When vampires found themselves in a pinch and needed some help, they’d call Alexandru Dragoi. Born in 699, he was one of the oldest beings alive. As a vampire, 13 centuries of debauchery had granted him unbelievable power and status. Every continent he had ever set foot on had spoken of him in terror. In Europe, they called him the Wolf of Wallachia, and in Asia, they called him the Silk Road Slasher. Currently, he was known worldwide as the Pennsylvanian. 

But as we all know, there are always two sides to every story. It’s true that Dragoi was a famous monster, but he was a monster with a nuanced ethical code. According to author Kyle Brokenshire, Dragoi was a guardian of order. “Without him, the world would descend into anarchy.”

Dragoi’s ongoing mission was to create an environment where the living and the unliving could exist side by side. In the U.S., for example, he had government operatives suppressing vampiric activity for decades. He knew first-hand that vampires in stable environments didn’t affect the larger human community. But if vampire hunters coalesced into stake-wielding militias, he would come to town and obliterate the threat immediately. 

All hell broke loose when a clandestine network of FBI agents upended Dragoi’s “peaceful” world order. These deep state wildcards didn’t anticipate the consequences of their actions, nor did they comprehend the horrors that would be unleashed. The Vampire Wars began with no words spoken and no promises broken. 

There were also no apologies—especially from Dragoi. He was a practical killer. “You were naive thinking you could challenge me,” he told Jackson Jefferson Tanner, the director of the FBI, when the two finally met face to face. “Who gave humans the right to escape the food chain, anyway? This is the natural order of things. In nature, the superior creature is the one that feeds on others.”  

There’s lots of gunplay (including harpoon guns!) between the covers of The Pennsylvanian. And if there’s one thing I like, it’s gun-totin’ vampires. It doesn’t make sense, but I dig it. By the time Dragoi and the federal agents reach the novel’s John Wick-like endgame (pages 153-163), author Brokenshire is in peak New Pulp territory. 

When it’s all over, readers won’t know what hit them. “I left a wound upon this world that will never heal,” said Alexandru Dragoi, the 1,300-year-old man, during his novel-ending soliloquy. “It will bleed and fester forever!” 

[ The Pennsylvanian / By Kyle Brokenshire / First Printing: August 2025 / ISBN: 9781069587909 ]