OLD VAHMPEERIGO MELODIES IN CHILL PINE BARREN WOODS

This is Johannan. I was once Jonathon's servant. I saved him from burning all those many lifetimes ago. I pushed him under the stone table. He lived. I died. And he became a vampire. Did I do the right thing? Does it matter? I am, as you may recall, a disembodied spirit, currently sojourning among the faithful of Jerusalem. I 'walk' with Jean-Michel and Lailah and Renate and The Three Magcicians. But our world is in turmoil, so I speak for my former charge.

An evil force, a brutal enemy threatens our part of the Firmament. Evil jinns? Gossip not of those spiteful children. I've come to warn of World Crushers and Soul Killers. The one you know as 'Papa' is correct. Something wicked, this way comes. Where have I heard that phrase? Is it in The Bible? Or maybe someplace else?

Look at them, resting among the Piney People. Such false security. Papa knows. So does the Lady Renate. She has eminated out from the Holy City, hiding among the dark, chill depths of a world known to the 'Kittim' (Hebrew term for Romans) as Europa. I two would look, but I am afraid. Too many bloodthirsty demons have breeched these eyes. I will not recognize such devils anymore.

The tragic ones, the elves and cherubs settle right in, flitting about the cold, night woodlands like so many Puckish sprites. Jonathon sits and talks with the Forest Folk. Sarah knits with the ladies. Papa attempts to commune with his vampiric mother. He wants to 'talk' with Renate. But The enemy knows this and they confound his efforts.

Some say they are a piscene species, scaled and toothless, but possessed of hard, thick, crushing lips. Others calim spiders. A few talk of centaurs. Perhaps they are all three and even many more? Who can guess at the wizardry of such old ones?

Aristocratic Manta Ray People glide silently passed their unwelcome guests. Europa is in tears, for they are not a marshall race and cannot send them packing. Renate confers with their king. They've handled 'black-hearts' before, but none so dark as these. Look at them smirking. See them undulate down the sunless boulevards. Shape-changers, usurpers, theives. Hear them utter empty prayers. Know the hate-filled gaze. 

Believers will be tested. And I speak not of any one particular Divine Footpath. For as the Kittim say - All roads lead to Rome.

Baylah rests among the subterranean, Philo-delphian necromancers. You may know them as The-Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. Doctor Franklin  suspends her in a miraculous, lode-stone web. And the music of it, the melody of the Grand Armonica is sublime in all its forms. She mends. And there are whispers among the corridors. Some say he seeks an opening, a tiny delicate thread of creation linking our world to the next. No, I speak not of The Heavenly Realm, but of parallel kingdoms. Universes, I think you call them. For if The Enemy prevails, such will be your only means of escape..........

Now please, allow me to forget a moment. Permit me to drift off and listen, for Jonathon sings songs in Old Vahmpeerigo (archaic, vampire, Catalan-like, Romance Language) and I do so love the sound of his voice.

Enjoy the balm of these resinous woods, my best beloved. Rest easy... for a while. The war comes soon enough......... Evil jinns? Bah! Don't make me laugh!

O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O>O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O<O

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A MIDNIGHT SIDE SHOW RACES FOR SALVATION

please don't expect too much accurate spelling or correct punctuation. (not that I'm very proficient at the best of times) We're in a convoy, two big, heavy, black cars speeding along the Atlantic city Expressway. there wasn't m uch time. Baylah had an encounter with the uber-murderous biological entities.(the ones currently camping out on Europa and a few other outter solar system moons).

she was making some food for her cat, Esmerelda. The sleek, little siamese trollop is addicted to nova scotia salmon seasoned with freshly ground black pepper. Baylah keeps a special grinder (God forbid she should run out) right on the counter of her little jewel-box of a pied a terre. It's over the cozy piano bar. Yes, that's back up and running, but we don't have time for that.

trouble is, something startled her. she heard a sound, like a high pitched hum, or a blood vessel about to break. It made her drop the ridiculously expensive grinder, which exploded into a million pieces (it was crystal). The cat ran out to her safe spot under the rare, silk, Louis XV tufted ottoman. It's amazing all these nice things stay intact, but Edith did a hootchy-koo (a pow-wow spell) and so far (not counting the grinder) it's been working

It happened when she bent down to clean up the mess. the tiny grains of pepper simply stuck to her. she could not brush them off. Others, still on the fine, gray, hand-cut slate floor, started to 'gravitate toward her, winding their way along the cold surface like teeny-tiny ants homing in on a honey pot.  As each touched her skin, it errupted into a barely visible speck of fire.  She screamed. she slapped at her legs and torso trying to put them out. but there were thousands of them.

When the fire reached her hair it set off the smoke alarm. People ran up from the bar. Her manager, Mickey pounded on the door. And he's a big guy, but there's no way he could break it down. Vampires believe in extreemly strong doors. Oh, he knows she's a life-eater. but the people at the bottom of the stairs didn't and one of them calls 911. Mickey yells - Baylah! Baylah! The cops are comin'! The cops are comin'!

she goes into a panic. Not all the cops know about them. Some do and some don't. And she don't know who they're gonna send. So she runs out the little kitchen, pounds into the livingroom and vaults through the big window looking out on Rittenhouse Square. Glass flies everywhere. the frame shatters. People scream. A lady throws up. Some guy's brand new Porsche (I'm sorry, but I don't know what model) jumps the curb and smashes right through the front of the bar. Her huge fish tank crashed out onto the sidewalk. Live sushi is slappin' around everywhere. Feral cats are dashing out of the bushes. But the worst thing is some kid, working for The City Paper gets a shot of this human-shaped, orange meteor arcing up through the night and making for the river........ It was like Bob-on-You-Tube all over again. They even talked about it on Night Line. Martin Bashir gave it the last five minutes.

Luckily, Doctor Franklin was out tooling around on his little electric, old-people's scooter. Nobody recognises him. What? With all the ersatz Ben Franklins they got around here (like Mickey Mouses in Disney World) one more fat old fart gonna make a difference? And remember he ain't dressed in one a them George Washington suits. Now he favors baggy fleece wear from Walmart (hey, a penny saved...) Better for hiding the Depends (he's a good scientist, but some things are beyond the range of human comprehension). So he calls to his guys in the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. and forty five seconds later, two small cigarette-like craft come speeding out from under a dock to intercept the steaming hunk a meat thrashing around in the Delaware. They bundle the crying vampirina into one of the boats and race back to their sub-terranean lair.

I don't know. I don't know. A big boat full a bloated tourists and suburbanites on a dinner cruise might a seen something. But I was told most of them were inside doin' the Macarena and fightin' over pigs-in-the-blankets. Thank God for tradition. Still, it was thought best for us all to go into hiding. Look, Baylah's a vampire. She'll heal fast. Those guys at the Bureau will see that she has the best of everything. And she likes visiting with the mermaid hag (google it). But things are getting strange around here. I know. I know. I know. That's a relative term.

Right now I'm jammed into the back seat of a wedding limo (from a familiar) between two wide-eyed, terrified elves and three gleefully screeching cherubs, as we streak down the highway towards Edith's people, deep in the Pines. Some of us have holed up with them before, but not like this. Woo Hoo! The circus is in town!!

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