Warren's pick for our feature film turned out to be Shadow of the Vampire, a fictional movie about the making of Nosferatu. Someone had done a lot of research into the legends about the old film and played with them.
At one point, watching Stefan's intent face, I said, in a stage whisper, "You know, you are a vampire. You aren't supposed to be scared of them."
"Anyone," said Stefan with conviction, "who ever met Max Schreck would be scared of vampires for the rest of their lives. And they've got him dead to rights."
Warren, who was sitting on the floor in his favorite position--leaning back against Kyle's legs--hit the pause button, sat forward, and twisted around so he could see Stefan, sitting on the other side of the couch. I, as the lone girl, got the big new recliner.
"The movie has it right? Max Schreck really was a vampire?" Warren asked. Max Schreck was the name of the man who played the vampire in Nosferatu.
Stefan nodded. "Schreck wasn't his real name, but he used it for a century or two, so it will do. Scary old monster. Really scary, really old. He decided he wanted to be on film, and none of the other vampires felt like challenging him over it."
"Wait a minute," said Kyle. "I thought that one of the complaints about Nosferatu was that all the scenes with Schreck were obviously filmed in daylight. Don't you vampires all go to sleep in the daytime?"
Kyle, as Warren's lover, knew a lot more about the things that go bump in the night than most humans, to whom vampires were movie monsters, not men who wore Scooby-Doo shirts and lived in upscale houses in real towns. It wouldn't be long, though, I thought, before vampires were outed. Werewolves had outed themselves a year and a half ago--though they were careful what they told the public. The fae had been out since the 1980s. People were gradually learning that the world is a scarier place than the scientific reasoning of the last few centuries had led them to believe.
"We die during the day," said Stefan. "But Max was very old. He was capable of all sorts of things, and it would not surprise me to know that he could walk in the day. I only met him once--a long time before Nosferatu. He attended one of the festas of the Master of Milan, the Lord of Night, without invitation. It was odd to see so many powerful people cower before one unwashed, poorly dressed, amazingly ugly man. I saw him kill a two-hundred-year-old vampire with a look--just disintegrated her to dust with one glance because she laughed at him. The Lord of the Night, who was her master, was very old and powerful, even then--and he did not voice an objection though she was the youngest of his get and dear to him."
"Is Schreck still alive?" Warren asked.
"I don't know," said Stefan, and added, half under his breath, "I don't want to know."
"Was he always that ugly, or did he get worse with age?" asked Kyle. Kyle was beautiful, and he knew it. I was never certain if he was really vain, or if it was one of a dozen things that he used to camouflage the sharp mind behind the pretty face. I suspected it was both.
Stefan smiled. "That's the question that haunts the older vampires. One doesn't ask questions about age, but we can tell, more or less. Wulfe is probably the oldest vampire--other than Max-- I've ever met. Wulfe is not ugly or monstrous." He paused, then continued thoughtfully, "at least not on the outside."
"Maybe he was fae or part fae," I ventured. "Some of them are very ... unusual-looking."
"I have never heard that about him," said Stefan. "But who would know?" Warren hit the play button and, somehow, knowing that Max Schreck, who had played the original Count Orlok, had been a nightmare for vampires, made the movie a lot scarier--and it had had plenty of that going for it anyway. Only Warren seemed impervious to the effect.
When the movie was over, he glanced at Stefan. "Vampire," he said without insult, "why don't you come down to the kitchen with me while these two look through Kyle's amazing library of video wonder for something that will keep Mercy from speeding all the way home."
"Hey!" I said indignantly.
He grinned at me as he rose from the floor to stretch, his lanky body reaching for the ceiling under Kyle's admiring eyes. Warren wasn't as pretty as Kyle, but he wasn't Max Schreck, either, and he knew he was playing for an audience. Maybe Kyle wasn't the only one who was vain.
"Hey, yourself, Mercy," Warren said. "How about we do a second movie? Stefan's used to staying up late, and you have no Adam to go home to. You two find something else, and Stefan and I will refill the popcorn bowls."
Kyle waited until Warren and Stefan were downstairs before saying, "Stefan looks hungry. You think Warren is going to feed him before bringing him back?"
"I think," I said, "that might be a good idea. He already had a bite of me today and was starting to look at you like you might be dinner. I don't think Warren would let Stefan feed from you if he asked, and you consented. Werewolves are possessive that way. Probably better if Warren does it. Being a werewolf with a pack, Warren won't end up Stefan's good friend Renfield."
Kyle grimaced.
"Don't start the conversation if you don't want an honest answer," I told him, hopping out of the chair and perusing one of the bookcases stuffed with Blu-rays, DVDs, and VHS tapes.
When Warren and Stefan came upstairs, it was obvious to me that Stefan had fed again. He was moving with something close to his usual grace.
"Don't you have Bride of Frankenstein?" he asked, when Kyle held up The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra as our pick for the second movie. "Or Father of the Bride? Four Weddings and a Funeral?" He glanced at me. "Maybe The Butterfly Effect?" Yep, he was feeling better.