tinhuvielartanis: (Faust)
[personal profile] tinhuvielartanis

Two hours into it, the agony finally subsided as Faust’s unnatural Vampire flesh began knitting together the gaping wound in his belly. Until then, Faust was incapable of rational thought. The animal seeded within each human was the only thing that was present, desperate for escape, for a way far from this trap of pain and fear in which it found itself. At one point, Faust found himself scraping his upper left arm with his fangs, contemplating the virtues of gnawing off his limbs as way of escape. But his capacity for thought returned before he began the gory process, and he reasoned that the bonds that held him would not allow for even one limb to escape with him and, if he had no arms or legs, how would he ever get himself free of this monster in whose grasp he found himself?

Again, he cried for help. Faust cried himself hoarse. No one came. Not even his surly neighbours pounded on the thin walls for their crazy fellow tenant to quieten it down. Cadmus had done something to keep people from hearing Faust.

He thought about his play mates at the Studio. Surely some of them would wonder about his not making an appearance to cuddle up in the hot tub. But….none of them knew where Faust lived. Despite his open demeanor, Faust was actually a very private person, keeping himself to himself, and his deeper motivations deeper still. He had opened up to Cadmus because he….. Faust’s eyes widened and his jaw went a little slack. He couldn’t believe it. Faust had been Compelled to open his life up to Cadmus. He’d been drawn to Cadmus in way he’d never been with any other Vampire or human. This creature had Compelled him to bring him into his home, to give him the reasons behind his communion with so many for so long.

Faust thought back to that night at the Studio. It had been no accident that Cadmus had been there, and had honed in on Faust so quickly. He had been waiting on the Confessor. Now it seemed to clear when, then, it was all just happy coincidence. He wondered now if Cadmus even knew anything about Rebekah and Mephistopheles.

He wondered now if his search for God was over. Would he now die alone in this dilapidated apartment and suffer awareness until his soul dispersed without the hope of redemption just because he had been transformed? What was it when a person was transformed without his consent? The word….it was conversion. In the Vampire world, when a person was transformed without consent or despite his protestations, that transformation was referred to as conversion. Can someone be held accountable for sins committed against one’s will? Then again…he didn’t really fight that hard when it happened, now did he? Once the Blood touched his lips, Faust was a willing participant in his own damnation.

The wound was now completely closed and it itched. Faust tried to no avail to reach down to scratch the incision. “Grraaaaahhhh!!!!” he uttered loudly, beating his head on the pillow underneath his head. The line of knives beside him jangled with his movement. “Why why why why why?! Okay okay…. Let me think.. He wants information. He wants to know what I know. But what do I know?”



Faust settled himself, trying not to think of that abomination’s face in his torso, drinking the blood that slicked his very organs. Faust bounced between the attempt at rational thought and the sick madness of a memory too fresh to dismiss. Then it dawned on him to try something to calm himself, to allow him to think of what it was Cadmus may want so that this nightmare could end swiftly, preferably with Faust walking away from this with this person intact.

Like he did as a child back home so very long ago, like he had often wanted to do, but felt too hypocritical to actually follow through with it, Faust bowed his head, and he closed his mosaic cerulean eyes…..tears trickling out to wet his cheeks.

And Faust prayed.

“The Lord….is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Mm……” Faust shook his head and allowed the tears to come at will. He was in shock to find the words so long ago abandoned and ignored return to him so easily. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of….death….I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of…of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my…ah, oh God….my cup runneth over. Surely…surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

“God…if you can hear me. If I’m not completely forsaken in Your eyes, please…help me. Surely the dark mark left on my home by this creature I invited into my life doesn’t leave me silent to You as well. I…I know I’ve become something…terrible in Your eyes. I know I’ve abandoned many of Your ways and laws. But I’ve always loved You, God! My sole purpose over all these long years has been to look upon Your shining face! My methods may not have always been the holiest in the world, but my intentions have never been to harm anyone or shame Your holy name. So…please God. Please…deliver me from this evil. I ask you. I-in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit….Amen.”

A silence and peace draped over Faust like a blanket of grace. He felt it as surely as he could feel Cadmus’ claw knife ripping groin up. There was still a part of him that figured it was merely psychology, a case of mind over matter. The mind’s ability to overcome physical sensation and the urges of the body was nothing short of amazing. Eastern philosophy and practice embraced these concepts more readily than Western thought, which was one reason why so many of Fausts’ books contained at least one chapter on Eastern thought and spiritualism.

Faust took advantage of the peace and focused everything he had on the problem at hand. He knew things, true. He knew a great deal of things; stories, admissions, confessions, utterances of regret or joy or outright guilt. They were all there, sorted and filed and treasured in the library of Faust’s soul, ready to help him, if the need arose, recognize the face of God should Faust be lucky enough to behold him. Sadly, he had not found the face of God; rather, he’d encountered the angelic visage of Satan himself, or so it seemed. If he gave up the most important confessions first, then logic would dictate that Cadmus would have gotten what he wanted and would then release Faust from this trap.

Over and over in his mind, Faust created the litany of confessions he would reveal to this monster upon his return. Then it would be over. Thank God, it would be over. Wiping his eyes on his shoulders, Faust felt a new resolve and, despite what he’d just gone through just a few hours before, he felt an ember of hope in his breast. All this would work out, he just knew it.

When the sun rose and set with no sign of Cadmus, Faust’s hope faltered and began to feel a little more like hunger than anything else. He decided to busy himself with the confessions he’d present to Cadmus the minute he deigned to show himself. Right now, there were ten he thought were of particular importance. Of course, he couldn’t be certain because he didn’t know what exactly it was that Cadmus wanted. Sure, he said he wanted everything, but how could someone want everything when the didn’t even know what that entailed? Faust had been taking confessions for decades. Everything could take….well, it would take a very long time to recall and relate. Faust didn’t want to think about how long that would take and what may happen during that time. He had to remain strong.

The sun rose and set one more time and Faust was no longer coherent, his need for blood was so overwhelming. He could hear himself repeating the litany of confessions he had ready for Cadmus and he thought he could hear music to the lyrics of his secrets. It was a lovely sound, a female harmonic mirroring his own barely recognizable chant. The music seemed to spread down from the ceiling and cover him in its beauty. She echoed his murmur until he lay asleep in the arms of the blood coma, his body waiting to be fed.

“Wake up.”

There came a hard slap to his face, and Faust cracked open his dried eyelids like dusty coffins from one of those German silent films about “traditional” vampires. His first thought was that he may indeed be Allan Grey and he was trapped inside his own strange Continental dream of dread.

Faust tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was as dry as everything else. The husk-like feeling other Vampires had described to him when telling him of their own periods of starvation was something Faust never thought he would actually experience himself, especially in this day and age when humans threw themselves at the immortal kind with a perverse relish.

He felt Cadmus’ hot hand support the back of his head and then felt the edge of the mysterious chalice clink against his teeth. The dulcet fluid filled the cup to almost overflowing this time and Cadmus gave it all, save for a few drops, to the desperate Faust. The more Faust drank, the faster and more voraciously he took from the chalice, instinctively biting the rim of the cup in the act of actual feeding. He knew he was drinking Vampire Blood and not the blood of humans. When not done in the act of Ambrosciata, the drinking of Blood was tantamount to cannibalism, but Faust did not care. Food was food. And he was immersed in a need so intense, it carried with it a mind wholly its own. He was subject to his hunger, his need, and so Faust surrendered to it without question.

His head followed the chalice when Cadmus pulled it away. Faust wanted more, needed more. He sought out the chalice as far as his bound wrists would allow him. When he could move forward no further, Faust strained against the magick that held him for a few moments longer until he gave up and eased back, his shimmering blue eyes fully open and resting their full accusation upon Cadmus Pariah.

“You’ll need more than that,” Cadmus said matter-of-factly, tilting his powdered blue head in the direction of the chalice, which he’d placed on Faust’s night stand. “Since I don’t want your nasty fangs penetrating any part of me, nor do I want your mouth suckling my flesh, even though it would be a….worthy cause, I’m going to feed the chalice a little more while we wait to let the Blood you’ve already drunk take its needed effect upon your faltering body. My my, you are a weak and delicate little man, to fall so deeply into blood coma in just a short three days. Despite your obvious….ah…talents, you are sadly lacking in the department of physical fortitude. No wonder you shrieked like a wee girl when I cut you open.”

Faust scowled at Cadmus, offended at the elder’s taunts. Then he realized that Cadmus wasn’t teasing, but simply stating what he believed to be the truth. It was then that Faust came to realise that Cadmus as different from any other being he’d ever encountered. It was as though Cadmus simply play-acted at having actual emotion but, in fact, seemed incapable of feeling anything remotely true. Before he could catch himself, Cadmus felt a twinge of pity thread out from his heart toward the monster who had ensnared him.

Somehow, Cadmus picked up on Faust’s impromptu emotion and instantly had his hand on Faust’s throat. “Listen to me, you little whore for God, I may not necessarily comprehend the concept of pity, but I am never inclined to appreciate the sentiment when it is directed toward me. Please refrain from such behaviour lest you never get the chance to disclose to me all your little secrets.”

“Please….” rasped Faust. “I’m sorry. Please. I have – I have the…coughcoughcoughcough…the information you may be looking for. Just give me a chance…please..”

Almost as quickly as his hand was wrapped around Faust’s neck, Cadmus removed it to pick up one of the knives lying beside the prone Vampire. Exposing his wrist over the chalice, Cadmus cut three deep gashes into it with the knife. Faust couldn’t help but gaze at the Blood that poured in a steady stream into the cup with full-on bloodlust. He licked his lips, this time feeling blessed that there was fresh moisture in his mouth.

Cadmus cut his black eyes to Faust and watched the young Vampire study the flow of Blood with hungry interest. He was already looking a hundred percent better than he did when Cadmus found him in the blood coma not an hour before. His ribs were no longer visible and his eyes, undeniably Faust’s most striking feature, had lost their hollowed, sunken quality. Once again, they blazed that strange blue fire that pulled in even Cadmus Pariah. After he drank Cadmus’ Blood, Faust would be ready for another session. For Cadmus’ part, he was quite ready. Cadmus had already tapped into his well of souls to find that perfect philosophical apex for the occasion. The apex that came closer than any of the others in describing what Cadmus wanted to feel was gratification.

When the chalice was a little over half full, Cadmus removed his hand from over it and licked the wounds. Almost instantly were they healed, such were Cadmus’ restorative abilities and the healing qualities of his dragon-enhanced saliva. Faust was amazed by this, and he chose not to try to conceal it on his boyish face, all agog with pure wonder.

“Must I support your head this time?”

“I can handle it, thank you, Cadmus,” Faust replied, the eagerness for more Blood slurring his speech.”

Cadmus held the chalice up to Faust’s lips and Faust gulped down the warm liquid, emoting his appreciation with each swallow. “You’re making a pig of yourself,” Cadmus remarked as he again pulled the chalice away from Faust before the youngling could take the last few drops.

Casting his head back and closing his eyes in rapture, Faust let his Blood-stained lips part in relief and satiety. “I would not be a pig if I weren’t being starved.”

Cadmus let the quip slide as he watched the Blood take effect. It was almost time to begin. “So you have information for me, child?”

“Yes! Do you think you could let me go so we could discuss it man to man?”

“No. Because we are not men, you and I. We’re better than men. At least I am. You? Depending on what you have to tell me, we’ll see if you’re a Darkling of your word or a mere blood-sucking coward.”

Faust’s eyes flared in cerulean reproach, then flattened their expression to the resignation he was obviously feeling. “I’ve been giving your demand…your request for information I may have a great deal of consideration. And I believe I may have the confessions you’re wanting. The ten most important things I think I’ve ever been told over the course of these few decades I want to share with you now.”

Faust raised his eyebrows and nodded as though he were expecting praise. Cadmus calmly pulled out his dragon claw knife and lay in on the bed alongside the others in his collection. “Go on,” he said flatly.

“Okay…okay,” Faust replied, panic lacing his voice, making it lift a quarter octave. “First one: a human told me that the assassination of JFK was not the plan of one man, but a conspiracy on the part of a small group of persons who have long controlled political climate of the human world. Shortly after disclosing this, he disappeared.

“Second: a priest of the Vatican alluded to an ancient evil that lurked beneath the Holy City. He said that this…thing…had been alive for thousands of years and wore upon its brow a magick ring that summoned our kind from Hell.

“Third: a human woman claimed to know the identity of Jack the Ripper and he was a prominent American man.

“Fourth: a human explorer found the last hidden Mayan city which contained full calendar and all the prophecies surrounding the last days. No one has it right. No one.

“Fifth: a Vampire calling himself Gideon claimed to be one of the Original Ten. He spoke in rhymes and riddles and he told me of his plans to pass his wisdom on to humanity.

“Sixth – “

“Wait,” interrupted Cadmus. “Are you referring to Gideon the Mad?”

Faust’s expression grew from hopeful to joyously eager. “He seemed pretty…balled up, if that’s what you’re getting at. I met him back in 40s here in New York.”

“This wisdom… Did he at any time call it an augury?”

“Yes! Do you know him?”

“I knew of him. Did he share any of the Augury with you?”

“Like I said, he spoke in riddles and rhymes….”

“That’s the Augury, you idiot. I want you to recite everything he said to you.”

“I can’t remember all of that, Cadmus!”

“Of course you can. You’re a Vampire. Vampires have perfect memories. You will tell me everything he said to you.”

“You’ll have to give me some time to remember it all,” Faust said, desperation edging back into his voice. “Do you not want to hear the rest of the confessions?”

Cadmus narrowed his eyes at Faust. How very interesting that this boy had met the most infamous Vampire on Earth, perhaps even more well-known than Kelat herself and her brother the emasculated king, Thiyennen, and he seemed to not even realise the gravity of such an encounter. Why was it always the young and clueless who were blessed with such luck while Cadmus himself, the subject of many of Gideon’s “riddles and rhymes” went begging? “Go ahead, Faust.”

“Okay… Sixth: a woman who was witness to the events at Roswell told me that it was all true. And all the scientific advances we enjoy today and will continue to enjoy in the future are thanks to the advanced technology found on that crashed ship and the information…uhm…tortured out of the survivors. Shortly after she confessed her involvement in this, despite my attempts to comfort her, this woman committed suicide.

“Seventh: a scientist working on a program named for a musical instrument confided in me that, in the next twenty years, all weather will be controlled by the same group of people who precipitated the murder of JFK. They will wage war on the masses by way of the atmosphere.

“Eighth: a second generation Vampire, one of the Hive of Redemption, spoke of one of his own kind yet to be converted, who will help bring back the lost continent of Atlantis. She will also be wed to the most…debased creature…on…Earth…” Faust fell silent, the swirl of his blue eyes slowing in contemplation. He then shook himself free of his thoughts. “That was in 1967.

“Ninth: a Vampire told me just the other day that the human world would change forever in 2001 and she would play a part in it. That’s all she would tell me though. She also was from the Hive of Redemption, but this one was fifth generation.

“And Tenth: a human confessed to me that the ones in control of all the religious empires of today are descendants of the ones who helped kill the spirit of God on Earth. He wept in my arms just last week.

“Now…now, if I promise to remember all the prophecies told to me by this Gideon the Mad by tomorrow night, will you please let me go, Cadmus? Please?”

“No, Faust… I am afraid not.” Cadmus took up his dragon claw knife and buried it swiftly into Faust’s groin, once again following the treasure trail upward as Faust wailed in misery. Just below the breastbone, Cadmus cut a cross-section of flesh to make a T in Faust’s writing torso. Blood was everywhere, but Cadmus refrained from bathing in the precious fluid for now.

He hooked his spidery fingers at the corners of Faust’s new wound, where the two cuts met to form the T and, latching on tightly to the slick flesh, Cadmus yanked as hard and fast as he could to expose the organs and ribs beneath. When he did so, Faust’s body bowed outward in a paroxysm of pain, his mouth wide but silent. The best kind of scream, thought Cadmus, as he studied Faust’s sublime reaction to his attentions.

“Now, Faust, tell me,” Cadmus said in that dreadfully calm, soothing, yet menacing voice of his. “About….that ancient evil in the Holy City. What else did our good priest say?”

Faust just shook his head, weeping like the child he almost still was. His fingers moved constantly as though he were playing some invisible musical instrument. Cadmus had never noticed this nervous idiosyncrasy before and, for some reason, it fascinated him, pulling him away from the bloodlust enough to wait for Faust to gather his thoughts and tell him more about the Vatican confession. Cadmus was certain this had to do with the Apostate, his alchemical human father and his dark master and, frankly, Cadmus was curious to know if this was information he already had or some strange or bogus tidbit rambling about the gossip-laced halls of Mother Church.

“Please….” Whispered Faust, the Bloodied corners of his mouth turned downward in grief and agony.

“Don’t start with the begging again, Faust darling. It will only earn you another visit from my dragon claw. Tell me know, Pet. Tell me everything the priest told you.”

Faust’s breath hitched as he worked on pulling in a large lungful of air. His impression of the priest was flawless, even the change in voice. “Faust, my sweet boy, you have such a way about you… It comforts me to know that I can come to you instead of worrying about one of my flock choosing not to heed my warnings of silence and exposing my dalliances. I know that letting you take my blood in exchange for…well…I know it’s a sin, but none of us are strangers to sin, now are we? Heheheheheh. You seemed a little surprised when I told you I knew about your kind, but it’s like this. There’s long been a rumour…. Should I even be telling you this? Oh, what does it matter? Who could it hurt? There’s long been a rumour that the very first Pope, no not Peter, the real one, lives out what could only be called a half life in the hidden catacombs beneath the Vatican. It was he who summoned the demons that became the first Vampires and he did so by utilizing a magical item….some kind of relic having to do with Christ Our Lord. But, by using it, he bound himself to you, all of you Vampires. And now he can’t die, nor can he truly live. He just lingers down below, the relic weighing heavily upon his mummy-like head. Do you know anything about this, sweet boy? Or do you even care about such silly religious conspiracies?”

Faust closed his eyes and licked the tears that fell freely from. “That is everything he said, Cadmus. God damn you, Cadmus, let me go or kill me. Stop this madness.”

“Very good, ‘sweet boy,’” mocked the Pariah, and he placed his right hand on Faust’s ribs, causing Faust to convulse and try to move away from Cadmus’ touch. “You did very well. Not only can you remember in perpetuity, but you can enact your memories with an exactness I’ve never before seen. No wonder acting is one of your skills. You must have been very good at it.”

The entire time Cadmus spoke, he caressed Faust’s ribs and poked about in his viscera, drenching his hand with Faust’s Blood. Cadmus raised his hand to his lips and proceeded to lick it clean of all the Blood while Faust watched in horror. Then he cupped his hand and dipped it into Faust’s exposed body cavity, moving it around to encourage more blood to spill into his cupped hand. Faust screamed and began to curse Cadmus while Cadmus lifted the Blood to his mouth and sated his thirst. After Faust had screamed himself hoarse again, and could only eke out quiet utterances of suffering, Cadmus spoke again.

“It has been aeons since I’ve….enjoyed….the level of pain you’ve been given today, young Faust. Do you see how inspirational acts of atrocity can be? I am an adept at such work, once being a canvas upon which another master created his own art on a nightly basis. So do not think you are alone in this form of coercion, oh no. You and I share a special bond, I guess you could say. Perhaps the memory of how I took my own sustenance tonight will encourage you to summon up every tiny word Gideon the Mad said to you whilst in your young and merry company. You know he killed himself, don’t you? Oh of course you do, how could you not know? We all felt it when it happened that fateful day at the Woodstock festival. It is believed that the only copy of the Augury burned with Gideon. So…any shred of prophecy salvaged from him is beyond precious. More precious than your sad little life, ‘sweet boy.’”

“Cadmus, why are you doing this to me?”

Again that musical question that only served to enhance Cadmus philosophical apex of gratification. Leaning down to touch his nose to Faust’s, Cadmus thought he enjoyed Faust’s flinch at being touched, despite Cadmus filleting him like a fish. Just to make him even more uncomfortable, Cadmus kissed Faust fully on his lips, pressing Faust’s head into his pillow with the force of it. When he pulled away, Cadmus flashed his double-fanged smile at Faust.

“I am doing this because I want to, Faust. Why else? Heal quickly, boy. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Cadmus collected his knife and chalice, and exited the apartment listening to Faust’s endless stream of pleas and curses. It was nights like this that made Cadmus wish he could truly feel, so that he could cherish the exquisiteness of this moment.

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The Cliffs of Insanity

October 2016

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