That evening, rowing on the quiet river as sunset turned to dusk, I saw an occasional smoky smudge on the towpath, always slightly ahead of me, like a dark star guiding me home.

You persist in this romantic vision of what it is to be a vampire, but despite my best efforts to curb it I have a taste for blood.

My experiences thus far had me planning to throttle the first Tudor historian I met upon my return for gross dereliction of duty.

Are you smelling me?” After yesterday I suspected that my body was giving him all kinds of information I didn't want him to have. “Don't tempt me,” he murmured.

In this room we understand why this war might be fought...it's about our common belief that no one has the right to tell two creatures that they cannot love each other--no matter what their species.

The plain truth is that the period I study is the 16th century, and they were absolutely obsessed with witches and spiritual beings.

Memories were short and history unkind. It was the way of the world.