The "Blood Companion Series" ended with the Great Disappearance, leaving behind only a few of those who were brought to life over the ten years that the series ran. Here you learn more of Cacious, who was brought to life in the "Blood Companion" as the poor Vampire that was rotting through his existence. Cacious was born in the early 1800's and has seen plenty through his existence, including the Great Disappearance.
Follow Cacious as he deals with the affects of that event and struggles to keep the city of Alucard Heights under control.
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Excerpt:
He wants to believe it is a dream. How could he be stuck in this line with common souls? After all, he was not just a regular soul, he was born of demon blood, and he was waiting to go to where he was made. He is standing in a line, hundreds in front of him, and thousands behind. He stood almost six feet; he had a slender muscular build, and hauntingly blue eyes. He had long brown hair with very pale skin, his face and features were very symmetrical which made him pleasing to the eye. He was wearing a black t-shirt, torn blue jeans, and black cowboy boots.
He had appeared here, in this spot in line, closer to the destination than some, further than others. He surveys his surroundings to see the land is dry and cracked, the sky is filled with murky gray clouds, and he can see the unbearable heat radiating off of the scorched ground. The heat is the most unbearable thing he has ever experienced.
He looked into the faces of those who shared the line with him; all he saw was their loneliness and hopeless despair. Not all who surrounded him were old like he thought they should be, many were young, and some even seemed to be teenagers. Could every one of these people deserve this fate? “Have we all been forsaken?” He was screaming at the murky sky when he was silenced.
“Lekua errua nahi den izan behar du,” a man in black shouted. He did not speak the man’s language, but he knew that it meant to place the blame upon himself. There were men in black that bordered the line from beginning towards where the end may be, if there was an end. When someone tried to run from the line, they would be caught by these men in black, and placed back in their place in the line. The grasp of those in black would burn the skin of those who tried to escape.
He looked into the black eyes of the man in black and chose to say no more to him. “How could God allow this place to be?” He asked this aloud and received only questioning gazes. It was then that he knew that God was not in this place. No one here knew God, he had only appeared in his place in line moments ago, and he realized he was soon to forget. He wondered if he would forget, considering he was the product of a demon and a human.
“I’ve never call upon you until now,” he began to weep to himself. He knew that the only time he had ever spoken to God was in his times of anger, or when he expected more that what he had. He was never grateful for what he had achieved, he was always wanting more, envious of others, and covetous of all those who had what and who he desired. He was a killer, he had done so in malicious ways that none could top. Though there were times of regret, he continued to go on with his ways because that was what his demon father expected.
As the line pushed him forward, he thought of his chances to do good things in his life, the times where he chose to turn his back on others rather than care about his fellow man. He cared only of himself and what he could make on his own; he did not care who he stepped on during his climb to the top, or who would suffer due to his heartlessness. A man that loved the company of women, he saw not point in settling for the soft embrace of only one woman, he wanted to partake in as many young women as he could whether they were willing or not. Let’s face it, there were plenty willing to sleep with rich men like him, which may be why he could see some of those women in the line with him. Lust was surely one of his favorite sins.
He closed his eyes to weep; he saw the suffering he caused in his life. He saw the weeping girl in the alley that he tried to force oral sex upon when a vampire stranger came to her rescue. He suddenly knew her tears; he saw her sobbing as his eyes could not open, as if he was forced to see this. So many were saved by those who chose to fight him, what could he do now to redeem himself?
As the vision ended, his eyes opened and he noticed the long line in front of him was getting shorter and shorter. He looked around the side of the line to see the giant pit that they were all moving towards. He could hear what sounded like millions of wailing souls in pain. “God,” he was screaming as he tried to stop his progress forward. He dug his heals into the ground but the line was pushing him forward, “Please forgive us!”
He felt the burning grasp of one of the men in black, “Nola ausartzen berarekin hitz egiten duzu emen. Zure sufrimendubeste edozein baino tzarragoa izango da.” The guardian of the line was angry he spoke out to God, and ensured he suffering would be great. He forced his head forward and cracked it against the forehead of the man in black.
As that man fell he stepped out of line. Many more of those demons in black started to close the distance on him, but he knew that if anyone here could fight them off, it was him. One got close enough to reach out for him, but he grabbed the demon by his wrist and slung him into other that were coming from behind him. He knew he could hold off a few, but he would never be able to fight off them all. He did not know what to do as he paused to see those who were still tumbling into the pit. He saw them try and stop as they got to the edge, but the line would not stop, those from behind them pushed them into the pit.
He took off running across the dried land before him, he did not know if there was an escape, but if there was, he knew that he might be the only one to find it. Even as he was part demon, the heat was unbearable; he could feel the fluids in his body evaporating as he ran.
He could hear them coming for him, but he never took the time to look over his shoulder to see what was coming. It sounded like a thousand hooves stampeding toward him, there were deafening screeching that echoed across the land, and though it frightened him, he knew that it would only slow him down if he chose to look.
This baron plain before hell followed the lighting schedule of earth, as he ran it was beginning to get darker, which worried him more than the stampeding army behind him. If there was an escape, he had to find it before the darkness fell and the more dangerous creatures came out to play.
He dug the heels of his boots into the dried earth, and as he came to a stop, he turned to face the lower demons that were coming to take him back to the line. Those that were coming for him looked like rotting bodies without heads. There was steam billowing out of the stumps of the neck, bat-like wings protruded from their backs, and long tails that resembled the human spine with bits of flesh dangling from them. The ends of the lower demons’ tails were equipped with what seemed like railroad spikes that had been driven through the bone.
He tore the black t-shirt from his back, then tangled his fingers through his long locks and tore his hair from his head. His skin turned red as his body began to grow. He was going to show these lower demons a fight, he was taking his demonic form, which he had never gone for in all his years on earth. A few of the lower demons flinched with the sound of snapping bones as his knees snapped to bend the opposite way, as his legs took on the form of an animal’s.
His eyes began to glow white as what appeared to be steam began to flow upward from his eyes. His teeth began to lengthen and become sharper. The bones in his face broke as his snout elongated as his head took on the form similar to a goat’s with glass-like teeth which were several inches long. Raven-link wings of black feathers appeared from his back as a fiery halo appeared above his head.
The lower demons came to a halt, hovering in the poisonously hot air as they came to the realization that their prey had to be of the upper level of demons. “Zer da hau gizakien arimak ekin ari zen,” He heard one ask of another why he had been in the line with the human souls.
“Zigortua izan nahi jugu kalte dugu zion bada, profezia idatzita,” another shouted in fear that they would be punished for harming an upper demon.
He did not care what they had paused for, he began to gallop toward them on all fours, and a screeching roar coming up from within him as the white steam still billowed from his eyes. They screeched in horror as his massive body tore through their ranks as he made his way back to the line. He thought that maybe he could find his way out if he could get himself thrown out.
As the line came into sight again, he targeted those demons in black and began slashing through them with the massive, glass-like claws of his hands. Parts of the men in black flew in many directions as the souls in line began to scatter across the baron land. Thousands of lower demons, like those that had chased him, came flying up out of the pit as thick black smoke began to pour out of that hole in the earth.
As the souls of the humans scattered from the pit, his demon eyes caught sight of a figure standing at the edge of the pit. The man-like figure was wearing a shirt with a round-cornered collar and a pleated front, a waistcoat with a relatively high waist which was squared off at the bottom with a wide lapel and stand collar. It was his father, wearing the styles he loved of the male fashions of the 1800’s. “Son, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. Come with me before you anger all the minions of our home.” His father’s voice was calm, almost symphonic, but the lips never moved, and the voice seemed to echo within itself.
Somewhere deep within his demonic soul, he knew that the only home for him was in the city of Alucard Heights. Even after so many spirits came together to destroy him, to send him to hell, he wanted to be there among the other supernatural creatures. He was not sure what he was now, was he still a vampire? What did that really matter now? Here he was, everything was of his free will now.
He was destroyed, he knows death in all ways, and it had become his expertise. He had ended many lives in so many ways; most of the deaths that he caused as a vampire were pretty conservative compared to others that he had been involved in.
He was gone from the world for the duration of five mortal years, which felt far longer as he spent it in hell. Hell was not a fun place, even for a demon like him, and he went through just as much as any other soul who went there as punishment.
He had allowed the blood of the demon to take control; he ignored his conscience and went for all the temptation and darkness that the blood brought. He wreaked Havoc upon the city he now wanted to call home, but since the Christian rapture had already occurred, this might be his opportunity to redeem himself. He wanted Redemption in the eyes of all, especially his victims, and in the eyes of his brother.
He did not want to be evil in this time around.
Alucard Heights was a grand city, more skyscrapers per capita than in any other city in our free country. The crime rate was at an all-time low, but with creatures like the vampire running around, only feeding on evil, who could wonder why? He was sure that the rate dropped significantly after he was sent to hell. This was where he wanted to be, where he needed to be, and his heart was pulling him here. He clawed his way up from the sea floor, miles off the coast of the city. His eyes were glowing white, steam filled bubbles floated upwards from his eyes.
He stood almost six foot tall; he had a slender muscular build, with piercing, sapphire blue eyes when they were not burning with white heat. He was not too ugly; he was quite attractive, which helped with his conquest of women in his first run of existence. His skin always had a living pigment, even when he was more a vampire than a demon, but no one would ever mistake him for a dead thing, even if he was still a vampire. His face was a closed book with emotions, except for anger. He tended to hide his emotions so that they could not be used against him. He was once a master at doing such things.
He wanted his new beginning to be alone, a time to decide what he wanted to do with his new time on God’s earth. He had to learn to live with himself. He did nothing to stop the downfall of his brother. His brother had fought off all the evil that their demon father tried to force upon them; he only wanted to be good. He allowed his brother be driven insane with love by a woman that thought his brother was him. He had been driven him insane when they stole his blood to make her a vampire to go after the hunter that had killed that man, or should it be said…Vampire that she loved? This creature, whose given name was actually Adam, had gone on a reckless rampage that eventually brought the true anti-Christ to power when he was destroyed. The blood of both brothers brought the power of this Anti-Christ the power he needed. Adam did not know until he was dead that it was Marcus, a demon, who carried out the plan that this, Meris, could not bring herself to carry out. He suddenly thought of his brother, it filled him with anguish, and it motivated him to push harder to get up to the surface.
He had also tried to kill his mortal friend only because she did not want to love him as anything more than a friend. Yet, in the pages of “Angel Eyes, Vampire Tears,” you learned that she met her end trying to save stop Damion, the destroyer of Adam, from killing him. That was the first time he had let his conscience win, he played dead. Even after He tried to get her killed, she could not just let him die. She burnt to death in that fire, ending her life in an attempt to save him. Now her daughter was grown and living somewhere in the city. He was afraid that she would someday seek out her “Uncle.” If she had read the books that others wrote of him, then she knows that he basically killed her mother. There was no way she could be as forgiving as her mother.
When he came back from hell, he came up from the sea, right where the Island once sat, and where his father unleashed his evil upon the world. He swam to shore and walked several miles to the city itself. He felt himself driven to the large Cathedral that sat near the center of the city. He would make it his own, for now. In this building, the former leader of the vampires here used the building as a sort of City Hall for the supernatural.
He didn’t feel as if he was a vampire, though he did have a driving urge to drink blood. He forced himself abstain from such activities; they were unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Besides, the world knows what he had done and it will be hell for him to redeem himself. “Angel Eyes, Vampire Tears,” and “The Lighthouse,” told the truth to the world of Lelio Froste.
Nothing burst into flames the first time he entered the cathedral, which he did as stealthily as he could, he did not want anyone to know he had returned yet. He went through the main entrance, past the pews, past the tabernacle itself, and into the back where the priests might have made their quarters and found a room that he found to be suitable. The room was dusty and dark, but his eyes were well acquainted with darkness, and he could see perfectly. He lay down on that dusty bed and stayed there for several days as he rolled thoughts around in his mind of how he would redeem himself for all that he had done in his existence. The room was a poor man’s room, which would have been a fitting place for true priests that must have once called these rooms home. It was a stark contrast to the main hall where the people once sat for mass with its extremely tall ceilings with all the Gothic columns. All of the religious idols were gone now; most of the stained glass had been replaced with geometric shapes rather than the Stations of the Cross.
As he lay in that bed, he knew that someday he would restore the cathedral to its full glory and open it back up to the worshipers of God that had gained their faith after being left behind. He thought of it as being a good deed that he could perform for the city, but for now, it would be his home.
He lay in that bed for much longer than would have been comfortable for a human of any age, when he would sleep; he would be plagued by a dream.
It had felt as if they had been held up in a run-down hotel for hours, he was waiting for it to become dark enough for her. He knew that this woman of his dream was a vampire.
He watched her as she slept, he tried so hard to see her face through the darkness, but the shadows of the dream were evil and constantly obscuring her face. He was becoming frustrated as she lay there in perfect stillness. He felt a longing for her, a feeling that he had never felt before, and he knew that this feeling was love. He knew that this serene creature had been resistant to him; he thought that maybe that was what the feeling was all about, but he could not explain away that it was love. Her read hair was partly covering her face; he could barely make out her full lips slightly upturned in a slight smile.
There was a moment where he was afraid that this might be Sakara, but then he realized that this woman was far taller that his sister.
He wished he knew what she dreamed of as she slept. He wanted to go to her, to awaken her by tearing through her clothing, but he knew that was not what would prove to her that he truly loved her. It did not change that fact that he wanted to taste every bit of her body. He could care less if he ever tasted her blood, he wanted to love her, and he wanted to truly make love to her. Lelio Froste wanted to give himself completely to her.
The thing that he found most infuriating was how she would compare him to his brother, but he did not know how this mystery knows of his brother. How did he know she did this, he had not seen her before this moment in the dream. He heard a sudden, faint catching of her breath, indicating that the vampire sleep was releasing her. He turned his head back towards a television, before she could realize he was staring at her.
“Lelio,” he turned to her and saw she was wide awake.
“What?”
“Your mind is wide open to me.” He cleared his throat as he was frightened of what that might mean. Had she been awake as he stared at her? He suddenly forgot that it was a dream as he walked over to her. She looked up at him; he could still not see her face. He wanted to scream, begging to God that he might know what the creature that had stolen his heart looked like.
It was a restful time for his resurrected body while his mind raced. There was not epiphany; there was not grand self-discovery, only the rats that scurried about on the floor as his dream plagued him. He was pondering if he could ever truly redeem himself when he felt a presence, a familiar presence inside the cathedral with him, and a familiar scent.
It had been several months since Lelio had entered that room when the presence had overwhelmed him to the point that he nearly forgot the dream. It was not searching for him or wandering through the structure, it was as if the presence was waiting for him. He did not want to move from his dusty sanctuary, part of him was afraid; he did not want to go walking into any battles with those who might have to make him pay for what he once was.
He left his little room and slowly made his way to the main hall, the dread filling him, the scent burning away his nose hairs. He had once been a coward, he could not believe that he was going to face this presence on his own, hoping that he could convince it that he was a changed creature. He walked out into the main hall and up next to the tabernacle, he was lucky that he did, he needed to grab hold of it to keep from falling as his eyes met that of the presence.
“Howdy, Cowboy.” He was wearing a duster and a ten-gallon cowboy hat. “I’m Ba-ack.”
Lelio felt his mouth fall open, if it had been a cartoon, his chin would have hit the floor. There were three long rows of pews; the presence was sitting in the very center of the middle row. His old source of blood was gone in the rapture, so he had refused to feed again, which brought the rotting on again. “Howdy, Sheriff.” His face was not that mobile as Lelio greeted him, now that it was covered in duct tape again, he had to raise his fingers to his face to draw his lips into a smile.
Cacious was a vampire that refused to feed, so he suffered from a rot that followed him through time. After exchanging blood with the sister he had thought was dead, yet was a vampire, his form was healed. Cacious took this form, the rotting form, so that Lelio would recognize him. Cacious could see that Lelio was uneased by his presence, “Lelio, I know that we have not had a very loving past,” I let the illusion of the corpse fall so that he could see my NEW true form, “I know your intentions, I am here greeting you, not attacking you.”
“You know that I am a bit unhappy with how you have called my books lies?” He smiled as he leaned against the tabernacle, “I am also a bit unnerved that you have stolen my look,” it was meant to be a joke and Cacious did laugh.
“Your look? I was dressing this way one hundred years before you were born. As for your books, were they not lies?”
“Yes and no, Cacious. They were dreams, dreams that plagued me, but I could never tell who the actual characters were in that movie that played in my sleep. It was all things that I felt were going to happen, so I wrote it, plugging myself in and those I knew existed.”
“Interesting, and you know your father is up here now too, right?”
There was a moment of fear that danced across his face, Cacious pretended no to notice, I knew how important his aura of confidence was to him. “Yes, I do. I don’t know how it will go, but if you are going after him Sheriff, I will be with you all the way.”
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