The Return of the Vampire

This is the case of Armand Tesla, vampire,

as compiled from the personal notes

of Professor Walter Saunders, Kings College, Oxford.

The following events took place

in the outskirts of London

towards the close of the year, 1918.

They began on the night of October the 15th.

A particularly gloomy, foggy night,

that was well suited for a visitation by the supernatural.

Master.

It's night again.

Beautiful, dark, silent night with the fog creeping in.

Time for you to awaken, Master.

Time for you to go out.

Andreas, you will tell me

what has transpired during the hours of light.

She is still alive, Master.

I watched her through the window

at Dr. Ainsley's sanatorium.

She just lies there on a cot

stares upward at nothing at all.

And a great professor, an old teacher of Dr. Ainsley.

Has come from Oxford to find out what is wrong with her.

Just as if any of them could tell what happened.

Prowlers?

Possibly, we have them sometimes.

Oh.

Look at this, Professor Saunders.

Well?

There's nothing wrong with this blood condition.

Certainly no indication of anemia.

Yet, the woman was practically

bloodless when she was found.

Nothing to indicate hemorrhage, wounds?

Not a sign of a thing.

She was evidently suffering from shock.

We haven't been able to get a thing out of her.

Hm.

Baffling, very.

That's why I sent for you, Professor.

Master John, you simply must not jump about like this.

Oh, Lady Ainsley, I'm so glad

Grandpapa brought me with him.

We've been playing war, sir.

Nicki was a German, and I killed her.

I hope he didn't kill you very much, darling.

Don't you think it's time you were in bed,

young man, or don't soldiers sleep?

Of course they do.

May I play one piece on the piano before we go to bed?

- Please? - Very well, then, just one.

Oh, hooray, come, Nicki.

We can be riding in a tank until we get there.

I'm sorry to have interrupted you, milady.

That's quite all right.

We'll be up later to tuck them in.

- Shall we see the patient now? - Yes.

Put the light on the patient's face, please.

Miss Norcutt, can you hear me?

Miss Norcutt?

That light, my eyes.

No, don't close your eyes.

Just keep looking at me as long as you can.

Yes, like that.

Observe the eyes.

The dilation, almost hypnosis.

You're hurting me.

Who's hurting you?

Answer, am I hurting you?

Miss Norcutt, answer.

My dream.

What dream?

Your eyes looked like burning coals.

Don't come any nearer.

Don't touch me.

No, no, I didn't tell them.

No.

No, I didn't tell them.

I didn't tell them.

Dr. Ainsley!

Dr. Ainsley!

What did she mean about the dream?

I don't know yet.

I'm afraid it goes deeper than medicine.

Deeper even than science.

From the beginning of time man has been troubled.

By the uncertainty of death and by

the rare and horrible manifestations

which occur at intervals in which the dead

are known to return from their graves.

Professor, you haven't been to bed.

No.

You've discovered something.

I want you to come with me.

Lacerations about the size of pinpricks on the throat.

What?

Look.

Needle pricks, surely.

No, I paid no attention to those marks

on her throat last night because they seemed unimportant.

This morning I know better.

What then do they indicate?

Incisions made by the teeth of a vampire.

A vampire, a bat, an animal?

No, Jane, not a bat, a vampire, a monster.

A fantastic something that draws blood from the human body

through the jugular veins of its victim.

This thirst for blood is akin to our craving for food.

Without human blood, they perish.

Listen to these notes that I have made

from the writings of a Romanian scientist,

an authority on vampirism.

Armand Tesla, who lived 200 years ago.

This, for instance.

Once attacked, the victim of a vampire

is completely dominated by this creature.

But surely vampires exist only in the imagination.

Did imagination make those marks on her throat?

But...

Was it reality or fantasy that caused the dogs

to bark last night as though wolves were about?

But this is ridiculous.

I can't believe... Milady.

- What is it, Elsa? - It's Nicki.

- I can't wake her. - Nicki.

Transfusion, our only chance.

Then, you're really convinced

that Nicki was attacked by a vampire.

There's not the slightest room for doubt.

If we allow another night to pass,

it will try to reach her again.

And the next time may prove fatal.

How ghastly.

I tell you, not a soul will ever believe us,

but we know this monster exists.

A menace, deadly, horrible.

- We must destroy it. - But how?

- According to this Dr. - Armand Tesla a vampire

can only be destroyed by driving a spike

through its heart while it sleeps in its coffin.

Or by forcing it out into the bright sunlight

which will cause it to shrivel and perish.

We can't see this thing through by ourselves.

Yes, we can.

A vampire must rest during the day

in the soil in which it was buried.

But the coffin might be hidden anywhere.

Could it?

How many graveyards are there in this vicinity?

Well, there's the church fields

and the burial ground at Old Priory,

but that's been abandoned for years.

Then, we must try them both and pray for guidance.

Are you coming with me?

Yes.

Look here.

Professor.

There's nothing to fear as long as we have the sunlight.

We haven't much time.

Look, Jane.

If this is it, it's likely to be here.

Yes.

Why, it's a man and he's alive.

Yes, alive, with the blood of his victim.

Now are you convinced, Jane?

But how can we be certain?

According to Dr. Tesla, a vampire's face

casts no reflection in a mirror.

Shall we try?

Oh, Professor.

You killed him.

Killed the master.

Why, what is it?

Some loathsome creature of the vampire.

Tesla said that they exist.

We must help him.

Yes.

This is absolutely the most

fantastic thing I've ever read.

Fantastic, Sir Frederick, or unbelievable?

Oh, I'm not gonna haggle phrases with you, Lady Jane.

This manuscript was discovered amongst

the effects of Professor Saunders

who died recently in a plane crash.

Its very serious implications can't be ignored.

My dear lady, you simply can't go around the country

driving things through people's hearts.

I quite understand, Sir Frederick.

This person that you and Professor Saunders

disposed of, who was he?

Armand Tesla, the depraved Romanian

scientist who died in 1744 shortly

after he published his work on vampirism.

Tesla's morbid thirst for knowledge turned upon him

and after his death, he himself became a vampire.

Oh, rubbish, there's no such thing as a vampire.

You're wrong, Sir Frederick.

And Tesla's man Friday, this Andreas,

what happened to him?

For years, Tesla had him under complete hypnotic control.