The Reformed Vampire Support Group Read Online Free PDF Page A

and was quickly able to work out what had happened. Not only that, but within a few months they had developed a crude ‘digestive powder’, which was an early prototype of the enzyme supplements that vampires take now.
    You have to give Sanford his due. He might be a humourless, opinionated know-it-all, but there isn’t a vampire in Australia who wouldn’t have been worse off without him. It was Sanford who freed us from the necessity of drinking human blood. It was Sanford who started the Reformed Vampire movement. And it was Sanford who finally dealt with Casimir, confining him for more than sixty years in a strongbox under a cement slab. Sanford was also the one who located Gladys, Bridget and George – just in time to stop them from spreading the infection any further. Mind you, I’m not saying that
Bridget
would have bitten anyone. She was the nun who nursed Gladys at the Magdalene Hospice, after Casimir’s attack, and she would have sealed herself up in a crypt rather than harm another living soul. But George was just a teenaged boilermaker’s apprentice when Gladys lured him into a dark alley. He was as brainless then as he is now, so he didn’t know enough to stop himself from fanging other people, once he was blooded.
    You won’t understand about blooding, because it’s a difficult concept to grasp. Basically, it’s that moment when, as a vampire, you first smell fresh human blood and have to fight the urge to bite someone. Microscopic amounts of blood won’t trigger the reflex; a flossing accident or razor nick won’t send most vampires into a feeding frenzy, though I have to admit that even grazed knees and hangnails make us feel uncomfortable. It probably takes about five millilitres of blood before the response kicks in. And then you have a choice: you can either give into it or not.
    George gave into it once. He fanged a woman named Ethel (who was later murdered by her own family) before Sanford tracked him down and stopped him. The Placketts also looked after Gladys, and did their best for Bridget Doherty. Thanks to Sanford and Maud, there wasn’t another case of infection in the whole of Australia until 1973 – when Casimir ran amok again.
    In my opinion, he should never have been released from that strongbox.
    I suppose you could almost say that it was Father Ramon’s fault. After Maud died, Sanford was in a bad way. He was particularly upset that she had refused to become a vampire on her deathbed. So he turned to the priest for comfort. One thing led to another, until finally Sanford made his confession to Father Ramon. At which point the priest found out about the vampire buried under the cement slab.
    Now, Father Ramon is a decent man. It’s written all over his face. With his solid build, shaggy grey head and big brown eyes, he looks like an elderly labrador, seasoned and weary but not disillusioned. He spends a lot of time visiting sick people, organising charity collections and counselling wayward teenagers. It was therefore hardly surprising that he should have felt for Casimir, back in 1973.
    Father Ramon was of the opinion that Casimir had suffered enough. So Sanford dug up the strongbox and slowly brought its contents back to life. After which that scheming, slimy, oyster-eyed Lazarus made a beeline for the nearest pub – where Dave Gerace became his next victim.
    Poor Dave had been playing a gig at one of the harbourside hotels. He hadn’t left until the early hours, by which time he’d downed just a few too many beers. In fact he was so legless that he never even realised what had happened; upon waking up in a gutter the next morning, on top of his guitar, he’d assumed that he was suffering from a really bad hangover, and had crawled home to spend the day in bed.
    Luckily for his flatmates, he had lost his wallet near the site of the attack. Sanford and Horace found it there, half-hidden by weeds, the following night. So they were able to identify Casimir’svictim, and pay