Rude dude...

In a weird mood off bad food and feelin' crude, it's time to be all misconstrued.

Or not.

Worked this up as a synopsis for Book One of Blood Angel:

Near the end of the 11th Century, after the Norman conquest of England, a young carpenter named Léonidès is raped and murdered by several men he trusts. Only he doesn't die; he becomes a Blood Angel, the highest caste of vampire, with greater abilities than the rest. But he doesn't want revenge; he's seeking control.

This is the first of seven volumes following his story up to modern times, as he grows in power and wealth and struggles against those who want to destroy him...including his own sister.

Just to make it fun, this is how I see the beginning of Book Two - Thirty Years, which is set in the east of France as Germany collapses into all out war, early 17th Century. Léon's got six former monks/vampires as his retinue and he's kept them on a tight leash. Metaphorically speaking, not actually. There are too many around who would read that as a master/servant setup.

Oh, and I see the blond guy in the middle as Léon, with silvery-haired Gregory lying on his chest.

I didn't make it to Canada, today. Felt too weird and edgy, like I sometimes do before having intestinal problems. And I did not want to be caught midway between Buffalo and Niagara Falls in need of a bathroom. I hate to waste food, but the remains of the chili I had for lunch probably should have gone into the trash instead of my belly.

Feeling much better, now. And weird.

Done and off to the editor...

Blood Angel-Book One-Léonidès is set as tight as I can make it. 25,260 words, but that includes the title, acknowledgements, copyright info and table of contents. I've already set it into proper format to be readied for transfer into ebook form. Just waiting for feedback and notes. 

Three deaths are detailed in this book -- Léon, himself, a Viking he feeds upon, and an unnamed criminal in Alexandria who'd been condemned to death. This image pretty much shows how I pictured the last one, because Léon not only feeds on him, he rapes him, first. He finds that mixing semen in with his blood is far more satisfying in nourishment.

This book is going to have so many triggers...but they all are. I can already tell. They're also going to be a light review of European history as well as a bit of American and British expansionism.

I'm still planning to release it only in ebook, and if I don't get good response to it, no telling when I'll get to Book 2, which is set during Germany's 30 years war in the 17th Century. Guess we'll see what happens.

If response is really good, I may do a coloring book to accompany the series, but that's well in the future.

Errands, today...

Printed out a copy of BA to do a red pen edit, again. Crisp it up, some more...maybe closer to 24,000 words. That's my goal for tomorrow and Sunday. My birthday is Sunday and I want to have a steak at Ruby Tuesday's in Niagara Falls, Canada, to celebrate. I'm headed over at about 5pm. Got my info set up online and my permit printed out, so should be okay.

There used to be a Tony Roma's, over there, but last time I was able to go the building was empty. Too bad; they had a good filet and baked their potatoes just right. They do have a Ruth's Chriss, which is brutally expensive but amazingly good. I had a gift card for there and took my nephew, for dinner. And even with $150 off it was nearly $300. No steak is worth that much.

I realized, today, I've put less than 1000 miles on my car since the beginning of the year, that's how little I drive it around Buffalo. TBH, the city doesn't interest me enough to go exploring, and I have so many things I want to write and know I'm very slow in that, it seems a waste of time to do so.

The Smashwords sale is almost over, and while I've done all right with it, the vast majority of the books chosen were free copies of Hunter 1-4. CK did not get picked up once while A65 was minimal. Which really disappoints me. Granted, there isn't much I can do to change that since it would take a lot of time and effort, and in August I have to set up my website, again, thanks to GoDaddy upgrading their system and refusing to migrate my current onto it. I would dump them, but I've for over $300 wrapped up in that company...so it stays.

And I just keep plugging along.

Beginning of the last chapter of BA

This takes place after Leon's met with the Oiym council and his new life is set to begin. I've trimmed the story down to just over 25,000 words by removing more repetition than I'd thought was in there.

This is going to be the Smashwords avatar. Oh, and this bit has a hint of gay sex in it, FYI.

-----

The next evening, I was sent home. Same ship. Same crew. Without Nethys but with Gabrielle. I still had my love of the prow of the ship, which worked out well; she preferred the stern to watch the coast slip past, silent and unapproachable. 

Not that I didn't try to speak with her. Our first morning en route, as the sun rose, I saw her seated in her chair, regal as ever, so had approached, saying, "You traveled with no one?" 

She had not moved as she said, "I do not think my ladies in waiting would have enjoyed being part of this ensemble." 

Which made sense. I doubt they would like to have seen her feed, like she had the night before. 

Our sustenance had turned out to be condemned men from Cairo and Alexandria. The Oiym had a quiet arrangement with Caliph Al Afeal, which basically boiled down to, We'll take some of your prisoners and dispose of the bodies; that way you don't have to pay the executioner or undertaker. No questions, please. 

I had been led into a simple room with high windows, where nine men had been chained to the walls, all well-cleaned and barely clothed. All standing. Most swarthy, strong and beefy while others were trim, and none slovenly in body. Shopping had been good in the cities' jails. 

Seeing them had brought a flood of hunger washing over me, filling every pore of my being. It had been weeks since my Viking, so every bit of control I had was needed to keep me from tearing into them. On top of this, all of them had been howling with anger and fear. They had thought they could intimidate us with their curses and scowls and fists and kicks as they yanked against their chains. All that had achieved was for couple to have their trousers fall to reveal genitals that could have been...well, acceptable. 

Anileh had given an overly dramatic huff and said, "Oh, Uttah, no females, again? It seems you're falling into a rut of the same offerings over and over..." 

"Hardly," she'd smiled back. "Our last gathering was eleven months ago." 

"You gave me a fine murderess, who was both useful and tasty...and who thought she could cut my throat with her lengthy fingernails. It was enjoyable. The gathering before that, I had to make do with a runaway slave. He was merely adequate." 

"You are always free to forage for yourself," Nethys had said, her voice on the cool side. Then she had turned to me. "The newest of our kind is allowed first choice." 

I knew she had noticed I'd already locked in on a beardless man with short hair, fine shoulders, full chest and a hint of paunch to his belly. He'd had a sharp scowl of a face and had worn tight knitted breeches cut to below his knees and held in place by a cord, showing off fine legs and a rich crotch. Dark hair swirled over much of his body. The need that grew in me was for far more than just his blood. 

"What was his crime?" I had asked, pointing to him. 

A scroll had appeared in her hand. She'd unrolled it and read, "Murder. He was robbing a merchant's home and was caught by the man, so killed him. He claimed the man had cheated him of his wages." 

"That's rather an overreaction." 

"That could be said of all humans." 

The rest of the ensemble had agreed. 

So he and I had wound up in a finely appointed bedroom with him unchained. The one door had been bolted and the two windows both looked at a drop of perhaps two-hundred feet to jagged rocks. He could not escape me. 

I had figured I was not the only one planning to have fun with his dinner before feeding; Nishu and Ninsira had taken a pair of well-endowed men who were larger than my choice, while Uttah's lad was probably the youngest and slimmest of the group. Nethys had chosen to join the male Oiym in just feeding, if the screams and cries of terror after I had left the chamber were any indication, while I did not want to know what Gabrielle had done. 

I had stripped down to my leggings, my dick pressing against the cloth, showing I was very ready for more than just a meal from this man. 

He'd stood in the center of the bedroom, watching me with fear and anger, asking what I think were questions in his language. I had circled him and he had turned to keep me in sight, his stance wary and filled with warning. 

Then I had pounced and we'd wrestled...and the feel of his body next to mine had sent fire exploding through me. He had gripped me around the torso, thinking to throw me, but instead we'd wound up rolling across the floor. 

After some twisting and turning and kicking and fighting, I had grabbed him from behind, my arms around him, my wrists crossed, and I had pinched his tits as I licked the back of his neck. 

He had howled and struggled more, then we had rolled apart. He'd staggered to his feet, his eyes wide and wary, as I circled him, again...and pounced...and grabbed him around the waist to lift him up...and licked and kissed his tits, this time. 

He had pushed against me, kicking and struggling, and I had grown lost in the glorious feeling of his body crushed next to mine, twisting and turning and pressing even harder against me. I had heard the pounding of his heart. His howls of anger and disgust had only made my emotions wilder. The sweat on his body, trickling through his hair and soaking us both, had only added to the eroticism of the moment. 

We'd kept going like this for several minutes. Perhaps even an hour. Together. Apart. Fighting. Rolling on the floor. Me grabbing his ass and his thighs and pinching his tits and groping his crotch. Him pushing me away. Kicking me away. 

Needless to say, I never wanted it to end.

I'm insane...

Another draft done on BA...and another 2000 words added. Plugging in the origin of the Oiym, the first Blood Angels, and settling Léon with his six monks, once Prior Pious is dealt with...it just kept going and going and going. It's now 118 pages and 26,500 words.

I'm going to print it out, again, and see if there is anything I can drop that isn't necessary...like maybe the last 5 pages. It's just getting to be too much...because I can see where I'm cutting corners on parts of the story just to get past it, and I do not want to add more. Sometimes I can get lost in the detail and forget the scope of the tale.

Aw, fuck it. The book will be what it's going to be. There's fun gay sex in the first half of the book, then Léon is raped and turned and there is vicious gay sex in the second half of the book. So why am I worried about making this literature on the level of Hemingway or Cheever? A lot of self-importance there.

I do like combining gay sex in with solid stories and writing. That's what I've aimed for in all my books...well, except for Carli's Kills and The Alice '65. Blood Angel is going to be no different. I'll write it as best I can then publish it and see what reaction I get.

There's some gay sex in A Place of Safety, but only alluded to in Derry and dealt with more directly in Houston. None of it is in Return. I think part of my issue with BA, right now, is I'm getting antsy and want to turn back to APoS. But I can't until BA is published...which will only be in ebook form so it's not as intense a process.

Another couple of joys, at the moment, are being about to hit 70 years old (on the 31st) and being on antibiotics thanks to what my doctor thinks might be a light case of bronchitis due to the smoke from that fire a few weeks back. I've been hacking up a lung for a couple weeks, so I guess it's good I can take the damn things. But I'm on them for another 10 days.

Oh, and a packing job in Ketchum, Idaho is on, middle of the month. I'm not looking forward to this one.

Envious?

I admit I get a bit jealous of people who can churn out book after book after book and get lots of sales. I'm only human...ish...sort of. But I finally started checking into some of these multi-book authors in the gay erotica area...and I'm finding more than half of them are really short stories or novellas published separately, not even part of a series but stand-alones.

This one author duo I looked at, who said they had written 15 books...their wordage ranged from 6500 to 12,000. And at the same prices I charge for my work. And they seem to be selling, fairly well. I checked through Smashwords' newest offerings and many were in the 80-90K range, but 1/3 were 25-45K.

Right now, the first book of Blood Angel is keeping at between 24,000 and 25,000 words, and I'm thinking that's short. And if I do all 7 within this range, which is not guaranteed, that's 175,000. I need to get over myself when it comes to comparing myself to other authors' offerings and sales. After all, I'm in a very small niche area of publishing. I'll never make a living at it, as CK and A65 have shown, but I'm have my own version of fun.

Going through BA on this draft caught me finding a logical error. I had Prior Pious feeding on Léon in an attempt to kill him, because he thinks that what he has to do to stop a Blood Angel. But Léon hasn't turned, yet. In fact, feeding on him is guaranteed to turn him. So...I changed it to where Pious strangles him...not realizing that won't work for reasons he cannot know.

This happens at about the midway point. So far, not one vampire has fed, yet...but I have indicated that Gabrielle, Léon's sister, has been turned. Don't actually say it, but it's pretty damned obvious. It's from this point that the story turns cruel...and yet, not.

I'm gonna be getting away with a lot, here...

47 more drafts to go

You may think I'm exaggerating, but that's how I write. I rework my work and rework it again and again and again until I'm sick of it then walk away, become un-sick of it and rework it some more. But...I like to think that means I turn out something good.

Each pass through the project adds and streamlines and clarifies...I hope. I really don't know. I just know inputting my red-pen draft is making for more adjustments in the story. What I've posted, so far, is now much changed but getting to be tighter and more clear. At least, it is in my own head. And it's breaking down into the usual components. First, second and third acts, with a major shift in the middle. For all the times I've bitched and moaned about the three-act structure, most of my writing falls neatly into it.

Not all...but most.

I'm considering a couple of possible images for the ebook's avatar, right now. I got both of them for a deal so could potentially use one for the first book and one for the second, if I decide to write it., I'm not guaranteeing anything, right now.

This is the one I'm leaning towards, right now...but with a bit more work to remove the rings under his eyes. Though I do like the haunted aspect of it. This bit of colorizing is what I did on my laptop. I'll make it closer to what I want in photoshop, with lettering.

Book One is now Blood Angel - The Turning, with chapter headings. Not sure how many I'll wind up with, yet, because I've already broken one chapter into two as I'm inputting.

On top of this, the story is turning out to be quite casually cruel...but also honest. Vampires feed on people, which is simple reality. The cutesy versions, like True Blood, and clever ones like Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, dance around this. I'm not going to. I'm taking my cues from Interview With the Vampire, where Lestat is an outright bastard.

Guess we'll see how far I go.

Returned...

New plan. I've just rewritten the first book of Blood Angel, and it seems settled at around 24,000 words. I just completed a red-pen edit of it, dumping most of the first chapter because it was just word-salad meant to set the time and scene but was actually detracting from the story. Tomorrow, I'm going to input the changes, which will be the equivalent of draft 5. I think I'll have it ready to go in a couple weeks.

I'm going to post it solely on Smashwords as an ebook and see what kind of response I get before I move forward with the following books. If things go well and I wind up doing all 7, I'll combine them into a single paperback. I don't think making a series of books this slim is really worth the trouble or expense, and I wouldn't like the look, anyway.

Oh, and I'm thinking of licensing this image for the cover.

Some subtle changes in Léonidès and his monks. Initially, they are taking sexual advantage of him...but also get him to learn how to read and do math. And their turnings are spacing out a bit more. Geoffrey is now Gregory, and he was an ecclesiastical scholar for a king that lived 200 years before Léon. The others were taken, one by one, and forced into becoming vampires by the Prior because he wanted them. They've accepted it, but it's not until they become bound to Léon that they truly enjoy being that way.

I'm also explaining the beginning of the Oiym, the oldest Blood Angels. So far, it's a case of a pack of wolves who roamed Sumaria and those they bit or attacked were infected with vampirism. A woman brought forth a baby during the change, and that's where the bloodline comes from. The Oiym decide to keep the purity of their group by making rules all vampires must follow, under threat of eternal imprisonment, to keep the world from being overrun, and the Prior ran afoul of these rules when he turned Gabrielle, Léon's sister, and then tried to kill Léon.

Dunno if this will make sense in the morning, but we'll see.

Sick and burnt out

I'm taking some time away...maybe till after my birthday, on the 31st.

Nothing day

Felt like shit all day. Coughing. Sore throat. Achy. But negative Covid tests so bronchitis is probable, So nothing done. Made a good dinner...that's it. Feeling old and cranky. When I'm like this, better that I just sit around and sleep and let the day go by...and let myself get all morose and weary over memories...

God...there are so many things I've done that I wish I'd done differently... 

Draft 2 done

I've dug through Blood Angel part 1 and it's increased to 23,200 words. I found a space of silence between Léon and his sister, Gabrielle, was both too long and did not really work. So this is what I came up with. After 2 weeks at sea with nary a word to say to each other, they are finally nearing the Cliffs of Dover.

-------

It was early evening, and the White Cliffs seemed to glow in the dimming light. Tall. Silent. Clean. Not at all welcoming. Gabrielle appeared on deck as we neared the pier, now dressed in a simple gown and cloak made of finely spun wool, all burgundy and gold. 

"Will you now return to your Duke?" I asked, more from politeness than true curiosity. 

"Why do you ask me such an obvious question?" she said in her cold, calm voice. 

"All right," I said. "I have one more difficult. Why did you let our mother think you were not my sister? Why have you stayed silent from us? Seven years of complete silence?" 

"Six years." 

"The king told our father..." 

"The king's an idiot, like most men. He's fed some words and thinks he knows all he needs to know. No one in his court knew who I was, except as the wife to a duke. The very pious wife to a very powerful man." 

"Pious? You?" 

"In appearance. Chapel every day. A missal in my hand. Even the nuns think I pray too much. Seeking a child to give to my most belovèd husband. Happily pitying me because they think me barren. They are too self-involved to see the Duke prefers the company of dirty little scullery maids, whom he can abuse with impunity, and that I am in chapel for the solitude it brings. Where I think can think in peace. Plan." 

"Plan?" 

She sighed. "Not a word to me on the journey, but now you're filled with questions?" 

"I felt you wanted to be alone." 

She eyed me for several moments then nodded. "You are too empathetic, still. And you were correct."

"More planning?"

"Of course." She cast me a look of near curiosity. "Have you any idea what I plan?" 

I shrugged. "The only thing I know for certain is, it does not include me." 

"I thought you more intelligent than that." 

"You can say that after referring to me as an idiot, before the Oiym?" 

"I did think you were. I've yet to be fully convinced you are not...but I am not so unaware of my own prejudices against you that I cannot see they may have colored my opinion." 

"Careful, Gabrielle. That almost sounded like a compliment." 

"Merely a reassessment." 

She shifted to stand behind me, like she often had when I was a child. It always made me uncomfortable, before, because it was usually when she would pinch me or yank at my hair. This time? I gave her no reaction, just continued to watch the approaching cliffs. 

"Léonidès," she finally asked, "Nethys likes you. Not to the extent I claimed. She would have been a...I think a better sister to you." 

"Or mother?" I asked. 

Another hesitation before she said, "I would not suggest that to her. Nethys does still contain her vanity." 

I merely nodded. I was unsure how to respond to this kinder, gentler Gabrielle...as if saying anything would bring back her usual nature. 

The oars went up. The sail was dropped. The longboat drifted closer and closer to the pier, slow and easy as if coming home. The moment was almost magical in the dimming light. 

"Léonidès," Gabrielle asked, her voice truly hesitant, this time. 

"That is still my name, Gabrielle."

"Has Nethys mentioned L'ange de Sange to you?" 

I turned to look at her, frowning. "That is what we are. Blood Angels." 

She shook her head. "That title descends from the Germanic language, blutengel. The literal translation of L'ange de Sange from Norman to Saxon is The Angel of Blood. A subtle difference in syntax and meaning." 

"So what does it mean?" 

"That...is an answer I still seek." 

"Have you asked the Oiym?" 

She almost laughed. "You really did not pay attention to what happened in that gathering, did you?" 

One wrong question and Gabrielle reverted to form. I sighed and leaned against the side of the hull. "I'm still catching up, yes. In many ways. I suppose I am still a boy, to you." 

"No," she said, her expression like ice. "Merely an enemy." 

Then she was gone. 

Straight back to court, I was sure. Leaving behind a comment that was ridiculous in the extreme. Me? An enemy of my own sister? It made no sense. While I appreciated her backing me before the gathering, she was still very difficult to like.

And to be honest, I did not care if I never saw her, again.

Rewriting is not adding...

Not feeling great, today. Nervous about it maybe being Covid so took a home test and it's negative, just like the one 2 days ago...so I may just be having a slight case of bronchitis. Still managed to get through to the last 19 pages of BA-01...and it's still just under 22K in wordage. So I may not be adding all that much. Depends on what happens withe the final confrontation between Prior Paul and Léonidès.

I don't care. The story will be what it wants to be...and what the characters make it. And if it winds up short, it's short. I've seen people in Smashwords charging $1.99 for novellas the same length, so fine. I do mine at $.99 and I'm happy.

I do like how close Léon and the monks become, so much so he wants to protect them from the actions they've taken. It's going to become a thread through the story...helping others.

Good thing is, the sale currently underway at Smashwords has people stocking up on the 4 parts of Hunter that are free, especially book 1. Then about half go on to grab the next 3...and about 25% then buy the full book, since there's a part in it that I haven't offered separately from the rest. I won't do that, time time. I want the stories read.

My one goal.

A meeting in Alexandria

 Here's the continuation of what I posted, yesterday...

-----

An instant later, the other chairs were filled with the rest of the Oiym, and the purest of elegance filled the room. 

The first chair to my right held Anileh, and I knew his name without him saying it. He was about thirty years of age, tightly muscled, stone-faced with uncaring eyes, and his tunic was short and made from linen. His fine legs were covered with leggings but also boots up to above his knees, all in a wonderful mixture of browns and reds. His eyes locked on me and did not waver. 

Seated next to him was Luahl, another male but with a more open face well-chiseled into compatible features. His eyes were as black as his hair, which was cut shorter than the rest, and he wore an unadorned tunic that fit his form snugly, in light shades of brown and green, a leather belt around his waist. He wore the type of shoe that covers the feet then is strapped up around to be secured just below his knee. No leggings, and it was rather obvious he wore only a loincloth under his tunic. Which struck me as disrespectful. 

Ninsira was to his right, seated elegantly, her form shorter and rounder than that of Nethys but just as lovely in a series of light silk layers done in various shades of green and yellow. Her eyes were bright, her skin creamy, and her hair the color of the sun. 

As Nethys held the center seat, Ninshu was to her right and could have been Ninsira's twin were it not for her hair being dark and her gown made of finely woven wool in deep blues and blacks. She also carried a great deal of regality in her posture and pose. 

Uttah leaned on her chair, as if about to speak to Ninsira, seemingly amused despite her truly aristocratic features and lean form. She was the most stylish in a gown made from golden taffeta, which I had never seen before. 

But Gabrielle noticed it and commented on wishing to have one similar. "If you are willing to share your seamstress with me," she said, still in her casual tone. 

Uttah brushed a strand of mahogany-colored hair from her face, smiling as she said, "You should have your own, by this time." 

Meaning, No. 

Gabrielle did not react. 

Finally, in the last chair of the semi-circle, to my left, was Lugalban, who looked as normal and human as any I had ever seen. The build of a powerful knight, as well as a white tunic of linen with borders of silk in elegant burgundy. Boots meant for riding horses. A strap across his chest, from waist to shoulder, and a simple shirt beneath. If he'd sported a sword, I'd have expected to see him at a tournament.

Standing with their backs to the silk curtains were a number of doúlos to attend as needed. All fine-looking men and women of varying ages, neatly dressed in tunics and gowns and all seeming healthy and well-fed. I felt almost as if I were at an audience for the king or queen. 

Nethys began by saying, "You two do not have the appearance of brother and sister." 

"Appearances are deceiving," Gabrielle said, cool and calm. 

No reaction from the Oiym. 

Then Luahl coldly asked me, "Why did your father Christen you Léonidès?" 

"I do not know," I said. 

"Do you know of him?" 

"Only that he was king of Sparta and died at Thermopylae." 

"We understand you know how to read and write," said Ninsira. 

I nodded, slightly. 

That caused Gabrielle to look at me, saying, "Father taught you? It was my understanding you were an idiot." 

I smiled at her and said, "It's easier to make your way through the world when people think you don't understand what they mean by the things they say." 

She cast me only a hint of a frown, but I could tell she was not pleased. And that pleased me, greatly. I then looked straight at Nethys to say, "One of Prior Paul's men, Gregory, taught me. And also how to do summations. He was very patient and the others assisted him." 

"Like one trains a dog," said Gabrielle, casting a cool eye over me. 

Just to be contrary, I barked at her. 

She merely turned back to the Oiym and said, "I was led to believe my brother was never to be turned." 

"That is true," said Luahl. 

"So if I understand this correctly, you knew he was of the same blood as myself, yet allowed him to consort with a group of male vampires, who obviously were grooming him to join them." 

I had to pop in with, "Grooming me?" 

"You think we knew this?" asked Ninsira, ignoring me and not the least bit perturbed at my sister's directness. 

Gabrielle gave the slightest hesitation before answering, but no one missed it. "Didn't you?" 

"Did you?" was shot right back at her. "You were located much closer to him than any of us." 

There was another slight hesitation, then, "I sensed something odd, but I was turned only a few years ago..." 

"Six years," said Nethys, "to be exact." 

"And not once was concern relayed to us," Lugalban snapped. 

I felt the need to speak so grinned and said, "Gabrielle never was the sort to write letters home, and...and I was only her annoying little brother, so why should she care?" 

Nethys shifted her eyes from me then back to my sister before saying, "I wonder at your implications, Gabrielle. Do you honestly believe more was done to your brother than releasing the Blood Angel within him?" 

Anileh shifted forward to lean his arms on his knees and cast her a cold, hard look her way. "Is it a problem for you that he takes pleasure with men instead of women?" 

"No, of course not," she replied, but everyone in the room knew she was lying, and she realized it so went into her natural mode of offense. "I am merely surprised that you do not mind the spread of misinformation regarding your powers and...." 

That brought a sharp tone to Nethys' voice, again, as she murmured, "Gabrielle, do not forget where you are." 

No change of expression from my sister, just that cool, calm demeanor. It was not even broken when Ninshu smiled at her. 

"Tell us of your encounter with Prior Paul," she said, her voice light and musical. 

Gabrielle merely said, "I have, already. At another meeting like this. Six years ago." That last sentence directed at Nethys. "So I fail to understand why I am here." 

"Gabrielle," said Luahl, his voice hard and direct. "Are you familiar with our citadel, in any way?" 

"I am not inclined to explore the residences of others." 

"Below us is a dungeon, with cells strong enough to keep even those like you. We have a couple of vampires down there who displeased us. Perhaps you would care to join them." 

She finally cast him a glare then said, "It was not an encounter with Prior Paul. It was a hunt, on his part, with me as his prey. And you know this." 

I looked at her with shock. "He meant to assault you?" 

"Nothing so trivial," she snapped.

A Journey to Alexandria

Leonides is taken to Alexandria, Egypt to meet with the Oiym., now that he is a Blood Angel

-----

The journey to Alexandria was made in ten days. Our longboat was wide and sturdy, with two compartments for Nethys and myself to sleep as need be. I had never been more than a few leagues away from my village, but now to see the world! To travel on the ocean across bright blue water that rolled and danced around us. Sails unfurled and oarsmen working with inhuman strength. I slept as little as I could, for it was all too exciting. 

My favorite spot was at the prow of the ship, holding tight to the dragon carved into its beam, spending most of my time soaking wet and not caring. There were storms and rain and fog, here and there, but they only added to the joy of my experience. It was an odd dichotomy, but being undead made me feel more alive than I ever had, before. 

I left without a word to my parents. By the time I had crawled out from under the earth, they had found my cart, torn clothing and what was left of my dinner. They assumed I had been attacked and carried off by a wolf, which I would have laughed at had I been told such a ridiculous story. It had rained that night, so they used that to excuse there being no blood, but no remains? I was not a slim boy but a healthy young man. What wolf would even bother dragging my body? Still, I let them keep that story. It was the simplest way to go. 

The sea grew much calmer when we passed a towering cliff and into the Mediterranean. There was also a great deal more business on the water. Boats traveling everywhere. Cities huddled against shorelines. Gulls hovering in the air, hoping to find something to eat off us. Never had I been so filled with wonder. 

We did not land at Alexandria, herself, but at a pier some miles west, where a massive compound of walls enclosed houses surrounding a citadel that was at least four levels high. Odd-looking trees and shrubbery filled nearly every space, with sheep and goats grazing in pastures, close by. I saw no crops being grown, but noticed carts covered with cloths rolling up to the gates and massive numbers of jugs and bundles of grain being carried in from other ships on the pier. 

Nethys took my hand and a moment later we were atop the highest parapet of the citadel. I could look across all of Egypt to see fertile lands along a river she called the Nile and another massive city nestled near its tributary -- Cairo. Farther down it were tall triangular structures caught in the depths of sand, and little ships with tiny sails traversed the slow-flowing water. 

"This is paradise," whispered from me. 

Nethys smiled and said, "If you wish it to be. Come." 

Her simple comment brought me back to myself, and suddenly I sensed that others of our nature were close by. I followed her into a fine room of simple structure, where silk curtains flowed along walls and well-padded chairs sat in a semi-circle around a pair of similar chairs, one of which had someone seated in it. 

Gabrielle. 

I could not see her face, but I knew instantly she was my sister. Her manner of sitting was casual, as was her silk gown and the light amount of jewelry adorning her arms. A cloak of purple silk was draped over the back of the chair and flowed to the floor in so easy a manner as to suggest it was meant to stay there. 

I removed my cloak and sat in the open chair, casting her careful glances. It had been what? Ten years since I had seen her, last, yet still I recognized her perfect profile. Her calm demeanor that could so easily explode into fury. The raven hair flowing down her back and always so perfectly combed. 

I could think of nothing to say except, "Gabrielle." 

She did not look at me as she replied, "You certainly took your time, in coming." 

Nethys cast her a cool look as she took the center chair in the half-circle, saying, "Gabrielle, you were never in the ground. He was. For three days. Keep this in mind when you speak with him." 

My sister barely smiled, and it sent a chill through me. "You like him," she said in a manner far too calm. "Pity he will never be yours." 

I looked at Nethys. Watched her grow cold and tight as she leaned against an arm of the chair and shot Gabrielle a glare that would have frozen the world. "You will address me with the respect I am due," she said, her voice very-well-controlled. 

Gabrielle did not even blink. "I only made an observation." 

"Do not make one, again." 

"As you wish." 

But if my sister was still anything like she had been when I was growing up, she would not be doing what Nethys wanted. And if Nethys was as intelligent as she seemed, she knew it. 

At that particular moment, I was so glad I preferred the company of men to women.

Uh...oops...

I'm at just under 22,000 words for Blood Angel and ran out of story for the first part. That was kind of a shock. Of course, I'll be adding in missed details and expanding on areas I sort of glossed over, now that I know where it's going, but I seriously doubt I'll wind up with more than 24-25,000 words. Which is almost what the 5 parts of Hunter averaged out to, so I guess that's not bad.

I suppose I could pump up the final confrontation between Léon and Prior Paul. It sort of settled into an easy finish...but if he's going to come back in a thousand years to wreak havoc, I think I need to have Leon physically stop him and send him back to the Oiym for judgment.

I think the next section is going to take place during the 30 years war in Germany, when a huge part of the population was wiped out. 17th Century. Maybe. There were nonstop wars beginning in the 12th Century, including the Crusades. It amazes me man has continued to thrive despite the slaughters that occurred all through history. And Léonidès will be referring to a lot of them.

I also need to figure out how he makes money. Mercantile and trade starts expanding at about this time. Or shipping along the coasts? The Hanseatic League was also forming, including complete city-states in Germany geared to trade. Same with the Venice triad in Italy.

Agriculture was still the main way to wealth, but that is very land centric and it would be difficult to do without a castle and serfs and even a barony. People were pretty much self-sufficient with everything they needed, so it's not like he can start an early version of Ikea.

He is laying down one rule for his crew -- feed only on those caught committing serious crimes. While meeting with the Oiym in Alexandria, he fed on a man condemned to death for killing a merchant he'd worked for. It became quite terrifying for the man; a simple beheading would have been kinder...if that's how they executed people in Egypt at the time. 

It's just, Léon begins to wonder if perhaps the man had actually done nothing or was justified in the murder, so he decides to take more control of how it goes.

Yeah, I can see this reaching 25K in words. 

Logjam

I'm working through the history of Blood Angel and not moving very fast or making much ground. I'll get into it but then it doesn't work so rework it...and then find the reworking isn't working. Head banging happens a lot, here.

The thing is, with all of this conglomerating in my brain I keep getting lost as to what's where, how and when, so have to stop and let it simmer down. I also dropped about 6 pages of work I'd done, so I'm back down to just under 18,000 words. Maybe just over 1/3 of the way through.

Something that did come together, at least, is Gabrielle, Léonidès' sister who is also a BA, is at a council of the 7 Oiym, the oldest ones or the first ones. Both she and he were turned by the same non-BA vampire in direct violation of protocol, so they've come to discuss what happened to them and help decide what to do about him.

Something I especially like is how Léon can sense the details behind the story someone is telling. Makes connections in an empathetic way. Can caress objects and their histories are revealed to him. There's also the fact that he hasn't seen his sister since he was 12, but remembers her being haughty and cold towards him, and she is still that way. However, that attitude helps make sure she doesn't take shit off anybody, not even the Oiym...though she does still manage to do it all with style and grace. And she backs Léon up at a critical moment.

I've got the Oiym all worked out, too, 4 women and 3 men, all once thought of as gods in Egypt after traveling there from Sumaria. Names are set, and descriptions. Their base of operations is a citadel/compound outside Alexandria, in Egypt, which was still a major seaport at the turn of the 12th Century, and they have many doúlos servants to assist them

I'm about to get into another part of the story that I hesitate to deal with. Leon has not yet determined never to feed on anyone who does not deserve it. He was lucky with the Viking, but now? At the Oiym's compound? They won't be taking from Alexandria's or Cairo's elite for their dinner; just the poor in the streets. But that's the reality of history -- creatures of the wild taking the weakest of their prey to kill.

Including Léon.

Snippet of Blood Angel

One interesting aspect that turned up in the story is that the Prior and his monks decide to kill Léonidès because he's a Blood Angel. If he is turned, that will anger the Oiym, who are the first BA's, so he is fed upon until death and then buried between two pear trees...only things don't go as planned....

--------

I drifted in nothingness. Pressed on all sides. Surrounded by cold and silence. My head, my face, my chin immobilized, no matter how hard I tried to move them. My entire body was caught in some way that prevented it. I was not afraid, for some reason; more like irritated. And saddened at how my mother would not like the loss even of the minimal clothing I had been wearing. She had often complained about how casual I was with everything I wore. Well. she would have no further cause to complain.

I did not like being held in place, like this, so I think I groaned and flexed my muscles and pushed against that which imprisoned me and it slowly...slowly shifted aside. My arms, first. Then my head. Then my legs. Stretching them out. Drawing them close. Feeling the glorious sensation of earth moving away from me as the sky appeared and the stars gleamed down and the air filled my lungs with beauty. 

I did not even begin to wonder at how I'd been able to breathe before my release. A moment later, I was seated under one of the pear trees, naked, my legs crossed, hunched over, filthy from dirt. Cold but not cold. Aware, but only in the most basic of animal terms. I knew someone was close by. I could hear their breathing. Could hear everything with a sudden clarity that was almost the height of pleasure. 

I felt no fear, none at all. I stretched and looked at my arms. They were mine. As were my legs, still strong and sturdy. And running my hands over my body told me that was me, as well. But everything was caked with mud, so I really did need a bath. 

"You will want soap and water," came a voice from my left. 

It did not scare or startle me. I only looked to find... 

A lady standing to my left, watching me. Her beauty was not of this world, with eyes like almonds in a heart-shaped face, hair raven black, skin like gold mixed with brown. She wore a gown and cloak of exquisite texture, with a single chain of silver around her elegant neck. 

"I wondered when you would return," she continued, her voice melodious and yet casual in tone. "It has been three days since you were planted. It rarely takes so long" 

I rose with ease. Flexed my muscles. Shook my legs. Drew in a deep breath. Then I asked, "Am I returned to this world as a flower come to bloom?" 

"After a fashion. Shall I bring you to your bath?" 

I nodded without hesitation. Which should have surprised me, but didn't. I had no acquaintance with this lady, but for some reason I neither feared her...nor really cared. So when she took my hand and drew me close, I let her. 

And then we were on the parapet of a fortress overlooking the sea. Waves dashed against rocks hundreds of feet below, and far across the water was the hint of another shore, which I could see despite the lack of even moonlight. 

I looked around. The fortress rambled about in an awkward circle...and in two places its walls had been brought down, seemingly more from poor construction than battle. Beyond, even in a night lit only by stars, I found an open meadow stretched over light rolling hills for at least a league, and beyond that was forest. 

"Come inside," the lady said. "The water is hot. The soap is pleasant." 

I realized I was still naked. I followed her into a room where a basin sat in its center, steam rising from the water in it. To my left, a fire boiled more in a kettle. To my right stood a man and woman, both handsome in a very Saxon way, her with cloths for washing, him with fresh clothing. I still was not surprised. 

I slipped into the water. Submerged myself in it. Let its warmth course through me. Then rose, wiping my hair from my face. Feeling mud trickle down my skin. The woman handed me soap and a cloth, and I used them to wash every part of my body. Again. And yet, again. 

When I was done, the water was as dark as the earth. I stood and the man poured ladles of hot water over me, then the woman offered me a sheet to dry myself. I did so, as the man brought me breeches, a tunic, leggings and fine boots, topped off with a belt and a burgundy cloak fastened by a golden hook. Once dressed, I felt almost regal. 

"You must feed," the lady said. "Before the sun has risen." 

I sensed a meal was close by and smiled at her, saying, "I am rather hungry." 

She nodded to the man and he went to a door, opened it, and two more men similar in looks to him carried in a strong but well-bound man with dark wild hair, thick beard, and a tunic plainer than even the one I worked in. A thick leather belt was clasped about his waist and his boots were not tall and were also made of leather.

"A Viking marauder?" I asked. 

The lady nodded. "He escaped the assault by your monks on his party. His vessel is dashed against the rocks, below. All but eight of his friends now reside in Valhalla." 

"Where are the rest?" 

"In the monastery, awaiting their turn to enter the land of their gods." 

"Like cattle or sheep."

"Of a sort." 

"May I have him cleaned, first?" 

She gave me a quizzical look. "Do you want to do more than feed?" 

"No. But I prefer to enjoy my meal." 

I honestly had no idea why I said that, or what I was planning to do with this man. He wasn't much older than I, but he was beefier and cursing me in a language I'd never heard before. Still, none of that really mattered. My only thought was, I do not like his beard.

My reality as a writer...

This is me and writing. I keep trying to get away from it, but my characters keep dragging me back. Sometimes, they want me to work on what I don't want to work on, at that moment. Like with Blood Angel. I'm focused on finishing the first book of it, Léonidès, and I'm in the spot where Lèon's finding out what he is and how it works, but other characters want me to work on the WW2 part so keep tossing ideas at me. That I have to stop and write down. Breaking my focus.

Same for other projects in the wings. Brendan's being good because I'm still doing my reading. In fact, if I'd been thinking I'd have grabbed a book to read, yesterday. But thinking on my feet has never been my strong suit.

I've also got the reality that on August 1st I'll need to redo my website, completely. Which won't be easy. It's an all new format and I haven't found anyone willing to do it for me...that I trust.  And I'll need to work up a good cover for BA...and Dair's Window is knocking at my head, again, as are Darian's Point and an old story I started titled Robert's Wife.

I'm not a fast writer. I have to redo what I write at least a dozen times to get it to where I like it, and BA is going to take a lot of that, as is APoS. Plus I seem to be getting worse with typos as I grow older. That or I'm finally noticing them when they happen. It's still slowing me down.

I wish I could be like Earl Stanley Gardner, who would rattle his stories off to a secretary, who would then transcribe them into typewritten form for him to make any changes he wanted, then it was off to the publisher. Small wonder he wrote so damn many of the Perry Mason books...well, that and the fact that the stories were pretty much all the same.

At least I try not to repeat myself...

Wrecked day...

At 3:40 am the fire alarm went off in my building and would not stop. I got up, pulled on a pair of pants and shoes, grabbed my phone and went downstairs, thinking it would be a short-lived situation like had happened so many times at the building I used to live in. I'm up on the 9th floor, so took the stairs down...and by the 6th floor there was smoke, and it got thicker. And nastier.

Fortunately, I'm still in the habit of wearing a blue face mask, due to Covid, so that mitigated a lot of the smoke...and the mask wound up more of a dirty grey by the time I got out of the building. Fire trucks were roaring up. News Crews. With lots of old people milling about in their nightclothes. It was very Fellini-esque.

Initially, we were told we'd be back in our apartments in an hour or two, because the fire was put out, quickly. Some dipshit had set the dumpsters beside the ventilation system ablaze, and that was easily handled. Only now everything had to be checked to make sure it was okay and not affected by the acrid smoke. So we were bussed to a community center, where the AC was set to freezing, and given a light breakfast then sandwiches for lunch.

Since all I took was my phone, I got a jacket from my car and a charger cord for it then got on the bus. They didn't want anyone to drive over. But there was no place to charge my phone at the center, so I finally walked back to the building and got my car and used that to charge it up. Then after lunch, when we still didn't have word about when we could get back into our units, I figured I was going to be spending the night in a hotel so popped over to Target to get some clothes and such for tomorrow and went to the office to do a full charge on my phone. But then I got the all clear. Took more than 12 hours to handle.

What all this leads to is, no writing done. I didn't bring my laptop or backpack so had nothing to work with, and the chatter was so loud at the community center, I couldn't concentrate. So tomorrow is the return to normal. I hope. And from now on my backpack will rest near the door with things in it, for emergencies.

Hard to focus...

All day has been firecrackering crap, and once night was set it got even crazier. One asshole decided to shoot some off directly in front of my building, where they exploded next to my window. Freaked the hell out of me, the first time, because I was at the kitchen sink. I yelled down at him and I think others went outside to ask him to go elsewhere, which he finally did. That or he ran out.

All along the horizon I can see bursts of bright colors, like dandelions, or streaks of white and red shooting skyward. I tried to record it but what came out was really soft in focus. Oh, well, iPhones ain't all that great in the darkness.

I did manage to get through to the point where Léon becomes a Blood Angel vampire and does his first kill, a Viking marauder. He's visited by one of the Oiym, who lets him know the rules...and things are already starting to get complicated for him.

But the one thing that's really going for him is, Blood Angels are not bound by the same rules as regular vampires, giving him a great deal of power. There aren't many of them, and they're interconnected by a psychic sense so that if one is in trouble the rest know, so I'll need to be delicate about presenting this.

I also managed to read more of Did Ye Know Mammy Died, for APoS before the insanity with the firecrackers started. It's not a bad book and gives me some insights into the Derry character, but it really takes place much later than Brendan's story, so his references to stores and some slang have to be met with care.

After this, I'm rereading Bernadette Devlin's biography and then Eamonn McCann's tract about the Troubles, that was printed in 1973. I'm finding a number of the books I have are more centered on Belfast than Derry, and those two towns have something of a disdain for each other. Like sibling rivalry.

Tried to make something new with a single packet blueberry muffin mix -- putting crumbled brown sugar atop it as it baked. Not a good idea. Tasted all right, but a real mess and somewhat chewy...

Plan of action...

Okay, after some thought and a bit of head-pounding, I've worked out what I'm doing with Léonidès. First off, it's going to be a series. Seven books, each 80-100 pages long...maybe 120, when you include title page and the other stuff. Series title will be The Blood Angel, and the sub-headings as follows:

1. Léonidès

2. 17th Century

3. Napolelon in Moscow

4. 1871

5. WW2

6. New Orleans

7. Modern Day

Book #1 will explore his life at the end of the 11th Century, that his sister was turned 5 years earlier, that he becomes sexually involved with a group of vampire monks before he is turned, and what sets his bloodline apart from regular vampires.

I have the spine basically worked out, and a lot of writing done on the first book and 1871 and WW2 as well as part of Modern Day. New Orleans is written in screenplay format so needs to be reworked. A lot of it deals with the changes in the world and how he and Gabrielle, his sister, work around the growing interconnected aspects of Western civilization. At first they're like gypsies, traveling to where there is war and disruption because that's where the best feeding is, but are finally having to adjust to the growing control being exerted by various governments.

By the end, they're at the point where they each have so much money they're like demi-gods so don't have to worry about such mundane things as immigration and customs and the legal system. The only difference is, Léon has a code of honor he and his crew keep while Gabrielle does not.

I've also learned the Blood Angels descended from the Egyptian gods of 5000 years ago, and the oldest of them are The Oiym, which loosely translated to First Ones in Coptic. I've already introduced Nethys, one of the Oiym, and instead of calling their servants familiars that's referred to as slaving them. I know the connotations of that word but this is deliberate...though I may convince myself to look for a word like that in Coptic or Czech.

I'm aiming to publish #1 in August, in paperback and ebook. Then one every 2 months after, till the following August. Should be fun.

Only question is, will he wind up like Leonidas did at Thermopylae? (FWIW, the sketch is Jean-Louis David's preliminary workup of his famous painting.)

Recalibrating

I've reached the point in the story where I need a list of characters and who they are. I don't have a huge number, yet, but it's starting to build. I also need locations. Especially since I started work on the modern-day section of the story, where Gabrielle asks Leon for help and it leads to a massive confrontation.

While doing this, I calculated how much I've done, so far, and I'm at a total of 256 pages and 55,362 words. That's going to shift a lot once I get the story and characters down and do my conforming edit. Make sure everything fits and no contradictions. But that's a lot in just a month. I could have done my own NaNoWriMo competition.

I'm still working on the specifics of how the Blood Angels work. How often do they feed? Does sex add to their nourishment? Or is it just a torture toy for Gabrielle and a method of connection for Leon? When did they start? I've introduced one old Blood Angel, Nethys, who keeps Leon from committing the unforgivable sin amongst vampires -- killing another. But she also suggests they have a way of having vampires killed so...gotta figure that in, as well.

I doubt I'm even 20% done with this story, but I'm going to push it. If I can get it together by the end of August, I can upload it to Ingram for free. Save me $49. But I'll need a kick-ass cover. I'm also still thinking of issuing it in 7 volumes, then maybe do a box set, later, instead of the full book. I don't know. 

I read an interesting twitter thread about the anti-Semitic origins of Bram Stoker's version of Dracula and don't want to imitate that, at all. I was close to making Dmitriy Jewish but it just won't do. In fact, I added a bit where Gabrielle is a bit anti-Semitic, which Leon doesn't understand since they never even met someone Jewish before they were turned and not until centuries later.

Jeez...it's just getting more and more complicated.

Along for the ride...

One of the things I sometimes like about writing is the surprises brought to me by the characters. Lèonidés is being told by Lèon in first person, so sometimes he references actions he's taken long after they happen as a way to illuminate his next step. Like he's telling the story in a parlor or around a campfire. So I'm three chapters into the WW2 section of the book when he lets me know he's transporting munitions from Gabrielle's factory in Sweden to a group of Polish Jews who are preparing for the invasion.

Which hasn't happened, yet, nor has the Warsaw ghetto been established, but these few resisters can see what's going on in Germany, see how many German Jews barely recognized their danger, have seen how the US and UK aren't receptive to Jewish refugees, and even know Dublin's not keen on the idea. Hell, at this time, Ireland didn't even want the Irish who'd left in the diaspora back unless they could add to the economy instead of take from it. But some Jewish academics were welcome to the universities, like Erwin Schrödinger, who was personally invited by Eamonn de Valera to set up the Institute for Advanced Studies, in Dublin.

That Lèon's buddy, Geoffrey, can see the location of the resister camp is close to where there will be troops of Russian and possibly German soldiers marching past, which would make for happy hunting grounds for them, is never mentioned, of course. And since Leon has a DC-3 with Swiss registry and all of his crew have Swiss passports, it works out well for their meals. And their business.

It only makes sense that vampires who live for centuries would build up massive wealth to live on...or un-live, if you prefer. But something else that's coming out is Lèon's feeling of isolation, even with his crew. He's a Blood Angel, making him superior to them all, and he's refused access to Dmitriy, another of his kind and with whom he could be happy. Even though Dmitriy's a leech. So it seems this story is leading towards him gaining some kind of relationship or something. Not sure, yet. 

Won't be till this draft is done.