Though he grew up in the same city as Dracula had lived, he felt never so much as a tingle on the many occasions he had walked by his home on the way to school. He had even fallen asleep in the theater on the occasion that he took his wife to see Frank Coppola's version of Dracula. Now, living in Dublin with his wife, no one was more surprised than he was when he began having cravings. The urge to consume blood came the first time when he saw steaks on the counter, waiting to be prepared for dinner. The blood on the plate drew him as surely as a magnet. Though certain he had it all under control, the next craving had him consuming the liquid gathering under chicken. That episode had left him weak and ill, and he punished himself by remembering it vividly until his stomach had emptied many times and nothing was left behind. Still, even though he was certain that was the last time, he found himself drawn to the lamb in the fridge next.