“Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!” There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms.
— Bram Stoker, Dracula (1897); Ch. 16 (Vampire Lucy calls to Arthur Holmwood)
“Come to me. Come to me. A guardian angel, a spirit of comfort – spirit of any celestial sphere – anything – hear my call. Come to me.” // “I am ready. I bid you. Come to me.”








