AH: Thank you. I wanted to give this interview so that people know the truth.
JS: The truth about what?
AH: About vampires, Mr Supernova. About Blacklight. About my family.
JS: Now you see, my bullshit detector just went off straight away. Because you just said the word vampires.
AH: That’s right. I did.
JS: Well, let’s get this out there then. Your position, what you’re saying to me, is that vampires are real? They exist, right now, in the real world.
AH: That’s correct.
JS: And why would you expect me to believe something so ridiculous?
AH: Because it’s the truth.
JS: Do you have any proof? Anything to back up your claim?
AH: Just my word.
JS: I sent a car to collect you for this interview from a homeless shelter, Albert. I can see needle tracks on both your arms. And you think I should take your word for something like this?
AH: That’s entirely up to you, Mr Supernova. I can’t make that decision for you.
JS: Oh, I’ll make it for myself, don’t you worry about that. So. Before we get on to the supposed existence of these vampires, tell me something else. Tell me how you would be in a position to know about them, if they were real. Because it seems to me like everyone else thinks they’re fiction, and I’ve got to tell you, you’re off to a pretty bad start when it comes to being convincing.
AH: You are aware of my surname?
JS: I am.
AH: And, as a journalist, I would presume that you are a well-read man?
JS: I suppose so. Reasonably.
AH: And you don’t see the connection?
(pause)
JS: Dracula. You’re talking about Dracula?
AH: Very good, Mr Supernova. Dracula, yes. My great-grandfather was Jonathan Harker, the hero of Stoker’s story. Which, in truth, was a work of historical fact, rather than the fiction it has been portrayed as.
JS: You take a lot of heroin, don’t you, Albert?
AH: That is immaterial.
JS: So Dracula wasn’t a story. It really happened. Am I understanding you here?
AH: You are. It happened much as Stoker wrote it down. He overheard the tale from Abraham Van Helsing, who he crossed paths with here in London.
JS: Van Helsing was real too?
AH: Obviously. The sooner you get your head around these simple facts, the quicker and less painful this process will become.
JS: Don’t get snippy with me, mate. Remember who’s paying who.
AH: I apologise. Yes, Mr Supernova, Van Helsing was real, as was John Seward, and Quincey Morris, and Arthur Holmwood, whose great-grandson sits in the House of Lords as we speak. And so was my great-grandfather. They were all as real as you and I.
JS: Meaning Dracula was real too.
AH: Correct. He was real, and he died, as Stoker described. And my ancestor and his friends came home. But Dracula was not the only vampire in the world, merely the first. Others followed, in time.
JS: And?
AH: And my great-grandfather and his friends were given the authority to deal with them. On behalf of the Empire.
JS: By who?
AH: By Prime Minister William Gladstone. In 1892.
(pause)
JS: You’re serious, aren’t you? This isn’t a wind-up.
AH: I am deadly serious, Mr Supernova. This is the biggest secret in the world, a secret that my family and others have kept for more than a century. And I’m telling it to you.
JS: Why? I mean, apart from the money.
AH: My family and I are… not close.
JS: So you’re doing this out of spite? I mean, if this is all real, if you’re not crazy, then my guess is you’re going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble if I find someone to run this.
AH: That’s my problem. But yes, I imagine they won’t be thrilled.
JS: Are you in danger? More importantly, am I?
AH: Not as far as I know. But I offer no guarantees, Mr Supernova. Blacklight operates entirely outside the laws that govern you and I.
JS: Blacklight?
AH: The organisation that hunts vampires and keeps them secret. That’s not its real name, but is what it has always been called. It evolved from the four men who survived the encounter with Dracula.
JS: What is it?
AH: I’ve never seen the inside of it. But it’s something like a special forces unit for the supernatural.
JS: Whoa, whoa. You’ve never seen it?
AH: Not from the inside, Mr Supernova. It is the most highly classified organisation in the country. But there are traditions that concern the descendants of the original members, the founders. We are automatically given the chance to join when we turn twenty-one.
JS: And I presume you said no?
AH: I did.
JS: Why?
AH: Because I had no desire to spend my life chasing monsters. And because there are few things I have ever wanted less than to be anything like my father.
(pause)
JS: Why’s that, Albert?
AH: Because he was a bully, a sadist and a fraud, who played favourites. He loved my brother while he tolerated me, and made it abundantly clear to everyone.
JS: But when the time came, he still asked you to join this Blacklight?
AH: I have no doubt that it broke his heart to do so. But he was bound by the rules, by the traditions of the organisation he gave his life to. I’ve come to believe it was the only thing he ever truly cared about. So, yes, when I turned twenty-one, he asked me. I’ve never seen him happier than when I turned him down.
JS: So how does it work? You wake up on your birthday and your dad comes into your room and says ‘Hi, son, by the way, vampires are real, I’m part of a secret organisation that fights them and now you get the chance to be too’?
(Harker laughs)
AH: Pretty much. He used a lot more words than that, most of which were honour, and duty, and sacrifice. But yes, that’s about it.
JS: And so you said no. How did he react?
AH: He looked like the cat that got the cream. Then he shouted at me for about an hour, called me a coward and a baby, and told me he was embarrassed that I was his son. It went perfectly for him.
JS: How so?
AH: Because he was allowed to openly hate me, Mr Supernova. I finally gave him a good enough reason, by turning down his life’s work. And he didn’t have to have me there with him every day. I don’t know what he’d have done if I had said yes.
(pause)
JS: But you didn’t. So what happened then? He tells you this massive secret, and everyone normally says yes, but you say no. How does that work?
AH: He warned me not to tell anyone what I’d heard, said that they’d lock me up if I did, and that no one would believe me anyway. A couple of days later he brought me a form to sign, some version of the Official Secrets Act. And that was that. We never talked