The "sigil of Lucifer", used by mode...

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the sequal to "PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale". Available in PRINT and KINDLE ...

“Oh Ancient and Glorious One I call to thee. From the age before the heaven and the earth were lifted to their places. In the time before time you have reigned,” spoke the human male. The room was dark candle-lit and smoky with thick waves of incense. Whispers and sudden muted shrieks were heard from the invisible forces. The gate opened wide. “Before there was light when darkness stained existence,” he called out. He unsheathed the dagger and presented it skyward. “You have reigned. Before the Sun and the Moon,” he said, “before the holy mother dried and gave forth life, you have reigned.” The noises through the spiritual door grew stronger and louder. The dark magic brought forth cold and palpable presence. A stab of raw fear clutched the human’s yammering heart. His breath fogged thick in front of him. “I call out to thee, oh Ancient One who threatens from Without. The Lord of Darkness, the Master of Chaos, the Unborn and Most Beloved. Come to me,” he called still, “The Dog God, the Dragon God, the Sea Monster, the Master of Magicians. I implore thee. Hear my plea. I pledge to you my life. I give to you my will, oh Mighty One, if only you make your presence known,” the father said. He sliced open his muscled chest. Blood dripped onto the male child splayed helpless before him. “I offer up my only son’s precious soul. To be your slave, work your will. To do as you please. I give him to you, oh Morning Star, oh Lucifer. Be there blessings to me. I beseech thee, Lord. In return I pledge eternal obedience to you. All the power and all the glory shall be unto thee and so it must be. Until the most holy day when you ascend the Ladder of Lights and ride in triumph through the gates of the Sacred City,” he proclaimed loudly. He paused a moment to catch his breath. “I await your command,” he continued, “I seek only to serve your whim.” He pointed the dagger tip downward and held the sharp blade aloft. He looked down at the babe before him. The room was chilly and full. He could feel unseen creatures slithering around him. They were touching his naked skin and tickling his middle, “A servant or sacrifice!” the bloody, wriggling infant’s father called out. He raised the sharpened dagger as high as he could above his son. He held it tight with clenched hands. He waited to plunge it deep in his baby’s breast.
“Spare him,” a voice behind the human commanded. He lowered the blade, but he dared not turn around. He knew the devil was there right behind him. And although he worshipped the Fallen Angel with all his heart and mind he did not want to face him. The Diabolous stood eight feet tall. He rose up through the portal of the chalked pentagram on the floor and stood before his quaking servant. “He shall be mine.”

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After some time had passed, Salome finally got used to the shrieks. The cavernous room was as dark as pitch, invisible at the ceiling. Salome, when she thought about it, reckoned the ghosts and demons and whatnot came from near the inky top. They swooshed around her a bit, but most of the cold and creaky groans floated up top.
The pale blue vampire baby latched onto Salome’s milk-leaking breast. The baby simultaneously suckled blood and breast milk. Salome cooed a sweet lullaby, drooling out of her toothless mouth. Daily Plata was provided for her, always.
She sat a plush divan, the lights in the nursery were purposely turned down low for baby Saul’s sensitive undead eyes. The pain from the baby’s boring fangs piercing her breast, numbed from her daily cocktail treats.
She sang to her young charge, beautiful melodic nonsense. The vampire clutched at her and purred.
Salome had no clue as to how long she’d been trapped in the nursery. She never saw Tacitus, the man who de-throned her and took her teeth and crown. Salome only saw short glimpses of nurses and handlers. Salome was expertly shot up before she even needed it. She was sky high all the time. The Plata high and this little vampire baby had narrowed her life down to a very thin focus. It surprised her with its comfort, almost from the beginning it did.
Salome had simply come to with the vampire baby latched onto her, looking up in trust at her with his yellow eyes.
Salome called him Saul and wanted to give him her last name of Sinister. She chuckled. Saul Sinister was a great name for a vampire and she hoped she would live long enough to see the baby grow.
She knew it was Tacitus’ child, but she didn’t care that the baby came from the back-stabbing fuck. She didn’t care. She was too smart to think she could swim beyond the shores of her Plata cove. Salome was trapped and damn well knew it. She was being monitored two four seven.
Salome had thought briefly about strangling the son of Tacitus. After all, it wasn’t hers. You know, pay shit head back in spades, but she never did. She found that she couldn’t. Salome fell too hard. She thought she’d been in love before, but she was wrong. Not until now.
Salome resumed her lullaby as the baby fed on her milk and blood. His tiny talons were scratching at her, making her bleed, silent and unfeeling. As Salome smiled and fell head over heels. She knew she would now fight to the death anyone whomsoever would try and take baby Saul away from her. Just let them try.
The demons swooped and danced with the ghostly damned as she found out how much in love one can truly be. But where the hell was her shot?
It was the almost complete lack of sound that reached Salome’s consciousness. Saul was feeding, like usual, at her breast. The Plata and whatever else she was being given was beginning to wear off. Salome got up off her duff and did a good Ozzy pain-killer shuffle over across the room. She tried the door, not surprised that it was thoroughly locked and secured. Salome realized with a growing sense of alarm that it was definitely past time for her dose. What the fuck, she thought. This is not good. Ever since the former Herod was locked up in this demon-shrieking bitch of a gloomy nursery, Salome always got her shot before needing it, really while she was still wonderfully stoned. This was unusual. This was worrisome. She tried not to panic, but she could feel it building.
“Come on,” she said, staring at the locked door and biting her bottom lip.


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