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The Messenger of Chaos

By Derek Dark

Smooth white fingers ran over the piano keys, methodically reproducing a Litz melody. The notes were lost in the enormous vaulted hall, dimly lit by candlesticks placed on the piano. The full moon reflected on the floor in a myriad of small translucent squares like a fine netting of light just behind Count Biffron, who face was convulsed with the effect of the romantic inspiration. His face was pale and his grey sad eyes gave one the impression of going back in time, as far as the delights of treacherous Babylon. His pallor was in stark contrast with the red violet of his lips and the opaque blackness of his black hair which fell on his shoulders. Music was one of the rare things which kept him in contact with his dying humanity, he had experienced the rapture of the senses the during his refinement, the most perverse, he had drunk from the chalice of life until satiation, he always desired tasting more forbidden secrets and these quests had taken him to many foreign lands at different times. Stars combed the night, each in it’s own way, depending on where he was, but on the other hand the mentality of mortals remained unchangeable. He had once asked if God had perhaps created him to stop the human race proliferating like rats, but God had never answered him so therefore he had to find a reason for living by himself, this hadn’t been an easy task but he had eventually accepted his status as a vampire. Some mortals had managed to create a culture around him, those who had had the honour of tasting his blood before their death and in turn become vampires, but there had only ever been 3 and in his eyes this was already too many…….
There had been a thunder storm this night and he had discovered the gothic castle surrounded by mossy tomb-like stones. He’d felt a secular presence observing from the turrets and he had just quenched his thirst with the blood of a young girl that he’d frozen in her virginity for eternity.
He had found the architecture of the castle surprising, especially so in the arrangement of decorative sculptures like the gargoyles and other demons which gave architectonic characters that exalted mutually in a Sabbath dedicated to the Gods of blood. The few windows where of considerable proportions for a castle, becoming under the architects supervision vast decorated glazed bays of which the large pink one represented a dragon with the head of an octopus and eyes phosphorescent with spite. The lancets below represented four badly defined forms but clearly giving one the strange sensation to be playing the flute. Statues of horned demons and beasts were splayed around the massive central door solid enough to confront centuries. The Count changed himself into a fine mist and slid under the door to recompose in a vaulted hall not unlike a nave with a stone staircase at the far end leading to a corridor, which divided in two towards the rest of the castle.
He had now inhabited the empty castle for a number of nights and had felt the evil presence trying to enter into contact with him, brushing against him from time to time in the form of a draught diffused by a filmy hand. He had found the library filled with evocative books of black magic, Al Azif the Arabe, the demented Abdul Alhazred or the Vermiis Mysteriis written by Ludwig Prinn. He took this last one, claw like nails on long white fingers. The illustrated cover was in perfect condition and was covered by stretched human skin, he recognised Ludwig’s style in all it’s splendour and leafed through the magicians book with all it’s forbidden formulas, the letters written in blood. His mind plunged deep into the chaotic whirlpool of his memories, his black thoughts pirouetted round him like autumn leaves around a bare tree; he dispelled his thoughts in a gesture of rage, he needed fresh blood, the Beast in him swept away the human part of him that had come to haunt him.

He flew over the dark forest, a bat detached in the perfect globe of the full moon. He plunged suddenly into the middle of the trees lead by an infallible radar indicating a living presence. In a moonbeam he took back his human appearance as he landed noiselessly at the edge of a clearing; Melting into the shadows of a tree he observed his bivouac of good fortune. Round a crackling fire he could see two men, their faces deformed by the dancing flames, a young woman was sitting a few metres away from them, she threw back her abundant red hair and her arms crossed behind her back suggested to the Count that she was a prisoner. There were also two horses who were whinnying nervously. He heard one of the men shout at their captive threatening her with a small dagger.
The man who was shouting had a wound on his left cheek, but regardless of his clearly menacing attitude the young girl stared back in a disdainful manor.” They’re going to burn you , wretched witch” he retorted, “you can tell she thinks she’s untouchable the she-devil” his companion shouted back angrily, laughing uncouthly. “Did you hear that noise?” the first man asked as he rose to his feet, the second grabbed his gun as he went towards the nearest thicket, a groan was heard , the man fired a shot with a deafening explosion in the direction of the forest. “damned witch stop your devilment!” yelled the man with the dagger. His accomplice recharged his arm and at the same instant an enormous wolf leapt like a shadow, out of the woods jumping on the man, powerful claws tore the gun away whilst his fangs ripped through the mans throat right up to his cervical vertabrea in a gush of blood. The horses reared up kicking the air with their front hooves. The other guy who had been facing the young woman didn't see the wolf change back into a vampire, in a flash the count planted his red incisors into his jugular vein and whilst keeping him in a stranglehold with his powerful hands, drained him of his blood catching the green eyes of the young captive. He sensed both a mixture of terror and appeased revenge in her face. The count coldly dropped the bloodless corps, his flamboyant aire softened now that the beast was nourished. He felt fear oozing from the prisoners body, which pleased him.
"Are you going to suck my blood as well?" she shouted at him.
He took cunning pleasure in taking his time in replying, roguishly wiping his mouth. He felt his pulse quicken as he slipped behind her and severed the bindings with his sharpened nails. She stood up, her breasts pounding under her bodice, her eyes prying timidly whilst her mind searched an uncertain future. He stroked her cheek tenderly.
" You owe me your life, so that means you are now my slave!" retorted the count swift as a blade.
"I would prefer to be burnt ".
"Is that so witch! What's your name?" the count asked her.
"I'm Kezia Mason the mistress of rampant Chaos!"she replied in a striking voice.
The count raised his eyebrows " what insolence ! What makes you think that you can pretend to be Kesia the witch?!"
She casually passed a hand through her hair "They surprised me as I was on my way to the sabboth, they threw holy water on me and attached a bag around my neck containing sacrificial hosts which neutralised my power making it possible for them to seize my personal demon, just like that!....." the flash of hate that the count saw in her eyes reinforced her words. She then proceeded to unfasten the top of her bodice and he saw a small bag hung in the hollow of her breasts.
"Take off this confounded bag, it's burning me" she cried powerlessly.
The count hesitated a second and then seized the knife from the dead mans hand and slid the blade through the cord, cutting it clean. He noticed the red mark that the sack had left on her white skin and shuddered as he thought about the sacred sacrements.The witch bend down in front of him.
"I owe you my life at the moment, so what is my rescuers name?" she asked with a downcast glance.
"I am count Biffon, vampire for eternity, witch!" he retorted with pride
She then threw herself at his neck, "Make me a vampire, this way you won't be lonely..."she suggested languidly.
"If solitude had been a woman I would have already had one! What else can you offer me devil woman?"
She took a step back, sadness in her eyes then with a flash of inspiration her face suddenly seemed painted by a strange expression of success.
"I can enable you to travel in space-time, to discover other universes!" she said.
She scrutinized his stare and found exactly what she'd been looking for and whilst she smiled he foresaw Hell behind her fine features.He accepted her pact with a nod of the head, she lifted her arms towards the sky and chanted " Yog- Sothoth neblod Zin, iia Brown Jenkin haralius!"A roll of thunder suddenly punctuated her monotone chant, she doubled up as a torrent of black blood spurted out of her mouth and as it touched the ground, transformed into a hideous little creature, half child, half rat, hairy and plump. The count stepped back in surprise, the creature began to clack his black hook like fingers and began groaning!
The witch slowly stood up. This is Brown Jenkin my demon!" she held out a hand to the creature who sniggered as he fixed him with his wicked yellow eyes.
The count had recouperated the horses made the witch and her demon mount with him. After a somewhat intense gallop they arrived at the castle. The witch cried out in amazement, surprised at the strange architecture of the place. She admired the vaulted halls as she tlooked around, her demon perched all the time on her shoulder. He had the impression for an instant that she recognised the castle as she passed with ease down it's dark corridors. He thought he heard an evil presence murmuring from it's lair as if she approved of the new venue. The witch lingered at the library leafing specifically through the tales of black magic by Ludwig Prinn with a feverish look. He felt dawn approaching with a tugging in his chest urging him to go back to his coffin. He had actually found one in a bricked up room situated at the back of the crypt. It had been empty so he'd took for himself. Since then his sleep had been full of strange visions which related to the cyclopeen ruins and the verdâtres, an evil creature was waiting to nail him into his antiquated tomb.It seemed that the creature whispered monotone chants which implicated "Ia Cthulhu wganagl ftagn", there was also lunar landscape and a castle in onyx at the sommet of a rugged mountain. He'd heard strange cry's coming from the castle also the sound of a flute which burnt onto his mind like acid. He woke after the same nightmare, feeling the night extending it's coat outside. He rose and left the room through a gap in the wall, the powers he held never ceased to amaze him concerning the molecular structure of his body. Then as he walked through the crypt he heard a shrill sound coming from a recess that he'd not as yet explored, he followed the damp corridor which was lined by human skulls jutting out of the wall niches. The sound of the flute from his dreams reverberated from the centre of an amplified laughter which echoed off the walls. He made out a closed door at the far end of the corridor and a green light flashed from underneath and he thought he heard the obsene whisperings of all the damed put together suddenly invade his mind. He got to the door and paused for a moment without moving, he could distinctly hear a hypnotic chant coming from Kesia from behind the door. He grabbed the shaky handle and slowly opened the woodwormed door. His mind at first refusing what he saw. He walked forward and up to the green sticky silt that covered the floor all around him. There were two pillars with cuneiform inscriptions and a central alter where he saw to his horror a black changinf form with red eyes next to a sneering 'Brown Jenkins' who clacked his claws together. In front of the alter was an enormous black well which spurted flashes of green light with a blinding intensity, the sound of the flute was coming from the well, the count approached the side of the abyss. He could feel the black form watching him and then it talked to him with Kesia's voice,
" I was waiting for you my love....join me for eternity..."
The count stared back at the form stupified.
"Where is Kesia" he cried out baring his fists.
The form gave out a gutteral laugh which deformed it into a more hideous shape. "My physical exterior is to your left , I am Nyarlathotep the rampent chaos and Kesia was my mortal appearance".