Showing posts with label Eco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eco. Show all posts

Saturday, October 15, 2016

My Favorite Character and the Villain You Love to Hate! His Debut and Free to Read!



Eco won best villain at Efestival of words 2014 and the book he appeared in, The House on Blackstone Moor won best horror. He is the chief protagonist of three books in The Blackstone Vampires series. The fourth book features his good friend, Dracula. He is my favorite character I have ever written about. This story that follows is his debut story! I hope you enjoy it!

The Legacy


A Florentine sky at dusk, streaked with orange fire and me, walking along the Ponte Vecchio feeling lonely and dejected. The city looked magnificent in the half light of fading day and approaching night, like a living thing ready for sleep, but perhaps not quite yet. The taverns were full—voices were raised in song and chatter and laughter too. I listened and sighed. It is difficult to be apart when
all around me I see life lived.

My existence and I are something else, something apart and yet connected. I have told you enough of my existence so far for you to know that absolute immortality does bring with it sad and often hopeless isolation. When you are fallen angel spawn and condemned to live forever, forever troubles more than it thrills I fear. This was how I felt in the spring of 1502 when I, merely out for an evening stroll, happened to see the most fascinating creature— rushing along as though her life depended upon it.

She carried herself with such grace and I found myself following, watching her great billowing gown glide smoothly over the cobblestones as if to bless them. Where would such a grand person rush to? I asked myself. I surmised she was probably late for an appointment. Ever more curious I continued my pursuit. Now I do wish to put your mind at ease. I had no wish to harm her in any way, nor did I intend to overpower her in order to drink her blood. Not that I haven’t fallen upon beautiful creatures before to partake of their offerings on occasion.

Blood was to me like a fine wine, sipped but not gulped—savored but never savagely slurped as the vampires drink it. Yes I know I look down upon them, but that is the way I am. Back to my story—so there I was wanting to see where she was going and to whom she rushed to see and–what the circumstances could possibly be and so forth. Though I hadn’t yet seen her full face, I could see enough to know she was beautiful with her intricately coiffured hair encased in the most delicate of jewelled nets–a beautiful but unnecessary adornment for this Queen of the Night.

At last she reached her destination, she stopped and looked up at the most non-descript house imaginable on an ordinary street quite far from the best part of the city. Surely, I thought this cannot be her destination, but it was, for she hurried inside. Now, as you get to know me better, you will learn of my many talents. I am able to fly—and this I now did, hugging the building and flying as close to it as possible, hoping I would not be seen.

I had already observed the building was darkened but for the very top windows, windows belonging to workshops. I wondered: why does this lady seek such a place? Whatever the answer, I crept up quickly and looked inside. The shop was quite large—it must have encompassed a few smaller ones for it was one very spacious room. There were all manner of paintings and paint pots and brushes scattered about in hopeless disarray. In the middle stood a bearded man I recognized at once. He was the one and only, Leonardo DaVinci, master painter and sculptor. This was going to be interesting I thought for I had heard gossip that he had been commissioned to do a painting for some silk merchant.

I heard a knock as DaVinci hurried to the door. “You are late, Signora Del Giocondo. But there was no need to rush. You look flushed. Would you like a drink?”

“Just some wine, Signor DaVinci if you don’t mind.”

Up until this time I had not seen her face and was not prepared for the heavenly sight. She was a vision of demure loveliness—a masterpiece among masterpieces. He was very gracious to her, but she looked increasingly upset. “It is alright, we can do this another time.” I had a feeling they would be leaving soon as she was in no mood to sit.

When DaVinci began to put his brushes down I knew I was right. With the evening the cooler air arrived which did not bother me. My vampires and I can take the cold its heat we cannot stand which is often misconstrued for us not liking the sun. Truthfully, we can tolerate the sun if we consume a steady diet of wolfsbane.

Yes, I know what you are thinking; it is rather remarkable and yet it is effective if brewed in tea, but it is difficult to get; that’s why you see so many vampires stocking up the way they do. Their provincial cousins who reside in rural areas of Eastern Europe either can’t get the leaves or don’t care. In any event they do in fact perish at the very thought of sunshine. They are odd creatures and I have as little to do with them as possible as they call bat dung splattered caves their home. More about them later!

I waited until they left the workshop, whereupon I crept down to the street. They emerged from the building and I heard him offer to buy her a drink. She laughed and her laughter was like music.

 “Yes signor, I think I should like that.” I was pleased to hear her laugh, for I hoped her mood had changed. Truthfully I was rather hoping they might walk to a better part of town but they didn’t. Instead they went into a dreary looking and I thought poor tavern. They took their seats and I mine, which was not terribly far away. Their conversation was pretty boring, but then I heard them make reference to the painting having been commissioned by her husband, Francesco to commemorate the recent birth of their son. It wasn’t long before the conversation changed to something rather different. It seemed the good lady had taken a lover!

“But how did he find out?” I heard DaVinci ask. She began to cry.

“I don’t know. He did that’s all.”

DaVinci was doing his best to comfort her but she could not be comforted. “He has left me and taken the children; even little Andrea. He said, “Go to your lover, Lisa I am finished with you!”

More conversation followed: apparently her parents and sisters had also condemned her affair and had told her the same thing. “Sacre bleu!! I muttered under my breath. “Have they no compassion?” The poor woman was desperate. “You see sir, my life is over I fear.”

“No! No it is not! I won’t hear of such a thing!” He said as he smiled and dried her eyes with his own handkerchief, “You will be fine, I know it!” “But Antonio wishes me to go with him right away.” This appeared to confuse poor DaVinci. “I see,” he said looking lost. “Oh my friend, you are thinking of the painting! I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” DaVinci kissed her hand. “My lady, you must live your life as you wish and in happiness. Perhaps in time your husband...” “Oh no, my friend, he will never forgive the slight to his name.” “But your children?” “Perhaps he might let me see them. I shall pray for that.”

She stood then as if to go. DaVinci stood up as well. “No signor. You finish your wine; I best go home to pack. The servants will let me in.” I left Signor DaVinci nodding sadly to himself and looking quite close to tears I thought. So she has a lover, an Antonio somebody–foolish woman. Yes, do not be surprised, I can be a moralist. After all, it involved the loss of her children and I am not entirely without feeling. I decided to follow her. She hadn’t gone more than a few paces when suddenly I saw a man emerge from the shadows.

There was something about him I recognized. Not only that, but I felt greatly alarmed. I don’t often get that way and when I do the results can be rather dramatic. “Antonio!” They clung passionately to one another–he whispering and she nodding.

“My love, we must leave now.” He said other things and she answered but I was no longer listening for I knew who he was. The realization hit me hard. Eco! My sworn enemy and a fallen angel’s spawn like myself. Remember I told you of the vampires I detest who dwell in stinking caves? Well their master is this wretched enemy of mine, Eco, the bane of my existence an, immortal pox who will forever haunt the world.

Why the hatred, Monsieur Louis, I hear you ask? He is a monster—a destroyer. He is the thing that comes to some people in their wildest nightmares—he is without one redeeming feature. He is a vile corruption that only seeks evil. He and his vampires are singularly responsible for the worst of the vampire legends, I might add. It is he and his clan alone that have given us our reputation. They have caused terrible purges where thousands of the vampire breed were destroyed.

And do you know it never bothered him? And now, this beauty! How had she let him touch her? I shuddered to think of him bedding this elegant lady as I knew he must have. Suddenly I realized I had been so swept up in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed him looking in my direction!

“You there! I should like to speak with you Louis, but I want to show my good lady to her home.”

“Very well, I shall be delighted to wait!”

I can’t tell you how upset I was standing there on that narrow street, increasingly I felt more outraged, more likely to explode, for truly it wasn’t just anger that inflamed me—I was worried that Eco might harm the woman.

At last he returned and I tried to contain myself. “I am honored you waited.” Now I took a very good look at him. The pustule was dressed in fine clothes. He looked like a successful merchant. It was outrageous! “Eco, tell me, have you told your lady of your origins or will you keep that as a surprise?” “I think it can wait. So where do we battle now, Louis...Here or would you like a more dramatic place?”

Why we do this, I have no idea. I think each of us is hopeful that the other might in some way be magically weakened if not destroyed. Foolish I know, but we wish it anyway. “Do you not miss your filthy bat caves? Why do you have to come to this beautiful country?” I stopped speaking, for suddenly an army of vampires began circling overhead—swarming as if ready to attack. I motioned with my head.

“Will the battle be here, a street in Florence? How like you to be so common. Surely we can go somewhere else.” “The choice is yours!” I began to think. “How about the ancient forest outside Florence? We shall have privacy and...” “And you can summon your own vampires.” I shook my head. “Eco I can fight without their help and I can put you through your paces and rip some of your favorite blood suckers apart in the bargain.
*
We met near the Arno River, in a clearing and true to my word I did not bring any help with me whatsoever.

Eco, of course had with him a regiment of vampires, all manner of stench-filled beasts. They reeked so badly, I could smell them as soon as they began to appear. “Where did you get these?” “They are from Romania and The East. Such loyal children are you not my loves?” They began to bay in the most revolting way which must have been their way to voice affection. I could just imagine what excesses they all got up to.

“I am ready!” Eco cried. “When do we start, Louis?” “How about now?” He raised both his arms. “Children! Show your love; kill for me, your father!” His voice was a demonic howl that his vampires answered in kind. They soon began to fall from the sky like great black birds of death; shrieking and screaming as they landed. Soon I was surrounded by hundreds of them.

“Come!” I shouted! I shall destroy you all!” During all this, Eco was flying just to my right. Hovering like an old crow. “There are a lot of them, Louis. Are you certain it won’t be too much for you?”

“Don’t be silly,” I shouted. “You know I cannot be destroyed and you cannot be either—so why is it you have us battle—are you so willing to sacrifice your own children as you call them?”

Eco looked horrified, for suddenly his vampires began to hiss at him, having heard my accusations. “Ah, you see I have angered them, I am so sorry, will you forgive me?” Eco wasn’t going to be deterred. “Marco! Marco!” I knew what he was doing. I knew it as soon as the creature came forward. This was his pet, his favorite—an unusually tall vampire— with massive shoulders and oversized facial features. “Where did you get this one?” I asked. “Was it a gladiator that you raised up?”

Eco laughed, but the creature didn’t. It roared angrily and leapt toward me. With one thrust of my arm I hit it squarely on the neck. It fell with a thud. Calmly, as if I hadn’t a care in the world, I bent down and twisted its head off. A great black fountain of blood spewed forth—torrents of it. I was not surprised to see Eco’s “children” spring forth—mouths open—arms outstretched in orgasmic ecstasy as they began lapping it up.

“My, he had a lot of blood, over a thousand years’ worth no doubt!” Eco began to scream at his vampires; “Stop it you monsters!” Before he could utter another word I couldn’t help but say, “But Eco they are no longer your children but monsters now?”

He waved me off as he began to push them away from their bounty. One or two fought back, those he killed himself, wrenching their heads off, but with no finesse whatsoever; there was quite a lot of carnage. The others were beaten back into submission. When they were cowering and completely docile, Eco gave them permission to eat. Yes, you see, that’s another thing about Eco and his lot. His vampires eat their own kind, I find that obnoxious, don’t you?

 “I’ll be leaving now, Eco. As usual it’s been interesting.” He turned his back on me. Now we have over time tempered our encounters somewhat. They used to be worse. I mean truly there was a time when we tried to do the impossible. But after a while we realized we were equally matched and nothing would alter that. I did say one last thing to him that night. I said, “Eco, if you don’t leave that woman alone I shall destroy all your diseased children, is that understood?” He said it low but I heard it. “Yes.” “Yes what, Eco?” “Yes Darton I understand, damn you!” Now that last part was rather ironic-don’t you think?
*
He left after that. I was so delighted that I decided to seek out Signora Del Giocondo. I told DaVinci I was a friend of her family’s and I wished to see her on urgent business. For such a genius I found him to be extremely trusting. “Oh yes,” he said. You will find her in Paris. She has taken lodgings in Rue de Beaubourg.

By the way, are you sure you are not a suitor?” he asked, smiling. Hmm, I thought he isn’t easily deceived after all. “Well,” I said, “she is a delight to the eye, no?” He smiled. “I know what you mean though I share different pleasures than you my friend.” He pointed at the unfinished painting. “She was such a good model; I shall have trouble finishing it. I wonder if I should bother.”

“Oh, please sir. Do bother, for it would be a shame if you didn’t. She has a rare beauty and the world deserves to see it.” “Yes,” DaVinci said. “I think I must portray her in a different light, as an enigmatic example of feminine beauty. She who might be all things to all men—and yet a puzzle just the same. I myself am still unsure of exactly what I saw within her face, because of that I want people to see the riddle and wonder what the answer can be. This friend shall be the painting’s legacy, but a shame her husband didn’t pay me!”

Legacy indeed, yes the world would have DaVinci’s timeless masterpiece, the Mona Lisa. I left his workshop that night somewhat disturbed for it suddenly struck me as I wondered what might have been the lady’s fate had Eco reverted to form and remade her into one of his vampire children."

***
© 2010 Carole Gill

This is one of the stories in House of Horrors. There are five Louis Darton stories in the collection.

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Thursday, September 22, 2016

A Demon's Recollection of Meeting The Decadent Mistress of Blackstone House


There are more confessions to read. This tells of Eco meeting the depraved Eve Darton, vampiric mistress of Blackstone House. A wanton, degenerate vampire, she only exists for pleasure and sin. She is, by the way, the second most depraved character I've written of, the most, being Countess Bathory! 

"Having seen her, I knew I would not destroy her. I reasoned I could hurt Louis differently than that. I could take her from him, corrupt her—ravish her and do what I wished.

Corrupt Eve, I hear you say, that is an impossibility. It is, but I could not know that then.

I was there all night. She finally emerged the next morning. I realized she probably had consumed that horrible tea so that she could go out during daylight hours.

Needless to say, I followed her. She must have realized my eyes were on her because she turned around. I made no move to hide.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

It was the first time I heard her voice. Throaty and heavily accented, the French tones sounded musical.

“Well?” she asked.

When I did not answer, she looked flattered and intrigued. So I at last introduced myself. I said I was a former acquaintance of Louis and she smiled.

Her smile, though beautiful, was slightly mocking for the corners of her mouth turned down. The result made it look false or at least somewhat wicked. And with the flash of her dark eyes, she looked every bit the wanton I suspected she was.

I imagined Louis’ sexual desires were entirely satisfied with this beautiful woman and I hated him even more for it.

She asked me if I should like to come and see Louis some time.

“I saw you out here. I know you were here all night.” She smiled again. This time it looked real, genuine. “You may call on us whenever you wish, but if it is me you’d care to see, then that is also fine. I am Eve, by the way.”

Eve, like the first woman. What was I then, the snake? If I was, could Louis be the hapless Adam? Was she indeed Eve or was she more like Lilith, another vixen I have loved?

Though her face was beautiful, her smile was intoxicating. Rose, it is only on rare occasions that I have known myself to have a heart—this was such an occasion for I felt it flutter. I think she knew and her smile reflected that awareness. “If you would like to accompany me…”

I needed no further urging and followed her along like a little lap dog.

Can you imagine the scene? Me sitting in a dressmaker’s shop, ignoring the amused expressions on the dressmaker’s face.

Something told me Eve was promiscuous. Any man or demon knows who is, believe me. That in itself, despite what men say, is enthralling. We are all egotists and if a woman is so inclined, who are we to dissuade her?

It was after we left the dressmakers that she stood and looked at me boldly. “The children are alright. I have help.” Another of those mysterious smiles. “Where are you staying?” Her eyes now burned with a different sort of fire.

“Come, I will show you,” I said.
*
At last we came to my lodgings. They weren’t bad as lodgings go, but clearly it was not up to her standards. Still, she said nothing. Her lips curved and she began to undress.

When she stood naked before me, I cried out: “You have the beauty of Venus.”

She giggled and drew me to her, her hoarse voice whispering to me. “I want you to taste me. I want you to make love to me with your mouth and your tongue. I am yours for this afternoon and after that, too, if you should like it.”

Oh, Rose, forgive me, for I shall not be too descriptive so as to offend your sensibilities. But truly, this was an experience I would never forget.

She would become my addiction. Yes, Rose—Eve would become a raging fever, an exotic disease I would contract and treasure. I never knew anyone—vampiric or human—like that. Insatiable, her desire knew no bounds, which only intrigued me more!

Sometime later, a wench poked her head in. She apologized but Eve invited her in. Actually, she did more than invite her in; she began to fondle the girl.

“You might as well know now, my love,” she said to me. “I like variety.”

I watched them for the longest time, and then joined in. Our lovemaking went on for hours. It wasn’t until the girl slept that I told Eve I knew what she was.

“You are a creature of the blood as I am.”

She didn’t ask me how I knew. She only smiled. “Let us feast on this girl,” she said. “And then I shall tell you about myself...”



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Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Vampire Entertainment at Cleopatra's Court!

Eco, the demon--having fallen in love with Rose Baines, The House on Blackstone Moor, or so he says, has penned a confession of all of his sins to demonstrate is honesty. By so doing, he hopes to gain her confidence. This is his recollection of an orgy at Cleopatra's palace. 

“The Queen and Antony will be there. They are enthused about magic. Wait until they see what else you do!” The palace was opulent; in truth I hadn’t expected it to be so fantastic, what with its great colonnades and spectacularly tiled floors. We passed down a long hall; in the center of which were great shimmering pools and fountains. As we walked along, we began to hear the most haunting music.

It was light and pleasing to the ear and I told Faruk. “They are the palace musicians,” he announced proudly. “The Queen’s own favorites.” The Queen! Where was she? Faruk saw how excited I must have looked and he smiled. “Look there,” he said. “You see?” I turned and my eyes at last beheld her.

She was dazzling; far more beautiful than I expected. She wore a draped dress of white linen—her shawl looked golden. That is, it had what appeared to be glittering threads woven into the cloth. Around her throat, she wore a jeweled collar. I had never seen such stones for they seemed to have a life of their own. Her hair, as black as ebony, was done up in an intricate design of tendrils; there was no mistaking she was a queen. We were motioned forward by a eunuch.

He was quite tall and beautifully garbed. He bowed his head and asked us to proceed. “Her magnificence wishes you to come forward!” The queen acknowledged us with a little smile. Antony, handsome in his Roman finery, sat near her. He gazed coolly upon me but had a special smile for my wenches. If Cleopatra noticed, she didn’t show she had. “And what will you do for us?” she asked. This was not a command but a coquettish sounding question. I smiled. “Magic, your magnificence. I will dazzle you with it!”

She nodded for me to begin. I started simply. I didn’t wish to overwhelm her, so I conjured small winged creatures. There were gasps and applause, so I conjured more. I created wind and fire, too, which caused alarm at first but then joy and amazement at how easily I controlled my magic. All of this magic I had learned from Imtep. Yes, I am most grateful to him. My conjuring went on for some time but when I felt the moment right, I called for Ankata to enter. “The Priestess, Ankata!”


Near pandemonium erupted in the place. People stood to see her. She came in and bowed. The place went wild, and even Cleopatra applauded. Ankata had never looked more beautiful. She was dressed in lilac colored linen, so sheer, she looked nude. She bowed to the Queen and walked to my side. I reached out and drew her veil down so that she was naked. I disrobed, too, and gently pushed her to the floor. We made love first, easy and gentle, just fondling one another. But then we began to feed on each other, in the most amazing of places. The spectators were thrilled and shocked. I heard their gasps and whispers.

None of them enjoyed it more than Lucius Aratas—a Roman official Faruk had told me about. The wenches came out next. They were entirely nude. The men followed, and soon they began feeding and copulating with them. It seemed there was no difference between the feeding and the orgiastic pleasure they gave one another.

Cheers rang out as the Romans, initiated by Antony, shouted their approval. Cleopatra laughed whereupon Antony took her right there where they were seated. Others joined in until the entire room was one big orgy with Scaba and the wenches pleasuring each other and any man that wished it. I never saw so many naked bodies copulating as they were.

Shrieks of pleasure resounded in the hall— such that I’d never heard. Even the eunuchs joined in, pleasuring one another in wild abandon. It went on for hours. People only stopped when they were satiated. It was as Faruk had said—desires of the blood. Odd that sexual excitement transpires from vampiric feeding, is it not, Rose? At daybreak, Antony summoned me. He wished to know my name and something about me, where I was from, and so on. “I told him I was from Antioch. He asked me what I was about. I think strangely enough he thought me to have eyes for the Queen. I smiled and said I wished to take my troupe to Rome for I dreamt of the place and had done for a number of years.

He looked quite impressed with that. He was not only handsome but also arrogant. “Yes, Rome is the beginning and end of everything. Tell me,” he added. “Are you not staying? Are you intending to go soon?” I think he asked this hoping it was soon, for he had seen the way Cleopatra watched me. “It will be very soon,” I said. He looked relieved. “Do make plans to travel. I am certain you will sail for Rome before you know it!” I thanked him and as I turned to go, he called me back. “In the interim, could you leave a few of your wenches? Faruk will show you where to send them. I quite fancy them.”

He shocked me, Rose, as humans often do. Later, Faruk introduced me to Lucius Aratas. He was quite a handsome man, tall and distinguished looking. He looked every inch the aristocrat he was. “I have watched you,” he said. “You must tell me of your plans. I could not help but to overhear that you are leaving for Rome.” I agreed that I was. “That is good. I shall escort you there, if you will permit me.”

We shook hands then. His touch was interesting; I cannot always say I have an inkling about a person just from their touch, but I did rather have it about Lucius. I thought him most promising. For all of Faruk’s many gifts, I offered him the gift of immortality. He fell to his knees and wept. “Master, I cannot speak, I am so honored.” “Then you shall listen. I have seen how you look at Scaba, and I cannot part you two. She is yours forever if you wish it.”

He fell prostrate before me and wept, but these tears were of joy. And so I did create him and he fed upon myself and Ankata and Scaba, too. Then they fell about making love, for they were so entranced with one another. We would leave the next day. As for Faruk, he and Scaba were to remain in Alexandria because it was his city. From what I understand, they had many successful vampire brothels. Scaba, as wanton as she was, came to care for Faruk and as far as I know, she may care for him still.

And so we left the glittering Alexandria behind. Our destination was Rome. Rome, the city of cities—the new power in the world. I could not wait to see it for I knew much of my destiny awaited me there. And it did, Rose. Oh my, yes it did..."


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Friday, March 25, 2016

The Ointment: A Story for Easter



This story eventually inspired a book and an entire series. It is an intelligent demon’s account of The Crucifixion.

"Yes, it is I—Eco, the son of a fallen angel and a human mother. Eco, the demon spawn who lives his eternal existence glorying in his damnation. Eco, who was sent by Satan to see him whose birth was prophesized.

But the babe was just a babe and nothing more. Truly, I was not particularly impressed I have to say, not at first. It was as the man that I was struck by him: by his voice and what he said. “Pray for those that persecute you!”

Could he mean it, I thought. How could he say such a thing? The very logic of it was illogical, was it not? I was thinking this when he looked at me. His eyes, seeming to go through me, piercing into my flesh in a way no being has ever been able to do.

Our eyes locked onto one another’s and I felt every bit the demon I was. And because I did, I hated him and found I wished to destroy him. This hatred festering until it seemed to become its own separate being. I became like one obsessed and began following him from place to place being drawn to his words but at the same time hating them because I hated him!

If I hated him others hated or feared him. Rome considered him a threat to its power and so he was eventually arrested and tried for having this power or seeming to. That was the truth of it, whatever Pilate postulated. Pilate, Governor of this hot, dusty troublesome place was Rome’s representative. Pilate who had been sent there for some infraction, Pilate, who would eventually commit suicide was now to move this entire thing to its earthly conclusion.

“Take him away…” His final words. I stood amongst supporters and enemies too, all of us witnessing. And then when they took him away, I ran along and watched it all. There was screaming and shouting. There were onlookers tearing at their clothes and wailing for the Rabbi.

It seemed to me he had more support than not! That’s when I began to grow fearful. If I felt the slightest bit of satisfaction at the suffering of this, my avowed enemy, I suddenly became aware of an awful truth, a certainty I knew to be a certainty! This Rabbi was going to be remembered! And it was going to be Rome’s fault because they were making a martyr out of him! My hand flew to my mouth as I considered the ramifications.

And then the most amazing thing happened! The Rabbi looked at me! Oh yes he did! He turned around and found me instantly! If his look had been one of condemnation before it was different now. There was calmness in his eyes. His expression was neither triumphant nor vengeful. If anything, it was saintly. It was then that I knew. He was the Messiah! He was what they said, God’s son come to earth!

I gazed Heavenward for a moment, and then I understood everything. No matter how much terror Satan causes or those in league with him cause, they will never defeat Him!

I left then; I just walked through the deserted market, up past the city gates and onward. At last I came upon a man. “Have you seen him?”

I knew who he meant at once. “Yes. They are taking him to crucify him!”

The man nodded and hurried away. It was then that I heard Satan’s voice; it was as though he whispered to me. “Judas,” he said. “He is mine now.”

***

“He died in agony,” Satan said nodding.

We were sitting in one of his favorite caves just on the outskirts of Jerusalem. He looked very pleased. “I spoke to him in this very cave, you know! I offered him anything he wished. But—he kept talking that nonsense.” He glanced over at me. “But it is all done now, isn’t it?”

He was so pleased. It didn’t occur to him that he could be wrong. Actually I never regarded Satan as overly bright.

Frankly, and I don’t mean to sound boastful, I find him to be (at times) a little on the thick side. You see he doesn’t quite get things others do. “I am sorry Satan, but I cannot agree with your pronouncement. I think they have made a martyr of him. I think this is the beginning and not the end!”

He scowled. “I think you are wrong. I think he is gone now and the only thing left of him will be his rotting corpse. Why would his name be recalled when others have gone before and lie dead and forgotten?”

I nodded, but said nothing. I knew what I knew. Satan’s self assuredness would prove as wrong as Rome’s intention to suppress it all.

If Hell burns, its flames are never as bright as Heaven’s light. Truth is truth after all. Ah! I have surprised you! Well, it is truth and demon though I am; I know truth when it stares me in the face.

I knew something else as well. This truth was subjective. I was changed forever. Now for the first time in my existence I had become fully aware of my own limitations. Yes, I was immortal but it was the other side that had the power. We could tell ourselves we were powerful but we weren’t and we never would be.

All we could create were different levels of mischief of varying intensity. Yes, we would terrorize and torture, we would spread evil through willing vessels but in the end we were little more than insects, little more than flies in Heaven’s ointment.

For Heaven’s ointment has the power to befuddle us always and forever."

*~*~* 

The novel it inspired is Unholy Testament – The Beginnings, Book 2. The Blackstone Vampires Series
,

It is one of the stories in Carole Gill's House of Horrors. 




Copyright 2011 Carole Gill

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Caligula, Nero and More!


Eco, the demon has penned a journal of confessions. From Ancient Egyptian vampire cults, Roman vampire brothels, The Dark Ages, The Crusades, The Black Death of 1348, on to his meeting with the child murderer and satanist Gilles de Rais, and concluding with his wicked, blood-soaked affair with the Blood Countess herself, Erzebat Bathory. The pages are filled with debauchery, vice and murder. This is an excerpt about Caligula, 
 
From Eco's Journal:

"Rome glittered in the blazing light of midday when I arrived. Great crowds milled around. Romans often gossiped and debated one another vociferously. Some defending the government, others decrying it. Not the rabble, of course; they scurried and worked hard and groveled before their betters, which of course was their place and their calling. I am if nothing a snob and always have been.

Standing there, trying to get my bearings, wondering which foot to set forth next, I suddenly heard someone call my name and turned to find Pulinius hurrying to my side.

Now came the moment I did dread for I knew I would have to tell him about Ankata. I opened my mouth to but he stopped me. “I know.”
I was incredulous. “How do you know?”

“A friend of yours told me. A man came by a few days ago, a rather handsome young man who told me all about it.”

I knew it had to have been Satan in his human form. It didn’t surprise me. Satan did things like that. He could, it seemed, often be in two places at once, sometimes even more than two.

Actually, I was relieved and began to relax, as I no longer felt the pressure of imparting my sad news.

Pulinius put his arm about my shoulder. “I was dreadfully sorry to hear of Ankata’s death. I know how much she meant to you.”

I wondered what Satan had told him for Ankata’s death was related to how she felt about Jesus. Pulinius went on. “She grew tired of her existence, that’s what your friend said. Further, he said you had gone to rest with his family, is that right?”

“Oh, most definitely. And I do feel better now.”
“That is good. That is as it should be. And the other business, what of that?”

He of course meant the Jesus affair.

“All settled.”

Pulinius nodded. “Yes, Pilate sent dispatches. Of course, time will tell. There are quite a number of the rabbi’s supporters in and around Rome you know, although most have gone into hiding. I think they fear an action from Rome but so far there has been none.” Pulinius patted me on the back. “Well now, come and have wine with me. We shall have something more exotic later.”

We went to our favorite little wine shop near the market.

I asked him how the brothel was. His face lit up. “It is better than ever. Busier than ever, too. The old man is on his way out, Eco.”
He meant of course Tiberius.

“Yes.” He went on. “We’re all bored with him. But I must tell you what I have discovered! He has the most amazing nephew; actually, he is his adopted grandson. This fellow is a handsome rascal and as wild as they come. You should see what he gets up to! If anyone was a natural for a vampire, it is he!”

I was intrigued and asked to meet this young man. “What do they call him?”

“Caligula,” Pulinius replied.
*


My coven was delighted to see me and greeted me warmly, stripping down and doing all sorts of things to beguile me to bed them—which of course I did, and I did it without feeling guilty about Ankata. Besides, Ankata had been a lusty wench sharing herself with all of them, whatever their sex.

I bedded several of the wenches at once with Pulinius joining in. Actually, he not only joined in with them, he coupled with the beautiful young male vampires we had as well, allowing them to feed upon him wherever they liked.

Pulinius was a daring character for he never cared how much blood he lost through his varied and sometimes surprising sexual machinations. It was surprising it hadn’t killed him.

I did meet Caligula and he was even wilder than I had imagined. He was a voracious sexual beast, a human with an appetite for sex and degradation that was unsurpassed.

I agreed that if ever there was a natural for vampiric creation, it was he. He was there almost every day, cavorting and having the time of his life. But when he wasn’t there, some days went by and Pulinius commented that Caligula must be up to something.

He was, for suddenly Tiberius was dead. Almost immediately after, Caligula summoned us to the palace to tell us exactly which poison he had used.

“You should have seen it! It was so fantastic! In a moment, poof! My problem was gone!”

It most certainly was and he saw to it, for he was now what he wanted to be—Emperor of Rome, an all-powerful ruler who intended to carry on with his debauched lifestyle.

We did our part. We began to supply him with wenches but he still came to the brothel as well. He liked to get out and about, he said.

His antics were wild and became increasingly wilder as the years passed. Eventually, he made his palace into a giant brothel.

I liked him so much, I happened to tell him of my parentage. You see, I planned to create him. Well, it was something he wished and I thought he deserved the honor.

And so, to prepare him I told him of the war in Heaven. It meant nothing to him; however, he did understand the concept of being a god.

“You are a god!” he shouted. “I am one too, you know.”

I tried to look suitably impressed but really, it only confirmed what I thought—Caligula was suffering from madness even greater than my own!

Well, it takes one to know one.

“I tell you what!" I said. "As a God, you will be able to outdo me with one hand tied behind your back! How does that sound?"

He looked thrilled. “I know! I will command the senator's wives to participate in a sexual contest! They would never dare to refuse me and to make it even more fun, we will have this performed in front of the entire Senate!"

I was incredulous but tried not to show it.

So it happened, and it was great fun. I think, though, it rather hurried his assassination along for almost immediately after it, the young man was done away with. His elite Palatine Guard had been bribed, paid handsomely to assassinate him.

Sadly, this occurred before I created him. You see, despite ‘being a god,’ he did wish to be a vampire. We had arranged for the creation but our plans went awry and he was done to death as they say.

I didn’t see it myself, but I heard about it.

Even as he was run through with the sword, he was shocked he wasn’t a god. ‘I die,’ he said. And so he did.”



AWARDS:
eBook Festival of Words 2014
Best Horror: The House on Blackstone Moor and
Best Villain: Eco

Top 10 Books - 2013 - The House on Blackstone Moor
Aoife Marie Sheridan - ALL THINGS FANTASY
Publisher, Ultimate Fantasy Books
'
92 Horror authors you need to read right now,

Carole Gill - The Blackstone Vampires Series. ~Charlotte Books Examiner



2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire Horror - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS


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Tuesday, November 24, 2015

NO HAVEN FOR UNWED MOTHERS


4 novels comprise The Blackstone Vampires. They all connect one upon the other although, book 4, The Fourth Bride can be read as a stand-alone. Vampires are immortal beings. Their stories span centuries. That is what this series is all about. That, and the battle between good and evil. This excerpt illustrates that. It is from Unholy Testament - Full Circle, Book 3 which contain the confessions of a demon. This selection is about acquiring illegitimate children for devil rites. The ruse was there existed a haven for young women in trouble.

From Eco's journal:

"And so the message went out: “Make your way to London town and then cross the river to Southwark. Go up from the banks near the George Inn on Borough Street, there you will find a haven and good folk to help you in your hour of need! Do not fear, young miss, for these are fine people. Your cherished babe will go to good Christian folk who will raise your dear little one and give it a good home.”

Yes, Rose, they came—the poor, the not so poor; some were ugly, others were beautiful; many were in the first bloom of youth or already past it. They were, however, all united by desperate circumstances.

Eve never pressed them about their individual stories, but if there was some sort of confession, she would hear the pathetic stories from those who chose to unburden themselves as to how they had strayed.

A confession is good for the soul and though we had none, they had, and so they were comforted.
She’d show them to a room, not much more than a cupboard. But they were grateful, and as for the occasional shrieks they heard coming from other rooms and dens within our tainted dwelling, Eve would advise them not to mind the noise.

“They are just happy drunken folk who cannot hold their liquor. Alas, we need our business in order to care for women such as you…”

She’d implore them to be forgiving. They all were; the lost usually are.

So there you have it. What a picture it makes…desperate women giving birth and our vile activities—orgiastic feasting and feeding along with intense copulation—all under the same roof. How wretched.
As for the girls, some of them barely made it to our door. Many gave birth as soon as they stepped inside.

And so the babies were taken. None of them were nursed or even looked upon. Well, perhaps just a glance if the mother pleaded and wept.

“Yes, dear, there you go. We have a wet nurse who shall take your precious little love now. The family arrives tomorrow…”

The mothers, too defeatist even to protest, would go on their way, some to live, others to happily fall into Father Thames for they could not live with their decision.

We did actually have wet nurses. These were drunken and diseased trollops who often gave their milk away for a drink while their own baby perished one way or another.

Our babies would be quickly dispatched—coaches came and went all the time. There was a great deal of devil worship in those days. It was most surprising.

And what of the rites themselves? Well, it might surprise you to learn that there was a great need for curses and spells. Oh yes, witchcraft in its purest form was very much practiced. It hadn’t ever gone away for many people wished to have spells and incantations said for a variety of purposes. Greed was endemic. The wealthy and powerful could never have enough, always seeking more. Women wanted men they couldn’t have or men who had grown distant.,,"



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or

All 4 books in the series comprise the box set
which is priced at $4.99.






2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire Horror

92 Horror authors you need to read right now'
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark


.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

ALL PACTS LEAD TO HELL


This post inspired the novel, Unholy Testament - The Beginnings. It is a recollection by Eco, the demon, of the infamous Gilles de Rais, who rode with Joan of Arc but had a secret life. The novel is on sale for 99 cents.

"It is I your servant Eco once again with an accounting of the final judgement of a certain man that I myself witnessed--an individual who dishonestly made a pact with Satan.
By the way, if there are any apologists for this man then I can only say this: I heard his confession from the man's own lips.

Gilles de Rais was his name, former aide to Joan of Arc and a notorious child murderer. His castle and its grounds were filled with the mutilated remains of children savagely killed.

Children had in fact been vanishing for years but nothing was done.

You see at this time in France a noble could rather do as he wished as long as peasants were the only ones being victimized.

De Rais used his servants and cousin to snatch the objects of his sexual depravity whenever he liked. Still on occasion he grew bored.

At such times he'd over spend. He was very extravagant and regularly found himself in need of money. Like so many at the time he believed alchemy was the answer to money worries.

He was told of a famous sorcerer who could turn water into gold. That is what drove him to contact the renowned Francois Prelati.

Prelati was more than willing when he saw de Rais' opulent lifestyle.

"Of course it is possible," He said. "However in order to do this my lord—a demon must be summoned from hell and in order for that to happen I will have to write my spells in a book using the blood of children!"

The corpses of children were never far and the request was cheerfully granted. Prelati was given more than enough children's blood with which to write the book of spells for the summoning. He was also given other assorted grisly items for sacrifice.

Prelati was pleased. "Now for the final requirement--the pact. You must hold a parchment wherein you have stated your pledge to give Satan your soul!"

De Rais agreed and the ceremony went on.

What Prelati never realized was de Rais had stipulated he would do anything, but he would not give up his soul!

The cheek! I mean really!

I find that rather distasteful though I am of demonic origins myself. But one has to recognize truth when one comes upon it.

Eventually, de Rais was arrested for something else entirely--the child murders were discovered accidentally. The result however was a trial.

Satan and I saw him during his trial. We were passing ourselves off as Papal Emissaries which was rather fun.

The court was incensed by de Rais' contempt. He was hostile and condescending.

When the court adjourned for a two day break, Satan and I visited him.

During those two days both Satan and I spoke to him. A great deal can be accomplished under such circumstances!

When court resumed he returned contrite and pled for his entry back into the church. He confessed and said his one desire was to face his death bravely.

Any nobility he had lost he was intent on recouping.

He did of course foolishly believe the clerics who said he was forgiven and would enter heaven!

You see they may believe that to be the case but in the last analysis it is up to the old man there and we all know God isn't a push over.

If you think God forgives all manner of sin then take another scan through the Old Testament.

I know where of I speak. I am the son of a fallen angel and let me tell you right now, there are those who immediately regretted siding with Lucifer and sought forgiveness. Their answer was eternal damnation, not forgiveness!

When the end came, I saw de Rais go bravely to his death. He wished to set an example to the others who were condemned with him: his cousin and some servants. Prelati managed to get off with his life but that was only temporary.

As for de Rais, Satan and I were there to greet him when he reached hell.

"It is you!" he cried when his eyes beheld Satan.

"Yes," Satan answered. "And now you are mine for it is only right!"

If he looked horrified then he looked worse as the legion of demons began to descend on him--pinching and tormenting him.

"I have been damned!" he cried.

"For all time!" Satan replied. "You see in a way I am God's heavy. I punish those who are not worthy of heaven. But also--!" he added, "I don't like to be made a fool of! Pact indeed, how dare you presume to hold back your soul from me?!"

I winced to see the terrible pain and suffering that began to be inflicted upon this man.

"Yes," Satan cried. "A pact is a pact. There is no going back, no codicils here! Hell is not a court of law, there is no bargaining. Your sins are the currency that earns you damnation!"


'Such is the word of Satan—Lord to all who are damned by deed whether or not they think they shall be.'

-Eco—your servant in Hell.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

A Necromantic Aristocrat - A Demon's Confessions



Excerpt from Eco's journal. This about a necromantic aristocrat. 

"He led me up the main staircase but then instead of walking along the lushly appointed corridor, he turned and began walking toward an opulent mural. It looked to be early Renaissance, no doubt of Italian origin.

Just when I began to admire it, he did something, and the painting receded into the wall! Yes, this was no ordinary wall for it led to a stairway.

“They’re a bit old and rickety, so do try to hang on.”

I did and managed to step down upon the landing.

“Just along here,” he said. He led me into a damp, dusty smelling corridor that seemed to go on endlessly.

Just as I was beginning to think he was leading me on a merry chase, he stopped before a door. Rooms sat on both sides of the corridor but this was the one he had chosen.

“Voila!” he said and opened it. There was little light for the windows had been boarded up. He raised his torch then. “I want you to see something.”

At last I was able to make out the room and the contents. A woman lay upon a canopied bed.

“Her name was Elena. Her father was a Spanish merchant…quite successful. He couldn’t bear the death of his eighteen-year-old daughter, especially the thought of her slowly rotting away, becoming food for worms and nothing else, so he had her embalmed. I understand Egyptians did it. Quite a good job, wouldn’t you say?”

He insisted I come closer. When I was just next to him, he shone the torch over the girl.

It was remarkable for the girl looked to be asleep. I was incredulous. “How long has she been dead?”

“She died five years ago! She should be well-rotted by now, don’t you think?”

I nodded for I knew the stench of rot and decomposition should be prevalent. Yet I did not detect anything of the kind.

“Look!” He held the torch directly over her now.

I gasped because she was beautiful, perfect in every way. It seemed as though a noise could wake her at any moment.

“I have feelings for her,” he said. “Far more than I ever had for my wife.”

He nodded. “Yes, I have been with her many times—the first time being when I raised her up. I took her right there beside her grave! ‘Forgive me, beautiful angel,’ I cried as all of my passion burst forth from me.”

He then proceeded to tell me all the horrific details of that occurrence.
“Of course she felt different than she would have were she truly alive. She felt sort of leathery …” He paused for he sensed my horror.

Yes, Rose. I was horrorstruck. There are things I would not do myself. I’ve always judged demons too in this way as there are demons and demons. I don’t have as rigid a code as Louis, but this was beyond anything I thought acceptable..."


(END OF EXCERPT)



Purchase Unholy Testament - Full Circle  $2.99


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sold singly $2.99 regular price 


2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire Horror - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS
AWARDS:

"92 Horror authors you need to read right now'
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark



Tuesday, August 25, 2015

About Satan's Blood Club


Serious devil worship was what some aristocrats wanted. And they went to 'Lord' Eco to request them. More confessions from Eco's journal:

"Yes, Satan’s Blood Club—now that was an interesting enterprise. One of the most evil, decadent clubs I have ever had anything to do with. The membership was entirely composed of aristocrats and their friends: bankers, writers, actors and a sprinkling of some members of parliament. Shocked? I would think you are. It was far worse than an existing club. 

The Hellfire Club was more for naughty, dirty-minded toffs than anything else. Rampant, non vampiric sexual orgies and silly schoolboy anti-religious antics were all the membership was concerned with.

Some visiting lords told me: “We grew bored when we saw they had no intention at all of sacrificing anyone or summoning demons, so we left!”

I had heard gossip about this but didn’t tell them as they seemed to be delighted to share what they thought was a secret with me.

“You were quite right to leave,” I replied. “And you have come to the right place.”

I began entertaining them in our private parlor. This was a rather ornately furnished lounge that was not part of the actual brothel.

The purpose of having the parlor within the brothel was two-fold. We lived there and anyone such as these two gentlemen got quite an eyeful when they came. So whatever business a caller came about, well, they knew where they were, shall we say.

Our vampiric wenches began to perform for them as soon as they stepped inside. In no time, we witnessed the most depraved orgies.

They were always grateful; in fact, they were intrigued with me. They considered me one of their own. Truth be told, I did let them think I was something of an aristocrat from France.

They didn’t like France or the French, being the Englishmen they were, but one title respected another as so often happens.

“You know,” Lord Leighton said. “There are things occurring in France now that are quite remarkable. I have heard about satanic practices that are held by the landed gentry, going so far up as the king.”

This was nothing new to me, which I told them. “Nearly a century ago,” I said, “there were plots and satanic practices, along with poisonings and such. The king’s own mistress was involved and a black arts practitioner known as La Voisin. It was really something.”

So thrilled they were that I told them all I knew, which wasn’t that much more, other than to say that a number of beheadings had resulted from this.

Yes, those Frenchies do have something of an affinity for that.

“I, too, provide a similar service, although perhaps our practice is a bit more contained,” I offered.

They exchanged looks a few times, which was not lost on me. At last, one of them, the older of the two lords, said what was on his mind. “We’d like to engage your services, Lord Eco, for our club, you see. We’re just beginning to organize ourselves now. It’ll be held at my country home in Kent, a secluded spot with its own caves that don’t have to be dug out, as they are already accessible. They go back to Roman and Druid times.”


He looked quite proud when he said that..."



$2.99


All 4 books in the series comprise the box set
which is priced at $3.99.






2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire 


92 Horror authors you need to read right now'
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark

Monday, August 24, 2015

No 'Haven' For Unwed Mothers!


From Unholy Testament - Full Circle, confessions of a demon. This, about acquiring illegitimate children for devil rites. The ruse was there existed a haven for young women in trouble.
PROMO 99 cents, now thru Feb 22

From Eco's journal:

"And so the message went out: “Make your way to London town and then cross the river to Southwark. Go up from the banks near the George Inn on Borough Street, there you will find a haven and good folk to help you in your hour of need! Do not fear, young miss, for these are fine people. Your cherished babe will go to good Christian folk who will raise your dear little one and give it a good home.”

Yes, Rose, they came—the poor, the not so poor; some were ugly, others were beautiful; many were in the first bloom of youth or already past it. They were, however, all united by desperate circumstances.

Eve never pressed them about their individual stories, but if there was some sort of confession, she would hear the pathetic stories from those who chose to unburden themselves as to how they had strayed.

A confession is good for the soul and though we had none, they had, and so they were comforted.
She’d show them to a room, not much more than a cupboard. But they were grateful, and as for the occasional shrieks they heard coming from other rooms and dens within our tainted dwelling, Eve would advise them not to mind the noise.

“They are just happy drunken folk who cannot hold their liquor. Alas, we need our business in order to care for women such as you…”

She’d implore them to be forgiving. They all were; the lost usually are.

So there you have it. What a picture it makes…desperate women giving birth and our vile activities—orgiastic feasting and feeding along with intense copulation—all under the same roof. How wretched.
As for the girls, some of them barely made it to our door. Many gave birth as soon as they stepped inside.

And so the babies were taken. None of them were nursed or even looked upon. Well, perhaps just a glance if the mother pleaded and wept.

“Yes, dear, there you go. We have a wet nurse who shall take your precious little love now. The family arrives tomorrow…”

The mothers, too defeatist even to protest, would go on their way, some to live, others to happily fall into Father Thames for they could not live with their decision.

We did actually have wet nurses. These were drunken and diseased trollops who often gave their milk away for a drink while their own baby perished one way or another.

Our babies would be quickly dispatched—coaches came and went all the time. There was a great deal of devil worship in those days. It was most surprising.

And what of the rites themselves? Well, it might surprise you to learn that there was a great need for curses and spells. Oh yes, witchcraft in its purest form was very much practiced. It hadn’t ever gone away for many people wished to have spells and incantations said for a variety of purposes. Greed was endemic. The wealthy and powerful could never have enough, always seeking more. Women wanted men they couldn’t have or men who had grown distant.,,"



$2.99, each of the four novels sold singly


All 4 books in the series comprise the box set
which is priced at $3.99.






2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire Horror

92 Horror authors you need to read right now'
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark