JON LIPPMAN: Vampires. Denizens of the darkness. Drinkers of blood. With their immortal strength, it’s a wonder there are still any of we fragile humans left. Why is that? Simply this: as a species, vampires are far less than sociable. Most of these nocturnal predators are spectacularly unambitious. You might even call them the slackers of the monster set. Selfishness, petulance and pettiness run rampant among these shadow dwellers, and as a result, they rarely combine their efforts in any effective way. Society, tribalism, social cliques, these things are nearly unheard of in the realm of the vampire. All of which makes tonight’s guest one of the most unique and remarkable citizens of the undead world. In his more than six centuries of existence, he has become one of the most powerful vampires on Earth. Through this power and by sheer force of will, he has forged his own cult of personality, rising to prominence as the leader of the Order of Aurelius, a vampire sect devoted to the worship of the ancient demons known colloquially as “the Old Ones.” Born Heinrich Joseph Nest, these days he is simply, and rightly, known as . . . The Master! Ladies and Gentleman, the Master.

(applause)

LIPPMAN: Welcome, Master. May I call you Master?

MASTER: You’d better.

LIPPMAN: It’s an honor to have you with us this evening.

MASTER: The pleasure is most assuredly yours. I must say, the aroma of warm blood in this room is a tad overwhelming. I’m not used to being around so many humans who aren’t on the menu.

LIPPMAN: Let’s talk about the Order of Aurelius. The history of the order is shrouded in mystery and yet you are so clearly the most celebrated of its leaders. How did your relationship with the Order develop and how far-reaching is its power today?

MASTER: Ah, the vagaries of celebrity. I confess that my ambitions may have brought the Order more attention than was intended. Let’s just say I’ve got my fingers in a lot of pies. Cherry pies. I like cherry. The truth is, it’s all quite secret. And secrets are a perilous road, for they lead to curiosity. And you know what they say about curiosity.

LIPPMAN: It killed the cat.

MASTER: Among other things.

LIPPMAN: What about worship, Master? Vampires are not exactly known for their theology. Yet here you are, bucking the trend. These elder demons, the Old Ones, what about them inspires your devotion?

MASTER: Let’s look at it this way. What do these goody-goody gods of yours promise, these bright and shining deities? Ice cream? Pony rides? Magic shows? No. I . . . don’t . . . think so. If you have faith, and behave your little selves, refuse to indulge your baser instincts, maybe, just maybe, they’ll let you die. Rot in the ground. Then spend the rest of eternity bored to tears. On the other hand, the Old Ones, these gracious, hideous, wonderful demons who walked this soil at the dawn of time . . . all they want is to come home. If I devote myself to them, give them my fealty . . . if I behave myself, indulge my very basest instincts, and aid them in their return . . . I get to rule the world! Now you tell me . . . who’s getting the better deal?

LIPPMAN: I’ve never looked at it quite that way. As always, your perspective is fascinating and unique. Now, I want to talk about some of the more notorious members of your bloodline, but first, let’s talk about Hellmouths. Have you always wanted to open a Hellmouth, and aside from your efforts on behalf of the Order, what is it that draws you to them?

MASTER: You know, it’s sort of amusing. Ever since I was a boy I’ve had a predilection for tearing things open just to see what spills out.

LIPPMAN: Boys will be boys. Let’s return now to your vampiric offspring. Children of the fang, I believe is the popular phrase. Darla, Angelus, speak to that relationship for a moment.

MASTER: Ah, Darla. She was my favorite for so very long. A porcelain doll of a girl with a gentle silken whisper of a voice and a mean streak wide as the Nile. Yet, what can we say about our little girls? They meet a man, dark and handsome, and for a time they’re drawn away. She couldn’t see past that brooding exterior to the drunken reprobate beneath . . . the brawler, the wretch, who owed loyalty to none. Still, the raw materials were there. He might have been the best of us. Instead he took her away from me, soiled her, so that even after he was tainted with a soul and she returned to me, my prodigal daughter was never the same. Quite the tragedy, no matter how you look at it.

LIPPMAN: Indeed, a cruel irony that Angelus ended up destroying Darla in the end. It’s only natural that the rebels, the mavericks, are the ones who get all the attention. I can only imagine your frustration that Darla’s dalliance led to the creation not only of Angelus, but also of the infamous Spike and Drusilla as well. Not exactly the family you might have hoped for, and yet is there also a sense of fatherly pride at their notoriety?

MASTER: Despite all their foibles, of course I see myself in them. There’s a blissful cruelty and a kind of mad brilliance in Spike and Drusilla’s escapades . . . but nothing would give me more pleasure than tearing out Angel’s dead black heart.

Keep reading! Click on over to Part Two . . .