Embrace of Cadmus pt. 2

[tinhuvielartanis]

When she finally opened her eyes, Maria groaned aloud as she noted the time. A little before noon...well, no work for her today. Lifting her form from the bed, Maria caught herself holding her breath. Why was she so sore?

The memory of her encounter with the presence last night surrounded her senses and Maria froze upon the bed. He had spoken to her more last night than ever before. He had almost comforted her before plunging her into terror again. Every muscle had been tensed beyond its capacity in reaction to the entity's intrusion.

A solitary tear rolled down Maria's cheek. She felt so helpless. Then her thoughts turned to Cadmus. For some reason Maria felt she could trust him, even though some of his mannerisms and expressions were unsettling. Maybe if she told him what she was experiencing, he might could help her!

Ignoring the pain of her ravaged muscles, Maria jumped out of bed and hurriedly prepared herself to go out.


Marjoram's looked closed, but its doors were unlocked and there were people inside preparing for the night's coming festivities. Maria walked in and asked a man working on some lights nearby where she might find the manager.

"She's in the back, I think," he said, pointing to the rooms leading off behind the main bar. Maria thanked the man and made her way down the hall.

About halfway down she was stopped by a voice. "Excuse me, may I help you?"

Maria looked into the room from where the voice came. There, wrapped in an ivory gossamer lace dress, sat a lovely young woman with the face of a Kewpie doll.

"Yes," Maria replied. "I'm looking for the manager."

"I am the manager. Come on in."

Entering the dimly lit room which smelled of marijuana and patchouli, Maria smiled at the manager and said, "My name is Maria and I was hoping you could help me?"

"Please sit. I'm Marjoram. Do you need a job? 'cos I'm not really hiring right now."

"No..no. I'm looking for someone who may frequent your club often."

"Well, we haven't been open for long so I'm not sure if I can help."

"He really stands out in a crowd, though. He's bald and sort of bluish, and - "

"Oh....Him...." Marjoram blanched and her eyes watered.

An uncomfortable silence drifted between the two women.

"So you know him?"

Taking a long draw from her joint, then offering it to Maria who politely declined, Marjoram nodded slowly. Waxing poetic, she told the story of her first meeting with Cadmus.

"Yes, I know him. He was the first to..darken..the doors of my club. At dusk he arrived in silence and majesty, his face that of an angel possessed. I recall that he was draped in crimson velvet robes, those of a priest of some sort, and that he'd powdered his head and coloured his lips blue. At his throat was a clasp. It looked like an antique, maybe from China...." Marjoram lost herself in a mixture of memory and purple haze.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked after a couple of minutes.

"Oh, I'm sorry...it's just that that clasp still spooks me for some reason..
"It was a dragon great with child. Each one of her scales was an intricate work of art, changing colour from green to blue to red depending on the light, and her eye was an immaculate emerald. I don't know if it was my imagination or if the artistic rendering was intentional, but I could swear that the dragon's expression was that of some unknowable pain.
"I asked him about the clasp as I welcomed him to the club and I recall his saying, 'It was a gift from my birth mother.' I thought that rather odd, but refrained from enquiring further. Something told me not to pry, that I really didn't want to know.
"Anyway, he entered the club and made his way to the most remote part of the seating area. And there he sat all night, not drinking the drink he ordered nor eating nor dancing. He merely watched. Everyone in the club was drawn to him. They would seemingly wait in line to approach him, if only to spend a brief moment in his presence. It was weird. It is weird.
"As the night drew to a close I went over to him and sat down at the table.
"'Let me introduce myself,' I said. 'I'm Marjoram Diamante, the owner and manager of the club.' And I held out my hand in greeting. He didn't take it. He merely gazed at me, unblinking, with a blank yet malicious disinterest.
"'Cadmus,' was his only response.
"'Cadmus ~ ~ ?' I prompted.
"'Cadmus Pariah, as given by my acolytes in Anglia.'
"'Oh, so you're a priest?' I asked, trying to make conversation and some sense out of this enigmatic patron.
"He literally leered at me, Maria. It was creepy. And he said, 'Shall I be your priest, Lady Marjoram?' And, smiling, he shook his head. "'Nay, my sweet. Although I'm certain that your confession would gratify me tremendously, you've too much goodness, yet not enough purity to be of any use to me. I only ask that you allow my presence here without protest. But...if you are unhappy with my haunting your lovely establishment,' and he leaned in to where his lips were almost touching mine and he gazed hungrily into my eyes. 'Do not hesitate to ask that I remove myself immediately.'
"Just the way he said that made me afraid to ever ask him to leave. We've been open for almost a month and he's here every night holding court in the corner of the club. I don't know what he's saying to the kids, but it's beginning to have its effect. Many have abandoned the Gothic Romantic flair I so wanted to encourage here for a starker, more morose image. You'll see them if you come 'round often enough. They dress in plain black clothes, wear their hair close-cropped and black, and every one of them sports a simple silver chain around their throats."

The air around the two women was heavy with chill and anticipation. Marjoram looked at Maria in askance and said, "So when did you meet our esteemed Cadmus Pariah?"

"Last night," Maria replied, her voice an intrigued whisper.

Knitting her brow, Marjoram shook her head. "I didn't see you with him in the corner last night. I watch Cadmus as much as I can because there's something about him...well, I'm just uneasy with him. Are you sure you met him last night?"

"We talked almost the entire evening at the bar."

"That can't be," argued Marjoram. "He was in his corner all night."

Bemused by Marjoram's skepticism, Maria described Cadmus. "He was in casual black clothes, with the blue powder on his head, but no lip colour. His voice is smooth and pleasantly deep. Ehm...He has a British accent ~ well, at least it sounds British...mostly. He's not much taller than I and his eyes appear to be black. Oh, and he smells faintly of ginger and something...old."

"Papyrus." The word took on a life of its own, catching fire in Maria's mind. Visions of Egypt charged her imagination. She saw an ancient priest ~ Cadmus ~ his exotic eyes enhanced by the marks of Hours and his cloaks adorned with the sigils of Thoth, placing a wrapped and writhing bundle upon the fires of sacrifice. Straining to hear his utterance, Maria saw the dark hierophant speak, his bloodstained lips moving in urgency and ecstasy. Engulfed in the fire, the sacrifice lay still upon the altar.
Excitement overwhelmed Maria. It was as though she too lay consumed in the fires of Cadmus' fervour. She was certain that the vision was real, perhaps a glimpse of a past life wherein Cadmus was an exalted flamen in Kemet, conjuring arcane magicks as evidence of his communion with the gods of his people. And she thought she heard chanting....they were chanting her name..Maria, Maria, Maria ~

"Maria!"

She opened her eyes to find Marjoram kneeling beside her on the floor. "Maria? Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?"

"W-what happened?"

"We were talking and you just slumped to the floor. What's wrong?"

With Marjoram's help, Maria struggled to her feet. "I'm okay. I just haven't been sleeping lately is all. I'm really tired."

"Maybe I should call your doctor."

"No, no that won't be necessary. I'll be fine, really. But you can tell me where Cadmus is during the day, if you know."

Marjoram pulled a face. "I had him tracked down just out of curiosity, but are you sure you want to have anything to do with him? I'm telling you he's bad news."

"Please..." Maria entreated.

"Okay," Marjoram shrugged. "He has an apartment in the Art District on the Northside. The Arcadians on Candlestick Avenue, apartment seven. Please be careful."

Maria thanked Marjoram for her help and, as she made her way back down the hall to leave, she heard Marjoram call out.

"Maria, if you talk to Cadmus Pariah, ask him for me how the hell he managed to be in two places at the same time last night!"