Vampires! A Bundle of Bloodsuckers Read Online Free PDF

of ley lines long before it became the trendy, yuppie, New Age, materialistic enclave we all know and love. Now you can’t swing a drained human without hitting some obscenely-wealthy computer nerd or entitled trust-funder. I always said it was just another Aspen in the making, but did they listen to me?
    I tend to enjoy atmospheric environments. What I mean by that is, if there is a stereotypical haunted house or vampire’s castle in a community, I manage to finagle my way into being its proud owner. Mind control certainly saves a lot of time in negotiations. Don’t you agree?
    Boulder has many lovely Victorian homes, but actual creepy mansions are at a premium. After a painstakingly detailed search of the area – which actually consisted of reading the minds of scores of appallingly dull, pot-bellied realtors – I finally unearthed my own slice of Rocky Mountain heaven.
    And unearthed is a good word for it. Perched on top of one of the foothills just inside the city limits, the estate in question is one of the oldest in Boulder County. It had been abandoned for the last one hundred years and legends of ghosts, ritual murders, shapeshifters, creepy crawlies, and other nightmare creatures were plentiful. Trees, exotic plants, and rampant weeds had grown so dense around the main perimeter – the Earth had literally reclaimed the site – that entering the extensive acreage, for anyone who couldn’t travel through thought, was only accomplished by off-road vehicles.
    I did mention that I can travel via thought, didn’t I? Well, if I haven’t, I’m sure it will come up at some point in my story.
    You might well imagine that my Boulder residence is all the rage at Halloween. Strange that the house hadn’t held any legends about bloodsuckers. But I always do enjoy being a pioneer.
    So on that fateful day where our story begins, as the last rays of the sun slid behind the mountains, my eyes opened, I sat up, and immediately knew something was different.
    It was as if there was a blip in the space-time continuum. Or the vibrational soup I’d grown accustomed to swimming in had a new carrot in the pot. Or someone’s soul signature was pulling me. As if a special radio station with a signal that only I could hear had gone on the air.
    And while we’re on the subject, let me clear up another thing right now. Vampires have souls. It is the body that dies. Any respectable metaphysician will tell you that the essence of what we Earth inhabitants are, fundamental and deeper than alive/not alive, is some kind of etheric energy. This energy continues, regardless. It does seem to be the case that each soul – yes, that includes vampires – has its own song and according to legend and myth, each soul is theoretically matched with another soul whose song is similar. We’ve all been bashed over the head with the soul mate thing, so I won’t bore you with that. Besides, the entire topic really is much more complicated and interesting than we usually hear about.
    But back to what I was saying. When I arose, I sensed . . . something.
    It might surprise you to learn that I have a rather obsessively-maintained, post-rising-from-the-dead toilette. I have the ability to simply imagine myself fresh, clean, and dressed in whatever my unlimited imagination chooses to conjure at the moment. But even though I can do that, I have always been a sucker – no pun intended – for a nice, hot shower. I mention this because there are so many unpleasant rumors out there about vampire hygiene. I mean, really. Bad breath? Discolored fangs? Smelling like decomposing flesh? Come on, now. Please. That sounds like a “B” movie.
    Rest assured that this vampire smells and looks springtime fresh. In fact, it is widely reported that my aroma brings to mind the most pleasant smell memory the recipient holds. Indeed, I hear that there is some undefinable something about me that is irresistible.
    At any rate, I spent some time in front of my closet,