Count Dracula sleeps in a lordly tomb in the vaults beneath his desolate castle. His stony eyes are open. His cheeks have the flush of life beneath their pallor. On his lips are a mocking, sensuous smile and fresh blood. He has been dead for centuries, yet he may never die . . . Here begins the story of an evil both ages old and forever new. It is the story of those who instill a diabolic craving in their victims, the men and women from whose blood they draw their only sustenance. It is a novel of peculiar power, of hypnotic fascination. The reader is warned that he who enters Castle Dracula may not escape its baleful spell-even when he closes this book.