 "I can lure out the Count either with you or not."
 And he raises his weapon, but Doris cries, "No!
 
 She's helpless!"  But Greco says, "Perfect for me!
 There are some kinds of insult I don't have to take!"
 Doris flings herself forward and over her ward--
 So her torso lies first in the path of the stake!
 
 "Doris!" Greco exclaims, but his speech is cut off
 By his own cry of pain as a laser-gun's blast
 Knocks him into the gorge with a flash and a crack.
 Dan yells, "Doris!  It's me!"  Luck is with her at last!
 
 Dan runs toward the cart, still with rifle in hand.
 Doris looks up, astonished.  She'd lost hope to see
 The sight that now greets her--it's not only Dan,
 But the tall cyborg horse and its cloaked rider: D!
 
                       End part 20
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 21
 
 A site of such bloodshed is best left behind.
 Stars shine in the sky over mountains and plains;
 A broad lake reflects them, and close by its shore,
 The cart travels again, Doris holding the reins,
 
 With Dan at her side, as was Fering of late.
 D's cyborg keeps pace with the pony's slow course,
 And now double-mounted, Ramika astride
 Before D; her head nods with the gait of his horse.
 
 Her eyes are unfocused: half-lidded, gone dull;
 Perhaps from the Mandrake's unnatural light,
 Or perhaps from reflection on all she has seen;
 Or protecting her heart from the pain of her plight.
 
 D's great dark cape enwraps them both:
 He means it as comfort, a shelter to share.
 Ramika feels only a captor's embrace;
 Still weak, she can only pretend not to care.
 
 "Even Dr. Fering," Dan says at last.
 Doris answers, "I felt certain you were dead too--
 And our Hunter.  I nearly wished death for myself.
 I'd have nothing to live for if I should lose you."
 
 "Doris!" Dan exclaims.  "You can't say things like that!
 It's just like D told me--you know it's not right
 To give up when you're sad.  He says no matter what,
 It's like making a promise.  You finish the fight."
 
 In that moment Dan seems as courageous as D,
 Resolve strong as the Hunter's, and Doris says, "Dan--"
 But then stops; words fall short of what stirs in her heart
 At the thought of her brother's becoming a man.
 
                          |
        --==/////////////[}}====*
                          |
 
 At the star-flecked lake, on the sandy shore,
 The cart and its pony unmoving wait.
 Close by stands Ramika, gaze level, eyes still:
 She endures like a Noble, resigned to her fate.
 
 "It's not far to your castle," D says from his mount.
 "Go home now."  Ramika first stares in surprise,
 Then asks, plainly shaken, "You won't kill me yet?"
 She has spoken to D, but it's Dan who replies,
 
 "Of course not!"  He glares at her, crossing his arms.
 "You need a good reason before you should kill."
 Doris' mixed feelings show in her face and her voice
 As she adds: "He's a Hunter, with vows to fulfill.
 
 That means helping the blameless sometimes, in their need.
 You have left me unharmed; he does likewise to you."
 But Ramika replies, "And so simply I'm freed?"
 She looks down for a moment.  "Indeed, it is true:
 
 Unlike are our ways as are sunshine and night.
 We too have our honor; we too have our vows;
 But your strange human notions of wrong and of right
 Come from feeling unlike what our nature endows.
 
 We do not know mercy; we do not share love.
 We feel only hunger; we learn that our place
 Is to feed and to conquer: The rest we're above,
 For our role is to rule what is human and base."
 
 She falls silent; her gaze wanders over the three
 Whose loyalty drives them to actions that fly
 In the face of cold reason: Especially D ...
 For he cares.  And it hurts.  And she doesn't know why.
 
 "Only hunger and rulership?" D says at last.
 "These are far from the words of the Noblest and First.
 If your Ancestor heard that a Lady spoke thus,
 You know it would shame him.  He'd soon think the worst."
 
 A startled Ramika, voice shaken, eyes wide,
 Asks, "But--how can you know what is *ours* to obey?"
 D's quiet green gaze meets and steadies her own.
 "We share blood, little sister."  No more will he say.
 
                       End part 21
 
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 22
 
 The loudest sound throughout the house:
 A quiet hiss where Doris showers.
 Her body she can soon wash clean:
 What she has suffered these few hours
 
 Clings in her thoughts like vision-stains:
 The horrid lamp that Greco bore;
 Ramika's pain; Ramika's knife;
 The mad look Dr. Fering wore;
 
 And Dan endangered, nearly