Master Vampires

Jean-Claude
"He looked like a vampire was supposed to look." "He was perfect sitting there, perfectly still like a painting. Beautiful as a wet dream, but not real."

"Softly curling hair tangled with the high white lace of an antique shirt. Lace spilled over pale, long fingered hands. The shirt hung open, giving a glimpse of lean bare chest framed by more frothy lace. Most men couldn't have worn a shirt like that. The vampire made it seem utterly masculine." "He'd left it untied, and the white cloth framed the pale smoothness of his chest." "His shirt gaped open showing an expanse of pale chest. One nipple showed small and pale and hard. The cross-shaped scar was an insult to such pale perfection." "His high cheekbones were very prominent against his pale skin." "He wasn't that tall, maybe five-eleven." "His black hair had nearly crimson highlights in the torchlight. Breathtaking." "His hair was perfectly black, curling softly around his face."

"His eyes were the darkest blue I had ever seen, perfect as the midnight sky. They were dark and alive." "Only his eyes looked at me. Dark blue and midnight skies, almost fever bright." "The eyes, if you dared to look into them, were a blue so dark it was almost black. Glittering, dark jewels." "His eyelashes were black lace."

He had a "rich melodious voice". "His voice was silken whispers in the small hours of night." "His voice was like fur, rich, soft, vaguely obscene, as if just talking to him was something dirty." "The brush of fur on naked skin." "His voice was like silk on a wound, gentle with an edge of pain. Like sex. It was like velvet rubbing inside my skull. It felt good, even with fear tearing through my body."

"He laughed. The sound seemed to rub over my skin, like the brush of fur. Warm and feeling ever so slightly of death." "His laughter followed me out into the night, like velvet rubbing along my spine. He laughed then. Pleasant and resonating like expensive perfume that lingers in the room after the wearer has gone. His laughter was like that, lingering in the ears like distant music." "The vampire gave his wondrous, nearly touchable laugh." "His eyes started to sparkle. Laughter spread across his face and out between his lips. He laughed full-throated. The laugh was like candy: sweet, and infectious. If you could bottle Jean-Claude's laugh, I know it would be fattening. Or orgasmic." "Jean-Claude laughed. The abrupt change in mood made both Jason and me jump. His laughter was rich and thick as chocolate, as if you could pull it from the air and eat it."

"He laughed, but it wasn't pleasant; it was bitter like the touch of steel wool. Something to irriatate rather than entice."

"He smiled then, no hint of fangs, just the beautiful spread of lips. If there had been a vampiree GQ, Jean-Claude would have been their cover boy." "He smiled then, wide and genuine, flashing fangs."

"His lips were silk his tongue a quick wetness."

"Jean-Claude, Master Vampire of the City, walked towards us. He moved like a dancer, or a cat, a smooth gliding walk. Energy and grace contained, waiting to explode into violence." "He walked into the room with that wonderful fliding motion of his. Part cat, part dancer, part something else. Whatever the "else" was, it wasn't human."

"Jean-Claude didn't so much sit in the chair as fold his body around it. The movement was almost catlike."

Jean Claude is the Master of the City of St. Louis from The Laughing Corpse through the most recent book.

Malcolm
"Malcolm was tall and almost painfully thin, with large, bony hands that belonged to a more muscular man. His short, curly hair was the shocking color of goldfinch feathers. This was what blond hair looked like after nearly three hundred years in the dark." "His eyes were the blue of robin's eggs. He smiled, angular face, beaming at me.

"Malcolm's presence filled the small room like invisible water, chilling and prickling along my skin, knee-deep and rising.

"Malcolm straightened, pulling at his suit jacket. A nervous gesture? Oh boy. I'd hit a nerve."