Subtitles section Play video Print subtitles [music playing] -Black bishop takes white pawn. -Dad, Year Eight science class has gone missing. -I said, black bishop takes white pawn. That's you, boy. -Why, you-- -Excellent. Be off with you, pawn. -What are you doing? -Well, I'm teaching Wolfie how to play chess, obviously. -But you can't use Year Eight. -Can't? A word for breathers. Why have a school full of human spawn if you can't have a little sport with them? Anyway, they're all thoroughly hypnotized. They won't remember a thing. -That doesn't make it any better. -You see, Wolfie, chess is the ultimate game of tactics and strategy. Every move should be an educated and intellectual decision. -Can you move the horsey next? [sigh] -I don't know how to play chess, master. -You could fill a crypt with what you don't know, Renfield. -Right. Go back to class. -Stay. -Go. THE COUNT: Stay. VLAD: Go. -Stay! -Go. THE COUNT: Stay. -Go. -Stay. -Stay. -Go! Aw. -You heard the man. -Do you-- do you see me laughing? [chuckle] -I'm back-- twice as gorgeous, three times as evil. Make that four times as evil. [knocking] [knocking] -(WEAKLY) Come in. Oh, it's you. -Why are you making out like you've just been staked? -I want people to think I'm still weak. That way, they'll underestimate me. You reek of breather. -Um, I've been in class with them all day, the stinklings. -So what do you say we go into town tonight and give some boys the fight of their dull little lives? -Uh, sorry, I said I'd hang out with Vlad. INGRID: Again, but we had an arrangement. -Did we? -It's because he's the Chosen One. You think he's going to make you his queen? -We're just friends. -You're trying to take my place, aren't you? -I don't want to be his sister. That's too weird, even for this place. -You know what I mean. -You really need to chill. [thunder rumbling] -Don't you dare walk away from me. There's only one Queen of Darkness here. Me! [thumping sounds] INGRID: Ow. -So it was on October 23? -No, the Battle of Trafalgar was 21st. -All right, 21st October, 1805, lower gun deck. And just before he died, Nelson said, uh, kiss me, Hardy. -No, he didn't. He said kismet. -Kismet. He said what? -Kismet. It means "fate." -No, he didn't. Bertrand was there. Well, he is over 400. He used to hang around loads of battles, apparently. Easy pickings, he says, all that blood. Made a real pig of himself at Waterloo, so. -Ew. [chuckling] [sighing] -Renfield? Renfield! [running footsteps] -Yes, master? [whimpering] -What's happened to my fang file? It's as dull as an evening in your miserable company. -Ow! It-- it's Vlad. He-- he borrowed it for his metalwork project. -He's always telling me what to do and trifling with my possessions. I should kick him off the-- [FEMALE VOICE SINGING IN TRANSYLVANIAN] -It can't be. [singing continues] [singing continues] -Is that what I think it is? [singing in transylvanian] [singing continues] [singer freezes] -What do you think you're doing? -I was just about to ask you the same question. -But that song, it's Transylvanian. She must be from the old country. It's years since I've had a home-cooked meal. -No, you can't. -I'm your father. Pick a fight with me, boy, and you will lose. -I said no. I'm so sorry. I must have fall-- just-- -Ow. Oof. -What? I just got lucky. [woman singing in transylvanian] -So what's on the menu? Has-beens on toast? I hope you don't think I enjoyed seeing you humbled, crushed, shamed, humiliated-- stop me when you think I've covered it. You've got to do something before Vlad gets too strong. He might make you lord of Croydon for a few years, but then he'll pack you off to the Twilight Home for the long in fang. I'd take you on myself if I wasn't still so exhausted. THE COUNT: I don't need advice from you. -Of course not. I suppose you know his big weakness. Erin, the half-fang? He's crushing on her like crazy. If you want to get him, get her. -That's blatantly obviously to anyone with half a brain. -Come on, you stupid locker. -Uh, allow me. Sweaty hands. What's going on? Last night I dumped the mightiest vampire on the planet on his pants, and today I can't open a stuck locker. -You were angry and focused. It concentrated your powers. You learn to control that, and you'll be ready to open the "Praedictum Impaver." -I need to do more training. -Have you seen the count today? -I think he's avoiding me. -Well, last night he saw the future. He has to feel he's still valued and relevant. It's vital that he's reassured. Otherwise, he's got nothing to lose. He'll go on a killing spree, bring the slayers down on us. Until you open the book, he won't be ready to leave as a [inaudible]. We need more time. [bell ringing] -So uh, Wolfie, did you enjoy your chess lesson? Did Dad show you his famous Transylvanian opening gambit? -It was boring. -That's because unlike me, he doesn't appreciate the Count's wisdom. -Oh, shut up, Renfield. -Lunch is served. -What gastronomic delights are you tempting us with? -Master's favorite. -Uh, and by "master" you mean? -Ocelot Wellington in-- in a sticky badger sauce. -Ooh, delicious. [loud crunching and smacking] -Absolutely revolting. -Oh yes, it's disgusting, master, disgusting. That-- that-- that pup needs teaching manners. -Good idea, Renfield. See to it. -As you say, master. -Where's the ocelot's nose? I always get the ocelot's nose. It's-- that's-- right, that's it. -Apologies, master. I thought that now Master Vlad-- -It's a mistake. Dad, this is yours. -Keep it. I've decided to satiate my appetite with a little Transylvanian cleaner I know. And don't try to stop me. Oh yes, I'm ready for you this time. -And what if that brings the slayers down on us? -Well, you're a big boy now. I'm sure you can handle it. -Oh, so now you're just being silly. -Silly? I've been the scourge of nations, star of 10,000 nightmares. And now I'm just silly. Count Silly of-- Croydon. -Dad, I'm sorry if I've offended you. Really, I am. -Prove it. -How? -I want you to throw a Carpathian Feast tonight in my honor. Yes. Yes, a dinner for me and my pals. It'll prove you still value and revere me. -Yeah, I can do that. Renfield, make the usual discreet travel arrangements for guests. INGRID: That's it? That's the wrath of the mighty Count Dracula? He throws a party, and it's all happy families? -You aren't invited. [knife vibrating] [flies buzzing] [whispering] -Let me tell you about fine dining. [flies buzzing] These are not ordinary maggots. These are hand-reared maggots, fed on a diet of elephant dung and matured in a barrel of badgers' wee. This is not just vampire fare. This is vampire food heaven. Now take a good handful, shove it in your gob. -That doesn't sound posh. -It's how the fancy French vampires do it. And they know better than you, you little hooligan. [whispering] -Hosting a party for Dad's old cronies is a torture of its own kind, but if that's all it takes to keep him happy-- -Learn not to take things at face value. -What? What have I missed? -The Carpathian Feast is in ancient tradition. There hasn't been one for hundreds of years. There's something that happens at the end of the evening. -I'll jump out of a cake if I have to. -A vampire of the Count's choosing is roasted to death in his honor. -I hope you're happy. -Oh, Ingrid, I'm so sorry. Look, I won't let him do this to you. -It's not me. It's Erin. -Argh! -Vlad. Vlad. VLAD: Fuck off. -Daddy, I am so proud of you. [sobbing] -Leave me alone! I'm not going to let him do this. -Then you'll fail his test.