My usual rewriting...

The is the opening of Book 4...so far...

------

I had last bothered to have contact with Gabrielle, when she tried to steal Reyndahl from me. It was twelve years earlier, after nearly dying in Hamburg. One of those ministers who froth at the mouth over witches and demons and immorality and evil in the world had led a number of his flock to break into her flat near the docks, one morning. Killed two of her retinue before the rest could escape, and burned the building down...nearly with her in it. 

She had seen to it neither that minister nor any of his followers had escaped the flames. It was quite the talk of the town. 

Of course, she had a townhouse in Stockholm and had been planning to purchase a manor house near Hampton Court, outside London. So she and her retinue had a place to go. She’d had to sell some of her jewels to finance the journey since their money had also been destroyed. 

Of course, word got back to the Oiym and they met with her to discuss upgrading her security measures. Which was why she asked...and asked very nicely, I might add...if Reyndahl could come look both residences over. Make certain they were as secure as could be. 

I left it up to him, and he chose to assist her. I expected him to be gone for a month, maybe six weeks. He remained with her almost half a year. 

I finally travelled to Stockholm to bring him back but discovered Gabrielle and her retinue had transferred to the manor house, so went there, next. 

To find Reyndahl happily ensnared in Gabrielle’s bed. I had long known he was not solely invested in relations with men, but I also knew my sister did not share anything. Toys. Food. Lovers. 

One of her group was very unhappy with this new arrangement. Bergeron. A blond beauty of a man she had turned in the late Twelfth Century. He had long guarded his place in her bed, jealously. It was he who had taken me to her chambers. Where she was lounging in her bed. 

Naked. 

While I have no interest in females, sexually, I had to admit she presented a very beautiful image. Physically. 

 Reyndahl was lying on his side, next to her, just as naked...and erect. And casting me the same mocking smile as she. 

That would not do... 

“I can see your security concerns are well-handled,” I’d said, not even trying to keep the sneer from my voice. 

“Very much so,” she’d responded. 

"Then it is time he returned home."

He’d shifted to where he was lying face down but propped up on his elbows so that his very pleasant face could watch me and his very fine ass was very visible. She smacked it and continued with, “I’d like to keep him.” 

Bergeron was right behind me, and I could sense he was not pleased with that suggestion. What had been truly interesting, however, was a flash of irritation crossing Reyndahl’s eyes. I had a feeling him remaining as her boy-toy had not been discussed. 

So just to be cruel, I’d said, “If you give me Dmitriy...” 

“Trade a simple vampire for a Blood Angel?” she’d sneered. 

That had made Reyndahl look back at her, insulted. “Simple vampire?” he’d snapped. “After all the times I’ve pleased you?” 

Now one thing I will always give to my sister is she is no hypocrite. She’d looked him straight in the eye and said, “The exchange of Blood Angels must always be equal. And being good in bed does not make you so.” 

So...he had had huffed and puffed...and returned to France with me. Bergeron was happy to see us go. But Reyndahl's rejection had angered Gabrielle, and she had let me know I was no longer welcome for any form of visit. 

All Reyndahl would say about their time together was, “I enjoyed her bed. She enjoyed me in her bed. What more is important?” Except being there I realized one serious issue was, she'd had no doùlos in the retinue, who would serve as early warning for attacks. When I’d mentioned it to him, his sole response had been, “She will, now.” 

And that is where the discussion ended.

Freak out...

I need to be more careful in what I eat. I've got Type 2 Diabetes and handle it with Metformin. I've also done better on what I eat. That's probably why I dropped from 245 lbs to 220 over the course of six months. More salads. Half portions.

But every now and then I let loose, and last night...I hate to admit it, but I ate 2 6-packs of Oreos. Loved 'em. Had them with tea. Felt very happy.

Then I woke up at 4:30am, nauseated. I came very close to vomiting...and I do not vomit. The last time I did was 20+ years ago. But diabetes can bring that on.

I found that by just standing up and remaining still, I was fine...and eventually the sensations went away. So I went back to bed. Got up at 10:15, still feeling a bit ragged, and tested my blood sugar. It was 227. Should be a hundred points less.

I drank a can of Perrier...tested it again, half an hour later, and it was up to 266. I waited an hour and tested it, again, and it was 285. I was close to hitting Urgent Care but I was also in the middle of working up an estimate for a library pack and ship, so waited till 2pm to check it, again. And it was down to 223.

I ran some errands, got the paperwork I needed for next week's job, bought salad makings and fixed up a decent one. Then checked it at 8pm...and it was 125. So panic over.

I've never been good at self-denial unless I absolutely had to...like when I was between jobs in LA and had to live on eggs, cheese, and just enough milk for hot tea for a few weeks because I had no money. But now I need to lay off the sweets completely...and it's not easy. I already drink DPZ and my hot tea is half as sweet as it used to be. But it's zero out or I'm doing a crash and burn, and I'm not ready for that, yet.

Getting spooked was good, I guess.

Continuation...

More of Léon's talk with Gabrielle about Dmitry and Franz...

-----

She finally looked straight at me. “I’ve heard the gossip about you and your German."

“Probably heightened to a ridiculous degree,” I said. 

“Not in our world, Léon. We’re not affected by that human need to justify ourselves or make our actions look better. We can be nothing but truthful." 

I hesitated then asked, "Are you willing to house-train another puppy for life in your world?" 

I waited as she crossed to the barrel of water and washed her hands, using a bar of scented soap. I eyed it then her. She smiled. "Orange blossom." 

"Very nice," I said, "but also strong." 

"Not to humans," she chuckled as she removed her riding habit...and I saw she wore trousers and a waistcoat under it! 

"Gabrielle," I said, in awe, "you don't like bustles?” 

She sneered, "Have you seen the new ones? They make you look like a bloody camel. Women are fools to tolerate the things men make them wear. All right, so swap Franz for Dmitriy? But I hear you have yet to turn him, so why should I bother with you? I could take him..."

I took a deep breath. “You still need the Oyim’s permission, and they will...” 

She was back to casting me her usual condescending stare. “You may fear them, but I do not. My retinue, they can order about...but not me. Not when a Blood Angel is my target.” She stood at a narrow window and looked down at the river, then said, “Still you think you can barter...” 

“I have to. His blood calls to me because...because of something I did, and it cannot be denied for long. If you take him, first, he will be yours. And a worthy companion. He knows the rules of court." 

"Then what is wrong with him?" 

"He prefers women to men. That is not what I seek."

Her look turned to near pity. "You are so different from me," she finally said. "You want your mate to love you. To be yours, but this man cannot be. Your mistake was based on wishes, as well." 

“Almost a mistake.” 

“You have decided his future, Léon.” 

"There...there was more to it than that." And I must admit, my tone was petulant. 

"Oh. Of course. I beg your pardon." So mocking a response, I had to grunt with irritation.

Her eyes drilled into me, like they had even when I was a child as she added, “You know, aside from that small issue you would have made a fine mate, for me.” 

Which took me by surprise. “Brother and sister?” 

“We’re Blood Angels. We are all related to one extent or another. Such middle class concerns are immaterial.” 

“Another reason for me to be glad I am who I am."

"I warned you, once. Never let lust determine your partner." 

"Yes, and you chose Dmitriy for his intellect." 

She laughed. "He proves the rule. Do you still want him?" 

"Yes. Why? Is he still being troublesome?" 

"You should be around him, for a while. Get a better sense of who and what he is. I grant you his beauty, but he is very expensive to keep. And his appetite? Difficult to quench." 

I smiled, remembering our nights together. "I know. I saw him, in London." 

"And now he is now at the barricades in Paris, rabble rousing with the communards. The young and the restless. They did not fare well. But Dmitriy did." 

She shook her head then added, "You may not yet have him." 

"My offer is to swap..." 

"I know. But I will need him to help train your Franz. Give me a month, maybe two, and I will let you know if I will keep him or agree to your plan." 

I made myself chuckle. "You are too good to me." But inside I was seething. I half-suspected she would keep them both. 

She sensed my thoughts and smiled. "You don't trust me."

"I have seen too much to trust too much. I'm only willing to allow this because you're my older sister." 

"Where is Franz?" 

"Alexandria." 

"So there is where I will journey. But be warned; he may soon be begging you to be yours." 

"Would you allow him?" 

She let that damned inscrutable smile of hers cross her lips as she said, "We'll see how he pleases me, first."

And that made me trust her even less.

Revelation...maybe...

Here is some of what Léon's sister is revealing...

----

I finally sensed Gabrielle was in the Gwangseong Garrison area, so rushed there as quickly as I could. I did not feel the presence of any other Blood Angel in the lower peninsula, so that was promising. 

I traced her to a Hanok that appeared to have been long abandoned. The exterior of its plain rectangular structure was cracked and dirty, and tiles were missing from its roof. Overgrowth covered a courtyard and threatened to return its walls to nature. It actually shocked me, considering how particular Gabrielle could be about a residence. 

But inside was another story. It might be only two rooms, one for cooking and eating, with the other for sleeping, but it was whitewashed into brilliance and the packed earth floor was surprisingly cared for. There was a sturdy, dynasty-style, four-poster bed in the back room; the cooking area had stools and utensils, a barrel of water sat beside the hearth, and four ring-necked pheasants hanging by the fire.

I knew at once she had prepared all of this for her chosen mate...to help in her seduction of him. But he was nowhere nearby and...

And then I saw Gabrielle.

She was seated in a corner by the bed, dressed in an elegant black riding habit. Looking remarkably beautiful. And for the first time in my life, she did not cast me a glare of derision when I appeared at her door. In fact, she did not even look at me. 

In her hands was a book, nicely bound in black leather with the form of a raven cut into the front, red and white bits fitted in to highlight its eyes and parts of its feathers. She held it in a way that seemed almost tender. Never before had she appeared  to be so vulnerable. 

I remained silent, from respect. She would speak to me when she was ready. 

For several minutes we were motionless before she sighed and said, “I despise humans and their stupidity. Sometimes I wonder if it might be best to round them up and keep them fenced in compounds, as they do cattle, rather than let them roam free.” 

I could not argue the point. I’d seen enough of man’s vile behavior to man. 

She let her eyes shift to me. “You know why I am here.” 

As it was not a question, I merely gave her the smallest of nods. 

She continued with, “My arrival was delayed. The Korean navy refused my ship berth. Both in Inchon and Pyongyang. Nor was I close enough to land to transport myself ashore. I was forced to port at Tangshan and enter through China. By that time...it was too late.”

Too late? Had I been lucky?

She opened the book. I moved close to see an elegant sketch of a man’s face, in profile. Flowing hair. Strong features. Good chin under a light beard. Strength and beauty radiated from it. 

“Gabrielle, this is glorious.” 

“It’s but a representation. I look. I draw what I see. Let others determine what it means.” 

"Have you tried this new thing called photography?" I said, as tenderly as I could. 

She nodded. "Since the Daguerreotypes. But the technology is too limited, still. Perhaps when they advance." 

"I've heard some say it will take the place of art." 

Now she snorted with derision. "More evidence there are far too many stupid people in the world." 

"No disagreement, here." 

She hesitated...to my shock; I had never seen her hesitate on anything, before...then turned the page to another sketch, this one of the same American officer collapsed against some rubble, clutching his groin, covered in blood, his uniform and shirt torn open to reveal his chest, lost in death. A Korean soldier stood over him, seen from behind, ancient rifle smoking, triumphant. 

“Did you see this?” I asked. "You gave me the impression he was already dead."

“He had been killed the day before I crossed the frontier. I did not really understand until yesterday. I found the man who fired the shot. Saw it all...” 

“So rifles provide stories the same as swords and daggers?” 

She nodded. “This is my recreation of...of how he died."

"I’ve made many sketches like this," she murmured. "Representations of men I have fed upon. This is the first of one whose death I had nothing to do with."

She caressed the sketch then continued with, "Did you know that while assisting with the Bayeux Tapestry, I was criticized for not working my thread in the same manner as the other ladies? I used it in ways to make each character come more alive and suitable. Our sister made great sport of me, for it. Thinking she was hurting me. When she realized I didn’t care, she saw to it I was dismissed. I didn’t mind. I prefered to sketch and paint.” 

“Do you love it, still?” 

She was silent for another minute, her hand resting on the sketch, then shrugged. “For me, it is a record...a log of my history. A reminder of all that I have done...and of how angry I can be. And I did grow angry. So very angry. More than I have been in...oh, in centuries."

Her expression grew cruel. "I destroyed that man's entire regiment...or whatever it’s called. Did not feed. Would not debase myself. Only slaughtered them like so many cattle. In ways as creative as I could be."

Which almost made me cringe. "And now you are sad."

She finally looked straight at me, her eyes cold and black as she said, "No...now my anger is quiet..."

Gabrielle speaks...

To my surprise, digging deeper into Léon's feelings as he sets off to find his sister and try to broker a trade for Dmitriy, Gabrielle has also opened up to me. Mainly because she was angry...something she rarely allows herself to be.

She got to Korea too late. The young naval office she wanted had already been killed in a skirmish with the Korean army. Her plan was thwarted so she made the Korean garrison pay, dearly.

When Léon locates her, he finds her almost melancholy. Upset with herself for giving way to anger. The last time she'd felt such fury was in the 12th Century, when her husband pledged their wealth and two-hundred serfs to the fourth crusade.

He was a baron, so she could do nothing to stop him. Instead, she made his steward a vampire, and while he was off to assist in the great campaign, they absconded with the remains of his treasury. He's still one of her retinue...Berenger.

"I will cut him loose, when I return," she told me. "He warned the Oyim of my plan."

"Did they need warning?" I asked. "They always seem to know what is happening as it happens."

"Not with me. And I will have no traitor in my midst."

"You would foist him on me, instead."

She shrugged. "He despises Dmitriy's proclivities. Being one of your retinue would be a most delicious punishment."

She also shows him sketches she made of the officer and talks of why she was dismissed from assisting in the making of the Bayeux Tapestry.

"My manner of sewing was different from the others. And our sister made great sport of me for it, calling me self-indulgent. Which I have no issue with. I see it as making my mark. Leaving a trail of what I have done, as with these sketches I made of him. He was very handsome. He would have made me a wonderful mate."

And this leads into her agreeing to take Franz...on the rebound, as it were.

Slash and burn...

I'm going through BA-4 cutting chit-chat over nothing. I had a long bit where Léon and Gregory discuss how to make their business better by using rail to Calais instead of Marseilles...and it added nothing to story except a vague bit of history.

Seems Marseilles was a hotbed of Republican fervor who were anti-Prussia and also anti-Napolean III. Nice to know, but so what? There went more than 500 words.

I'm up to the point where Léon is heading for Korea, via the Suez route. Gabrielle is en route there. to waylay a young American naval officer, who has the same blood as them. If that happens, any deal with her about Franz is off the table. Meaning Léon will not be able to trade for Dmitriy, whom he very much wants as his mate.

But even though the Oyim have forbidden any vampire to turn one of their victims without their permission, she intends to do whatever she damn well wants and dares them to punish her. She knows if she turns that officer into a fellow Blood Angel, the Oyim can do nothing to control her.

Overall, I'm trying to pump up the drive of the story, instead of letting it meander about in the fields of history. And also make sure my timeline is correct with historical facts. Can't be too ignorant of reality.

Unless I mean to...

Remembrances past...

I was chatting online with someone who had purchased a fine copy of Tom of Finland's work, published by Taschen, and it was nice conversation. Discussing what Tom's drawings  meant in the history of the LGBTQ+ community. Other gay artists we appreciated...and writers.

He had a huge influence on the look of gay men in the 70s and 80s. There's a foundation dedicated to his work in LA, in Echo Park, that has a lot of his materials on display.

Turns out the person was based in Germany, which where Taschen is headquartered. They've done a number of lovely books, but you cannot rely on them for accurate information. I bought three of their books on film...Noir, Horror, and 100 Great Films...and I've found occasionally the descriptions are just plain wrong.

Turns out they've just reprinted reviews written back when the films either came out or were in retrospectives, pre-1980, for the most part. So some of the writers were relying on memory, which is not reliable. But still...the mistakes could have been corrected.

For example, in Jörn Hetebrügge's discussion of Francois Truffaut's Les Quatre Cents Coups he claims Antoine's father catches him stealing a typewriter then it's actually the night guard who catches him as he's returning the typewriter he and a friend had stolen. Not because they felt guilty but because they couldn't sell it. 

A small point, but still raises questions about the accuracy of everything they publish.

BA-4 is working in my head, again. And Gabrielle came up with a comment I find quite awkward and yet honest. If Léonidès hadn't been gay, he'd have made a perfect mate for her. Never mind them being brother and sister. 

"We're Blood Angels," she tells him. "That's immaterial. We're all related to an extent."

His response is, "I'm glad to be who I am." And means it.

Horror of horrors...

I've lost half of my documents for Blood Angel. They're gone. Completely. I've dug through my USB memory sticks and an external hard drive...and the folders are there but nothing is in them. Not a goddamned thing. Two dozen completely empty folders.

The only fortunate part of this is...what's lost is mainly images and documents from the early phase of the story, dealing with volumes one and two. It was from just before I started keeping everything on those memory sticks to have easy access to them, since traveling on a plane made it impossible to pull documents down from the Cloud. Well...unless you're willing to buy second-rate WiFi on the flight. Which I am not.

Prior to that, I had saved everything I could onto my big, bad plug-in hard drive. But every BA folder dated prior to June 2023 is just plain empty. The only thing I can think of is the documents didn't get pulled down from the Cloud when I shifted them over. And trying to find them on the Cloud is proving to be impossible.

I HATE this new setup. I prefer to have my files kept on my laptop's hard drive. Period. But Apple didn't give me that choice and now I'm fucked over by it.

At least I had printed out the important ones and put them in a ring binder, so they aren't a complete loss. And everything I've done since volume three is on a dedicated thumb drive, so I don't have to worry about that. I also double-saved it, as well, on the external...and verified the documents are in the files.

But shit...I fucking hate the techies who thought this shit was a good idea.

Here we go again...

I don't like the direction BA-4 is taking. It's bland and nice and has a little sex in it but is close to boring. Things happen in good order yet are almost predictable. Which I do not want.

I'm halfway through the redo and think I may chuck the rest of it. Léon's angry with how Gabrielle treated him in their meeting, so he's telling me he wants to watch her turn Franz into her mate.

I can't decide if Gabrielle would accept that requirement...or if she'd refuse. Or if he doesn't bother telling her and just cloaks himself, hangs outside her window, and does the peeping tom route. Which would actually be fun to write. Throw in a curious cop and the snottiness of Gabrielle's retinue...

It would also set up what happens in BA-6, which takes place in New Orleans, post-Katrina. Gabrielle finds her one true mate in Tristan, a damaged lad who plays horn in his father's joint. At one point she's convinced him to join with her...but before she can seal the deal by turning him, they're interrupted. And now he's wary of her.

BA-6 is in screenplay format so already written. BA-5 is story format, plotted out and taking place in the early years of WW2, in Poland with Russians as the bad guys. BA-7 is modern day and filled with danger and betrayals, but only plotted, not written.

So I may need to start from the beginning and rework all of BA-4 to suit that. What I don't like is the amount of work it will take. Well...not so much the work as the time and focus.

Today, I was also dealing with tax prep, and have that 95% set. And no jobs till the second week of April. So we'll see if I can use my time more wisely than usual.

Work required...

Whipping BA-4 into decent shape is proving to require more work than I expected. I had the full section written in first draft and it's pretty straight-forward in the telling of the tale...but I keep finding inconsistencies and spots that need changing to match up with the preceding section...and cut more paragraphs.

I did a fair amount on the flights home, which were on time...albeit packed solid. I always get an aisle seat unless the flight is under 90 minutes; that's so I don't have to bother people when I need to go to the toilet. But it's tight. SW now charges extra for the emergency row seats, which provide more space. I used to pay for Business Select so I could snag one of them. No more.

Upon landing I was feeling good so got my car, decided to get a DPZ and grab a salad at Panera's. I stopped at a convenience store for the soda...and as I got out of the car somehow my cargo pants leg got caught on some part of its door and tripped me. Fell flat. Not really hurt, but my pants ripped open at the leg pocket.

That kicked me off center. But still got my DPZ and kept to the plan. I got to Panera and ordered the Fuji Apple Salad, but with turkey instead of chicken...and they were out of the apple chips that go with it. I was almost put off but went ahead with the order, and it still tasted all right, but not quite the same.

By this point I was in a foul mood. Like the universe was telling me something. I'd planned to stop at a grocery store for some things but decided I'd better just go home. 

I did that because I was veering into my self-flagellating mode...and fighting to remind myself that I wasn't a complete failure. That I'd done right by certain people. Like Kelly. I'd given him money to keep him off the street for eleven years. Over ninety-thousand dollars, total. Took me to the point of bankruptcy.

My sister also pitched in. I have no idea how much it cost her, but it wasn't that much less. She bought him a second-hand RV to live in and paid for his dental and cataract surgery. I focused on rent for his RV lot and running money. Just $700-750 a month. It wasn't till he got early Social Security that he was able to get state aid for a real apartment, and that was thanks to a nephew.

She and I did right by him, including paying for his cremation and interment...but I still had to scream that at myself to beat back this growling sense of not having done enough...all because I fell and tore my fucking pants.

Maybe I need therapy.