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 lost
 Because of her, then saved by D,
 The Hunter whom her words so wronged,
 Who rescued her from Castle Lee.
 
 She feared him dead not long ago,
 But now she fears to face those eyes...
 Yet longs to; just to *be* with him.
 The night she's come to realize
 
 How brave he is and yet how kind;
 How wrong it was of her to speak
 In anger; so she vows to make
 Amends, and his forgiveness seek.
 
 With day-clothes bundled in her arms,
 Her hair, still moist, remains unbound;
 A simple robe enwraps her form;
 Her feet are bare and make no sound
 
 As Doris pads from room to room.
 In one she softly calls out, "D--?
 I'm finished, if you'd like to now--"
 And stops.  It's empty.  Where is he?
 
 He had been lying on the couch,
 Eyes closed in rest; perhaps in sleep,
 But now--her feet and hands grow cold,
 For fears and doubts are quick to creep
 
 Through blood gone thin from care and theft
 To niches they have come to know
 In years of worry: desert lands
 Where trust has not had time to grow.
 
 In panic Doris casts about
 For any hint; again she calls
 His name: "D?  *D!*" with rising voice.
 For half a moment silence falls:
 
 The latch clicks; wood resounds on wood,
 And Doris does not try to hide
 Her fear, but gasping whirls to view
 The door--and D, now back inside.
 
 He stands with sword in hand but sheathed,
 Eyes shadowed by his hat's broad brim
 And unconcerned; but Doris runs
 Across the room to speak with him.
 
 He wonders at her worried look:
 "What's wrong?" he asks; she shakes her head.
 "Not wrong--oh, D, I'm glad you're here.
 And after all the things I said,
 
 I wouldn't blame you if you left.
 I'm sorry.  You've been more than kind
 And brave.  I owe you thanks--not *that*."
 D's tone is gentle.  "I don't mind."
 
 "D--please.  I'm so afraid for you.
 My father--may he rest in peace--
 He hunted werewolves.  That was not
 Enough.  The village would not cease
 
 To press him to fight vampires, too.
 At last he did; at least, he tried.
 He couldn't; and the vampires laughed,
 And at their hands, my father died.
 
 I don't want you to end that way!
 There's too much fighting--please, let's go
 To someplace you won't have to fight."
 D's eyes are sad as he says, "No.
 
 I can't--we can't--do such a thing."
 "But D--why not?"  "For honor's sake,
 If nothing else--both yours and mine.
 And it would be a grave mistake
 
 For you.  You would despise that life."
 "I wouldn't, D!  And if you stay,
 You might--"  Her voice attempts no more;
 Words fail; but tears will have their say.
 
 The bundle falls from Doris' grasp,
 Forgotten as her arms are pressed
 Before her face--but more than that:
 She leans on them, on D's broad chest.
 
 A startled D looks down at her
 And somehow stammers, "Doris--don't--"
 With face downcast, she shakes her head.
 "Don't say that I should go.  I won't!"
 
 Her hair flows down in golden waves,
 The shoulders of her modest dress
 Half-covered by those silk-soft tips
 That beg some caring hand's caress.
 
 A quiet sob bestirs her locks,
 And like a curtain drawn aside
 A few slip forward; these conceal
 The marks of Lee's intended bride--
 
 Show other fair and radiant skin,
 Its warm and smooth expanse unmarred
 By flaw or choker; D stands still
 But breathes through teeth clenched far too hard.
 
 His face grows taut; his eyes go wide
 And roll to show broad fields of white,
 Blood-emptied; now the flame-blue glow
 Behind them kindles at the sight--
 
 And can he smell what flows beneath?
 He dares not turn away; she'd fall
 Or worse--look up!  He tilts his head
 Far backward; all his pain and all
 
 His passions rip a jagged route
 From heart to throat and force a groan
 Past teeth that lengthen, sharper grow:
 Is power of will enough alone
 
 To curb a nature meant to rage,
 Devour and slay?  How strong can be
 Against that tide one silent hope:
 <<Dear God, dear God: *don't - let - her - see*!>>
 
 A woman's heart can feel the pain
 That chivalry and courage hide.
 However great her own distress,
 Such truths refuse to be denied
 
 But make their own way from one breast to the next,
 Waking instincts as strong as what vampires must heed.
 Doris speaks, face concealed, but voice tender and clear:
 "I care for you, D: Take the blood that you need."
 
 The strength behind those gentle words
 Calls out to an embattled soul;
 Green eyes can see the world again;
 Behind them is a mind made whole
 
 Once more--but shamed and numbed with shock
 That loosens one strong, brown-gloved hand
 And frees the sword to clatter to
 The floor.  D never hears it land.
 
 His arms seem to impel themselves
 To pull her close; he longs to dare
 Let flesh touch flesh; let ungloved hand
 Adore that soft, unfettered hair.
 
 Denied such humble human joys,
 He savors still the shred he can:
 To hold her form against his own
 And for a moment be a man.
 
 He must not tempt himself or fate
 And draws on all his inner strength
 To grasp her shoulders, push her back--
 Away!  If only one arm's length.
 
 At such a gesture Doris gasps
 But makes no protest.  She can see
 Upon that shadowed face the ghosts
 Of pain and care; they pause, then flee
 
 As D at last regains his breath.
 His heart slows, and a final sigh
 Escapes the quiet, calm facade
 That lust and longing underlie.
 
 How can he even face himself--?
 Much less his hostess; but he must
 And does, though shamed by wide blue eyes
 That look to him with utter trust,
 
 Despite the dangers in his veins
 That innocence might well abhor.
 She murmurs, "D--"  He speaks a hoarse
 "Forgive me" --and can say no more.
 
             /
     *%%%%%%{<>==================-
             \
 
 Cloak-wrapped, D lies upon the couch.
 He knows the house has been made fast
 Against the night; his eyes fall shut
 In quiet dark.  Alone at last.
 
 "Ah-*ha*!"  It is the symbiot's voice.
 "Alone, indeed.  It serves you right.
 You're neither vampire nor a man.
 What sort of misbegotten blight
 
 Is in your veins?  She's offered both
 Her maidenhead and blood to you.
 You can't just crush your instincts
 Into dust.  You scorn the woman, too."
 
 D silently winces; the creature speaks on:
 "You're a *dhampire*; why must you act so untoward?
 For the son of--" And D is at last moved to speech:
 "*Never* mention that name!  Damn your eyes!  Where's my sword?!"
 
 "Hmph.  You know what to do when your left hand offends.
 Oh, lie down, you great oaf!  It's your loss if you wreak
 Such a vengeance on both of us--don't cut me off
 At the wrist!  I'll be silent--until you can't speak."
 
 It never was a thing to lie;
 And D relents: ah, let it stay,
 Pronounce its omens; they may prove
 Prophetic ere the dawn of day.
 
                       End part 22
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 23
 
 A battered Greco slowly limps
 A riverbed long dry and dust
 Between tall cliffs, and in his hand
 The unlit Mandrake.  "So my trust,"
 
 He says, "was not at all misplaced.
 I'll try again another day.
 Right now--" and Greco stops and stares.
 Before him stands a figure: Rei!
 
 One arm is bandaged, plainly short;
 The other bears the fang-curved blade.
 Rei's jaw is set; his gray eyes glare
 With anger that will not be stayed.
 
 "Reaving wretch!" he snarls.  "You shall rob no more
 Once I've worked my will."  Greco cries, "Please--wait!"
 "That I won't," Rei replies.  "This keen edge craves a kill;
 Nothing short of that bath will its bloodthirst sate."
 
                       |
     --==/////////////[}}====*
                       |
 
 D's eyes fly open; some half-heard sound
 Pulls him back from the brink of uneasy sleep.
 He arms himself quickly and steps outside,
 Drawn from rest by the call of a vow to keep.
 
 His eyes are narrowed, his mouth concealed
 By collar-ends crossing like blades that fight.
 Grass muffles his footsteps; no other sound mars
 The silence and peace of the fields at night.
 
 Then before him light blooms with a sudden blast.
 The noise rocks the ground, sets his hair into flight,
 Casts long black shadows that tremble and stretch;
 Smoke rises in billows of charcoal and white
 
 That become suffused with a sickly red.
 D gasps in pain as if struck by the sight.
 His collar flies open from the rays' dark force,
 So his face is exposed to that alien light.
 
 He half turns away, the flame of his eyes
 Death-pale in the glare, all his weapons' array
 Made useless; a sound now reveals who bears
 This thing: the triumphant laughter of Rei.
 
 D rasps a curse: merely drawing breath
 Turns his lungs to fire, takes strength from his knees:
 Like venom the smoke of the Mandrake of Blood.
 What tries to be speech slips out as a wheeze
 
 Past a hand that attempts--too little, too late!--
 To block nose and mouth from the scent and feel
 Of magic to torment the blood in his veins.
 D has drawn his sword but can only reel
 
 And lean on the blade as on some beggar's crutch,
 Point dug into the ground; Rei draws nearer still
 And laughs once again: "Yes, my lord lied not;
 You won well before; now I work my will!"
 
 The light so close is a blinding force.
 D writhes at the pain, but the power is fled
 From his hand; unheeded the bright sword falls,
 As does D himself, to lie still as if dead.
 
 Well does Rei know the ways of the vampire-kind,
 Be the blood transformed or bestowed by birth.
 The appearance of death may indeed deceive,
 Lest a whitethorn spike pin the heart to earth.
 
 With one cautious toe he turns that form
 So its placid face would survey the skies
 If it could; and the Mandrake he lowers to ground;
 Ruddy shadows are cast on the lidded green eyes.
 
 "Merciful man, you let me live,
 But I fear it's a favor I can't return;
 Your head is the price of my heart's desire--
 Noble blood to buy; life eternal to earn."
 
 Rei pulls from his pocket a whitethorn stake,
 So near--oh, so near!--to achieving his dream.
 He plunges it down with a warrior's strength;
 Blood leaps high where it strikes; an impossible scream
 
 Emerges from jaws unlocked by pain
 Of a heart that propels the whole body to rise
 As no corpse ever should; rigor-stiff but not still
 With its open and glowing but colorless eyes
 
 As some essence jets from the mortal wound.
 Rei keeps his distance and holds his breath:
 Will a mere stake defeat such a force as this--?
 But the dhampire falls with the stillness of death.
 
                              |
               --==//////////[}}===*
                              |
 
 
 Ramika, in darkness and quiet, alone,
 Gasps and clutches her chest as if stabbed to the heart.
 Her knees give way: Blood has called shared blood
 Through a power that refuses to gently depart.
 
                    |
               *==={{]//////////==--
                    |
 
 Rei glares at his stump with a snarling laugh:
 "My debt to you, dhampire: and promptly paid."
 D's left hand he props on his knee with his stump,
 Lops it off at the wrist with one stroke of his blade.
 
 As a fist it flies free, shedding streamers of blood;
 Rei follows its course with indifferent eyes,
 Then smiles to himself; revenge may be sweet,
 But still sweeter the sureness of winning his prize.
 
 Silver streaks plummet down; first a few heavy drops
 That build to a torrent of rain where D lies.
 Cool rivulets stream down the unmoving cheeks;
 The roar of the rainfall commingles with cries
 
 From somewhere, from nowhere: "D, please--*please* don't die!"
 Doris' voice may be real or a dark fever dream.
 Dan's impassioned speech: "D, you've got to live!"
 Is half-drowned by his sister's despairing scream.
 
                    /| ________________
              O|===|* >________________>
                    \|
 
 Ramika, kneeling, at last looks up;
 Looks on darkness and silence. Her pain has fled,
 But weakness remains, with an odd sense of loss--
 Almost grief, and she murmurs, "That man ... is he dead?"
 
                       End part 23
 
 Ascii swords based on a design by Tua Xiong
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 24
 
 Robed figures file through the gloomy depths
 Of the castle dungeons; they do not care
 That Dan lies unconscious and helpless nearby,
 Brought by force but abandoned at the vampire's lair.
 
                        |
      --==/////////////[}}====*
                        |
 
 The clouds have passed, and the cold moon shines
 On slithering mutants not worm nor snake
 That eyeless creep, mouths black and wide
 With sharp teeth eager for prey to take.
 
 Another thing moves on the soggy ground:
 A pale, clenched hand, more blood than wrist
 Where it ends; fingers twitch, uncurl, open wide;
 Give a flutter and then an impossible twist
 
 Onto tips of fingers that spiderlike crawl
 On the mud, through the grass, making scuttling sounds.
 Then it halts, and the palm somehow raises itself
 So a keen-eyed face can survey its surrounds.
 
 Through gaps between blades it at last sees its goal:
 Blue cloak, auburn hair, face pale and still;
 And the fingers crawl through the damp once again,
 Over short grass that bows to the symbiot's will.
 
                +
       O========|===========================-
                +
 
 "Such willfulness does not become
 A daughter of the House of Lee."
 So speaks its master from his throne.
 "I beg you, Father, hear my plea."
 
 Ramika's eyes are wide and moist,
 And she continues: "It is wrong,
 Such degradation; I have voiced
 Objections, for I love our long
 
 And noble past.  Can you not see--
 The girl is a commoner, low and unfit
 To wed to a Noble; this match must not be!"
 Count Lee is unmoved: "Her life will flit
 
 Away and quickly.  I shall not
 Retain her ever at my side.
 I shall in time grow tired of her;
 Destroy her; seek another bride.
 
 That is my right as Noble lord.
 You know that I am master here;
 Why do you question?" "Father, please;
 Can you not understand my fear?
 
 We are as noble as our house;
 If that should fall, then so shall we,
 Deserving; an ignoble spouse
 Befouls the lordly name of Lee.
 
 It is sooner, not later, the woman should die:
 I shall kill her myself, for she tempts you too much.
 She is joy to your tongue and delight to your eye,
 But your lower yourself by consorting with such--"
 
 "Enough, my daughter.  Hear me well.
 This cannot harm the House of Lee.
 I know: Ramika, *you* were born
 Of mortal even such as she."
 
 Ramika's eyes go wide with pain;
 Her mouth grows slack, her vision dim.
 The ringing in her ears drowns out
 All thoughts but one: <<Am I like *him*?>>
 
 Oblivious to his daughter's shock,
 Count Lee speaks on: "Ten thousand years
 And more have I seen slowly pass.
 You must not let your youthful fears
 
 Deceive you.  You are far too young
 To know what ancients must endure
 Through ceaseless, endless centuries
 Of slow, dull time.  I seek a cure
 
 For boredom that is worse than death.
 A human woman is a toy,
 A silly creature, full of life.
 But thus are mortals: They enjoy
 
 Their little lives because we rule,
 Control, protect: They lack our strength.
 And is it not a Noble's right
 To take what pleases?  Ah, the length
 
 Of time I have neglected that!"
 He rises.  "Do not think it ill
 That every fifty years or so
 I have my pleasure and my will."
 
 Preoccupied, Count Lee walks past;
 Ramika cannot even turn
 To watch him; something in her heart
 Is nearly shattered; who could learn
 
 That all her cherished Noble's pride
 Was based on lies and still stay sane?
 She has not heard a sentence since,
 But one brave hope will yet remain.
 
 Despite full eyes and aching throat,
 She speaks it: "Say it isn't so--
 My mother was--"  Count Lee replies,
 "A common human.  That I know."
 
 Ramika whirls; her scream of rage
 Reechoes through the cold, dead halls.
 The mists recoil, and shadows shake
 Against the old obsidian walls.
 
 She springs; bright tears flow down her cheeks
 Unheeded; thoughts of kin or kind
 Cast into darkness; vampire-like,
 The urge to slay enwraps her mind.
 
 Count Lee half turns; the ancient power
 That burns dull red about his eyes
 In midair meets Ramika's form
 And flings it backward; stunned surprise
 
 Flits past her face and then is gone
 With consciousness; her eyelids close.
 Her body hangs impossibly
 Upon a tower of smoke that glows,
 
 Supported by a Dark Lord's art,
 Not easily nor soon defied;
 And Count Lee speaks: "Despite your blood,
 In truth, you have a Noble's pride,
 
 But that is not sufficient cause
 For arrogance beyond your place.
 I will not have my wedding spoiled
 By your unseemly lack of grace.
 
 Stay there a time and learn restraint."
 And thus he leaves her: helpless, still;
 Suspended like a side of meat,
 Remainder of some butcher's kill.
 
                              <\
   -==========================[]88888]
                              </
 
 The ancient vampire's measured tread
 Along a broad and twilit way
 Is halted; Count Lee gazes down
 Upon the kneeling form of Rei.
 
 That gray head does not often bow,
 And never with such inward joy
 As warms the tone of formal words
 A Dark Lord's servant must employ.
 
 "My lord and liege, alone my law,
 Whose worthy will is but my own,
 I have ever obeyed in accord with my oaths,
 Ever rendered respect such as rulers are shown.
 
 As your messenger dark said you bade, I have done:
 Wrought the death of the dhampire, a low life to take,
 Made motionless, bound by the Mandrake of Blood,
 Heart stilled and fate sealed by the stroke of the stake.
 
 I pray you, fulfill now the promise you made
 To bestow Noble blood, Noble kinship on me
 For attaining this end; make me one of your own:
 A Dark Lord in truth, of the High House of Lee."
 
 The last word nearly takes Rei's voice;
 His arms he steadies even though
 He cannot crush his growing joy
 Or force his racing heart to slow.
 
 How sweet will be the piercing sting
 That taps his veins to drain away
 His mortal blood; how soon the power
 He longs for will succeed it-- "Rei!"
 
 Count Lee's voice interrupts his thoughts,
 Returns him to: "You mutant fool.
 You let the Mandrake slip your grasp
 And lost your hand: Pathetic tool!
 
 You dare to ask for Noble blood
 When you have shown you do not see
 The way I wish to be obeyed;
 And you suggest the House of Lee
 
 Should add a cripple to its ranks?
 You are not fit to be my prey,
 Much less a kinsman, thinking that:
 You really are amusing, Rei.
 
 I credit grant where it is due:
 You may yet join us even though
 This time you failed: You'll need to wait
 Another fifty years or so."
 
 Count Lee walks past the kneeling form
 And chuckles softly at the thought
 Of Rei's pretensions: he believed
 Such privilege so cheaply bought?
 
 Poor Rei remains almost as still
 As death; but tremors slowly start
 In steel-strong muscles: faith betrayed,
 Discarded, trampled, torn apart
 
 In seconds after years of work,
 Of hope and longing--from its grave
 It cries for justice: <<Let me die,>>
 It says, <<a better thing to save--
 
 Your self!>>  Rei's aching heart agrees.
 What other chance?  How long can be
 A mutant's span in such a place,
 In service to Count Magnus Lee?
 
 The hope is gone; its ghost departs,
 Breathed out, a whisper: "Fifty years?"
 And for the first time in Rei's life,
 Those hard gray eyes are touched by tears.
 
                       End part 24
 
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 25
 
 The symbiot has made its way
 To D's blue cape that lies outspread
 Beneath its master as he lies
 Upon the ground: He should be dead,
 
 But vampire-stuff is slow to yield
 To mortal weakness; fingers crawl
 Upon the fabric: back until
 Wound touches wound, one bloodied wall
 
 Against another: long apart,
 How can they join?  And yet they do!
 Smoke rises from the thin red line;
 The smoke fades; and the line does, too.
 
 The symbiot lets out a sigh.
 "Oh, my, that's better.  *People* roam,
 But I belong here where I am."
 Its fingers wiggle. "D! I'm home!"
 
 It raises up its arm (and D's)
 And laughs in triumph--then it sees
 The mutant worms--and less at ease,
 Looks farther up: A sight to freeze
 
 The blood slips from behind the trees:
 The plasma-beast!  It seems to tease
 The leaves; below, in twos and threes,
 Worms hunt; the creature rides the breeze,
 
 Then swoops, attacking.  One bold worm
 Rears serpent-like, its blind fangs bared
 But useless.  Mist surrounds its length.
 No fragment of its flesh is spared
 
 By hungry red shot through with bolts
 Like lightning.  "Quick!" exclaims the thing
 That shares D's hand.  "I've got to move!
 I'll need more strength if I'm to bring
 
 Us both to safety!"  And it dives
 To earth; but soon its grasp is raised,
 Palm filled with dirt.  A munching sound,
 Like beasts that chew what they have grazed,
 
 Emerges through the soggy soil
 That disappears, consumed as fast
 As that weird mouth can gulp it down
 And sate an appetite so vast.
 
 Twice more the creature grasps and chews
 And gulps; then belches, half content.
 The mist-thing still devours the prey
 That writhes within its plasma-tent.
 
 D's symbiot first clasps its fist,
 Then opens wide both jaws and grip,
 Inhales so deeply D's long cloak
 Flaps wildly in the winds that whip
 
 Their way into the creature's mouth,
 Sucked in by supernatural greed--
 Or desperation.  Even as
 The symbiot has filled its need,
 
 The plasma-creature shrinks and grows.
 The worm is gone; no hint remains,
 Not even bones; not one spare scale
 Is left on earth that no blood stains.
 
 The symbiot regards D's chest.
 "Oh, shit.  A stake.  We don't need *that*.
 So let me pull it out--" (it does)
 "--And you'll be fine in no time flat."
 
 It hovers, listening for the heart
 That ought to heal itself and beat.
 Instead it hears the swift approach
 Of glowing plasma; quick retreat
 
 Is not an option. "Damn it, D!
 I sure can't fight that thing alone!
 Get up!  Get *up*!  It's spotted us!"
 And panic cracks the symbiot's tone.
 
 It makes a fist that pounds D's chest.
 "Beat, damn you!  Move!  And save our lives!"
 Its blows could fracture human ribs.
 The plasma-creature hovers, dives;
 
 Surrounds D's form with bolt-shot pink.
 D's eyes go wide, flame-blue and fierce:
 With speed beyond what nature grants,
 The sword is grasped, and quick blows pierce
 
 And slash the mist-stuff: it explodes,
 Then stagnates; its remains descend
 As smoldering chunks of dried-blood hue,
 And thus the creature meets its end.
 
 "Too *fucking* close," the symbiot says.
 "Oh, D, for goodness'--ditch that frown!
 What would you do without me, now?"
 "Rest better."  "Yes, and six feet down."
 
 "Shut up, you excrescence."  "Not this time--not yet.
 You've barely escaped from an unworthy grave
 In the maw of that *thing*--but you always want more.
 Get your ass on your horse: you've a woman to save."
 
                       End part 25
 
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 26
 
 Dan crawls within a length of pipe
 Not tall enough to let him stand,
 And at its end he clambers out
 And leaps, then climbs, hand over hand
 
 Among a maze of smaller pipes
 Like some vast, monstrous jungle gym.
 He never thinks how creatures dark
 Might like to make a meal of him
 
 Nor heeds the inky depths below.
 One goal alone is in his mind,
 And sometimes softly spoken: "Sis?"
 She is his duty: He must find
 
 What Count Lee seeks and bring her back
 Or die still trying.  Pipes abound.
 They break the space, they block his view;
 Sometimes one makes a ringing sound
 
 As Dan descends its crusty length.
 Below, he sees the creatures dead
 And dark-robed in a solemn train:
 Count Magnus Lee is at their head.
 
 Beside the vampire, arm-in-arm,
 Walks Doris; neither hate nor fear
 Betrayed in stride nor pose nor face,
 Despite the black-clad form so near
 
 Her bridal white.  Her eyes are huge
 And open, yet they do not see
 How strait and narrow is the way
 She travels with Count Magnus Lee.
 
 Dan balances with outspread arms:
 More treacherous than any rope
 The pipe he walks; but from its end
 He sees distinctly one last hope:
 
 The catwalk is not far below.
 "Sis!" Dan exclaims beneath his breath.
 The leading pair draws level with
 The boy, who readies death for death.
 
 A short but sturdy length of pipe
 In hand, Dan grits his teeth--then springs!
 His raging battle cry and blow
 Aimed at the chief of undead things.
 
 Dan's aim is perfect; but Count Lee
 Has worked a mighty warding spell
 About himself, remains untouched;
 Dan bounces off, defiant yell
 
 Transformed into a panicked scream.
 Like tiny mirrors, Doris' eyes
 Reflect the form that arcs away,
 But no dismay and no surprise
 
 Disrupt the pallid, tranquil face
 That turns to track Dan's helpless flight
 A moment, and then stares ahead
 With pupils like a starless night.
 
 Dan tumbles through unfathomed space,
 End over end, side over side,
 His cry of fear a piercing thing
 That penetrates where shadows hide.
 
 Keen eyes make note from lower still.
 The form that bears them does not pause
 But leaps to rapid upward flight.
 Dan cannot comprehend the cause--
 
 One moment he was good as dead,
 The next, *whooshed* up; he swoops and lands.
 The blackness in his view recedes;
 A catwalk's treads are in his hands.
 
 He tries to slow his breath and heart,
 Then looks aside; a path of gray
 Leads up and up.  Dan follows with
 His eyes--to meet the face of Rei!
 
 Still panting, Dan recoils in fear,
 Not yet prepared to flee or fight.
 Rei stands; and is that steely gaze
 A fraction softer at the sight?
 
 Too much of honor's compromise
 Has passed this night, with Rei's keen blade
 Forsaken out of fear and pride--
 Or vanity; the price he paid
 
 His hand; but worse, his own sworn word.
 He could not keep the promise made
 To Dan; to bring him down once more.
 Now Rei himself has been betrayed
 
 And by the power the boy defies.
 Brave lad!  Despite his lack of wiles,
 He too has honor; let him live!
 And having made amends--Rei smiles.
 
                       End part 26
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 27
 
 Rei turns his head to raise his sights,
 Now scowling; up a darkened stair
 He walks, as if impelled by fate,
 Then stands; confronts his master's glare.
 
 "Rei!" Count Lee orders. "Stand aside!"
 Rei says, "I've stood without surcease!
 Too far you've gone; no further forth
 Shall you proceed, but rest in peace!"
 
 And in his hand the Mandrake lamp
 Appears; its flame elicits cries
 Of pain and fear from all that troupe
 Behind Count Lee, who shields his eyes
 
 With one gnarled hand against the light
 Rei's steady stride brings nearer still.
 Rei says, "And yet I trusted you
 Your faith to keep and word fulfill.
 
 I shall nevermore fall to such foolish belief:
 I have lost my left hand and my best-beloved friends.
 What will fifty years cost, if I keep to this pace?
 How much more should I suffer before this farce ends?
 
 Let the Mandrake's dark force freeze the ice of your heart,
 And the strength of my arm lend its aid to the task,
 So by stake or by sword, your commands soon shall cease
 And my wrongs be requited: No more shall I ask!"
 
 Rei's form is embraced by that halo of light,
 The color of blood intermingled with cold.
 His eyes are as bright as the flame that he bears,
 And that lends his gray locks tiny highlights of gold.
 
 The ghoul-things moan and cringe from him,
 This juggernaut that nothing stops.
 Blood's Mandrake burns to freeze their veins,
 Their bones--until Count Lee's hand drops.
 
 His gaze, a beam of fiercer red,
 Shoots forth as from a single eye.
 The Mandrake, speared by crimson frost,
 Is shattered, and its fragments fly.
 
 What marks Rei's features for a blink
 Is consternation, not quite fear,
 That shifts to anger unalloyed.
 Lee speaks, his face and voice a sneer:
 
 "You think I cannot work a spell
 Against what I myself bestow?"
 Rei's hand moves swiftly toward his blade,
 But faster still the burning glow
 
 That strikes him from the vampire's stare,
 A solid thing, a grasp of light
 To freeze the blood--or Rei himself,
 In what he planned as Count Lee's plight.
 
 An insect bound in spider-silk,
 A leaf blown on a winter's gale,
 Is not more helpless, less forlorn
 Than Rei: A shaft, a beam, a pale
 
 Of ruby magic, shot with bolts
 Of white, expands; like serpent-coils,
 Surrounds his body, flings him up
 And backward in its crimson toils.
 
 Thus netted, Rei is swung through space
 As fast as he himself could fly,
 But upright, backward, helpless still
 To strike a column with a cry
 
 Of pain: half grunt, half grudging scream,
 As blood flies from his wounded head
 At impact from a force so great
 It might well leave a human dead.
 
 It presses Rei to cold, hard rock
 A moment only; Death must wait
 Until Count Lee has had his fill:
 Release so soon is not Rei's fate,
 
 But column after column meets
 His battered form; at each he shouts
 His agony: back, chest, and face
 Meet rock so hard they bleed in gouts
 
 That spatter, run in red, red streams
 To tempt a vampire's glistening teeth,
 A torture-trail of shredded skin
 That marks the broken bones beneath.
 
 This column game grows old at last
 For Magnus Lee; what's left of Rei
 He brings full circle, back again,
 A pallid insect on display,
 
 A gray moth trapped upon a pin,
 Stiff, moveless, flattened, all outspread,
 But like the victim of a child
 Who plays collector: Not yet dead.
 
 A vampire's broken mortal toy,
 Rei sails inverted, bleeding head
 Wide-eyed, past pain or fear alone;
 Lands briefly, crown to catwalk tread,
 
 Where one last bloodstain marks his wake,
 The passage of a soul who tried
 His courage on an Old One's strength.
 A vampire lord is not defied
 
 So readily, and Rei endures
 One final blow from Count Lee's gaze.
 Still upside-down, he's lifted up,
 Flung back amid a crimson haze,
 
 A cloud that flows from every wound,
 Forced out by that same deadly stare
 That pins him to the wall above
 A broad, arched door, with bloodstained hair,
 
 And eyelids showing full half-globes
 With more of gums than teeth revealed
 By lips, a rictus pressed to jaws
 That cannot scream but slowly yield
 
 Like all the spreading, cracking skull.
 "Good-bye, Rei Ginsei," says Count Lee,
 Whose eyes go wider; harsh their glow
 On Rei, whose eyes no longer see,
 
 His vision gone, though breath remains
 Until a burst of red and gray
 At last ends pain and groans and fears
 And hopes and life itself for Rei.
 
 Count Lee regards his handiwork.
 "Now, *that* was fun!"  The dripping gore
 (That trickles from the jagged flesh
 Where Rei's neck ends) falls, strikes the floor
 
 With quiet sounds, a counterpoint
 To Count Lee's loud, cruel laugh that rings
 Throughout the old obsidian halls
 That house a thousand undead things.
 
                       End part 27
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 28
 
 The dark-robed creatures nearly fill
 The worship room; the dead mouths drone
 A paean in their own weird tongue
 To Lee, their lord; no monarch's throne
 
 Could ask more worship than they give
 Their master; every dull, dead eye
 Is fixed where Count Lee proudly stands
 With Doris pale and still nearby
 
 Upon a dais far below
 The portrait that surveys the room:
 A noble face now dark with age
 Of years in subterranean gloom.
 
 Count Lee steps forward; silence reigns,
 And stillness: "Speaking for my bride,
 And for myself: I thank you all."
 The echo of his words has died
 
 But barely as he lifts his hand,
 Empowered by magic black as night:
 A corpse-cold brazier belches flames
 That writhe up to the ceiling's height.
 
 With gentle gestures Count Lee smoothes
 Aside the cloth on Doris' hair
 And brushes back her long, free locks;
 Reveals her neck so soft and fair,
 
 But bearing marks to prove his claim
 Upon her body, blood, and soul.
 One cold hand turns her head aside;
 His eyes grow bright, so near his goal.
 
 "No woman ever dared defy
 My will as you have sought to do,
 Nor garnered *such* a champion--
 The trouble that you've put me to!"
 
 He bares his teeth; saliva gleams
 And glistens in the twilight dim.
 Half-opened jaws draw near the throat
 That waits a vampire-master's whim.
 
 The cold breath of a ravening growl
 Bestirs her locks; the old dark eyes
 Grow narrow--then the fanged mouth gasps;
 The white head turns, outraged surprise
 
 On sharp, grim features; faster still
 Than Lee can move, a dagger flies
 Into his eye! --And who would dare
 Disturb him thus?  What creature tries?!
 
 He grasps the dagger, pulls it out--
 Blood gushes from the wound, then stops,
 For vampire-flesh soon heals itself.
 Almost unheard, the dagger drops,
 
 Its clatter drowned by cries the crowd
 Of ghouls emits as it lets through
 A figure with a gleaming sword,
 And toward whom Magnus Lee snarls, "*You!*"
 
 The brazier roars, and D proclaims:
 "Your time is past; your Noble's rights
 The relic of an era dead,
 When vampires ruled the empty nights,
 
 Rebuilt the towns, restored the lands,
 Endured an earth no human could--
 But vanity, unthinking pride
 Put evil in the place of good."
 
 Long shadows are dancing and colors go strange
 In the flame of the brazier: its yellow and gold
 Make the portrait seem green and D's cloak midnight black,
 While the old vampire's cheeks appear ruddy and cold.
 
 He gives a snort.  "Invade my lands,
 My home--and criticize my rule?
 What can you know of ancient times
 And ways, you young, pretentious fool?"
 
 D says, "I see where you are blind.
 The world of darkness gave you birth--
 Return to it!  The vampire-kind
 Pollutes the face of living earth!"
 
 The great sword sweeps the brazier's flame
 And severs it; to ash it dies.
 Count Lee steps from the dais down
 And forward.  "Do you realize,"
 
 He asks, amusement in his voice,
 "What you are saying?  What could be
 More farcical than your intent
 To harm the mighty House of Lee?
 
 You are a dhampire, half-breed spawn
 Of some Dark Lord and some poor slut
 He should have killed before she came
 To term and whelped a mongrel mutt.
 
 The pleasures of this night will wait
 Until your worthless life has passed--
 I grant, you give me cause for doubts
 About how long a wife should last!"
 
 D bares his teeth, his green eyes fierce,
 And leaps the brazier; in both hands
 He wields his long and heavy sword.
 The edge makes contact as he lands,
 
 But rings against a magic shield
 That glows as it surrounds Count Lee.
 A second blow has no effect:
 D's eyes go wide: Can this thing be?
 
 It can.  It is.  The Old One grins
 In triumph, and his eyes turn red.
 Their deadly crimson beams blaze forth
 To throng the air about D's head,
 
 Spin down and out and all around
 His guarded stance, a fibrous fire
 That traces every nerve and vein,
 Clings close, enwraps his form entire.
 
 D crouches lower, muscles tense
 With effort to resist the power
 That saps his strength and chills his blood,
 But like some half-blown darkling flower
 
 With petals curled against the cold,
 Uprooted by a grip of frost,
 So D is lifted from the floor
 And leaflike, Rei-like, helpless tossed
 
 To ceiling black and smooth and hard
 As ice; blood gushes down his face
 And spatters, smearing in his wake;
 The droplets paint a ruby lace
 
 Where they lie cooling, left behind,
 As D is flung from wall to wall
 On neck and back and shoulders hurled;
 From every impact, blood-drops fall.
 
 Lee's fiendish laugh distorts his face,
 Malicious leer hyena-wide,
 As one last stroke of magic art
 Slams D into a column-side
 
 Headfirst; a final splash of blood
 Sends streaks afresh through auburn hair;
 Now limbs and rippling cape outspread,
 D hovers, trapped in dark midair.
 
 Lee looks at him from far below
 And chuckles.  "What a fix you're in!
 You're just a dhampire, yet you thought
 To take a Noble on--and win!
 
 You've been as much a fool as Rei;
 You should have seen the way he died.
 I'll choose another death for you,
 More fitting for the task you've tried."
 
 Through all that D has suffered here
 So far, he has retained his sword;
 But at Lee's whim his grip is loosed
 From haft, as of its own accord.
 
 The blade whirls free; like D it hangs
 Suspended, edge toward wide green eyes,
 A face gone pale from loss of blood,
 And lips that part in gasped surprise.
 
 Count Lee says, "I may never know
 How many vampires you have slain--
 Your kin by blood!  And yet you were
 Their foe, and by this sword their bane."
 
 The blade creeps nearer D's clenched teeth,
 Pressed toward his throat by Count Lee's eye
 That glitters as his voice intones,
 "As you have killed, so shall you die!"
 
                       End part 28
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 29
 
 Some say that age and treachery
 Will ever conquer youth and skill,
 And thus an ancient vampire's strength
 Must overcome a dhampire's will,
 
 Wherever right or wrong may side,
 Whatever precious lives depend
 Upon the outcome: so it is,
 And shall be, to the world's dark end.
 
 No Hunter dares to hold such thoughts
 So long as will to live remains:
 While there is pulse and warmth and breath
 And blood that flows in living veins
 
 And vows to keep and lives to save,
 A hero's heart cannot afford
 To cower or admit despair,
 However near his throat a sword.
 
 Yet close and closer still it draws,
 The gleaming edge; it touches skin;
 It cuts; the tint of blood it frees
 Unleashes D's dark power within.
 
 D's eyes take on their flame-blue glow,
 An eerie light that drives the blade
 Away with one last tiny splash
 Of blood that Lee sees bloom, then fade
 
 Upon the edge that whirls about;
 The haft resumes its rightful place--
 Its owner's grip!  And Count Lee gasps;
 Astonishment transforms his face,
 
 His eyes' red glow eclipsed by shock.
 "But you--who *are* you?" he demands.
 D wastes no words but plunges down,
 The sword-hilt fast in both his hands,
 
 Its point aimed straight at Count Lee's heart!
 Lee marshals speed against his foe;
 Palms clap together at his breast,
 Forestall the blade-tip's deadly blow.
 
 With sharp steel pressed between his hands
 And murder gleaming out his eyes,
 The Old One cannot call on spells--
 Such arts the flame-blue gaze defies;
 
 But still he has a vampire's strength
 And fury, and a Noble's pride.
 So fast the motion seems a blur,
 He flings D's heavy blade aside
 
 And draws his own--a dagger curved,
 A fang of steel, thrown like a dart,
 With deadly aim and force no less:
 The keen point flies to pierce D's heart!
 
 A cry of pain escapes D's lips,
 But nonetheless, his aim is true.
 His sword, thrown as the dagger was
 Strikes Count Lee's heart and runs it through!
 
 -- So great is the strength that empowers its flight,
 That with Count Lee impaled, it streaks up to the wall
 And, impossibly high, pins the castle's Dark Lord
 At the side of the portrait that overlooks all.
 
                      |
       --==//////////[}}===*
                      |
 
 Ramika gasps and lifts her head,
 Eyes opening, her eyelids freed.
 Blood calls; two bloods half hers, half not:
 But which to scorn and which to heed?
 
            |
       *==={{]//////////==--
            |
 
 Count Lee roars out his helpless pain;
 D's glowing gaze strikes one last blow:
 It rams his heavy sword hilt-deep:
 Cold blood wells out, a fountain's flow,
 
 Far more than any corpse should hold,
 That stains Count Lee from breast to toe,
 Runs down the old obsidian wall
 To puddle on the floor below,
 
 As if the blood of all the years,
 Of all the victims, all the lives
 Of sons and daughters, cherished friends,
 And honest husbands, loving wives,
 
 Had been imprisoned, vampire-kept,
 But in its human spirit free.
 At last it flees unnatural bonds
 So long imposed by Magnus Lee.
 
 The Hunter's eyes are green again;
 His knees grow weak and meet the floor.
 Pain twists his face; the dagger hilt
 He grasps, and with one effort more
 
 He pulls it out.  Blood gushes forth
 And stains the shaking, dark-gloved hand.
 His dhampire's heart will heal in time;
 For now, he's far too weak to stand
 
 But falls to curl on hands and knees
 With head bent low; the long folds hide
 His face beneath his flowing cape.
 The Dark Lord's dying eyes go wide
 
 To see that trembling, helpless form.
 One final time, his gaze burns red;
 The effort thrusts a groan between
 His gritted teeth; he bows his head
 
 In concentration.  Doris starts;
 Her own eyes wide, unfocused, blind.
 She stoops, her hand a vampire's pawn,
 The cat's-paw of a vampire's mind;
 
 Lifts up the dagger D's hand threw
 Unerring to a Dark Lord's eye.
 She walks to D's still-huddled form;
 Above his back she holds it high.
 
 Count Lee's eyes glitter eagerly;
 One gesture will destroy his foe,
 But from the doorway comes a cry--
 Dan's panicked shout of, "Sister--No!"
 
 The spell is broken past repair:
 No silent wish or voiced command
 Holds Doris, and the dagger drops
 Unheeded from her nerveless hand.
 
 She murmurs, "Dan?"  Her eyelids fall,
 And, weak and fainting, so does she.
 Dan runs to catch her--"Sis! Hang on!"
 One hope remains for Magnus Lee:
 
 Ramika enters, head held high.
 "My daughter!  Hear your father's plea
 For vengeance--slay the filth who brings
 Dishonor on the House of Lee!"
 
 The scion of the noble house
 Holds steady in her course and pace,
 Ignores the nearly-prostrate D,
 But gazes at her father's face.
 
 She stands before him. "Father, no.
 The Noble ways--a Noble's place--
 You've set aside.  To stoop so low
 Has brought our kindred true disgrace."
 
 Count Lee stares down and stammers, "--What?!"
 Ramika says, "We cannot be
 True Nobles if we are not pure
 In blood and deeds; Now you--now *we*--
 
 Cannot make good our ancient claim
 To rulership; your careless lust
 Has brought us overwhelming shame.
 The House of Lee shall fall.  It must!"
 
 As if the inky walls themselves
 Bear witness to the rightful heir,
 The castle trembles.  Count Lee snarls,
 "Ridiculous!" and turns his glare
 
 Aside and upward; from his lips
 Cold blood runs, stark on pale, dead skin,
 Unheeded as the old face views
 The portrait: noblest of his kin,
 
 A last resort; one time revered,
 Now long ignored by Magnus Lee.
 Yet seen so close, the features look
 Familiar--but how can they be?
 
 How can--?  The answer makes him gasp
 And turn again to view his foe,
 Now half recovered, on his knees,
 Then rising, every gesture slow.
 
 The vampire sees that Doris stands;
 Encroaching blackness dims his sight
 As she and D and Dan exchange
 Swift queries of, "Are you all right?"
 
 They are.  They all are.  Satisfied,
 D straightens, walks--the face, the *face*!
 Count Lee fights weakness, turns again;
 The Noble founder of his race--
 
 So like!  Then is the legend true,
 That such a being lives on earth?
 Half vampire, yet by blood much more,
 His name a hint of Noble birth?
 
 With voice unsteady, Magnus Lee
 Asks--nearly begs--"Are you the one--?
 By name the sigil of the First,
 And to the Noblest Sire ... a son ... ?"
 
                       End part 29
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 30
 
 Count Lee's head drops; his eyes fall shut
 In final death so long defied.
 Ramika stands unmoving still;
 Now D has dared approach her side,
 
 Regards her from a few arms' length.
 She shows a Noble's pride of place,
 Erect in carriage, shoulders square--
 But tears are streaming down her face
 
 Where eyes gone hopeless gaze no less
 Upon the portrait long adored
 Of Dracula, the sire of all
 Her family and First Dark Lord.
 
 So that was what she saw in him:
 The Hunter shares the noble mien
 Of him she owes allegiance to
 In all.  How could she not have seen?
 
 The castle has not ceased to shake:
 Like fossil-mist the dark debris
 That rains on all within that place.
 At last Ramika says, "Lord D--"
 
 D shakes his head.  "No lord am I,
 But dhampire, and I do not claim
 That title.  You are dhampire, too--"
 Ramika says, "You know my shame?
 
 To this day I believed I was Noble in truth.
 Now I know I am half breed--but how did you find
 What was hidden from me--?"  "When I first saw your face.
 Like knows like, little sister, and kind knows its kind."
 
 The castle trembles harder now.
 What was a mist becomes a rain
 Of pebbles in a flow as fierce
 As tears evoked by searing pain.
 
 "Our Founder will destroy our house,"
 Ramika says.  "I too must die.
 I grew up in the Noble ways,
 And death is better than a lie."
 
 D protests, "You need not!  You need not be ashamed
 Of your half-human blood, for it means you can choose.
 You need not be alone in the darkness and void
 As are Nobles: And will you so lightly refuse
 
 The world that awaits you; a world full of hope?
 The dull living death that was all that Count Lee
 Ever knew or imagined need not be your fate.
 My lady--Ramika--please, leave here with me."
 
 Perhaps it is the crumbling walls
 That shake D's voice; Ramika's face
 Remains impassive, centered still
 Upon the founder of her race.
 
 She says, "This is the way I know."
 A tremor rolls across the floor.
 The wall where Count Lee's body hangs,
 So weighted, can withstand no more.
 
 It shivers, buckles, crashes down
 And shatters; Dan and Doris see
 How near the long blue cloak it falls,
 And with one voice they call out, "D--!"
 
 Perhaps he has heard them.  He does not react--
 No more than Ramika, whose cheeks now are dry.
 She stares at the dark where the portrait once hung:
 "I have lived as a Noble, and Noble I die!"
 
 And at last she abandons the place she has kept
 For so long: She strides forward, legs rippling her cape.
 D watches, stock still; she does not turn or pause
 But recedes until darkness has swallowed her shape.
 
                               <\
   -=======================>:::(O)\\\\\\]O
                               </
 
 Through stones that fall, on floors that pitch
 Like waves, three figures pick their way--
 Or run, hands clenched to chilly hands--
 Past rubble to the light of day.
 
            />
   O[\\\\\\(O):::<=======================-
            \>
 
 Upon a cliff-top near the plain
 Of Castle Lee, three figures stand
 Beside D's horse that brought them there;
 They gaze across the barren land:
 
 D tall and cloaked, impassive still,
 By Doris in her bridal white;
 And on her other side is Dan:
 As one they watch the castle's height
 
 That quivers, sways, then slowly sinks
 Into the gorge that gave it birth
 Millennia past when Magnus Lee
 By magic raised it from the earth.
 
 Now unprotesting it returns
 With muted rumbles; dust clouds rise,
 Then settle with the spires' descent.
 A whirl of chthonic lighting flies
 
 Up every buttress, down each wall
 In dancing streaks; a land now free
 Of vampire-taint lets close the gorge
 And swallows up the House of Lee.
 
 One fear remains to be assuaged:
 The first rays of the rising sun
 Shine bright on Doris' markless throat:
 In truth, the Hunter's work is done.
 
                       End part 30
 
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
                        Part 31
 
 The sun is low; the air is cool
 With morning mists; a soft wind blows
 Between the mountains, over fields
 Where flowers bloom and lush grass grows.
 
 The road winds as ever, but now through a land
 Growing greener about it; D follows its course
 To the jingle of harness, his saddle's soft creak,
 And the metronome hooves of the gray cyborg horse.
 
 The road lies before him, and thus should he look:
 To the future that waits; to the world that is vast.
 He is not new to travel, and long has he known
 There's no promise or profit in thoughts of the past.
 
      But D thinks back on how he rose:
      The symbiot's yawn: "It's not yet light.
      There must be fifty ways to leave....
      D, can't we stay another night?"
 
      "I've lain on this couch far too long as it is."
      "Well, maybe you ought to try Doris's bed--"
      "Shut *up*!  I remind you, I still have a sword."
      "Oh, calm yourself, D.  ...Was it something I said?"
 
 D still has a sword, though the one that he brought,
 Long his weapon, with many a vampire's blood stained,
 Was lost to the downfall of Count Magnus Lee,
 Devoured with the castle and all it contained.
 
      So Doris had told him: "I know what you said--
      It was payment enough if you slew Magnus Lee.
      But I owe you so much.  D, please--take Father's sword,
      And call it a gift if you don't want a fee."
 
      She pressed it to him, curled his grip
      Around the sheath and backed away.
      D gazed in silence at her hands,
      Now empty: Could mere speech repay
 
      The heritage a Hunter left:
      Its balanced weight a work of art;
      Its hilt worn smooth with years of use--
      A comfort to both eyes and heart.
 
      At last he spoke: "A gift may show
      More honor than my words can tell."
      He drew the blade's curved, shining length
      And softly said, "You've kept it well."
 
 She had.  It is worthy of wearing with pride
 For itself, with the guard in its double-L shape.
 So once more accoutered, D rides on his way
 As before, with one difference: Above his long cape,
 
 The collar that spread like a proud monarch's crown
 Is now curled together, wrapped over his face
 And firmly, one tip crumpled down from the force
 That he used to be sure he had fixed it in place.
 
      Doris finds the couch vacant; with unsteady hand
      She touches the fabric; it's cold as the air.
      Dan runs back from the barn, slams the door in his haste.
      Panting hard, he exclaims, "Sis!  His horse isn't there!"
 
      The two exchange glances.  He left--just like that?
      But when? Why? And whither--can anyone tell?
      "The road," Doris murmurs.  They know how it wends--
      If they run, there's a chance of a final farewell.
 
      And so they dash in frantic haste.
      Dan doesn't know he's close to tears,
      He runs so hard, and at his side
      Is Doris; there are harsher fears
 
      Than losing what one never had
      (Or never held) to call one's own.
      But still--she owes him: let him feel
      For one last moment, not alone.
 
 Alone.  He is destined and tamely accepts
 Such a fate, for his heart knows that he is a thing
 Outside nature; paired butterflies dance past his face,
 And in sweet, mocking harmony, mated birds sing.
 
      They halt at cliff-edge, mouths agape
      And gasping: Did he even go
      This way?  They scan the countryside
      And see a figure far below.
 
 What he told in the castle was less than the truth,
 When he said to Ramika that there is no shame
 In one's half Noble blood; but she treasured the part
 He despises: the lineage shown in his name.
 
 His name--?  Is that the sound that pulls
 His reverie from eyes and ears?
 It comes again, a distant cry:
 "D! --*D!*"  And when he's sure he hears
 
 Reality and not a dream,
 He blinks; reins in the cyborg horse,
 And turns his head aside and up;
 Beneath his hat brim views the source:
 
      He stopped--he surely heard them call!
      Dan waves both arms--he's *got* to see!
      Two voices mingle on the wind:
      "Good luck!" "Take care!" "We'll miss you, D!"
 
 They will.  They mean it.  Bless them both;
 He'll remember them, surely, until his life ends.
 They are worthy of better--he did right to leave--
 Yet how fitting he has to look up to his friends:
 
 For who cannot admire what is innocent, brave?
 In a life made of loneliness, who would not yearn
 To remain?  Given trust, offered unflinching love
 Of a family--how not to love in return?
 
 At a distance so great, they cannot see his face
 And the emerald eyes shining warm as his heart.
 It's as well that he left before dawn as he did:
 Who could view that expression and let him depart?
 
 D at last breaks the spell that those sweet voices cast;
 Not responding in kind, for what words could he speak
 To begin to repay--?  But he silently nods,
 And the high collar brushes his half-hidden cheek.
 
 That fabric, chill in morning air,
 Provides cold comfort with its touch:
 He rightly cloaks his face and leaves:
 Of late he's shown his teeth too much.
 
                        |
      --==/////////////[}}====*
                        |
 
 Horizons beckon; D rides on.
 Such irony that he survives
 To travel and fulfill his vow
 To shelter blameless human lives
 
 By use of half-inhuman powers
 Inherited--yes, legends say
 A dhampire is by nature fit,
 By heritage foredoomed, to slay
 
 His kin, who through unnatural blood
 Escape the peace of grave or tomb.
 Ramika--may she rest--was right:
 Lust yields the seeds of vampires' doom.
 
 The collar-tips are crossed like swords
 Of fallen men who will not rise.
 Above: The broad-brimmed hat pulled low;
 Between: Deep-shadowed, haunted eyes
 
 Held wide as if the lids were gone,
 Cut off by one who fears in heart
 To wake from sleep and find himself
 Grown stronger in his nightmare part.
 
 His gaze remains shaded; his course remains clear:
 There are evils he cannot and will not allow
 To remain in this world, though his kin they may be:
 In despite of his blood, he is true to his vow.
 
 So he follows the road; though he knows not its length,
 Nor how rocky or narrow or steep it may be,
 Nor how quickly (or whether) he'll meet with its end;
 He has chosen his path: Let the Nobles fear D.
 
                       End part 31
 
 Ascii sword by Tua Xiong
 
   =====================================================
   Credit goes not only to individual ascii artists but
   to Earle Goodman, collector of ascii blades, for the
   sword dingbats that have ornamented selected episodes
   of this adaptation.
   =====================================================
 
                           END
 
          Vampire Hunter D: A Verse Adaptation
 
                        AFTERWORD
 
 As I said in the introduction, I have made changes from what
 appeared in the movie for various reasons, ranging from
 continuity improvements to whims.  Those who have not seen
 _Vampire Hunter D_ or have seen it only once and not too
 recently will probably not have noticed the modifications,
 but in case there are purists out there reading, here are
 acknowledgements and explanations of some of my work (with
 one or two possible spoilers if you haven't seen the movie):
 
 
 THAT CANDLE/LAMP
 
 The lamp that Rei uses against D is called, in the original
 Japanese, _tokei do mashi noku_, which have I have been told
 means "watch that changes life."  I have also seen it
 referred to (in translation) as a "time deceiver lamp;" the
 mook synopsis says that it "changes night to day."  This
 makes no sense for a weapon to be used against D; he makes
 numerous daytime appearances and obviously can withstand
 sunlight.  I found "watch that changes life" neither
 poetical nor clear.  The word "watch" implies an effect on
 time, as pointless here as for a "time deceiver lamp."  If
 this means time of day (i.e., day vs. night), there is no
 reason the lamp should affect D; if it indicates passage of
 time -- for example, if it causes a time warp into the
 future -- there is still no reason it should harm vampires,
 who do not grow old with the passage of time.  So I drew on
 another aspect of magical lore: the hand of glory, also
 known as mandrake by corruption of the French form _main de
 gloire_.  The hand of glory/mandrake is, if memory serves,
 the hand of an executed criminal prepared so that it can be
 used as a candle; when lit, it will paralyze the occupants
 of a house.  Something with a flame that paralyzes vampires
 might reasonably be called "The Mandrake of Blood" or
 "Blood's Mandrake" for its power over those distinguished by
 their blood.  D is half vampire, and if it is true, as the
 count's messenger says, that "noblest blood feels greatest
 harm," then D, as son of the noblest of vampires, would be
 very vulnerable to the flame's effects.
 
 
 THAT STAKE
 
 In the movie, how does the stake get out of D's chest?  I
 have no idea.  It's there when Rei leaves and gone when the
 symbiot returns to its host; in fact, if you pause your tape
 or laserdisc at the beginning of that scene, you can see the
 stake lying on the ground near D's head.  In my adaptation,
 I've left it in and given the symbiot the task of removing
 it.
 
 
 DORIS'S NECK
 
 I've always been disturbed by the disappearance of the marks
 from Doris's neck once D retrieved her from the castle.
 There would have been ways to rationalize that, but I
 decided to leave them there until Count Lee's destruction.
 
 
 REI'S MOTIVES
 
 One problem with trying to add continuity where it did not
 exist before is that characters may become hopelessly
 distorted or their motives unlikely.  Rei, for example: How
 on earth to explain his rescuing Dan?  I originally thought
 he did it out of simple compassion for a child, but then I
 remembered that Rei was going to let his friends have Dan,
 as well as Dr. Fering, for a quick snack.  Whether Rei would
 really be concerned about keeping his word to would-be
 monster fodder, I don't know.  I can only hope so, since in
 my adaptation, he was. ^_-
 
 
 D'S SWORD
 
 The replacement of the Lang sword for D's is not my
 invention: the former is very clearly shown at D's shoulder
 in the final scenes of the movie.  I've only added a bridge
 passage to make explicit how this occurred.
 
 
 D'S REFLECTIONS
 
 Not until I was actually writing the final stanzas did it
 occur to me that Ramika is correct (albeit for different
 reasons from those she claims) about the dangers of vampires
 consorting with humans.  Folklore has it that dhampires --
 the result of human-vampire couplings -- have special
 vampire-slaying powers.  Following this to its logical
 conclusion: a vampire who fathers a dhampire thereby
 virtually signs his own death warrant.  Might D's career as
 Vampire Hunter have in fact begun with his own father?  That
 D *may* have taken a more charitable view toward the noblest
 of vampires is implied when he reminds Ramika that "the
 First" believed in more than hunger and rulership for his
 kind (never specifying the preferred alternative, alas).
 Does The First still walk the earth somewhere, in peaceful
 coexistence with his food supply?  The movie does not answer
 this question, nor can I.
 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS
 
 I have mentioned continuity problems; some aspects of the
 movie as it stands I dislike as a matter of taste.  Sexism,
 for example.  In the ftp-able script, Dan tells Ramika, "WE
 don't kill women!"  (At the same place in the Streamline
 dub, Dan says of D, "He doesn't like to kill, like you do.")
 Although I found this offensive, I had to laugh when I read
 it.  If a woman is a danger to one's well-being, it makes
 more sense to kill her than to gallantly let oneself be
 killed.  I hope that removing the occasional bit of sexism
 has made my version of D more sensible rather than more
 <shudder> PC.
 
 I've tweaked here and rearranged there.  I've made D less
 taciturn and more vulnerable; Rei perhaps more honorable;
 Ramika a trace less distant.  And I cheerfully admit to
 having given D's symbiot more and juicier lines: they seem
 to fit the creature.  Unfashionableness of rhymed, metered
 verse notwithstanding, I hope I've used that art to add a
 little something, at least for those whose sensibilities
 lean that way.  And while it was a struggle, it's been fun.
 If anyone out there has enjoyed it or found that it makes
 the movie _Vampire Hunter D_ more comprehensible or
 meaningful, then I've done something right, and I'm happy in
 that knowledge.  (And it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you
 dropped me a line telling me so.  ^_^ )
 
 
The Certifiable Vampire Hunter D Fanatic
The Mad Bibliographer of the listserv Vampyres
Cathy Krusberg
Internet: ckberg@ix.netcom.com 
April 1995