Usually when we say "vampire," we're talking about a monster like Dracula -- a thing that sucks the life's blood out of us, literally. But there are other things than blood that matter to a body . . . when lonely Ernest Fielding is taken under the wing of Reginald Clarke, he only knows that he will be mentored by one of the greatest writers of his generation. As he spends more and more time with Reginald, he realizes that he starts to feel lethargic and unable to write. He is confused and afraid when he realizes that Reginald Clarke is sucking the creative energy from him. Will loneliness consume Ernest and allow Reginald to take all the talent he has? Or can Ernest break away in time to save himself?