tinhuviel | Entries tagged with cadmus pariah

I don’t think I have ever made a comprehensive list of the influences that helped in the creation of Cadmus Pariah. If I can explain without sounding like an utter loon, I will also write out my reasons for their involvement in Cadmus. The list is really not in any order, except for the first three or so, which are ridiculously obvious and I’d just be a prat if I didn’t put them first. So, without further ado.

Barry Andrews: Well, duh. He gave Cadmus his looks. Aunt Tudi thought Barry had the most angelic face she’d ever seen. That, combined with a half-sleep nightmare that involved him, heavily influenced Cadmus’ appearance and dichotomous demeanour.

Carl Marsh: Carl Marsh gave Cadmus his name. Think about it. He was the collected companion of the menace of Barry’s priest in the video for Nemesis. That knowing stoicism he exuded gave Cadmus the needed cap to his misunderstood rage, and is often the only thing that keeps the Pariah from falling into mindless depravity.

Tim Curry (in character as Gaal from Earth 2): Gaal was a manipulator and a murderer with a silver tongue. He gravitated to endearments like “pet” and “poppet”. His voice, along with Barry’s dramatic whisper on many of Shriekback’s best songs, comprise what Cadmus sounds like in my mind.

Ed Kowalczyk: Cadmus became a hardcore hedonist thanks to Ed Kowalczyk of the band Live. His performance in their video for the song “Freaks”, along with the fact that his nails were painted, was like a Cabaret for the damned. It was perfect. Before Tom Hardy, I wanted Ed Kowalczyk to play Cadmus in my movie.

Tom Hardy: This was an odd one, because Cadmus was already fully-formed and developed by the time Tom Hardy railroaded into my world. I see my stories as movies in my head and, before Mr. Hardy, Cadmus’ appearance was a very effeminate, Egyptian, alien version of Barry Andrews. Then I saw Star Trek: Nemesis (aptly named) and beheld one of the best actors to come along in a very long time accurately interpret the ravages of child abuse on a young adult, and BOOM, he was anchored to Cadmus. As a result, Cadmus adopted a more sullen affect, at times, and was also graced with an eloquent viciousness, devoid of any bothersome conscience, because conscience was for the weak. Tom Hardy also allowed Cadmus to properly express anger with dignity, inadvertently contributing what I called his “crazy eye” to my character. Cadmus’ change of mood, indicated by just a single subtle expression, can turn a situation of civility into one of slaughter in literally the blink of an eye.

Annie Lennox: Her techno-domme persona has pretty much affected all aspects of my writing and character creation, but she touched Cadmus in particular with her stoic command of everything around her in the “Sweet Dreams” video, combined with her perfect androgynous image. I’ve never put Cadmus Pariah in a suit before but, if I ever do, it will be because of Annie Lennox.

Rob Dougan: His song “Clubbed to Death” teamed up with Shriekback’s “Deeply Lined Up” to create thematic sound of Cadmus Pariah’s soul. Everything and everyone belongs to him, and he dispenses with his possessions as he sees fit.

Darth Maul: Prior to The Phantom Menace, Cadmus was devoid of any sexuality. He was a creature of destruction, not affection, love, or lust. Then came Maul. Wrapped in dark flowing robes that were incredibly Cadmusian, this soft-spoken warrior was a physical poet. His poise and grace enhanced Cadmus Pariah, and gave him the ability to experience sexual gratification.

Pryrates: From Tad Williams’ trilogy, Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, Pryrates was the red priest who dabbled heavily in dark magick and alchemy, eventually uniting with the Storm King in his quest for dominion. Like Cadmus, Pryrates is small and bald, but his fierceness and determination affected the development of my character, and I must admit the influence. Pryrates is the reason Cadmus maintains an altar, despite his lack of faith.

Pinhead: This should be obvious to anyone. My Cadmus aspires to reach the levels of poetry and slaughter Pinhead has wrought in the written world. Everything about him is beauty, dread, desire, and suffering. It is Pinhead who inspired Cadmus to say, “Survival is the parchment upon which the Law of Nature is Inscribed.” Like Cadmus, Pinhead is dedicated to his ideal, his focus is an exercise in perfection. He, along with Barry, gave Cadmus his eloquence.

Hannibal Lecter: His command of the language deeply inspired the development of Cadmus. Also, his abiity to manipulate through nothing but words is something I felt Cadmus would be perfect at doing. There is also the Shriekback/Hannibal connection that gives me episodes of frisson. I love it.

Randall Flagg: I admit that my fascination with Randall Flagg is probably incredibly unhealthy but, when I read The Stand in 1980, I was drawn into this charismatic entity, and his spirit dwelt within me for a decade before Cadmus was born. Randall Flagg is a natural leader and a master manipulator. He exudes the perfect combination of fright and desire. This absolutely influenced Cadmus Pariah.

I’m sure there are other influences that I just can’t think of right now, but these folks/characters are the core. Writers often say that their characters are figments of the imagination and not based on any real person, but I beg to differ. We write what we know, and we are constantly bombarded with inspirations and influences. It’s inevitable that they come out in our compositions. In my opinion, it’s perfectly natural, and the primary method by which information is passed on from one generation to another.

Mood: sore
Where? home
Music: Matthew Sweet - We're the Same

After a long absence, Rob Dougan's Clubbed to Death decided to make a special appearance on my iTunes. Where Rob Dougan goes, Cadmus Pariah follows. That said, this drabble fell out. I still feel horrible about his childhood, but Cadmus wouldn't be Cadmus, were it not for Nissius of Rome.

The young Gaelic Tarma kept his dark head bent in silence, his hair hanging in his huge liquid eyes, as they shimmered like stars from the agony. He would not even dare a single tremour of any muscle in his frail, white body. He knew that this, just like everything in his life, was a test, a trial, and that every tribulation he survived would make his small body impenetrable to any ill, and would sharpen his mind to diamond precision. When the time came, all this woe and horror would transform into a glorious power, and that power would be all his.

The strap drew another red gash across Cadmar’s exposed back, the fourteenth one. Just six more to go, and Cadmar would be left to his own devices for the rest of the night, to hunt and replenish his strength. That is, if he did not lose consciousness. Should he succumb to the pain and blood loss, he would go hungry that night, and receive 25 lashes at sundown the next sundown. Each night he could not withstand the trial added five more lashes the next night, until he hardened to it, accepted it, welcomed it.

Cadmar welcomed the night when his power would eclipse that of his master, Nissius for, on that night, it would be his head bowed in silence, awash in the ecstasy of suffering known only to the Elect.The old man spoke of Hell in the after life, delighted in promising Cadmar an eternity of what the Elf already had a bellyful of on Earth. But Cadmar did not believe him. Cadmar was learning that you create your own hell, just as you create heaven, right here, right now. And he believed his current hell was well=deserved, for Cadmar was not yet strong enough to remove himself from it. Once he was, Cadmar planned to create his heaven, awash in the blood of this filthy creature of the Apostate. And he would continue to build his heaven on Earth. His bricks would be bones and his mortar the very marrow of the creation itself.

Mood: hungry
Where? home
Music: Rob Dougan - Clubbed to Death

Four days and three nights passed before Cadmus’ house went quiet. Out of desperation, Flint had resorted to Vampirising his fellow rats, as he waited for his chance to flee the Plenipotentiary’s lair. It was shoddy cuisine, but desperation made the blood taste much better than it actually did.

Even though the place had fallen silent, Flint was more than a little frightened that Cadmus was still present and waiting for him to attempt an escape. If Cadmus was a master of one thing, it was absolute stillness. Flint had never been more afraid in his life, truth be told, and that fright conflicted with his impulse to flee immediately. He fought the urge, however, knowing that it was all too likely that Cadmus was waiting silently for Flint to reveal himself so that he could sacrifice the young vagabond Vampire to his Harming Tree.

He could sense the sun sinking beyond the mouldy stone walls of his dungeon hide-out and decided to give the silence one that night and the following day before he attempted to spirit himself away from the hidden keep. After draining another rat, Flint slept, curled up in amongst his living brothers, but still shivering from cold and trepidation.

For most Vampires, patience was something that came with the territory of immortality. Waiting for anything was like blinking your eyes in the scheme of things. It all passed so quickly, the endlessness and variety.

For Flint, however, patience had always run thin. Although he almost always was of a mind to shrug off the world and walk his own vagrant path, waiting for anything he wanted or enduring any situation that was not ideal to his whims of the moment were both nigh untenable, especially if he did not have anything else to busy his mind whilst forced to exercise a virtue that simply was not part of his make-up.

Flint opened one beady rat eye and glared at his brothers, who all seemed content in the deep crevice shared by the colony. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic and irritable. It had been 24 hours and, still, the keep was silent as death. Raising his nose, Flint sniffed the stagnant air, and caught no scent of the Dark Child of Night. Cadmus had to be gone. This could be Flint’s only chance to escape the horrors of his killing ground.

Rising from the dank floor, Flint stretched, emerging from the ancient gash in the stone wall. Instantly, he became his human form once more, immediately crouching in a defensive position. You just could not be too careful with a creature like Cadmus Pariah. His powers were boggling, and Flint felt he had been nothing more than lucky to have escaped the Plenipotentiary’s lethal wrath for this long.

Mood: busy
Where? the house
Music: Ahrix- Snowbound

Things have been going on, so this may be a bit of an update from Hell, compared to my usually non-updates.

First off, my phone has been on the fritz for who knows how long. It’s not actually the phone, but the Cricket network. I went yesterday to try to sort it, but the folks at the store couldn’t even troubleshoot it, so they had to put in a service order, which means up to 72 more hours of no service.

Since the first of the year, my health has been shite. Recurring migraines with the most vicious nausea I think I’ve ever had, has beaten down my body more than I could have ever imagined. In the past month, I have lost 10 pounds, and spent three days in the hospital, thanks to these fucking headaches. I’m thinner now than I have been since I was 12 years old. It has gotten to the point where I can’t even walk to the bathroom, which is right beside my room, without my having breathing difficulties and a pounding heart. I feel like I am dying.

But, I might get to tick one thing off my bucket list before heading into the Void, if I’m lucky. Jeff Lynne is bringing ELO back to the American stage on September 9th, 10th, and 11th of this year, at the Hollywood Bowl. When it was announced, I emailed a bunch of people with a proposition that, if they could get the tickets, I’d try to arrange us a place to stay. My old high school friend, Andy, has always dreamt of attending a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, and he bit. We’re just waiting for the tickets to go on sale, if I can’t finagle them earlier than 1 May. The target day is September 10th, as that’s the best day for Andy. It’s also my birthday, which would be perfect.

Speaking of Jeff Lynne, David Bowie’s unexpected and untimely death made me come to grips with a truth I’ve known for a long time, but never truly verbalised, even to myself. I decided to accept it and to come out, to use the term in a wholly different manner. I wrote Barry Andrews and told him that he was the single most influential individual in my life, more so even than even the godlike Jeff Lynne and JRR Tolkien. I wanted him to know it, in the event either of us kicks the bucket. You should tell people how they affect you before it’s too late. It could be too late in the next five minutes. No one knows what each second will bring. No one.

A few weeks ago, there was a huge shake-up in the format of the Work in Progress that officially made it into a full-fledged novel in the works instead of a collection of short stories. I don’t even know what brought it to mind, guessing it had to be some kind of divine inspiration. The long and short of it, though, is that Flint steals the New Hive’s first - and currently only - relic, Cadmus Pariah’s Harming Tree. The story will revolve around Cadmus hunting down Flint, with possible help from Orphaeus Cygnus, and will include the stories and vignettes I have already written about the Harming Tree. As The Blood Crown was essentially a Vampiric Hope & Crosby Road movie in book form, The Harming Tree will be a bit of a book version of a hunt and chase movie, kind of in the vein of Mad Max: Fury Road and the like. I have asked Barry if he could drum up a photo of his harming tree, which is seen only briefly in the ‘Captain Cook’ video, and is obviously the benign inspiration, despite its name, for Cadmus’ dreadful tool of agony. It would be good to have a very clear image reference as I continue this mad journey into the Darkness. I need to jog his memory, though, as it’s been two or three months since I asked him. I’m sure he’s forgotten, and I keep forgetting to remind him. We are old as fuck.

The end.

Mood: cranky
Where? the house
Music: Leslie Wai - Paradigm

And so we have arrived at the threshold of yet another year, four cycles after the long hoped for Alpaca Lips. In some ways, it has been an eventful year and, in others, things have barely changed. I figured I'd touch on the highlights of 2015, then throw some hopes (gasp, hope? Tin? NOOOOOO!) out for 2016. So, let's begin.

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The first major thing that happened in 2015 came in February, when I was allowed unprecedented liberties to continue and expand my campaign to disseminate All Things Shriekback. I was elated, for I had watched for too long their greatness be swallowed up by the ever-expanding Internet, without the proper tools in my box of toys to make enough digital noise to be noticed. That changed prior to the release of one of their best albums to date, Without Real String or Fish. To my immense joy, this was only one of many releases by the band that I got to relentlessly plug throughout the year. It's been an honour to do what I could for the guys, and I will continue to do what I do until they tell me to stop!

In April, another wonderful thing occurred: I got to go up to Los Angeles to attend Jeff Lynne's Hollywood Walk of Fame star ceremony. Even though I didn't get to meet him - again! - I was still thrilled to be in the general vicinity of my spiritual and musical godfather, and listen to him talk a little about his career and how honoured he felt to be getting the praise and attention that has long been due the man. He's a genius, and I am overjoyed that people are finally catching on to this fact. It also heartens me that so many Millennials, particularly in the music world, are embracing Mr. Lynne and his music. That means that his legacy will live on through the generations, as long as humanity plagues this world. It almost makes me glad we're all still around. Anyway, also in attendance to the star ceremony, making speeches of their own about how groovy Jeff Lynne is, were Tom Petty and Joe Walsh. I caught this epic photo before the brouhaha began.

And it got even better later in the year, in November, when Jeff Lynne released Alone in the Universe, the first official ELO album since the release of Zoom in 2001. I'm currently listening to it for the first time but, hey! better late than never, right? 2015 was the year both Shriekback and the Electric Light Orchestra gave the world new music. If for no other reason, this year should be marked as a complete success because of this.

Shortly before I moved out to San Diego, my TV died. For a while, I was pretty miserable, until I got used to watching streaming formats online, like Netflix. It cut down on my viewing habits considerably, and I found myself focusing on just the movies and shows I personally found important and worthy enough to spend my time watching. Beginning in late 2014, though, my number one go-to place for instant entertainment gratification became You Tube. I discovered Alonzo Lerone, Garret John, and a host of other talents, visionaries, and creatives. In June of 2015, though, I stumbled upon a short film that completely blew my mind. It's what made me realise how grateful I am to no longer have a television. I probably would have never discovered such brilliance had I still been enslaved to the mediocrity that spews out of the boob tube.

When I first saw The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, I had a reaction eerily similar to what I had upon seeing The Joker Blogs' Therapy Begins. I couldn't get enough! Impressed didn't even begin to cover it. The more I watched it and the related films on Richard Gale's You Tube channel, the more I laughed. As anyone who has known me since losing Aunt Tudi in 2011 knows, laughter is something I treasure above all other things. I credit anything that could cut through the grief and trigger laughter as holding a seed of the miraculous within its heart. The Impractical Jokers were the first to make what I thought was impossible happen. The Horrible Slow Murderer carried on that life-saving tradition.

I was so impressed with the undeniable talent in this short film and others on the channel, like the wholly unfunny and horrifying Criticized, I was compelled to learn more about the film maker and his posse. Employing the web search skills I learned in the Pit oh so very long ago, it didn't take me long to learn a good bit about the director and actors Paul Clemens and Brian Rohan.

Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up helping them with their Kickstarter campaign, after having the pleasure of discussing a few promo ideas with Richard one Sunday a few months ago. During this time, I've come to see that not only are these guys uber-talented, but they are also genuine, groovy, insightful, kind individuals. How could anyone not want to help people like this in any way they can?

While all this was happening, I was going to the doctor about my back pain, which seemed to be getting worse despite all attempts to reverse the issues causing it. The doc finally suggested that I look into getting an panniculectomy. Now, in South Carolina, no insurance, private or public, would cover anything considered cosmetic. When I got the gastric bypass surgery, I went into it with no pipe dreams of getting any excess skin removed. It was never an option, so I never entertained the idea.

When the doctor brought up the panniculectomy, I silently scoffed, but decided "what the hell? It doesn't hurt to ask." So, a couple of days later, I called Aetna and asked them if such a surgery were covered. They informed me that, if it were considered medically necessary, they would cover it, and all I would have to pay would be $264.00. I called the doctor, who referred me to Dr. Jason Hess. He took pictures, informed me that he'd gotten approval for surgeries with less severe pannus issues, and said he'd be asking approval for not just a panniculectomy, but also an abdominoplasty which, combined, are basically the human equivalent to being cleaned like a fish.

In two weeks time, Aetna gave the go ahead, and I had a tummy tuck and panniculectomy in September. I'm still recovering from it, but my back does feel better after no longer having to deal with 17 pounds of dead weight constantly pulling on my lower lumbar region. Also, for the first time in my life, I actually have a figure. I'm still not used to the new body. It's like living in an alien biological construct.

So, 2015 saw me become a bit of a California stereotype in that I got plastic surgery and began "hobnobbing" with Hollywood directors and actors. Folks, don't expect that, if you're thinking of planning on moving to California. Bear in mind that I live in the Twilight Zone and have no idea how shit like this happens to me.

One more cool thing that happened this year actually happened this month. After over a year of struggling with it, I finally had a breakthrough in my arduous Wacom education. I still have a very long way to go before I consider anything I do with the tablet worthy of pride, but at least I'm finally seeing results from what I have so far learned. This is the result - the best representation of how I see Cadmus Pariah in my mind's eye. I plan on making this a full body picture, not just a floating head of death, but I thought I should make note that my obvious learning disability when it comes to digital art has at long last had a wee chink taken out of its seemingly impenetrable wall.

There have been some unhappy things to happen this year - conflicts with Matt, friends falling prey to illness, seriously fucked up news on the family front, among other things - but I am choosing not to focus on that in this year-end post. There is nothing I could write here that would change any of these things, and I frankly don't want to give the bad areas of 2015 any more power than they already have. I would prefer to give energy to more positive outcomes in those categories in the coming year.

That being said, here are some things I'm hoping to see happen and/or make happen in 2016.

Friends and family beat the odds and kick all manner of ass with some insane Health Fu.
The Presidential election does not turn out to be a disaster of mega-Fascist proportions.
People collectively reject the status quo and embrace a higher vibrational state of being.
There is full disclosure on extraterrestrial life and activities, as well as extra-dimensional life and activities.
Jeff Lynne plays a concert in San Diego and I get to attend.
I can eventually feel as comfortable riding the buses in San Diego as I was riding the ones in Los Angeles. LA makes a lot more sense as far as layout is concerned. Or maybe that's just me.
Yoga becomes a part of my everyday life.
Barry Andrews has more delightful written and musical works of art in store for the world.
I complete my latest book and maybe even publish it.
The filming of Ginosaji goes smoothly and is a low-stress joy for all involved.
I get to go to the desert to gaze at the Milky Way at least once in 2016.
I and those I love are surrounded by non-toxic individuals and that we can continue to expand the influence of beauty, creativity, common sense, and divine madness.
The Alpaca Lips finally happens.

Here's hoping everyone has a fantastic new year. May it be visionary in every way.

Mood: okay
Where? the house
Music: Jeff Lynne - The Sun Will Shine on You

Over the course of about a day now, I've had one character get resurrected in my current narrative and another new character get added to the same narrative. As it stands in my brainmeats right now, after Cadmus kills Baptiste Chenier, a solitary Vampire whose Hive alliance is still a mystery to me, resurrects him. This would make him the only Vampire to ever be decapitated, but still be saved. The only thing I know about the female Vampire is that her name is Pandora, and she renames the film maker Cadmus just killed Lazarus. The feeling I'm getting from this new and unexpected turn of events indicates to me that they are going to be of special importance to the new story. So, to celebrate, I made a crap Photoshop manipulation whilst waiting for my words to return.

baptistewlighthouse

Mood: amazed
Where? the house
Music: Shriekback - Man of Foam

A few minutes ago, I needed a flashlight to check Smidgen's food inventory, but the one I have wouldn't come on. Times like that make me wonder how quickly things would go bell end if we lost electricity. And, as usual, Cadmus had something to say:

"Why do you brutish animals cozen up to the idea that you are somehow the pinnacle of creation, strolling down the streets in freshly polished shoes, no doubts under the sun that you were given dominion? What drives you to strive, or say you do, toward a goal that will forever be out of your reach? Is it conceit or madness? Perhaps both?

"Descry, child: What you really are, are a few dark nights away from committing savageries that make even my own accomplishments pale in comparison."

hardycadmuswtf2_zpsa2e96402

I think this gif here is an almost perfect example of the smugness and disdain I heard.

Mood: predatory
Where? the house
Music: Jan Hammer - Magic Theater

Untitled-4 copy

First off, thank you for taking my poll about the Greys. I didn't even know they still had the poll option on LJ, but my knowledge about LiveJournal declined after I lost Semagic, which isn't supported on a Mac.

The symbol above is a holy one, according to the Tarmi. It was the rune that represented the original Deaghydhe from which the three nations sprung after setting off across the multiverse in search for a new home. The three nations were the Rhyllans, the Thranodiena, and the Tarmi. Supposedly, the symbol has been seen by humans who have found themselves on board a Thranodiena craft. When I began mapping out the history of the Deaghydhe (DYAH gih theh), the symbol was one of the first things that arose from the first few brainstorms. It dates back to around 1985-86.

I still have oodles of notebook paper with notes about the Rhyllan and Tarmian histories. I have never really written much about the Thranodiena, because I wanted to keep them a mystery, even to myself, the reason being they were based on the Greys. They really didn't come into existence in relation to the Deaghydhen annals until I "reverse-engineered" an illustration of a Rhyllan, and it turned out to be a dead ringer for the Grey depicted on the cover of Communion. The only things I've suggested about them are 1) They fell in love with the Infinite Astral, their nation growing in the expanses between the stars, 2) The effects of radiation, solar winds, and gravity - or lack there of - triggered an evolution into bodies that were better suited for a space-dwelling people, and 3) Long after the Tarmi settled on Earth, the Thranodiena arrived as well, but made no contact with their Deaghydhen kin. Instead, they began studying the nature of Earth and its endless lifeforms, including humans. They've been doing this for hundreds of thousands of years. Why? I don't know. Someday, I may attempt to create a theory but, for the time being, I think the mystery sits well.

The only Tarmian creation that utilised the Deaghydhen rune and survived the purging of the race by the Apostate is Cadmus' staff, given to him by Kelat in The Blood Crown. I drew the staff on Cadmus' 5-page profile back in 1996.

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Mood: lonely
Where? the house
Music: Brian Eno - Neroli

Here is a passage from a manuscript I never incorporated in the Relics Trilogy. It's the last entry in a journal found on a bank of the Po in Turin, Italy. The entry is incomplete and the Canadian journalist and paranormal investigator, Isaac Steugler, has yet to be found. I was considering making it a sub-plot of 'The Augury of Gideon', but I think it may better fit the new book. We'll see. In the meantime, here is Isaac Steugler's last known writing.

Rarely does an investigative journalist have the honour to stumble across something so incredible that he questions his own sanity at discovering such revelations.

Such is the joy and plight of this writer.

In the past, I’ve investigated and written texts about the hidden mysteries of The Talmud and Kabbalistic traditions. I’ve researched the source of the majority of our modern belief systems: the Sumerian society and their interactions with beings they considered to be gods. I’ve delved into the many traditions of Celtic worship and their latterday descendants, Druidism and Witchcraft. And I have walked the secret halls of the Freemasons and their Hermetic and Enochian brethren.

I thought I knew all there was to know about the occult, the arcane, the obscure. But I was wrong.

Since I found some ancient scrolls tucked away in one of the Cathedral's caverns, my life and all in which I thought I believed has turned upside-down. If these scrolls are legitimate (and all evidence points to the fact that they are), I have found absolute proof that Vampires exist, and have long been a part of some arcane conspiracy that reaches all the way to the world governments and dominant religious institutions. They may even solve the mystery of the Shroud, given their close proximity.

I'm returning to Ontario tomorrow, getting in touch with an associate of mine who should be familiar with this text. She can hopefully translate what I can't, and twig me onto someone who can run tests on the scrolls' antiquity.

These are exciting times for

Perhaps Mr. Zeugler ran afoul of Cadmus Pariah...

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To learn more about and, if you wish, purchase The Vampire Relics, please click on the picture below.

Mood: bouncy
Where? the house
Music: Andy Partridge - Another Satellite

(From a post made on The Vampire Relics' Facebook Page with some extra added mental meandering that happened after the fact.)

One of the themes that threads throughout all three books is that of Absolution (it's important because of the capital A!). I'm not referring to just Christian absolution but the essence of the word itself, sparking the human imagination to entertain the possibility, or feel secure in their faith to believe without question, that forgiveness for anything is possible. One of the sub-hives, the Hive of Redemption, established by Thiyennen, took the idea of absolution to a whole other crazy level with many of its members, including Thiyennen, resorting to behaviour seen in the travelling Flagellants during the Black Death. This twisted version of what may achieve absolution is studied in depth in The Augury of Gideon, when Thiyennen and his allies capture and imprison Cadmus Pariah.

Of course, all of this is only my opinion, and I respect and will aggressively defend your opinions on the matter, because that would be only fair. The nature of true absolution, in my opinion, partially based on personal experiences, is one of being accepted and loved for who you are, faults and all, and being able to return to a possibly simpler (as in uncomplicated) point in your life, when you could embrace wonder with abandon, and be shed of guilt that only serves to break spirits down rather than build them up. Absolution happens when you no longer accept such programming imposed on you from almost the point of birth throughout your life.

A song by Eliza Gilkyson, entitled 'Emmanuel', is very close to what I have believed in the past regarding redemption and absolution, and it still has an effect on my beliefs (or lack thereof in recent years). Superficially, the song would appear to be Christ-centered (this is different from Christianity-centered in my world, so just bear with me), it addresses the longing we all carry, regardless of religious or spiritual persuasions, to return home, or to the past, or to some place or state of being that existed before we think fell to the lies of shame and sin that weigh much of the modern world down. Even that storyline, documenting the spiritual enslavement of humanity, shows up in 'The Blood Crown', the fault of which is clearly placed at the Apostate's door.

The first time I heard the song, at work in 1993 (I was inspecting the CD the song is on), I listened to it from a Christian perspective, although I am not Christian, based on its title alone. Assumptions are easily made, are they not? When the words sunk in, my first interpretation was of a reality where the fallen angel Sammael is welcomed home by Emmanuel after going through incarnations of humans, animals, and even things (a rock, at one point!) before he could bring himself to revisit the music he had made prior to leaving in pursuit of the glories and tragedies on Earth. This interpretation dictated the last picture in the video.

The bigger story the song tells isn't one that heaps guilt, fear, and ultimately spiritual banishment if you don't toe a particular line on the listener; rather, it gives the message that, even after you've experienced and done all you feel you need to, both the good and the bad, the door will be open when you want to walk through it to whatever you believe is there ('What Dreams May Come' is an example of what I'm trying to communicate here). From that perspective, the song does not belong to just one faith. It belongs to all faiths and all levels of spiritual sentience, including Atheism, human and non-human. It is non-judgemental, and can be enjoyed on a purely secular level, particularly from a psychological viewpoint. Liking and agreeing with Carl Jung may help here, too.

I believe that's truly the only way absolution or redemption can be achieved. It's an acceptance and a presence of old knowing that we tend to lose in the physical realms, and many may perceive such acceptance and old knowledge to be an external phenomenon, which is completely acceptable, but I think it also is present within everyone and everything. All that said, even though my history with the song predates all three books, 'Emmanuel' is definitely a strong musical presence in 'The Augury of Gideon', considering both the song and book address the concept of cyclic returning so that healing may follow.

I believe that Eliza Gilkyson achieved something greater than all of us, including herself, when she wrote this song, and I think it's one that should be shared with as many people as possible, not as a means of conversion of any sort, but as a campaign to allow us to not only forgive one another, but to forgive ourselves.

The video is one of my much earlier attempts at movie-making, so please overlook the general sorry mess it is. The song is rare and the album it's on has been out of print for ages, so there's more people than not who have never heard it. My making the video was an attempt to rectify that crime against good music. One thing I did want to draw your attention to, regarding the video, is that the pictures used, with the exception of the last one, are all tapestries or tile mosaics in the Byzantine style, or at least that's what Teh Intarwebz told me when I started collecting images for the vid. Byzantine art was a major influence on the physical appearance of the Tarmi, specifically because of the eyes of the people in the art. If one did not know, one might assume that everyone in Byzantium had gigantic alien eyes and, as a teenager when I started mapping my personal myths, I got all caught up in the what-ifs that arose in my mind from studying the art. (And why hasn't Ancient Aliens addressed such possibilities yet?) Using these images for the video helped me tie in the importance of the song to my own mythologies.

So, if you're still with me after this godawful ramble, I hope you enjoy the song, and I encourage you to share it people who may benefit from the non-demoninational and/or secular message of hope that it is never too late to embrace the absolution sitting around waiting for you to pick it up. It's inside you already, despite what you believe or don't believe. You were born with it, it's still there, and it'll be there until you die, if you're an Atheist, or continue on with you, if you believe in the existence of afterlife and the many flavours in which such beliefs come available. Even if they don't need a message like that, but do appreciate good music (and who doesn't?), I feel the song would be a gift to them, as well.

If you want to learn more about Eliza, she has a website: http://elizagilkyson.com/

I also made second crap video using another song from the same album, this one focusing on any number of pagan histories after encountering invading religions, sung from the viewpoint of a priestess who lived such a history, but the song is specially focused on the Divine Feminine, as it is represented in the song by the catch-all Goddess name, Diana. It's called 'I Become the Moon' and it also had an effect on the writing of the Relics trilogy, especially 'The Blood Crown,' which features the Tale of the Blood Moon, whose narrative focuses on the triumph of the Apostate over the remnants of Tarmian civilisation, and the subsequent tragedy of humanity losing its way in the wilderness of the conquering magus' lies.

And if any of this inspires you enough to want to read the books, here's the link to them, for your continued convenience: THE VAMPIRE RELICS ON AMAZON.

Mood: hyper
Where? Home
Music: Moody Blues - Alpha Centauri

dferguson, the word sorcerer who maintains the blog, Blood & Ink, put on the virtual thumb screws the other day, and had me answer a few questions. This was the direct result.

DF: Why write about Vampires?
TAE: I write about Vampires because I was raised on a steady media diet of vampirism, thanks to watching 'Dark Shadows' in my playpen whilst the mother unit toodled about.

(click pic for full interview!)

While you're at it, explore the blog. Derrick is a fantastic writer and reviewer, so I'm sure his insights will tickle your fancy.

Mood: okay
Where? home
Music: Isaac Sprintis and Ned Clark - Vibrational Ecstasy

It may take up to five days for this to show up on my Amazon author's page, so I figured I'd upload it to the Cliffs and the Vampire Relics Facebook page. Hopefully, it makes sense.

When I first began writing The Chalice, I had no plan to carry the story any further. But, one day, I decided to write a little drabble documenting an encounter between Kelat and Cadmus Pariah. I wanted to see where a few hundred words describing Cadmus' invasion of Kelat's sacred space, hidden away in the heart of Jerusalem, would take me.

The result was Cadmus mentioning a mysterious crown I had never thought of before. He called it the Blood Crown and hinted that it was still in the Apostate's possession, somewhere in the twisted tunnels that navigated the Roman catacombs. From there, I was committed to expand the story.

I decided that I wanted to include Orphaeus Cygnus in the narrative, because I enjoyed describing the dynamic between him and Cadmus. That decision threw me way out in the realm of absurdity, when I realised I was conjuring what was essentially a horror/fantasy version of the Bob Hope/Bing Crosby Road Pictures, with Orphaeus and Cadmus taking on the mantle of those classic comedians. As a result, The Blood Crown carries with it a kind of levity in some of the situations Cadmus and Orphaeus find themselves, during their journey from Israel to Vatican City.

The Blood Crown is the book in which I decided to share myths I had conceived years prior to the writing of the Relics trilogy. Some of the tales were written in the 1980s, mapping the history of the Tarmi and their kin, who escaped a dying world in the hope of finding a new home. Other stories, like the ones that explain how the full moons got their names, were written after I became involved in my local Wiccan community, and became a kind of bard, participating as high priestess and sharing these new myths with those in the Caledonii Tradition. These were based on the concept behind Rudyard Kipling's Just-So Stories. I was always keen on why we believe what do. Why do we, and all beings on this Earth, behave in a certain manner? So it seemed a natural progression in my own spiritual education to ask why each of the full moons had titles attributed to them. As a result, The Moon Myths were born, but they had never been read outside my "circle" of Witch friends and acquaintances. Those stories, along with many others mentioned above, became the backbone of The Blood Crown.

To be frank, of the three books in the Relics series, The Blood Crown is my favourite. The only part of it that distressed me while writing it, and still does upon revisiting, is the story concerning Faust, in a large section of the narrative called "The Sainted Confessor."

Mentioned only in passing in The Chalice, Faust was a Vampire in New York City, who fell victim to Cadmus' charms in the dazzling Disco days of Studio 54. He grew to prominence as The Blood Crown's plot developed in an almost organic fashion. Since the character of Faust became anchored to a talented young actor I know, the horrors that befell him distressed me on a cellular level. During the time I wrote it, on through to present time, I would occasionally apologise to him. That part of the book, however, gives me faith that, sometimes, the story really does write itself. Faust evolved from an incidental mention in The Chalice to an integral part of the story in both The Blood Crown and The Augury of Gideon.

There were some liberties taken in regard to historical events and some geographical descriptions. This was intentional, because I don't perceive these stories as happening in our reality. That said, if you come across something in the book that doesn't quite compute, I invite you to reach out to see if it was a result of alternate reality voodoo, or actually a mistake on my part.

In fact, if you want to contact me about anything, by all means, do. You can do so by posting queries, concerns, or anything in between on my author's page here on Amazon, or you can find me on Facebook, with the username "VampireRelics."

I hope you enjoy reading The Blood Crown as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Mood: hyper
Where? home
Music: SKRILLEX - FIRST OF THE YEAR (EQUINOX)

Even though the full poem did not make it into The Vampire Relics, the prophecy implied was certainly a driving force in Gideon's massive collection of prophecies. It was also one of the guidelines that defined Magnificat and many of the band's songs that shared its arcane mood.

If you find 'The Sanctity of Shame' intriguing, you would probably enjoy the Vampire Relics trilogy. All three books are available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle format. Just click the picture below to be taken to the Amazon page.

Mood: energetic
Where? Home
Music: Jah Wobble - Visions of You

For some idiotic reason, I had no clue that such a thing as an author's page existed on Amazon, so I'm playing catch-up now. I've uploaded a blurb about The Chalice, which will be live in 3-5 business days, according to Amazon. My page URL is http://www.amazon.com/Tracy-Angelina-Evans, if you're interested to see how I fare in filling in so many long-standing voids. For now, though, here's what I wrote about book 1:

From the Author

The Chalice was originally born in 1987 from a dream I had about Vampires that involved the songs 'Mercy Street' by Peter Gabriel and 'Theme from Harry's Game' by Clannad. In my dreamworld, Vampires defined in equal measure both blasphemy and sanctity. Even though I grew up with Vampire myths and legends, beginning with watching Dark Shadows in my playpen with my mother, I began a quest to learn as much about these beings as I possibly could, from the perspective of the many global cultures from which they sprang. One of the most influential books in my research was A Dream of Dracula by Leonard Wolf. Combining his profound scholarship with the myths of an alien race I had been writing about since 1983, I wrote my first short story about a Vampire turning a human to the night over the course of three days. This was my first Vampire character, Vasily Tenin (Thiyennen), who became one of the main characters in the book series. Also, in 1987, I read the book Holy Blood, Holy Grail by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln. The idea of the Grail not actually being a cup set fire to my imagination, as did the subtle references to a centuries-long conspiracy that involved the Knights Templar, Freemasonry, and the Illuminati. A fascination with Romani and Jewish culture also had a major hand in the formation of what would become the first book of The Vampire Relics.

Even though I was doing a great deal of research and myth "redefinition", I still struggled to write anything with which I was comfortable. The main female character in the bones of The Chalice, Kelat, did not fit my idea of a proper antagonist, especially after I became involved in Goddess worship. Kelat, for me, was an ideal - a character that accepted herself for what she had become, but never lost her divine identity. She was an archetype of Kali or the Cailleach made manifest. I could not make her evil. So the story languished until 1990, when I discovered Shriekback, whose song 'Deeply Lined Up' gave me my first visions of who would become the primary antagonist in the stories, Cadmus Pariah.

Writer's Block haunted me for years, though, between 1990 and 1999, at which time I began to write Cadmus' biography, which became the chapter in The Chalice entitled 'Sui Generis'. From there, the writing and myth-making began in earnest, and produced the first book of The Vampire Relics, which was completed in 2005.

My hope is that, when someone reads The Chalice, they are inspired to do their own research on the Vampire phenomenon and its apparent presence throughout the world, despite nations and cultures having no contact with one another at the time rumours of Vampires came to the fore, and seek to learn more about cultures like that of the Romani, as well as mystery traditions practiced by Kabbalists, Gnostics, and Cathars. It would be heartening to hear of people leaving the book with more questions than answers, so that they might expand their knowledge and the realm of possibilities in this incomprehensible world. And I would also be very happy to have been instrumental in the broadening of readers' musical tastes by introducing them to artists like Shriekback, Concrete Blonde, ELO, XTC, Oingo Boingo, and composers Antonin Dvořák and Johann Sebastian Bach.

Lastly, I hope that American readers come out of The Chalice with the realisation that America has an incredible treasure of strange tales, and a newfound interest in those legends and mysteries, like that of the Roanoke Colony and Virginia Dare.

Please enjoy The Chalice and The Vampire Relics. Pass the tales on to those you love. Everyone in this book and the others in the series were written to encourage people to never turn away from the Magick contained in this crazy reality we all share because, if you imagine it or believe it, whatever you believe or imagine exists on some level, and may already be imagining you back.

Even monsters like Cadmus Pariah.

Illustration for the first Vampire story I wrote in 1987, called Vasily's Kiss.

Mood: jumpy
Where? Home
Music: Deborah Harry - I Want That Man

Tonight debrafortune and her hubby took me to Theatre des Vampires. It's a wonderful show! The best way to describe it succinctly is Cirque du Soleil meets Anne Rice. Truly, it was visually stunning, and the dancers have to be strong enough to pick up cars, because all that climbing and dangling from the heights of the stage has got to require some serious upper body strength, and let's not even get into the power your legs must utilise to do what they do.

Everything seemed perfect for the first fifteen minutes or so, then one of the Vampires came shimmying down one of the chains to the round cage in which dangled the coven's victim. He was small, bald, and blue. I shit you not.

But it gets better. Anyone who's known me for any length of time, knows that the primary song that defines Cadmus Pariah is "Clubbed to Death" by Rob Dougan. That song was featured heavily in The Matrix movies. Later on in the show, this particular Vampire comes out on stage dressed in a long overcoat that could have been an extra outfit in The Matrix.

And this happened on the day I announced the release of the third Cadmus book, The Augury of Gideon.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Despite the weirdness overload, though, it was just an amazing experience. And I am grateful to finally be able to say, "This shit's not just in my head. I have witnesses, and they saw the insanity in action without my having to point it out.

Afterward, we walked a ways down through some of the University of Colorado. There was a nice nip in the air. Being able to feel a season is a welcome experience.

Mood: fairly alarmed here
Where? Boulder, Colorado
Music: Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard - Now We Are Free

Finally here! Click on the picture to revisit the world of Cadmus Pariah and the Great Hive, as they embark on retrieving the third and last great Relic, the Augury of Gideon.

Mood: excited
Where? Boulder, Colorado
Music: Peter Gabriel - Blood Of Eden

In celebration of the The Vampire Relics, Volume 3: The Augury of Gideon being released, Fey Publishing is making The Chalice free for download, but only for the next few days, so don't delay! Just click on the picture below, and let some Vampires bite into your reading habits.

Mood: excited
Where? home
Music: Rob Dougan - Clubbed to Death

As previously mentioned, Matt and the Mother Unit gave me a Wacom Intuos art tablet for my birthday. For the past month, I've been trying to get acclimated to my new reality of digital art. The hand/eye coordination I learned from a very young age is out the window, as I have to relearn the effects of "pen" to "paper", since neither thing exists in the traditional sense of the words. It's very strange to not look at where I am applying my pen, or stylus, as it's called but, instead, keep my eyes on the computer screen. I imagine artists throughout time, on up to the 1980s or 90s, would look at the Intuos and intone dramatically, "What sorcery is this?" I know I've certainly asked that question more than a few dozen times since 9/10.

I am of a mind that I will be in student mode, probably for the rest of my life. That being said, I have created a few pieces that are really nothing more than doodles, of which I'm kind of proud, considering the first few attempts of drawing on the Intuos resulted in what looked like stick figures having strokes.

So, I am posting the drawings that don't suck like a porn star on overtime. I've arranged them in order of when I drew them, to show my progress (and I use that term very loosely) in hand placement and graphics manipulation. They are all behind the cut after the pic I just finished of Richard Ayoade.

( Click for more grade school hilarity )

And that brings us to today's graphic treat, Mr. Richard Ayoade. I have to say, I am really proud of this picture, even though I know I have a long way to go before I'll think I'm worthy of this glorious art tablet. If RA ever sees the picture, I hope he likes it.

Mood: artistic
Where? Home
Music: Excision - Ohhh Nooo!

“Just because the world thinks you’re a monster, doesn’t mean you have to live up to the reputation, you know,” Orphaeus said offhandedly.

“This, coming from someone who collects finger bones...”

Cadmus’ barbed response needled along the peripheries of Orphaeus’ growing exasperation with the Plenipotentiary.

“All I’m saying is, the world is already a shit-hole. Why not try to make it a little better or, at the very least, don’t make it any worse?”

Cadmus cut his eyes to Orphaeus.

“Do you know what the world is to me, Swan?” Cadmus said quietly. “It is a stable, packed with animals waiting for their turn for slaughter. It is a wilderness aching to be bled out. I have no desire to make it anything more than it is.”

“But you don’t have to glorify your hatred of everything around you!” Orphaeus argued.

“I am not glorifying anything, and you are forgetting that I am not in thrall to the trappings of emotion –“

“Yet!" Orphaeus injected. "You can feel, Cadmus. I can see it now more than ever before. The singing of the Augury has changed you, you can’t deny that.”

Cadmus returned to watching the vastness beyond Milky Way’s cradling arms. Orphaeus was right about the change in him, but that did not mean Cadmus had to aggressively seek out experiences that might trigger emotion.

“I see no need to confirm or deny anything for you. Perhaps you are over-emphasizing your importance in relation to me, and anything I do. Think upon that hank of ginger hair I cut from your skull, lo these many years ago, and kindly remember your place.”

Mood: Getting my Dubstep on
Where? Home
Music: deadmau5 - Raise Your Weapon

( He sat in silence for the rest of the night and the following day. The candle died long before Cadmus moved, plunging him into the inky blackness in which he found comfort. The peace he had nested in at The Poison Rose was magnified a hundredfold. Some would call this a holy experience, but Cadmus carried no such misguided notions. There was no god. The closest to a deity anyone could come was encountering a Vampire, him in particular. It was then that they realised that their god was a murderous and bloodthirsty creature, always seeking out a sacrifice to sate his desires. )

Mood: Kinda freaked out.
Where? Home
Music: Scott & Brendo - Synthia

"I did not want to rescue you, you know," Orphaeus said quietly, his eyes never straying from the tapestry of stars above them.

"Nor did I ask," came the terse reply.

"But you are part of a story greater than all of us. From the Memories of the Tarmi, I know that humanity has never walked this planet without being sheltered by that wiser race. You're that last link to a bygone age, and I fear that the human species would be nothing but simple animals without that cord connecting them to your people."

Cadmus cut his eyes to the ginger Vampire, taking in his vulpine profile as the lights of Dubai illuminated them both, even from their lofty vantage.

"Humans are worse than, as you say, 'simple animals.' You are a mindless pestilence who have done nothing but the will of the Apostate."

"And you didn't?" Orphaeus asked, turning to face the Pariah, locking eyes with him.

"Being created for a purpose is a far cry from being duped into villainy. At least I broke free of it, whilst millions of your herd still faithfully adhere to the lies they have been spoon-fed for centuries. If you think the salvation of humanity will somehow manifest in me because of my lineage, you are more of a fool than I thought. The world deserves to be cleansed of your infection."

"But what would you do for food, Cadmus?"

"Perhaps it is time for humanity to learn what it feels like to be bred for certain traits or supposed attributes. Like dogs or cattle. Perhaps you should experience the joy that can be found on a factory farm. My home still has many empty rooms just waiting for more pets to drain. The collars hunger to be clasped around lost souls' throats. And I am all too eager to make that vision reality, for that is a human's only possible use to me."

Orphaeus felt the coldness of Cadmus Pariah's words coil in his spirit. How could a being who clearly had had an angelic finger rest upon his brow, despite the brutality he had suffered over the years, be so consistently vicious? He knew that he would never be able to answer that question, and Cadmus would never volunteer his own theories, if he had any. Still, the awe of him also stirred within the Swan's heart. Even Cadmus' homicidal nature was resplendent in its totality and perfection.

Mood: aggravated
Where? Home
Music: Syntax - Message

Mood: blah
Where? Home
Music: The Moody Blues - The Voice

BLINDING THE VISIONARY

A convincing meditation On the splendour of the night Giving out, giving out, radiating More heat than light
Shriekback – More Heat than Light

Like the whispering promise of infection, Cadmus arrived in Los Angeles. Slicing through the insistent fog, the airplane finally came to rest in a cradle of the garish light upon which humanity seemed so dependent in their fruitless effort to stave away the dark. They denied the stars. They denied the velvet night. They feared that which could not be seen, because the artificial light blinded them to any possibility beyond that which was illuminated. Let them take comfort in their obliviousness. It often served Cadmus Pariah well.

He brought with him one small bag, just large enough to hold a change of clothes and his computer. Cadmus did not plan on being in America for very long. He still had connections to the entertainment empire, mainly on Wilshire Blvd. It should not take much effort to locate the offending filmmaker and dispatch him with haste.

Like quicksilver, Cadmus moved through swelling throng of travellers, his disdain for them growing with every nimble step he took. The stench of their skin was only made worse by their pathetic attempts to mask their natural odours. The only thing remotely pleasant about humanity was the dizzying effect of their blood. Despite their general unpleasantness, human blood was still a sublime intoxicant.

Cadmus was hungry.

No one saw anything, and his dinner never knew what hit her. Cadmus stepped out of time and whisked her with him, draining her of most of her blood as people marched by, burdened with concerns or basking in the illusion of hope. She had a child, who was left standing beside her mother, crying in the belief that the woman had instantly abandoned her little girl. She could not see the female crumple to her knees, still locked in Cadmus’ trans-dimensional embrace. Only when he let the body completely drop to the floor of LAX, did she once again become visible to mortal eyes.

The child’s cries turned to a great keen, and Cadmus peered at the little human, feeling nothing but, perhaps, a vague scorn. Let the airport authorities sort it out, he thought. Let the child become emotionally locked to this moment in time, wracked with a trauma that will only serve to grow as she grows. The sooner anyone has the epiphany that life is but a treasury of agonies, the better off they shall be. What horrors will this little one collect over the course of time?

It was still early evening on the Pacific coast. Cadmus knew, though, that the business that controlled all forms of entertainment never truly slept. He had no doubt people would still be diligently working to perfect their propaganda for public consumption. As he turned away from the inconsolable child and the growing herd of curious and distressed humans, Cadmus attended to his cell, and found the phone number of Neil Beiser, one of the executives who oversaw the dissemination of movie score recordings under the Sony umbrella.

Neil picked up in the middle of the second ring.

“Sony Pictures, this is Neil.”

“Hello, Neil.”

“Christian? Is that really you? Where the hell have you been, man? What’s up with Magnificat? You still doing that gig?”

“Ahhhh, no. After Mary passed, it just seemed a bit pointless,” Cadmus said, perfectly imitating a person who was dealing with grief.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry to hear about that. So, what are you doing these days?”

“Writing primarily. Lying low, you know. Keeping to myself. Right now, though, I am in town and was hoping you could help me with something.”

“Name it, Christian.”

Neil still knew Cadmus as Christian, because that was the name he had originally gone by with the forming Magnificat. Even though he knew Cadmus’ real name, he preferred that particular cognomen. It didn’t faze Cadmus. Names were nothing but transitory identities to be used and dismissed in accordance to one’s needs in that moment.

“Word has it that a young director is engaged in a project about various Vampire sects. I’d heard he might be interested in using some of Magnificat’s music for his film. Do you know anything about this, perhaps?”

“Oh, you’re probably talking about Baptiste Chenier. He really gets into his work. I’ve heard he’s only filming at night, to maintain that particular undead vibe.” Neil barked out a cynical laugh, setting Cadmus’ teeth on edge. “He started out directing music videos, mostly for alternative bands, nothing like what you guys did. But yeah, I can see where he might be keen on getting the rights to use some of your songs.”

“Do you know how I might connect with him about this?” Cadmus asked politely.

Mood: thoughtful
Where? Home
Music: Signs - Shriekback

There was a period of time, after Cadmus killed his tutor and abuser Nissius, that he remained in Rome under the strict tutelage of the Apostate. His dragon surrogate had long been dead, after slowly being drained of her life by Cadmus. Despite his disdain for all living things, Cadmus secretly harboured a sense of loss for the only mother he had ever known. Using the magicks taught to him by the Apostate, he would conjur living images of the dragon in an attempt to manifest his memories.

This is an extremely rough sketch of young Cadmus Pariah, probably around the age of 20 or so.

( cut for size )

Mood: creative
Where? Home
Music: Clubbed to Death - Rob Dougan

((woefully rough, but I'm posting anyway))

And here he was, in his home away from home, the nearly immortal Poison Rose, watching the ginger boy dance with flat, black eyes. Anyone prompting memories of Orphaeus Cygnus ran the risk of Cadmus’ ire. Even though anger was certainly no stranger to the Pariah, this irritation had crept into his bones when he had been focused on the sublime stillness that so often defined him in these times. The ginger was an intrusion for which he had no taste. He must pay for this indiscretion.

Rising from his seat, disregarding the fawning acolytes who invariably assembled in his shadow, Cadmus moved to the dance floor. He took no notice of the leather and spandex-clad bodies that parted like the Red Sea as he approached them. He saw only the ginger boy, moving in tandem with his pale, plump girlfriend. Even the girl shied away when she saw Cadmus, leaving the boy at the center of attention.

He looked at Cadmus Pariah, he brow knitted in a mixture of confusion and awe.

“’Sup, bra?” he shouted, trying to impose his voice over the din of electronica that permeated the air.

Cadmus’ ire increased. These children spouting American slang instead of embracing their own heritage splintered his patience like cracks in endless ice.

“This,” Cadmus said, his seething eyes lidded with determination. He could feel the boy’s blood pressure rise to meet the level of his anger, and could not deny his dark satisfaction when the boy dropped dead at his feet.

Instantly, Cadmus knelt and looked up at the girl, pulling a face of concern. “Call emergency! Something is wrong with him!”

As she frantically dialled 999, Cadmus brushed his fingers along the boy’s hairline, and took a tiny bit of his flesh with the hair still attached. A fine trophy indeed to add to his Harming Tree, a kind of miniature version of Orphaeus’ own scalp, which still graced the Pariah’s altar, resting in the depths of his veiled castle home.

He remained at the boy’s side until emergency crews arrived. They took one look at Cadmus, and dismissed him as a suspect. He exuded a sense of opulent command that made most believe that he only took control of unfortunate situations, being the best candidate to help out until authorities arrived. A police officer actually thanked the Pariah for his help. He stood back and watched the paramedics attempt to resuscitate the young man, to no avail, and he felt the skin on his face tingle with secret satisfaction at the thought of the bit of skin and hair tucked away in the folds of his priestly robes.

“What is this here?” One of the emergency workers asked. “What is that? He’s missing a little bit of his scalp here, right behind the ear.”

“Do you think that’s what killed him?” The officer asked.

“Ma’am, do you know if he bumped his head recently?”

The Goth girl the ginger had been dancing with shook her head, crying silently.

“It’s possible that he banged his head at some time during the day, and it somehow affected a brain injury. We will have to let the coroner decide that, though. Let’s get him to hospital so we can make a proper declaration of time of death, then hand it over to investigators.”

“We’ll need to close the club for the rest of the night,” another officer said to the owner of the Poison Rose. “Probably have it closed for tomorrow, too, until we survey the entire area. Just to be on the safe side. I don’t think foul play was at work here, but we have to canvas the area, just to dot our I’s an cross our T’s.”

The club owner nodded grimly and set to clearing the rooms of customers. No one objected, as the atmosphere was particularly grim, even for a Goth crowd. Cadmus was one of the first to leave, entering his car and instructing his thralled driver to take him back to the West Country. His tree was waiting for a new offering.

Mood: awake
Where? Home
Music: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

Over the course of the past month, I have had a Dexter marathon on Netflix. For those who may not know, Dexter Morgan is a serial killer who focuses his urges to kill on those he feels deserve it, such as murderers, rapists, drug dealers, etcetera.

He refers to his need to kill as the Dark Passenger. This is who takes over when Dexter is at work in his kill room, with a victim on his table.

His relationship with that part of himself was truly epiphanous to me. I deeply related to Dexter on a number of levels.

No, I'm not a serial killer. I can't even eat meat anymore without feeling like a murderer by association. I try to leave as shallow a footprint as possible in this world. It's the least I can do, considering how my species is the worst thing to ever happen to planet Earth.

But I do have a Dark Passenger. I think everyone does, but some seem to encounter their Dark Passenger in a very real way. In the show, Dexter finally accepts his Dark Passenger as being a part of him, and that the things he had always attributed to the Dark Passenger were actually his doing. I think I'm coming to grips with that right now.

Over the past few days, I've been in a frenzy of writing, my vision of Cadmus Pariah sharp and undeniable. He talked a young woman into killing herself, he bludgeoned a Great Egret to death with the driftwood that would become his Harming Tree, and he departed the Cygnus family without a single word of gratitude for their saving his life. He is beginning to experience emotion, and he has decided to cope with this new experience by murdering humans and Vampires and adding pieces of them to his tree, in commemoration of each feeling he encounters.

He has no remorse, no empathy, no regard for anyone, unless they serve a purpose in his life. Any minor transgression on the part of people in his orbit earns the offending party a death sentence.

And that reminded me of something that happened when I was 5 years old. I was on my bicycle, riding down our long, dirt drive way, enjoying myself, when my cousin Johnna, who was there for a visit, kept getting in my way. After the third time of her not moving, I turned my bike in her direction, with the intent of running her over. She jumped out of the way just in time, but I did clip her a little.

The Mother and Father Units were displeased to say the least, and I was duly punished for my attempted murder. But I never regretted what I did. I regretted the punishment, and I remember thinking that I wish I had been more successful in my aims since I was being punished for it already.

And it occurred to me that, all this time, I had simply been transferring these dark thoughts of mine to my demon child, so I could walk through life in as much harmony with those around me as I could muster. I'm very empathic, and it hurts me to see others hurt, especially animals. I can't fathom trying to run Johnna down now. It's not part of who I am.

But it is. I wonder now, if Cadmus had not been born that Summer of 1990, would I be a radically different person? Would I be a Dexter, or worse? Clive Barker once said, "Be regular and ordinary in your life, that you may be violent and original in your work." Is that what I am doing with Cadmus Pariah? Am I treading lightly in this world, and letting Cadmus do the things that, in the most secret chambers of my heart, I wish I could do?

The art of creation often comes from an act of destruction. It's a cyclic law I've long honoured in my personal philosophy. The creation of black sand beaches is the direct result of the destructive properties of the volcano that rises far above them. Destruction is a thing of beauty and terror, and the song first sung by the universe as it exploded into life. From the void we came, and to the void we must someday return. And by filling up that void with the snuffed-out lives of biological awareness, we will become something entirely new, and entirely different.

All that said, I think I understand Cadmus Pariah and his function in my life more than I ever have before. And I understand that other people's violent and original art exists so that they, too, can live a kindly life, and achieve their own kind of harmony.

And I'm cool with that.

Mood: creative
Where? Home
Music: Daft Punk - Give Life Back to Music

Very rough, but I kind of like it.

A stillness had manifested within Cadmus Pariah, since he had crossed over into full Vampirism. No longer did he rove restlessly, perpetually hunting for something, anything, to fill him up, gorging upon the blood of assumed innocents, and the Blood of the Endless Night. He rested within a rhapsody that only he could hear, a musical phrase of completion that had eluded him when he had been a slave to the Apostate, and a captive of a destiny that he had no part in writing.
( The peace residing within )

Mood: angry
Where? Home
Music: Peter Gabriel - "San Jacinto"

So this happened last night.

And just when I think I'm gonna survive that trauma, Star Trek: Nemesis comes on. I have no choice but to watch that POS movie every flipping time.

Mood: freaked right the fuck out
Where? The Twilight Zone
Music: Shoot Down - The Prodigy

I called my PCP, but she said this was in the realm of pain specialst. So I called them. They were extremely nice and quite accomodating to my needs. I get to go see them at 2 this afternoon. I'm certain I'll still have this bastard head pestilence.

Butorphanol is a beautiful thing for those of us who puke up our toenails every time we try to swallow migraine meds. You see the dilemma, I'm sure.

In other news, I'm putting together the fourth, and pretty much apocraphal, book within The Vampire Relics. The Relics only consist of three books. This fourth one, however, focuses on Cadmus rediscovering emotions he never realised he had, which had beaten, abused, and raped out of him, when I was in infant. But he despises these true emotions, preferring his Philosphical Apices, which allowed him to appear normal in public, but did not weigh him down with feelings or empathy for the work at hand.

Right now, the book is entitled The Harming Tree. And, no, it has nothing to do with the musical instrument Barry created back in the 90s. I just liked the name 'The Harming Tree.'

Currently, the characters that will be involved in the novel are Cadmus Pariah (of course), Orphaeus Cygnus, Simon Flynt, Anna Sedina (former lover of Thiyennen), and Gethsymonae (an androgynous, amorphous who may appear identical in looks like Cadmus Pariah, save for the mossy, dreadlocked, hair).

We'll see how it goes. I know for certain, it will go slowly.

Mood: Uhm. OW?
Where? Home
Music: Patti Smith - Birdland

A thought came unbidden to me about thirty minutes ago: What if Cadmus Pariah had a twin? As is sometimes the case with babies conceived outside "normal" methods, could it be possible that more than one embryo was produced from the Apostate's laboratory efforts? Of course, only one child was produced, so what does that mean for the other embryo? What if there were more than one extra embryo?

What kind of children would be produced from those other embryos?

What if the Apostate had the embryos spirited away and preserved by some alchemical method? What if he left instructions on what to do with them?

What would Cadmus' reaction be to discovering he had a twin or triplet, or even quintuplet? I'm partial to twin, though.

This may become a major theme in The Harming Tree.

Mood: surprised
Where? Home
Music: Cleo Kisses Caesar - Project 12:01

Yeah, I'm writing kind of slow, but at least I'm writing!

Orphaeus laughed. “Well, it warms the cockles of my heart that the feeling is mutual.”

“Why, then, did you come back for me on Brown Mountain? Why did you not just let me die there?” Cadmus asked, and his voice was almost plaintive.

“Cadmus… I don’t know,” Orphaeus replied, splaying his fingers out before him in an unconscious expression of dramatics. “I just felt it was the right thing to do. You and I, we had been through so much, I couldn’t imagine a world without your predatory presence, I guess. Or maybe it was ingrained in me to do it along with all the memories Kelat passed along. Maybe she knew you wouldn’t die immediately. Maybe that was her plan all along.”

The Pariah cut his eyes to Orphaeus and smiled grimly and briefly. “That is exactly something like what my Mother would do. And I am certain her hope that the redemption I suffered on that accursed mountain would carry over into my new life as a full Darkling. She was wrong. She was wrong about many things. If she were responsible for your returning to save me, then she is responsible for the suffering the New Hive experiences now, and will experience until all of you are but the myth and legend most humans think we already are.”

Mood: creative
Where? home
Music: Shriekback - "I Want to Go Home"

"So is that why I'm here? You've decided to dispatch me?"

"No," Cadmus Pariah whispered. "I summoned you because tonight marks five years since we retrieved the Blood Crown."

"You mean to tell me that you are celebrating an anniversary?"

"Do I look like a celebrant, Swan? No. I wanted to see if you could summon up the ancient memories on this night. I need to feel connected to that part of me, and I do not know why. Perhaps the memory you summon may shed light upon this mystery, so I might find some peace."

"I could only tap into those memories when I drank Kelat's Blood from the chalice, Cadmus. Both of them are gone. I don't see how you think I can help now."

Cadmus returned his gaze to the heavens hanging over Dubai. The swirls and collisions of the cosmos sang to him, and he wondered if perhaps Vincent van Gogh had possessed some of the Tarmian blood, for his Starry Night was the closest a human had ever come to realising the truth of the night sky. Pieces of broken poetry filled his endless mind, inspired by what he beheld above him. Eventually, they may show up as songs, a voice in the night reaching out to souls who felt most at home when the sun hid on the other side of the world.

“Have you not thought that my Blood may work, Orphaeus? I am her child, after all. It would be worth trying, in my opinion. And I am willing to share my sacred elixir with you, in the hope that you can tap into those ancient memories.”

Orphaeus was flabbergasted. “You want me to drink your Blood? Your Blood…”

“You would be only one of two Darklings to do so, and I feel compelled to do this thing, so much so that whatever gifts you receive by drinking from me would be worth the surrender of my normal control.”

Silence grew between them, as Orphaeus tried to make sense of a situation that bordered on insanity. In the normal world he was used to, Orphaeus would never have been given the offer of Cadmus’ Blood. To Orphaeus’ knowledge, the Plenipotentiary had never engaged in a full Ambrosciata, taking the Blood he wanted just before the orgasmic exchange, and killing the Vampire unfortunate enough to trust him to the point of opening up to such an experience.

“Will you do it, Swan?” Cadmus whispered, his voice cutting into the night sky above them like a scimitar. “Will you help me on this, our anniversary?”

Orphaeus weighed his options, then asked, “We won’t be engaging in Ambrosciata, will we? Because I do not trust you enough to engage in that.”

“No. No, Orphaeus. I could not bear to think of being intimate with you. I am unsure what our relationship truly is but, to be brutally honest with you, I despised you from the moment we met, and I despise you now."

Mood: creative
Where? home
Music: Shriekback - Bernadette

This popped into my head a short while ago. It may be time to let the Pariah out to play. Someone may die.

"The darker the sky is at night, the more vivid are the stars. And stars are never brighter until they spin inevitably into the eternal death that is a black hole’s event horizon. You may judge me as the heart of darkness in this, what you deem is all of existence but, my Pet, I define the light you carry within you. You should be grateful for me, to me. I deserve nothing less than your full surrender and utter reverence."

Mood: calm
Where? home
Music: 'Hoarders' on TV

So where did I leave off on the whole changing roles subject? I think I was just addressing Orphaeus’ relationship to Kelat.

I will freely admit that my giving into Danny Elfman love was what created Orphaeus Cygnus. I’d always enjoyed his singing, but something about his score and vocals for A Nightmare Before Christmas triggered full-on obsession for me. As a result, Orphaeus became a former Austrian opera singer who was brought over to the Hive of the Beast by Rebekah of Judea, Thiyennen’s blood daughter, a Dhampir, who was turned by her Blood Mother Kelat, making Orphaeus Kelat’s grandson.

Because of that, I always saw him as aligned with Kelat, and he would have actively sought out her prison tomb to release her. Of course, the prison tomb scenario never came to fruition, but Orphaeus’ connection to Kelat was seemingly etched in stone. It became part of the story arc, and the core reason for her choosing him to become the first Father of Memory.

His closeness to Kelat also dictated an unmitigated enmity between Orphaeus and Cadmus Pariah. Actually that, combined with Orphaeus’ desire to reconcile the Hive of the Beast with the Great Hive, pretty much put the last nail in the coffin as far as those two were concerned. Beasts were for Cadmus’ use until he was ready to dispose of them, and they had no other purpose. For them to become upstanding citizenry within the Great Hive would be counterproductive to Cadmus’ motives, so the attempts of Orphaeus to redeem his tribe met with violent reprimand by Cadmus, and led to Cadmus being named Pariah, as was prophesied by Gideon the Mad.

At first, though, Orphaeus was only supposed to have a short appearance in The Chalice, and possibly be slain by Cadmus in the end. But that honour fell to Paine Bryerson, who was the character anchored to my best friend Todd. When Todd read about Paine, his first reaction was “You write about me, and I will sue your ass.” To which I responded, “You threaten me with litigation, asshole, I will kill off your character. In fact, he’ll be the only main character to die in the book. And Cadmus will kill him, ‘cos I know how you hate Cadmus.”

Of course, all of this was joking between us, but Paine did turn out to be the one killed. That was no joke.

I was so enamoured with Orphaeus Cygnus, though, I decided to thrust him and Cadmus together in a much closer proximity to one another in the next book, just to see what would happen. At that point, Cadmus was already writing himself, and Orphaeus was close to that zen state of character development. The Blood Crown was established almost solely on this premise, and it became my Vampiric answer to the Hope & Crosby Road movies. Of the three books, even though The Chalice is my baby, The Blood Crown is my favourite, because it centers almost completely on my two favourite characters, Cadmus and Orphaeus.

During the time I was writing The Blood Crown, another incidental character of mine, who was mentioned only in passing in The Chalice, flared to the forefront as my friendship with Scott, of The Joker Blogs fame, began to develop. Faust, the Disco Darling so brutally murdered by Cadmus during the Summer of Sam, demanded that his story be told.

And this turned out to be the most difficult and agonising piece of writing I had ever tackled. I ended up soliciting impromptu therapy sessions from Megs and [Bad username or site: ”gunslingaaahhh” @ livejournal.com] during the long nights of my writing what would become a novella inside The Blood Crown novel proper. I also profoundly apologised to Scott on more than one occasion. Faust went from being a Vampire with a cameo appearance, to an actual Vampire saint who would prove to be of great importance in the third book, mainly because Megs couldn’t bear to think he had actually been slaughtered. Thanks to her, Faust got to live, albeit in a different incarnation, but live he did.

And now I’m working on The Harming Tree, which was initially going to be a collection of short stories on how Cadmus came to grips with his newfound emotions, one by one, with the help of his “new relic” for the New Hive, the dastardly and bloody Harming Tree. But the writing of one of these short stories, introducing what was supposed to be another throwaway character that Cadmus would get to destroy, turned everything upside down.

Enter Flint.

This time, the character was one I couldn’t bring myself to kill. And this pissed me off, because such a new character shouldn’t gain so much creative power in such a short period of time. But there it is, and his existence has turned the original plans for The Harming Tree upside down. I’m now thinking that it may be a fourth novel set in my Vampire world, dealing primarily with Cadmus’ assimilation of emotion and his repeated conflicts with a young Vampire he can’t seem to slaughter.

Needless to say, Flint pisses off Cadmus as much, if not more, than he does me. And something tells me that his role in the arc stories of Cadmus Pariah is far from finished evolving. Time only will say for certain what the future holds for the Relics characters and how they interact with one another. One thing’s for certain, though; Orphaeus will definitely be making another appearance in the new stories. In fact, I’m playing around with one right now.

Mood: awake
Where? Motel 6, Willcox, Arizona
Music: silencia

What eventually became The Chalice started out as a poem and a milky vision of a story that would help me deal with coming face-to-face with my Soulmate in 1987 only to find out he was married in this latest incarnation. The poem featured at the beginning of the the book with a dedication to him.

If I were a Vampire
To live in the night
And partake of forever
On an eternal flight,
I'd take you up with me
Beyond all human sight
You could drink from my chalice
Then I'd be your light,
And we'd fly through the centuries
In passion and fright
For we'd both be Vampires
To live in the night.

I had already written a short Vampire story about Vasily Tenin back in 1986, so I had the idea that the new story would incorporate the poem and bring back Vasily, who would battle an evil Vampire hellbent on taking what she felt was rightfully hers, her soulmate. I knew how it would end, with her entombed in a mausoleum forever, lost to the world and longing for her ancient lover. Yeah, it was sort of autobiographical. This is how I felt.

The first song to help flesh out this character was "Something in the Air" by Information Society. It's when I first saw my character, with her long dark wavy hair and Gypsy-style clothing, dancing in night clubs and hunting for her next victim. It was during this time, also, that I was reconnecting to my Jewish heritage, and first learned about Adam's first wife and her association with owls and succubi.

So Kelat's first name was Lilith. This is why today, her full name is Lhihlhishian Kelat'menan, and her primary residence was Jerusalem. Ohhhh, and she was a real baddie, killing her prey most of the time, but also creating new Vampires when the fancy struck. Night clubs were not safe when she was in town. No one was safe. She was the most powerful Vampire on Earth, matched only by Vasily himself. It was natural that they became siblings.

I tried to write what little of the story I had, but just couldn't. Something was blocking me, so I set it to one side and dreamed of the characters, and what they may be like.

Two years passed and, during that time, I discovered Witchcraft and learned the true nature of Lilitu. It just didn't seem right anymore, that Lilith would once again be relegated to the realm of the demonic, so the story suffered a little bit more while I tried to make it so She did not have to go down that road. But now I was without a villain.

But not for long.

I won't rehash how Cadmus came into being. Suffice it to say, he did, and he took on a lot of traits I once attributed to Lilith, most importantly making night clubs his happy hunting ground. I had a brand new band to listen to, and their music lit a match under the dry kindling that would eventually become The Chalice. A prologue was written, and kept safe for when the real work would finally begin.

Over the course of the next three years, I did even more research on Vampires, and collected more Vampire music to help me on my quest. During that time, I had the idea that Vasily would be misled by Cadmus into completely turning on his sister Kelat'menan and imprisoning her in a marble tomb. It was also during this time that I first saw the Oingo Boingo video for 'Dead Man's Party.' Even though I'd known about Boingo for ages, and loved Danny Elfman's movie music, it was this video that triggered the creation of Orphaeus. I really didn't have much to go on, but the name and a vague idea that he was scalped by Cadmus and that he banished Cadmus from the Hive of the Beast as a result, essentially making him a pariah. Then it occurred to me that maybe Orphaeus is the one who finds Kelat'menan and rescues her from her tomb. Maybe he was actively hunting for her, but why? Maybe he was her grandchild.

More on this tomorrow...

Mood: tired
Where? Home
Music: Men at Work - Down Under

I started writing it day before yesterday. So far, it's been fueled by Sacred City, Big Night Music, and Cormorant, all by Shriekback. I do know it feels good to have Orphaeus Cygnus and Cadmus Pariah back together again.

"Do you know what I find most gratifying about being able to see into the depths of the cosmos?"
Orphaeus Cygnus sighed in mock resignation. "Why can't you just say, 'Do you know what I love'?"

"I do not love." Cadmus Pariah said simply. He narrowed his vast eyes as he cut them to the ginger-haired Vampire lying next to him on the roof of the skyscraper far above the city of Dubai. He wondered why he was even spending the evening with this, his long-time nemesis. His behaviour since his resurrection into full Vampiredom mystified Cadmus on many an occasion, and this was one of those times. He asked himself why he did not just slaughter the Swan and be done with the irritation. But something stayed his killing hand, and that something was what confused the Dark Child of Night.

"Whatever, dude. So what do you find so gratifying then?"

"The myriad of colours. The multitudinous hues. Humanity can never behold what wonder surrounds them. And you previously human Vampires can only grasp hints of the incredulous kaleidescope that makes up Creation. My Elven eyes can see colours that are beyond your comprehension, so the symphony of the universe is laid bare before my sight. It stirs both elation and humility."

There was an interlude of silence as Cadmus' poetry settled into their bones. Orphaeus may not like Cadmus, he really couldn't with the dark history they shared, but he did appreciate the way Cadmus sculpted words to create another reality for those around him. His voice and his mastery of language never failed to hypnotise. This was one of his many gifts, and he used it with sublime perfection. Was it any wonder people flocked to his music and behaved as though it were a religious experience? Was it any wonder they spilled their blood for him during concerts?

"That's fascinating. As a former human and, apparently a limited Vampire for it, I really never thought about colours that I could not see existing."

"People usually do not. You are quite satisfied with what you can see, and have little regard for the hidden wonder beyond your vision. I surmise this is a natural behaviour for, if you were to ponder upon that which you can never see, your dissatisfaction would grow exponentially, and you would never be able to appreciate the beauty that you can see."

"You're waxing philosophical this fine night. What's got into you, Cadmus?"

Cadmus Pariah turned his head away from the infinity of space to face Orphaeus Cygnus. The Swan exhibited nothing but innocent curiosity along with his question. He was genuinely interested in what was going on with him, though Cadmus had no idea why he would be this way, given the enmity between them. Still though, there had been a kind of bonding between them during their quest for the Blood Crown. And it had, after all, been Orphaeus who had returned to the Brown Mountain and helped to resurrect Cadmus after his self-sacrifice in the ecstasy of the Relics' union. Cadmus still vividly remembered the holy song he shared with the Sainted Confessor, that mortated Vampire child who inspired such violent rage within him. At least now, he was not haunted by that persistent spirit. He was not certain he could maintain any shred of sanity if the ghost tormented him in his sleep whilst, at the same time, that nasty little titch Flint roamed the world, hunting Cadmus as though he could ever overcome the Plenipotentiary and exact vengeance for his beloved Gareth. When it came right down to it, Cadmus simply wanted to be left alone, to hunt and slay prey the way he pleased, and bask in the warmth of his worshippers.

"Nothing really has 'got into me,' as you say. I have just been pondering my Elven progenitors and wonder if I shall encounter them again."

"Meybhelahn is barred to our kind, Cadmus. The Vampires who chose to remain, chose the curse over any kind of redemption."

"I had no such choice," Cadmus said, his voice a low buzz. "I was used as a doorway, as a healing tool, in spite of myself. I was broken. No choice was ever presented to me."
Orphaeus felt stung by the raw bitterness in Cadmus' words.

"I'm sorry, Cadmus," Orphaeus said quietly. "I never thought of it that way. Do you miss them, then? The last Elves, the Original Ten?"

"Miss them?" Haughtiness spread across Cadmus' visage. "No. I would have killed them, had they remained. Just as I will eventually slay all of you. It is what I was born to do, and shall someday fulfill my destiny, especially now that I can drink the blood of humans."

"So is that why I'm here? You've decided to dispatch me?"

"No," Cadmus Pariah whispered. "I summoned you because tonight marks five years since we retrieved the Blood Crown."

"You mean to tell me that you are celebrating an anniversary?"

"Do I look like a celebrant, Swan? No. I wanted to see if you could summon up the ancient memories on this night. I need to feel connected to that part of me, and I do not know why. Perhaps the memory you summon may shed light upon this mystery, so I might find some peace."

"I could only tap into those memories when I drank Kelat's Blood from the chalice, Cadmus. Both of them are gone. I don't see how you think I can help now."

Cadmus returned his gaze to the heavens hanging over Dubai. The swirls and collisions of the cosmos sang to him, and he wondered if perhaps Vincent van Gogh had possessed some of the Tarmian blood, for his Starry Night was the closest a human had ever come to realising the truth of the night sky. Pieces of broken poetry filled his endless mind, inspired by what he beheld above him. Eventually, they may show up as songs, a voice in the night reaching out to souls who felt most at home when the sun hid on the other side of the world.

Mood: creative
Where? Home
Music: Shriekback - Sea Theory

acook finished the cover for the third and final installment of The Vampire Relics. I am astounded by it, and in awe of her talent. I'm cutting it because the file is rather large.

( Click to behold the wonder! )

Mood: impressed
Where? home
Music: Dune on telly

Today is Barry Andrews' birthday. He was born in 1956 in London. He holds his age remarkably well, almost too well.

In other news, I go the dentist to get a tooth pulled. Part of it broke off while I was eating ice. I could keep it for a root canal, but I don't have the $800 for that, so out it comes. I find it odd that everything was going along fine before I got my teeth cleaned and now they're falling out. Coincidence?

'Psycho Drift' by Shriekback just came on the iTunes. I was always fond of this song and I truly enjoyed learning it. He brings such imagery to the song, it's like you're almost there, drifting along the streets of London. I wish I were drifting along the streets of London instead of sitting here in Duncan. There's a line in this song that belongs to Cadmus completely: "Like the swallows in the Winter, like the swarming of the bees, some blind and sure desire is motivating me. Call it poetry in motion, call it energy at play, call it spirit into matter, makes no difference what they say." It defines Cadmus in a way I never could.

I'm burning incense. Nag Champa. The entire house smells like an opium den. I wish it were.

Mood: lazy
Where? home
Music: Blondie - Kung Fu Girls

My favourite Shriekback song and quite possibly the greatest Shrieksong (although arguably) ever recorded. I used to have this performance on DVD, but my stupid arse lost it, and I've since been begging Jimmi B to lend me the DVD I made for him so I could make myself a copy to no avail. This is not the complete performance. If it were, you could see the makings of an entire ritual being performed onstage, which is oft typical of Shriek performances.

You can actually see the cone of power being raised here, which I find to be utterly amazing since one usually has to be physically present for such a beholding to be experienced. The song itself was written by Barry in response to an hallucinogenic experience Vivienne Kent and he had out in the forest. When I first heard the song, my first impression was that of mythically pure Cadmus. Turns out, I was right. Essentially, the song is about lycanthropic Vampires scoping out their next brunch. Of course, it's all done in "good fun." Yeah...

So, behold the glory that is "Despite Dense Weed." By all means, pass it on. Nothing would make me happier than to see this Shriek song made desperately viral.

Mood: woefully weary
Where? library
Music: Led Zeppelin "Kashmir"