Robinson Crusoe...I think not

The air is cool and crisp, ground damp from a recent rainfall. The night glows with prisms as the portal opens and out emerges three figures, a little worse for wear. Stella clings to her sister Grace who holds two bags in either hand, who is clinging to what sanity she has left. Ahead of them is Norman, still cursing to himself like the madman he is.
Bastard, bastard,...f'ing b-a-s-t-a-r-d! How could he do that to me...me?! Throwing down my bag, I grasp my arm, wincing at the pain. I need to get my wound attended to, will need stitches...damn it! Turning, I glare at the two women. The portal dissipates behind them like scattering fireflies casting an eerie glow to the monuments in the cemetery. Any other time I would have been amused at the sight, like ghosts walking from their graves, we would scare any passersby to their own grave, no doubt. At least we arrived where I expected; Bunhill Field Burial Ground, just two blocks from St. Luke's Hospital for Lunatics, on Old Street, City Road, London.
Stella won't look at me and falls to a heap next to her sister's feet, facing me in defiance, Grace lets the bags drop. I can see she has something to express, so I prompt her to speak. What choice words do you have for me this time Grace?
Setting her jaw, Grace bores her glowing vampire eyes into my mortal ones. Jack is not to blame. Unsurprised by her statement, but curious about the explanation, I wait for her to continue without comment. Taking a step closer to me, she clenches her fists as her arms dangle at her sides. Jack followed your instructions, I ran into him when I heard Stella scream and he was alone. For fear of discovery and my safety, he made me return to the rooms and we stayed there until Stella came in.
This time I walked closer to her. I needed to see her eyes better and the darkness enveloped her at this angle of the graveyard making that impossible. Walking, so as to cause her to turn into the moon's light, I could see her eyes, like a wild cats, glowing, reflecting the light. How strange vampires are. My silence seemed to confuse her and was unnerving Stella, as she started to whimper. Grace continued her story. Jack couldn't understand why you gave him the time and place to rip; I had no explanation for him since you did not leave that in your instructions to us. Grace squats down and hugs her sister, now rocking back and forth.
Looking around, I orientate my self and see the gate in the distance. A few lights illuminate the street and our path, which will lead us to St. Luke's. Completely calm and composed now, I retrieve my bag, from the pile, and command the women to follow. Grace speaks one more time. I am sure that other man came on his own...he was in the alley before, watching me...probably hunting for you. I could feel a vicious smile spread across my face...how I enjoy a good hunt! As we all begin our departure from the graveyard, my eye is caught by a headstone in the glow of moonlight, now very bright, the occupant is the famous writer Daniel Defoe. Now that does amuse me and with that, I swing my bag in glee of anticipation for this most excellent adventure ahead.