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  Dead Roses For A Blue Lady

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  This first edition of Dead Roses For A Blue Lady is signed by the author and is limited to 432 copies (400 numbered clothbound hardcovers, 26 leatherbound lettered hardcovers, and 8 specially bound hardcovers reserved for private distribution).

  This is copy ___ of 400

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  Dead Roses For A Blue Lady Nancy A. Collins

  CROSSROADS PRESS HOLYOKE, MA Dead Roses For A Blue Lady Copyright © 2002 Nancy A. Collins Book Design © 2002 Thomas & Anne Crouss/Crossroads Press All Artwork © 2002 Stephen R. Bissette

  All rights reserved

  First Edition

  May 2002

  Crossroads Press

  POBox 10433

  Holyoke, MA. 01041

  Nancy Collins on Sonja Blue An Interview © 2001 Shadowind Inc. Original to this edition.

  “Knifepoint” © 2001 Nancy A. Collins. Original to this edition.

  “Cold Turkey” © 1992 Nancy A. Collins. Originally appeared as a limited edition chapbook from Crossroads Press.

  “Tender Tigers” © 2001 Nancy A. Collins. Original to this edition.

  “Vampire King Of The Goth Chicks” © 1998 Nancy A. Collins. Originally appeared in Cemetary Dance Vol 8 #3.

  “Variation On A Theme” © 1998 Nancy A. Collins. Originally published in the The Crow: Broken Lives, Shattered Dreams.

  “Some Velvet Morning” © 2000 Nancy A. Collins. Originally published in the Vampire Sextette.

  “The Nonesuch Horror” © 2001 Nancy A. Collins. Original to this edition. Printed in the United States of America 10 987654321

  ISBN: 1-892300-07-9 (Numbered Edition) 1-892300-08-7 (Lettered Edition)

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Nancy Collins on Sonja Blue: An Interview

  Knifepoint

  Cold Turkey

  Tender Tigers

  Vampire King Of The Goth Chicks

  Variations On A Theme

  Some Velvet Morning

  The Nonesuch Horror

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  NANCY COLLINS ON SONJA BLUE

  An Interview

  By Stanley Wiater

  Stanley Wiater: What are your earliest memories of Sonja Blue? And did she come after you, or did your imagination hunt her down?

  Nancy Collins: Sonja Blue dates back at least to my sophomore year of high school. That would be 1975. Her actual origins are cloaked in fuzzy memory, but I remember that she was one of several female characters I created around that time. I was attempting to come up with intelligent, strong women who could dish it out with the best of ‘em, but who didn’t read like dozer dykes or adolescent male sex fantasies. Two of those other characters have since seen the light of fictive day: Machina Jones, a cyborg bounty hunter appeared in Marvel’s 2099 Unlimited #10; and Tanoch, a bat-winged heroic fantasy character, is central to my Elric story The Heart of the Dragon. But it was Sonja who seemed to have the most “life” to her—the one determined to have her story told.

  SW: Is it true that the very first Sonja Blue story appeared in an obscure fanzine, and is it the case that over the years you have since lost the only manuscript of the first story you wrote about her?

  NC: Yes—it’s lost. Actually, there were several short stories I wrote about her, but only one was ever printed in a fanzine. That was my own fanzine, called Razed Consciousness, probably #2 or #3. That was either in 1978 or 1979, but I do remember that it was produced using twiltone & mimeo reproduction processes (this was before photocopying became so commonplace). There was accompanying artwork by Clel Jones, my then-roommate while I was attending Arkansas State University in Jonesboro. The story was called Growing Colder and was about Sonja struggling against the desire to prey on humans. The Pretenders weren’t called Pretenders yet. Vampires were referred to as “colds” and humans as “warms.” I do remember passages such as “a cold face looking back from a sea of warmth.” Sonja’s perception was more thermal than occult, but except for those minor differences, she was almost identical as to how she appeared in Sunglasses After Dark.

  SW: Why do you think she has become your most popular character?

  NC: There is no telling what makes a character resonate with some readers and not with others. I suspect some readers can identify with Sonja as an outsider; others sympathize with her struggle to do the right thing. A lot of women enjoy the fact that she’s strong, intelligent, and capable. Men seem to dig that too, although there’s obviously a sexual fantasy element connected there as well. But I think most readers consider her someone they’d want to happen across their mugging.

  SW: Just as vital, as her creator is she your favorite character?

  NC: This is like asking a mother which of her children is her favorite! She’s definitely one of my favorite characters, and certainly the one I know the best. I’m also fond of Billy Skillet from Walking Wolf and Johnny Pearl from Lynch. I also have a soft spot for some of the villains and supporting characters I’ve created over the years, such as Pangloss and Chaz from the Sonja Blue series; The Iscariot from Dhampire:Stillborn; Witchfinder Jones from Walking Wolf; Mirablis & Sasquatch from Lynch; and Changing Woman and Fella from Wild Blood.

  SW: There are other novels and stories that deal with vampires/vampire hunters as the protagonists. What makes the world of Sonja Blue so special by comparison?

  NC: I think one of the things that has made Sonja Blue’s world so unique is the fact the readers got to see it through her eyes—a universe of dark miracles and divine monsters. The punk underground ethos woven throughout the series also provides a unique spin not readily available in other books. Sonja Blue dwells on the fringes of mainstream society, and is more a part of that shadowy underculture than the world of nine-to-five, two-car garage, house-in-the-suburbs America. Kind of like myself, actually.

  That’s not to say Sonja was spun from whole cloth. I was very much influenced by Marv Wolfman’s classic Tomb of Dracula comics, especially his Dracula’s Diary entries and the character of Blade. The original Blade is a distinct inspiration for Sonja. Another influence came from the classic 1960s Avengers TV episodes featuring Diana Rigg as Mrs. Peel. The mid 70s version of the Black Widow, when she was hanging with Daredevil, was also influential, along with Pam Grier’s in-your-face characters in exploitation movies like Coffey and The Big Doll House figured in there as well. But the most significant spiritual forefather of Sonja was Humphrey Bogart ala The Maltese Falcon/Casablanca/The Glass Key/The Big Sleep. But in regard to female punk vampire/vampire-slayers—yeah, I pretty much created 99.9% of that particular sub-genre.

  SW: What was your reasoning for putting together this specific collection? Is it complete with all your short fiction about Sonja Blue? Also, do you recall why these more recent stories were written?

  NC: It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. That, and a Sonja Blue shared world anthology. And, yes, this collection holds all the (currently) existing Sonja short fiction. As to the reason these stories were created…well, Cold Turkey was originally commissioned by Crossroads Press for a chapbook, and went on to become a chapter in Paint It Black; The Crow’s creator, James O’Barr, requested a Crow/Sonja Blue cross over, which resulted in Variations on a Theme; Vampire King of the Goth Chicks is a prose adaptation of the first comic book appearance of Sonja Blue, commissioned by Joe Lansdale for Weird Business; Some Velvet Morning was commissioned for a Doubleday SF book club original anthology; Tender Tigers is an expansion on the social structure of ogres, my favorite Pretender subspecies; Knifepoint explains the origins of Sonja’s silver blade; and The Nonesuch Horror provides an update on the goings on of Skinner Cade and his extended family of vargr, coyotero, and humans from Wild Blood.

  SW: What was the most difficult tale to write?

  NC: The most recent novel, Darkest Heart, has proven the most difficult to write, largely due to personal distractions and the downturn in publishing that necessitated my taking on a day job. But that’s all over now. Thank god.

  SW: How do the short stories fit into the time-frame of your Sonja Blue novels?

  NC: Let’s see…Knifepoint can be read as a prequel to the events in Sunglasses, although Sonja does not make an actual appearance. Cold Turkey later became part of the third Sonja Blue novel, Paint It Black. The Nonesuch Horror takes place at least ten years after the events in Tender Tigers. The other stories occur sometime after the events related in Sunglasses After Dark and before Darkest Heart. The Countess from Some Velvet Morning is referred to in Darkest Heart, as are the strega—a type of vampire created via necromancy, basically. They’re similar to the blood wizards in A Dozen Black Roses. Donatien Legendre of Tempter and Nicholas Gaunt of Dhampire: Stillborn are also examples of such self-damned vampires.

  SW: Do you have a complete history for Sonja already laid out—past, present, and future adventures? Or do her tales just come to you more or less at random, like Robert E. Howard did with chronicling Conan?

  NC: I’m closer to Robert E. Howard than Tolkien when it comes to story arc generation. Or perhaps Raymond Chandler is a better example. The stories come to me when they come to me.

  SW: Do you recall how the wonderfully distinctive and suggestive name “Sonja Blue” originated? And we understand someone has already claimed it as a registered domain name on the Internet?

  NC: I like to play word games when naming characters. Sonja’s name is derived from several sources, the most prominent being 1) Patty Hearst and 2) The Manson Family. The news coverage of Patty Hearst’s kidnapping & rebirth as “Tanya” kept me riveted as a young teen. Clearly, that case is the template for Denise Thome’s disappearance in Sunglasses. The Blue part comes from Squeaky Fromme & Sandra Goode of the Manson Family, who used to go by the code names “Red” and “Blue” respectively. I followed the Manson case as it unfolded in the press and read everything I could get my hands on. It was symbolic to me, at least, of the death of innocence for an entire generation. I’ve also since discovered that Sandra Goode has changed her name to “Blue Collins”. Go figure. There’s also Robert E. Howard’s original Red Sonja, of course, and a short-lived 1960’s TV show I used to watch as a kid called Coronet Blue about a jazz musician with amnesia trying to figure out who he really is—only to discover he doesn’t like the man he used to be.

  Of course, once you create a neato name like Sonja Blue, that means that when the time comes to register a dot.com site, you discover you’re several years late and more than a few dollars short.

  SW: What do you think your fans misunderstand about why you write—or don’t write more of—these tales?

  NC: Whenever any author writes anything there’s always a danger of readers missing the point or seeing something you never intended. But that’s the witch-pool of fiction for you: not everyone who draws from it takes away the exact same thing. I’ve had readers tell me how they get into the violence or how cool my vampires are, but that’s not what the books are about at all. The underlying theme of the Sonja books—and nearly all my novels, really—is the struggle to maintain one’s humanity in the face of monstrosity. Or, if you want to put it in more prosaic terms: the struggle to remain true to one’s self in the face of the overwhelming pressure to conform, as well as the tendency to assume complicity in our own unhappiness.

  Of course, the problem with readers becoming over-invested in Sonja is that I have to be extremely firm when fielding requests from fans that want to write their own Sonja Blue stories. Most of them don’t seem to realize that what they’re really saying is: “I love your work, please let me violate your copyrights.”

  Now, while someone loving your stuff so much they can’t wait for you to write another book is certainly flattering, I believe that fanfic is the road to perdition as far as we non-corporate entities are concerned. All I can say is that Roddenberry really opened a can of worms. A lot of writers who don’t have the legal and financial resources of a Paramount or Universal Studios or a Lucasfilms behind them now find they have to keep a weather eye on the Internet.

  Intellectual property upkeep can be a real bitch.

  SW: Finally, what are your long-range plans for Sonja Blue?

  NC: After I complete Darkest Heart, my long-range plans for Sonja do not include another novel. If I continue her adventures, it will be in novella or short story form only. A new Sunglasses After Dark t-shirt recently came out from Fashion Victim, and as for possible television & film development—by the time this book goes to print, I will have signed an option agreement with Palomar Pictures regarding the development of Sonja Blue for film and television. But I’ve learned never to hold my breath when it comes to Hollywood. You only end up blue in the face.

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  Knifepoint

  Author’s Note: This story precedes the events chronicled in Sunglasses After Dark and does not, technically, feature Sonja Blue. However, it does involve Erich Ghilardi, the occult expert who would later go on to tutor Sonja in the fine art of vampire-slaying. This is the story of how he acquired the silver knife that would one day become the switchblade she now carries.

  The men were so different from one another the only thing they had in common was the color of their skin. The older of the two was ginger-haired, with bristling facial ornament, and skin burned red as a beet from half a lifetime spent under the blazing tropic sun. He walked with a stoop, as if shouldering a great burden, and was dressed in a suit of rumpled seersucker. The younger of the pair was tall and slender, dressed in primly starched bleached linens; his hair neatly oiled and parted down the middle of his skull, as if laid down with a ruler. A pencil-thin mustache graced his upper lip, which helped him appear slightly more than his one-and-twenty years.

  The mismatched duo, the elder in the lead, made their way through the crowded bazaar, the younger of the two occasionally casting worried glances at the throng of native peasants who had gathered to buy and sell their wares.

  The stoop-shouldered man led them down a winding side street that opened onto the bazaar, stopping before a house with a black lacquer door, above which hung a sign that read in Hindi, Sanskrit, English & Chinese: “The Gate of Seven Dreams.”

  The stooped man’s companion roughly grabbed his arm, drawing him back from the threshold. When the young man spoke, it was with a Swiss accent. “Multoon! You did not tell me your contact was a fiend!”

  The stoop-shouldered man in the seersucker suit turned and fixed the younger one with a blood-shot eye. “Fiend? I wudn’t say that. But ole Naga does have a fondness for the poipe. But you needn’t fear for yer reputation, young sorr. This here is a proper den, not like them chandu-khanas, where wogs and chinee are stacked like so much cord-wood.”

  The black lacquer door opened into a long corridor, and the younger man raised a handkerchief to his nose to mask the smell of unwashed human bodies mixed with the sickly sweet stink of opium that rolled across the threshold. He hesitated for a moment, and then followed his companion inside the Gate of Seven Dreams. The corridor turned, then turned again before opening onto a virtual labyrinth of small, dark, interconnected rooms, lighted only by amber-glass lamps. The walls of the rooms were lined with multi-tiered wooden platforms resembling the sleeping berths in a Pullman car, save that they lacked bedding of any kind. Each bunk was occupied by men who lay as motionless as stone, their glazed eyes fixed on some unknowable point.

  Multoon ignored the pipe-dreamers, motioning for his companion to follow him up a flight of stairs situated at the very back of the den. The upstairs of the Gate Of Seven Dreams was reserved for wealthier patrons, as it was one big room, with mats spread about the floor for the comfort of the clientele, along with bolsters covered in cheap cloth for them to rest their heads. At the top of the stairs sat an old Chinese man behind a low table, atop which sat a large clay pot in which a dozen or more opium pipes were arranged like dried flowers.

  Although most of those sprawled about on the mats were of higher caste than those in the cramped bunks below the stairs, there was little to tell one breed of smoker from the other. All lay on their sides, their eyes lidded, but not quite shut, as they chased the dragon whose smoke had enslaved them.

  “We are lookin’ for Naga,” Multoon said to the pipe seller.

  The old man pointed to the far corner of the room, where the shadows lay the heaviest, but said nothing.

  The man Erich Ghilardi had traveled all the way from Bombay to see sat on his meagre matt in the lotus position, dressed in what looked to be the robes of a Buddhist monk, save that they were black instead of the saffron Ghilardi was accustomed to seeing. The man Multoon called Naga was clean-shaven, with a hairless pate that shone like a peeled onion in the dim light of the Seven Dreams. The darkness of his eyes and the tilt of his cheekbones suggested to Ghilardi one of the hill tribes of the lower Himalayans, yet there was something about his appearance that defied classification. Perhaps it was the vaguely greenish tint to the monk’s skin, although that could very well be explained by his taste in smoking material.

 

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