The Cliffs of Insanity

“Me?” the man said, his voice drenched with mockery. “Me?”

“You…you are different.” Cadmus bent down and inhaled Faust’s breath, then backed away in a kind of disgust. “How can this be? You are…human.”

“Mortation?” the young moppet offered, smiling merrily.

“Mortation is a myth. It cannot be achieved…You are what you are.”

“Yet here I am, you bat-clad Abomination. Here I am.”

Cadmus frowned, his vast black eyes studying the healed and naked form on the ruined bed before him. Faust was mortal again. The Blood, if given to him in any quantity would kill him and a sip would only serve to addict him to the chalice. Cadmus could not vivisect the youngling without killing him. The boy was of no use to him. He looked down at the chalice of Blood, taken from another child running wild and free in the streets of Brooklyn. He’d brought it to fortify the Vampire before ripping into him again and bathing in the agony and Blood.

How had he done it? How had he achieved the impossible? Mortation…no Vampire had ever achieved mortation. It was a myth brought about by rumours and scattered prophecies said to be found in the Augury of Gideon. It was all rubbish to Cadmus, who believed nothing but the reality before him.

But that reality right now was a Vampire turned mortal.

“How did you do it, Faust?”

“Don’t call me Faust, Cadmus. I am Kallum again. After all these years, I am Kallum.”

“How did you do it?”

“I…had…faith.” Kallum said slowly, deliberately, and with not a small about of contempt for Cadmus.

Variant spelling of Calum, the Scottish Gaelic form of the Late Latin personal name Columba ‘dove’. This was popular among early Christians because the dove was a symbol of gentleness, purity, peace, and the Holy Spirit. St Columba was one of the most influential of all the early Celtic saints. He was born in Donegal in 521 into a noble family, and was trained for the priesthood from early in life. He founded monastery schools at Durrow, Derry, and Kells, and then, in 563, sailed with twelve companions to Scotland, to convert the people there to Christianity. He established a monastery on the island of Iona, and from there converted the Pictish and Irish inhabitants of Scotland. He died in 597 and was buried at Downpatrick. The name has recently enjoyed considerable popularity throughout the English-speaking world.

Ten minutes of heavy silence past between the two Vampires. One sat calmly on the floor at the bedside, just out of reach of the other, who sat up for the first time in well over a month, propped on his elbow. Faust’s fingers flexed as though hungry to slip around Cadmus’ throat and throttle him, freely and clearly. The priestly Vampire was so near to him, yet not close enough…just enough to taunt, to mock.

The transformed Blood of the children coursed through Faust like a bolt of divine lightning. The elation he felt as a result of it was tempered only by his guilt over having ever drunk the Blood to begin with. But he had not known. He’d never known the victims who fed the chalice prior to Cadmus’ arrival and subsequent revival of Faust and honestly, until now, Faust had never given it any consideration. His hunger had always been too dire to allow Faust the luxury of such concern. Seeing the bodies of children littered about his bedroom floor forced Faust to rethink the time he’d been forced to spend with Cadmus since mid-June. As his agitation waned into a more meditative state, Faust’s fingers slowed their flurry of motion, giving way to a slower rhythm. He sought out any presence of the Angel, but found none, so Faust contented himself to pray for those whose lives were lost to the chalice so that he might exist for a just a while longer. Especially the children, however many there were besides the little babes that lay like broken toys before him now. He prayed for their parents, who would be devastated at the loss of their own, wondering what happened to their tiny tots and never knowing.

What would be worse, Faust wondered; knowing your child was dead and having to bury your own baby or never knowing for certain what had happened to the child and succumbing to the worst a human’s subconscious could conjure forth in the dark silence of the night?

Faust could not answer that question, never having had children of his own. All he could do was pray for the parents of these children before him even as his body rumbled and buzzed from a pure Blood high. The fingers of his one free hand opened and closed to the inner rhythm of his prayer.

( The Litany of Confessions )

gunslingaaahhh

Cadmus waited for Faust to recover from the Blood Rapture, then sat there watching the young, freshly-plumped Vampire breathe easily and happily. The Blood on his lips began to dry and he licked at them absently, tasting the sweetness there. Then he looked at Cadmus looking at him and the smile faded.

“Abomination….”

Cadmus inclined his head as though proud of the label.

“Gideon mentions an abomination in some of the…gibberish…he said to me. Do you think he was talking about you? Are you important enough to be in his prophecies?”

Cadmus smiled that shark smile that never reached his eyes. “I’m important enough to be in every prophecy the madman ever uttered, you ignorant little git. Now…are you ready to tell me what he said to you? Everything? To the last…little…word?”

“Yes…” Faust glared at Cadmus for a moment, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle of his head. The glare lasted for quite a few moments and Cadmus accepted it with no emotional reaction whatsoever. Faust’s glare had no effect on him. His disapproval meant nothing. All that mattered right now were the prophecies nestled in that young little moppet head of his.

“Please proceed then,” Cadmus replied, his voice as gracious as he could muster.
( the becoming of Gideon )

Faust closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it through puffed cheeks. He took another and cleared his throat with the extra air, the clearing was almost like a growl. When he opened his eyes, they were no longer his. There was a hint of madness gleaming in the eternal blue gazing at Cadmus.

“Coffee…it’s a gift from the Mighties you know, lad,” Faust said, he voice at least an octave lower than his own. Cadmus was beholding Gideon resurrected within the body of this young Darkling. He searched for the philosophical apex closest to awe, found it in his well of souls, and proceeded to explore it as he watched this boy transform further into a dead mad man. Faust slowly cocked his head to the right, his ear almost touching his shoulder, his hair absolutely reaching it. “I love my coffee. You are a delight to watch, young’un, a real darby, you are! Niftic! Sanguinem mittat let the Blood be sent forth inscribed upon the sacrificed. So how long you been doing that act of yours? Seems like you’re a natural, and that’s good…. Good…. His destiny is mortation and the sanctification of flesh. Immortality in death shall be his repose, sainted in suffering. Blessed in the bliss of dread and dissolution, this vessel of secrets, this child of wisdom. Utterances of crowns rest upon his lips. Compelled ye shall be to bring him forth from the belly of the Spirit of Creation….he waits! Pools of indigo will carry you Home. Redemption in the song that goes before us…”

“Uhm, what?” Faust said in his own voice, looking out at nothing. He was actually conversing with the entity that seemed to have inhabited him. Was this even possible? Vampire memories didn’t work like this. Of course…this Vampire was a performer and a good one it appeared. He’d been doing this for decades. Cadmus caressed his apex of awe just a little more so that he might actually feel it.

“Sorry, son. I get a little off-topic. Name’s Gideon. I’m one of the Original Ten, if you know what that means. I’ve been here for…well, it seems like forever! And it shall come to pass that an abomination be born out of a forbidden union unknown even to the Regency by way of profane alchemies wrought by the Magus of our doom. It shall stir in the belly of a she-Wyrm, feeding on her form from within and taking her very nature into it until the dark night of its rising. Coffee…there’s nothing like it. Caffeine gets to me, though. It’s my Tarmian Blood, I guess. We Tarmi were a delicate bunch when it came to the natural stimulants and depressants of this planet. We felt everything tenfold. We did. We..we… the desert shakes with the footsteps of the Jinn, ascending for the perishing sun, owl and serpent alike…. And you, you are a real treasure. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your show. You should be in those moving pictures…if you’d show up.”

“I’m not certain what you’re talking about, sir… Can I help you? You seem a little… I dunno. You seem to have a case of the heebie-jeebies. Maybe coffee isn’t what you should be drinking?”

“Like you should be drinking all that gin! She finds him again, takes him and he drifts away into the mist of time, leaving her bereft, but she knows they will meet again. Destiny made manifest is their union. They will walk into the End of All Things hand-in-hand. Gin is bad for you, especially for one as young as you. Well, how old are you anyway?”

“I thought you said you knew everything.”

“I lied! HA! Hahahahahaha! I lied, boy! I don’t know everything, well, not consciously. So?”

“I as turned at 26, and I’ve been a Vampire for eleven years now, one of the Dark Blood Hive.”

“Aaaahhh, so that’s why you were eying that doll Bettie. Well, you can eat later. OUTCAST shall be his cognomen and he shall be known and his name be uttered as a curse among those of the Great Hive. Death is the pathway of the Abomination’s Dominion! All shall keen with lamentation at his behest and his song shall be the utterance of the damned.

“You Sah Door Kin Nah Ee You Lorr Kin Roe Fail Lee…

“And I remember well in the deepest realm of memory…

“The dread progeny shall bring us from every corner of the globe, desiring of us the life that stirs within… Its venom shall burn and brighten the night and its voice shall summon sorrow.

“Woe unto the Darkbloods!

“Woe unto the Flagellants!

“Woe unto the Bathers in the blood and the Crippled in spirit!

“The Bride most Pure shall pave the way for the Beast, her Garden of Blood come to harvest. And yon beast…yon beast shall tread forbidden paths and whisper songs into the Basin of Life. His voice….shall summon sorrow!”

“Gideon.. Gideon.. Can we get someone over here? This man has collapsed!”

The air of possession slowly faded from Faust’s face and he slowly turned his head to stare fully at Cadmus. “Gideon’s Litany. In full. As requested and as promised.”

“What happened to him?”

“A couple of Dough Boys rushed over to see what they could do. When they touched Gideon, the mad man came to, screamed, and ran off into the night. I never saw him again. I’ve told you want you want to know, now Cadmus, be a sport now and let me go. If you’re worried I’ll tell anyone about you, don’t be. I’ll just be happy to be free, I’ll never think of you again.”

“I’m sure you’d be thrilled to never give me a further thought. But you still have thousands of confessions and I want to hear as many as I can before…setting you free. And I’m hungry. You’ve taken all my Blood for the night. It’s time you gave some back.”

Instead of cutting him open, which was what Faust expected, Cadmus took four of his longer daggers and plunged them into Faust’s wrists and ankles. He chose the flesh between the bones of the ankle and the Achilles Heel to anchor Faust’s feet further to the bed. Of course, Faust screamed from the pain, but quickly quieted when Cadmus struck him hard across the face, making him see stars. By then Cadmus was straddling Faust, bending down to study his face.

“Such an expressive child and such a gift for conjuring memory. I’ve never seen Vampire memory so intricately played out. It’s usually just relayed with no flair whatsoever. After all, it really is…just a memory.”

“It’s what I do,” Faust replied blankly, his endless blue eye staring up at Cadmus through tears. “It’s what I’ve always done.”

“You do it well. Now, feed me.”

Cadmus bent down and placed his mouth on Faust throat, piercing it doubly with his two sets of fangs. He set to drinking from Faust, sucking hard at the wounds. Faust thought he would be sick, having this leech, this abomination, attached to him in such a way. Despite himself, Faust grumbled, “I’d rather have you cut me open and drink from me like that than have your filthy mouth so intimate on my throat.”

Cadmus took one last long drink from Faust before sitting back. “Oh, no worries, youngling, I plan to. That’s what the knives are for. Sometimes, pain in such extreme can break geasa, although that’s very rare. But you are a very rare soul, so…I’m hoping those geasa-blessed knives will keep you safe and snug. We wouldn’t want you lurching free and getting away before the fun is over now, would we?”

The look of horror on Faust’s face was all Cadmus needed to know it was time to proceed. He moved off his little captive and walked around to where his knives still rested beside Faust. He picked up on delicate blade, a scalpel, and ritually displayed it to Faust. He then brushed his spidery fingers over Faust’s arms and legs, and then his belly.

Faust flinched away from the Abomination’s touch, watching his captor’s every move through a veil of tears. It seemed like everything he was, was knotted up at the base of his throat, making his Adam’s apple work constantly for a place to rest. When Cadmus came at him with the scalpel, Faust closed his eyes tightly, forcing the tears that had shimmered on the surface of his Kaleidoscope eyes out and down the sides of his face. The first cut he felt on his arm, beginning where his arm met his shoulder, right at the pit, and moving downward to this trapped wrist. He refused to scream. He only wept silently, wishing it were only just a nightmare from which he could not awake. He heard the rustle of Cadmus’ priestly robes as Cadmus moved around the bed and did the same to Faust’s other arm. Strangely, Faust felt no blood coming from the wounds. With the amount he’d drunk, he should be bleeding in profusion by now. But no. Nothing. He continued to weep silently, the tears wetting the pillow beneath his head.

For a moment there was silence and Faust stole a peek from one barely opened eye. Cadmus was just standing there, looking at him with that blank, almost darkly amused expression he kept on his face. He then turned and went to the foot of the bed. Faust’s squinted eye followed him as the elder vampire crawled up between his legs. Faust’s exorbitant Blood supply rushed to his face in shame. He just wanted to crawl away and hide from this monster.

But what Cadmus did next took away all that shame and replaced it with unspeakable suffering. Cadmus cut precisely right into the internal iliac vein on the right side of Faust’s body. The pain that Faust felt burning in his groin made him buck violently and shout in spite of himself. The shout became a shriek and then a howl as Cadmus continued on to the femoral vein, and moving downward smoothly and deeply, followed the course of the vein into the great sephenous vein and further on as the vein shrank into the posterior tibial vein. He shifted and continued his work, repeating the horrible act upon left side of Faust’s groin and leg. Still, there was no blood. Cadmus then moved upward, resting his head on the very area that would cause Faust to hold his breath in shame, despite the agony he was in.

“I have heard that the sweetest Blood to ever grace the willing tongue of a Vampire is the Blood that comes from the previous reproductive area of an Incubus or Succubus from the Dark Blood Hive. I’m certain you’ve engaged in all forms of Ambrosciata during your time as a Darkling, Faust. What’s your opinion on this?”

Faust only whimpered in humiliation and pain.

“I want to know….” Cadmus rasped, and he buried the scalpel into the superficial dorsal vein where Faust’s penis met his body. It was a deep gash and one that did summon blood with the help of a few arcane whispers on Cadmus’ part. This cut almost did break the geasa on Faust, who lurched and crane in the agony.

“OH GOD! OH MY GOD HELP ME! OH JESUS PROTECT ME! SHOW ME YOU’RE THERE, PLEASE GOD!”

“Shut up with that sanctimonious blather and let me feed in peace,” Cadmus growled before clamping his mouth over the wound and drinking the Darkling Blood that spilled outward as though begging to be drunk. He lingered there, if only to cause Faust psychic, mental, and emotional distress as much as to cause him physical pain. It was true, though…Darkling Blood from that particular area was indeed the sweetest he’d ever tasted. He’d have to do this more often to his prey.

Cadmus didn’t take much, just enough to sate him until he could feed someone else to the chalice. He lifted his head and crawled up Faust’s frame, making sure to trace a finger in up and down the split in his left arm, causing him to wince with pain. Once they were nose to nose, Cadmus stuck his bloody tongue out and lathered Faust’s lips with his on Ambrosial Blood.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it? Even when it’s your own. Oh, don’t be so high-minded. Blood is Blood.” That last bit came out as a whisper, a sultry summons to Faust to succumb to his dark nature. And Faust did. His own tongue darted own quickly, taking in some of the Blood. He closed his eyes against the joyousness of its flavour, then opened them again to meet Cadmus two-dimensional gaze with his own cobalt reproach.

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

“Because you are the one for whom I came,” Cadmus said simply. “Now, when I leave here, I won’t be back for a while. You’re not bleeding….yet. I’ve stayed your body’s natural inclination to spurt out from the veins I’ve opened. When I leave, that stay will be released, but very gradually, so you don’t starve too quickly. As I said, I’m leaving you to your thoughts and the confessions you carry for a while this time, so be sure to have as many of them as you can muster ready to share with me during my next visit. You won’t see me for some time, for which I’m certain you’re thanking your god with mad abandon in your heart of hearts. You’ll be wishing for me before the blood coma takes you, as I’m sure you were before. Strange how that happens, eh, boy? How you can wish for your worst nightmare because he’s your greatest salvation.”

“My greatest salvation is Christ,” Faust said flatly, his lips touching Cadmus’ own supple ones, their faces were so close.

“If I could laugh and mean it, I would,” Cadmus spat, jabbing his finger into Faust’s wound, eliciting a new round of tears. “So I will not. I’ll leave you to your thoughts and the discomfort of lying in your own slowly spilling Blood.”

“The knives,” Faust said quickly before Cadmus could move. “Remove the knives, please. You know the geasa weren’t broken. They aren’t needed.”

“The knives remain, my lovely Faust,” Cadmus said, kissing Faust’s forehead before getting up and retrieving his beloved chalice. “The knives remain.”

When Cadmus reached the door to Faust’s bedroom, he looked back. “Bleed,” he murmured, and a slow trickling began to emit from the veins Cadmus had split in Faust’s arms and legs. It was so slow, it was almost like a tickle and barely noticeable at all, had Faust not seen it begin.

“Please, Cadmus,” he implored, hopelessly but determinedly. “Please stop doing this to me. Just let me go……. Please.”

“Goodbye, Faust. Oh, and here’s a confession from me. Of course, it’s not true, since I don’t love, but I’m sure you’ll remember the song and appreciate the irony…” Cadmus paused. “Or maybe not. Either way, my confession to you as I leave you to your ponderances…

“I’m confessin’ that I love you . . .
Tell me, do you love me too?
I’m confessin’ that I need you,
Honest I do, need you every moment!
In your eyes I read such strange things,
But your lips deny they’re true . . .
Will your answer really change things,
Making me blue?

I’m afraid someday you’ll leave me,
Say’n can’t we still be friends?
If you go, you know you’ll grieve me,
All in life on you depends . . .
Am I guessin’ that you love me?
Dreamin’ dreams of you in vain,
I’m confessin’ that I love you

I’m afraid someday you’ll leave me,
Say’n can’t we still be friends?
If you go, you know you’ll grieve me,
All in life on you depends . . .
Am I guessin’ that you love me?
Dreamin’ dreams of you in vain,
I’m confessin’ that I love you.”

His voice grew more distant as Cadmus sauntered to Faust’s front door, out of it, and down the hall. His was a musical voice, but not for a song so fraught with hope and the promise of love. Cadmus was right. He knew nothing of love.

The tears came freely now. The Blood slowly oozing out of his veins combined with the four apparently permanent piercings of his wrists and ankles by the magickally-charged knives exacerbated Faust’s pain, but he could do nothing but cry. Why cry out for help anyway? No one would hear him. All he could do was suffer through the agony and wait to heal, hoping that he’d retain enough Blood, he wouldn’t die before Cadmus returned.

But something told him that wouldn’t happen. Cadmus wasn’t finished with him yet and Cadmus wasn’t one to make mistakes. He’d return…in barely enough time. But he would return.

 

Two nights later, Faust began to feel the hunger, the marrow-deep thirst that defined his Vampiric nature. It took longer this time, perhaps because of the quality of Blood he’d been fed. The thought of his cannibalism sickened Faust, yet it didn’t stop him from salivating at the thought of taking libation from the chalice again. Now. He wanted it now. He needed it. Faust found himself wishing Cadmus were there. Then he cast his eyes to the knives that rested beside him, waiting for their chance at his flesh. Only a little did the thought of their piercing his person sway Faust’s desire to have Cadmus lift the chalice to his chapped and peeling lips again.

“Cadmus, where are you?” Faust croaked, using his voice for the first time since the night Son of Sam last struck. “I need you. Oh, Christ…. What am I saying?”

Faust shook his head and licked his lips while he still had some moisture left in his mouth. He was so hot. This Summer was interminable. Despite what humans may believe about Vampires, if they believed at all, Darklings could feel heat and cold. The sway of the seasons could be just as uncomfortable on a Vampire as a human and, the more poorly-fed a Vampire was, the more he suffered the effects of the weather. Right now, Faust was wholly subject to the heatwave that held New York City in a vice grip of extreme discomfort. A drop of sweat dangled from a wet lock of hair right over his right eye, then plopped in before Faust even had a chance to blink. The salt burned and brought tears to both his eyes.


( angels and blood )

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?”


( The Ten Confessions )

“And they left me here alone in my new body with my new name, nursing a new and burgeoning thirst.”

“The bloodlust…” Cadmus pointed out.

“No, not just that. It was a thirst for knowledge about the meaning of it all and for that one precious vision of God, the seed my parents planted before they left. Do you have any idea why they’d do such a thing? Because it’s been my experience over the past few decades from talking to so many fellow Vampires and humans alike, that Vampires are separate from God. If you know Rebekah and Mephistopheles, any insight would be most deeply appreciated.”

( Faust's entrapment )