Back From Xwaresmia--The Sorcerer Gaumata

I have spent time in Xwaresmia trying to sort out my priorities. I really think I have to put together a book of spells and curses. The other thing that has vexed me is that my associate, Tigran, who is a demon, is proving difficult to train. I did not realize that he was as young as he was when I took him on as an acolyte. He is powerful, but in need of a strong hand. 
I have included these proofs: see the picture labeled “werewolf,” above.  In it you see him transforming. Note his moon-like eyes. Yet he forgets to finish the transformation and it appears ridiculous. The next photo shows him sprouting an eye from the side of his face. He had four eyes, some of which roved aimlessly. It was quite gruesome, but he was asleep. When he awoke, his face returned to normal. 
I think he has potential, however, so I will not give up. I feel that I may become attached to him, and this is not at all desirable. I must focus on the task of finding a suitable post to occupy. There is no longer an emperor of any stature in this unfortunate world, and I do not wish to occupy the throne of a weakling. The world has changed for the worse. I may retire to the forest, but I still covet power.

Insect Demons--Ha!!--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The women were gone now, so I could begin the real work. The wind outside howled. I wondered how those women would survive the cold, but if they died, it would be all the better for me. Rustem would know that it was his fault. Oh how he would suffer! For now, I finally allowed him to sleep. In his mind, I would be making preparations. While his mind was weakened by sleep, I would lay the plans for the next day. I made him dream of xrafstars—roaches, lice, ants, blood sucking ticks, all monstrous and terrifying. The boy Mihr slept, but he was soon to know terror.
The light of dawn was just peaking out when Rustem’s voice croaked out.

“Mihr, move slowly,” Rustem rasped from under the hair that now covered his face. “Get the oil lamp and when I kneel, look into my hair and see if some insect is there.” He lowered himself with trembling knees while sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped in a rivulet from his temple.
Mihr obeyed, examining his father’s hair, which was now ruffled and unkempt, but he saw nothing. He noticed an unpleasant odor clinging to him. This was something that always emanated from a person I possessed. 
Rustem’s breath was catching. Mihr pushed aside some of the hair to look at his scalp. I forced Rustem to imagine a scuttling insect when he felt the slight brushing of his son’s fingers. He leapt up with a muffled squeal and suddenly began to cavort around the room in terror, while he raked through his hair with both hands, mewling in dread.
I observed how Mihr got into a corner and stood as still as he could until it was over. Now Rustem just stood in the center of the room, eyes darting about as his breath hiccupped. The boy crouched in his dark corner with his head on his knees until sleep finally overtook him again.
I’m sure he was awakened by Rustem’s squeal of terror. I had drawn Rustem outside, where I now showed him a vision of giant, red eyed, hairy spiders. He was unable to move, such was his fear. Suddenly, I made one of them plop down onto his head so that the bulging abdomen split, covering him with vile, yellow slime. Waving his arms frantically, teeth bared, and wide-eyed, he keened in terror. I watched from his eyes as his son backed away into the house, ashen with dread. Rustem beat his head and squealed again, hopping up and down.
“Get it off! Get it off!” he wailed again and again as I held my stomach and laughed until I’m sure my body wet itself as it hid in the tree where I had left it. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/taino-ti-6/

I Am a Lucky Sorcerer--Gaumata

I sat inside of Rustem’s mind and wrung my hands nervously. I was elated at the turn of events, but I couldn’t deny the fear that surfaced again, to my anger and distress.

I tried to suppress it by gloating over my success. At least I was in.

The next step was to somehow get rid of the sorceress Anahita. When the morning dawned, I urged Rustem to hurry to the creek nearby the house. The water was unbearably cold, and although I suffered what he felt, being ensconced in his body, I cared not. I let him feel the full brunt of my disgust of sex. I wanted him to feel what I felt, and in this case, as I was made to suffer by his act of sex, he was made to suffer my disgust of it. It made the bond we shared very strong. He scrubbed himself with sand and mud until his skin was red and sore. The rest of the day he passed muttering prayers and avoiding his family.

In the evening, he returned to the house. His children were playing merrily inside. His wife, the sorceress Anahita, looked worried as she eyed him, and I became convinced that all of my plans were about to be shattered. Just then, as Rustem was unfastening his sandal, the wretched girl, his daughter Spenta, jumped upon him and grabbed his ears, urging him to pretend to be a horse. My loathing of the feel of her body was well communicated to Rustem, and he reacted by throwing her off. This was reckless of me, but it was an automatic response. I looked up to see Anahita narrowing her eyes, perhaps seeing me finally within the mind of her soon to be addled husband.

The demons in Hell smiled upon me, and a miracle occurred. As the girl landed on her face, I saw it. She was wearing a yellow skirt that dragged to the ground, but where her youthful womanhood would be hiding, was a red stain. I read from Rustem’s terrified mind that it was her first menstruation—something they had not expected yet.

You are not from these times, so I will explain Rustem’s terror. The magi had strange and fantastic beliefs. One was that when a woman menstruated, she was actually possessed by a demon. The blood was the indication of that possession. This story came from the fables of the Magi. I will relate that tale tomorrow, if I am not too busy tormenting some poor devil.

http://www.extasybooks.com/banner-of-fire-9/

How I Plotted My Revenge--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The day came when I was ready. I was bursting with need for revenge, but I knew I should take my time. I wanted to succeed this time, but I also wanted to savor the fear I would engender. Is it not delicious? Why rush?
I did not return to the palace or the mage’s hall. Instead, I honed my skills in the darkness of the forests. Soon many evil witches and wizards took note of me and became my followers. I began my plot by instigating Rustem’s son, Mihr, to evil. Mihr, being the son of a sorcerer and a sorceress by the name of Anahita, held hereditary power, but it was as yet undeveloped. 

One day, as he played by the edge of a stream, I spied him whittling a figurine of a cow. He intended to give it to his sister. I entered the figurine and his fingers paused. He returned to cutting on the wood and I cried out as if in pain. He dropped the cow and saw that blood dripped from it. His hands were covered with blood. I spoke the words of the Holy Avesta that his father had taught him only that morning. The verse was called “the Complaint of the Cow.” It accused someone of hurting its vital breath. Mihr turned and ran crying to his father. 
When the sorcerer-mage came to see what had scared his son, all he found was a great pool of blood. He caught the scent of sorcery, but I had covered my tracks well. I could now smell his fear. I was able to get to him through his children. It made me throw back my head and laugh heartily. Now I knew one weakness.

Next I attacked his daughter, the sorceress-to-be, Spenta. She was quite young. She asked her mother for a basket to collect flowers and left for the nearby woods. I possessed the bodies of countless cockroaches so that she saw them as colorful, gay flowers. Skipping home with her basket brimming with the vile insects, she saw her parents sitting together. In her pride, she spilled out the enchanted “flowers,” which now took their real forms as large cockroaches. This is when I realized that Rustem was mortally afraid of insects and other xrafstars. The terror on his face was comical. He hopped in a frenzied dance of horror as they raced to hide themselves in the corners of the house. Into their bedding and clothing they ran, until the sorceress Anahita struck them down dead with a spell. Rustem refused to help in the task of retrieving the bodies, and for days afterwards, he would screech if he found one of the dead things.
Rustem now knew that someone was threatening the children of his family. He began thinking about fleeing the palace, despite his love for King Cyrus the Great and for his position as head sorcerer-mage. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerers-daughter-2/

The Sorcerer Gaumata--People are Cruel and Perverse

For now I found myself in an awkward situation. I knew I would be reprimanded, but I never imagined the punishment they were planning.
They took me to stand before the King of Kings, Cyrus the Great.
“I suggest death,” Rustem said.
“Yes, my friend. I respect your judgment, but for this time, make him an example for other evil mages,” Cyrus suggested.
“Very well. Chop off his ears!” Rustem ordered.
I was shocked and horrified. This punishment was worse than death. I would be disfigured for the rest of my life. People would look at me and know my disgrace. A large soldier approached me with his dagger unsheathed. Slowly he cut my ears off, one by one. The pain was unspeakable. I never thought anything could hurt that much. The ears are very sensitive. I never knew how much.
I was released, and I fell to the ground screeching in agony. I writhed for hours until finally I fell into unconsciousness. Nobody tended to my wounds. I woke to the buzzing of flies laying eggs into the wounds where my ears had once been. The throbbing pain threatened to drive me insane, but dreams of revenge helped me as I staggered to the woods.
My teeth chattered as I muttered spells in an attempt to ease my pain. I had not learned spells to ease pain, for healing spells seemed worthless to me. I never knew that I myself would need them. Tears gushed from my eyes as I continued to gnash my teeth and cry out. Pain tore through me like streams of fire. I swore through all of this that Rustem, Cyrus, and all of their descendants would pay for my suffering.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

From the Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal--My Progress into Darkness

I will not reveal the names of the teachers I studied with. They were relatively useful, but after learning what little they had to teach, I killed each of them in turn. I realized that I had to actually experience my magic and eventually it would come under my control. Such powerful magic, however, is dangerous—even to the wielder. I found a sorcerer-mage by the name of Rustem after making my way into the Persian metropolis of Pasargadae. He had knowledge that I needed. He was born to be my guide, but he was perverse. This man Rustem was the head sorcerer-mage to the so-called King of Kings, Cyrus the Great. He had power, and this made me hate him.

The problem is that he was quite perceptive, and he knew my heart was full of evil. His perversion was that he wanted to be a pure hearted sage, when only evil runs in the veins of sorcerers. He taught me some useful things, nevertheless. My goal, you see, was to be able to possess people for a longer time that was normally possible for me. Usually, I could stay in a person for a few minutes. In addition, I thought that it would be best, in so far as my goal was to gain enormous power, to act as a guiding figure in the mind of the person. Imagine, I thought, if I could enter into the mind of Cyrus the Great! I would influence his every thought. I would make him a slave to my desires. He would cower in the back of his mind while I forced him to decree whatever I fancied.

You may ask, how can you force a person to do something against his wishes? Don’t be so stupid! Every person has a weakness—sometimes many of them. The greatest flaw is fear. I look for that weakness. Yes, the greatest fear. Some people are foolishly afraid of bugs. Some fear disapproval. Some are terrified of lurking monsters. I find these fears. I find them and use them. There is no person alive who can hide themselves from me. I am drawn to fear. Ha!! Once I found a man who had an irrational fear of having his eye poked out. I conjured in his mind an image of his eye quivering on its stem of nerves, bouncing on his blanched cheek. His heart actually stopped.

I was becoming very skilled, but there were practical problems. I had to keep my body safe while I was sojourning mentally. It would be helpless, so I would have to hide it in a safe place. No—I trusted no person or demon to tend to my body. My goal was to one day find a suitable body—such as that of Cyrus the Great, and possess it. If it got old and died, I would simply transfer my mind to his successor. Oh I am a genius! But this was something I was working on.
One day, I decided to finally test my skills. I should have waited. I should not have experimented on Cyrus the Great, for he was protected well by the sorcerer-mage Rustem. I knew the king’s fear. And I say these fears can be quite foolish. His was indeed foolish.
Cyrus the Great’s fear was that of being seen or heard relieving himself in the privy. He did not even want anyone to know that he was subject to the physical needs that others had. He had gained this fear when he was a boy growing up with simple, poor shepherds. He had the knowledge, almost innately, that he was a prince. As a child he lived in dire poverty, having as a baby, been ordered killed by his father, the king. A kindly soldier had left him with a childless couple in a remote village. Even as a child, he would pretend to be a king and he bossed around the village children until they would come and serve him. This was how he was, in fact, discovered. Word had spread about his regal bearing and the way he held sway over the village, even at the tender age of ten.

One day, before being discovered, Cyrus had gone far up into the rocky hills to relieve himself. The day was fine and he lingered. Squatting, he passed his stool and then used a few large leaves to wipe himself. Being fastidious, even at that time, he always carried a little brass pot of water with which to wash himself afterwards. He had just finished when he felt eyes upon him. One of the boys who had been quite hard for him to subject was staring at him with an insolent smile on his face.

“Oh King!” the boy gloated, “Your shit stinks the same as anyone else’s! Why should you be King and not me?” With this, the boy ran down the rocky hill to crow his discovery to his friends.

Cyrus the Great had conceived of his need for secrecy at this point and it was reinforced when a Greek visitor had returned to his homeland relating how the Persian monarch was the greatest of all kings. He swore that he had never seen Emperor Cyrus the Great voiding stool or urine. Rumors spread that he didn’t even need to sleep—rather, he meditated instead.
My mistake I will reveal tomorrow. I am busy now. I see my servant putting sweetened water out for annoying birds that are no bigger than bees. They bothered me at first, and I poisoned many of them before I realized just how evil they are. Those birds fight constantly. They are without pity. I enjoy the fact that they are beautiful, as I am, yet black hearted. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

Journal of the Sorcerer Gaumata--How I Began My New Life as a Sorcerer

After killing those two, I left the place and returned in the morning when the crowd was removing her charred remains. The villagers saw me and immediately began to make the sign against the evil eye. Nobody dared accuse me of sorcery aloud, and this made me smile. I’d finally revealed my power. They were helpless against me. I inspired dread!
I left only to return later to eavesdrop on their conversations. Indeed, many of them suddenly remembered incidences where they had been forced to do things when they had been around me. They even accused me of things I’d not done. I felt a surge of power. No longer was I the skinny brat who was beaten and hated. No longer was I simply the grown, pitiful son of the town whore. I wanted to feel the power.
It was the morning of the next day and people congregated near the village well. I approached and stood fearlessly in the midst of them. The same people who had treated me like a dog made way for me and looked at me fearfully, but nobody dared to attack me. They just made the sign against evil and looked away. I wanted more. That night, I killed two cats and threw them into the village well. I imagined the reeking water after a few days. It would have been wonderful, I thought, to know a few spells and curses to increase the power of the evil I had wrought, but I was a mere pup. There was much for me to acquire.
I left that night hungering for knowledge. My mother had accused me of sorcery for my entire life. Now I saw this as a good thing. I wanted to surpass even my father in evil. Finally I was powerful! I had a mission in life and greatness awaited me. The only thing I needed now was a master who could teach me how to bridle this incredible power that came naturally to me. I wondered if my father had known what he was doing when he sired me. Had he longed for a powerful heir? If so, why had he left me alone with no guidance? It seemed that he indeed had a purpose, for he’d stayed with my mother until he was well sure that she was pregnant.
I couldn’t shake the idea that I was a miserable accident—a result only of his base urge to mate. I couldn’t stomach the idea that I was but a product of lust. If I ever found my father, I determined, I would torture and kill him before having to learn the truth. Before meeting him I would be powerful enough to cut the tongue out of his head and feed it to the buzzards in the desert. I elected not to hear the truth. I wanted to think that he had sired me as his heir. I was the culmination of his power! I was a son for which he could be proud. I would surpass him in the skills of sorcery! And then I would put him to death for his insolence!

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman/

How a Sorcerer Deals with Bullies

Life was never the same for me after I realized that I could possess people. My mother never beat me again as she was wont. From that experience I learned that I could enter a person’s body and feel the sensations of that body. I would sometimes even control the body in these early days, but only for a few moments, and only if the person was weak in the mind. I remember the first time I discovered this.  I have not always been as assertive as I am today. In fact, I was the village punching bag. Do you know how it was for me? A few of you might. A bully in my village loved to box my ears whenever I passed by him. He was usually accompanied by a gang of other ruffians, eager to please him, their leader. This time he was alone. When he saw me I cowered down on my haunches at the base of a tree and tried to cover my head with my skinny arms in preparation for his blows.
He lifted me by an arm, for he was quite a large fellow, and was about to deliver a punch when I felt the power. I willed myself to slip into his body and stood there over my slumped and still form. I considered what to do. I could feel a pain in the boy’s right toe. It had to be an infected toenail, I thought. It gave me an idea. I gritted my teeth, or his teeth to be accurate, and began to beat that body. I used his own fists to strike his mouth and nose, although the pain was unbearable and I had to scream. Finally I slammed the boy’s head into a tree and willed myself back from that pain- seared body to my own sound body. I stood on shaky limbs, but my body felt no pain. I looked at the heap in front of me. Teeth lay scattered about and the face of that boy was ruined. I skipped away, pleased with what I had done. After this the village ruffians kept their distance from me.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Sorcerer Gaumata--How I Discovered my Powers

Ahh…I believe that being born into a position of power and influence corrupts a man. It is the rise—like that of a phoenix from the ashes of a burned and scarred soul that truly makes for a great man.
Let me stray not, however. I was going to tell you how my powers came to be. One day my mother was cleaning the house of a rich man. I waited in a corner, trying to make myself small and invisible. But it wasn’t so. An obese male child, whose face was as flat as a pan from eating so much food, came and sat close to me. I saw that even his head had become fatty and folds formed under his chin and at the base of his head. His tiny, mean eyes were set into the fatty cheeks and brow in such a way that he looked like a hog fattened for the slaughter. In fact, in his stubby fingered hand he held a large hunk of pig meat, which he gripped by its bone handle. It dripped fat and emitted a wonderful fragrance.
Me, I hadn’t eaten for a day, and I watched as his peg-like teeth tore into the crispy, golden skin. The meat smelled wonderfully of garlic and pork! I had never tasted such a thing, but the fragrance made me think it was delicious beyond my dreams! Although the sight of the mean-spirited boy was repulsive, I closed my eyes not to block him out, but to try and savor the meat he held. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance until I could indeed taste the rich meat with my own mouth.
I opened my eyes suddenly as the taste filled my senses. I could see myself—my body, slumped before me. I realized that I was in the body of the corpulent boy! I felt that I’d been stuffed into an overflowing bag. His body was so sickening. I paused but for a moment and then I tore into the meat with that boy’s repulsive small mouth. I was enjoying the food through another’s body! I ate and ate until the entire thing was gone, then like a dog, I began to gnaw on the bone until a great piece of cartilage tore off and I attempted to swallow it.
That thing lodged in his throat and I began to struggle for breath. I stood and tried to scream, but vomit rose and clogged my breathing even more. I, in that boy’s body, fell to the ground in terrible spasms and then suddenly it was over. I dreamily opened my eyes and before me I saw a horrid sight. The boy lay curled at my feet. His eyes popped out of a face purple in color, and his mouth was set in a mask of death. Pee had puddled at his groin and he smelled of excrement. I screamed a thin howl of terror.
My mother was on me in an instant and she dragged me away from the corpse. I stood there shivering while she set to screaming for the women of the house.
“I found him like this, alone! What has happened?” my mother wailed as if stricken with grief.
The women gathered and began to shriek and wail in mourning. An old woman who appeared almost blind began to grope at the body. “I expected this would happen one day!” she said in a singsong voice. “Daughter-in-law, you have spoiled him so badly that it has happened as I predicted! He has eaten himself to death! You are fat and useless yourself. Now without a son you may as well be dead. I will council my son to find a better wife!”
At this the mother wailed and tore her bodice as she scooped dusty earth up and poured it over her head and body. I stayed quiet, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. One woman finally opened the corpse’s mouth and pulled the hunk of cartilage from its throat. “It is as she said. Greed has killed this brat!”
My mother didn’t ask to be paid for her work that day and we went hungry. As we made our way home she grunted and looked away as she spoke. “You! You killed that fat good-for-nothing rich child with the same sort of sorcery that your father used. You had better beware or we will both end up burnt at the stake for using unlawful magic!”

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

My Vacation with the Sorcerer Gaumata

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerers-daughter-2

My dear readers: I have been away for some time with a dear friend, the evil mage Gaumata. He enjoys his fame as an vicious sorcerer, and so I make no excuses for him. In any case, he is terribly old fashioned, and although he is fascinated with the idea of a blog to tell his story, he refuses to touch a computer. He has asked me to take his dictation and post his story. Perhaps he can be convinced to have his own page soon and leave me to my own musings. 

The great and powerful black-hearted sage Gaumata says:

First entry: My cursed birth, my whorish mother, and my sorcerer father.

My wonderful inscription at Behistun will tell my history in Persian, Babylonian, and Elamite.  I will be famous for all time, but you, the reader of this magical text, will know my true story.  I am Gaumata the Sorcerer, now known as Darius the Great of Persia.

It is my secret, but how can I gloat if I think that nobody will ever know?  This is my journal—my story, and I will have it interred with this body.  I have already enlisted the help of the best mage in the world.  He will make sure that this journal and my remains are protected from grave robbers, but later, perhaps in two thousand years, it will emerge and people will know the truth.  Do you think I really trust that mage with such a responsibility?  No indeed!  If he only knew!  I chose him because he is young and strong and his mind is devious.  I plan not to die, but to use my precious black sorcery to take his body, as I have taken the body of Darius as a vehicle for my great mind.  Maybe later another great man will emerge—a man perhaps greater than Darius the Great!  Ha!  But let us start from the beginning.

It all started as a happy accident. I was a miserable lad of five years living with that whore who gave birth to me. She was never a mother to me, but treated me like she would a stray dog. We lived in the town of Fugasa in the Sogdian outlands. I remember her, this mother of mine. She would scream, “Don’t look at me! You have the evil eye, just like that father of yours! What a demon sorcerer he is!”

Over and over she would tell the story. “I was only a child, just a girl. So tender and beautiful! My father died when blood ran with his piss. It was probably the doing of the sorcerer, for a sorcerer can put a curse on a man and truly he will die! Listen my son, for you cannot blame me for hating you! That evil man, after my father was dead and my mother left destitute, he came to us. He offered money and a home to my mother, and she, the weakling that she was, sold me to him. I was glad for what happened to her for that crime!

“Do you know, you craven scarecrow, that I later saw her body after it had been tossed into a refuse heap, and I wasn’t even grieved? How could I be? That man used me, a scrap of a little girl! He stuck that thing into me right here!” she would point to the place between her legs.

“Again and again for over a year he did this to me until finally I was round in the belly with child. With you! Then he stopped. One day he just disappeared and I stayed like a beaten goat in the place he had paid for. I stayed until the landlord took me by the hair and threw me out. Later, his wily wife came and got me out of the gutter. Why not sell her to the men who frequent our rooms? She said to her husband. After that I was forced to be a whore. Now do you know why I hate you? You have those eyes! The same eyes as him—a murky green with an ochre center. I said don’t look at me!”

That was what I had to suffer. I remember the bitter cold nights I passed without a blanket and with an empty stomach. Now I can eat delicacies of any kind, but as a child, I starved. Sometimes the men who pleasured themselves on my mother would come and beat me, as if their sexual scratching stirred within them hate and violence. Yes, I do think that was why.

The Crystal of the Ukteena

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-crystal-of-the-ukteena/

One of the best things about writing the Crystal of the Ukteena was that I was able to utilize my knowledge of organic chemistry, which allowed me to accurately describe the creation of methamphetamine in a modern lab. This was part of the modern setting. The story travels to the past as well, and here I utilize my knowledge of prehistoric Mississippi Native American tribal life. The Ukteena was a traditional monster of this area. It was depicted as a sort of dragon with a crystal on its head. It could only be defeated by destroying this crystal.
The Ukteena monster can be put to rest by magic, but when Professor Aydin kills a student who he feels has put his drug operation at risk, the blood from the murder seeps into an Indian burial area and activates the Ukteena, who rises, filled with the hunger of centuries of waiting. 
Although Aydin also wants to destroy beautiful Professor Clarissa Ford, she is the only one who can save him, and the rest of the world from the ancient curse.

Tony Manichino--Vampire Detective

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sicilian-undead/

Tony Manichino—Vampire Detective

Tony was born in Italy in the early 1920s, the son of a farming family in Sicily. The family wasn’t rich in money, but it was land rich. The family cows produced enough milk to make cheese to sustain the family and to sell. Their orchards produced a bounty of olives, their most important crop, but fruit trees also added to their wealth.

This bucolic life ended when Mafia thugs forced the family to sign over their land. Tony’s parents fled to New York City where they began to make a meager living selling fruit from a stand. The quaint farmhouse was replaced by a rat and roach infested apartment. The fields with their trees lolling with heavy fruit were replaced by the mean streets, teeming with desperate fugitives from all over the world.

This is the world Tony grows up in. It is a world that makes him angry and bitter. 

When Tony’s father follows his mother and little brother in death, Tony decides to end his miserable life. 

Seething with anger and hatred, he attracts the attention of a vampire. This vampire, Eliade, enjoys the blood of the truly grief stricken. Caught in the embrace of death, Tony fights back, summoning all the anger and hatred he has been bottling up and bites back. Thus is born a powerful vampire demon who decides to take back what is his. 

Burned Dreams

http://www.extasybooks.com/burned-dreams-8/

Atar is now the Firestarter, but his only wish is to escape to the land of his dreams. It is the fabled “Land of the Water Dogs,” where white mares graze by a crystalline lake. Atar and Bulliwuf are making their way there, but as the rightful heir to the throne of the Persian Empire, Atar is thrown into responsibilities he does not wish to face. Zohak is waiting to pounce on the throne. He is also an heir, but his rule will bring disaster to the fair land. When forced to compete for the throne, Zohak loses until he cuts a deal with a demon. Zohak was once the evil brother of Atar. Now he is a demon.

Excerpt:

 “Do you want this?”

    

    “Yes! Yes!” Zohak screamed. 

    

    The Goddess was inches away now. Zohak was surprised to feel the deep fear struggle violently to the surface. He thrust his hands out, warding her away, his face a mask of fear, but it was too late. He couldn’t move. 

    

    She bent her head and kissed his right shoulder with unseen lips. Tiny fangs pierced his skin. They were scalding hot, like fire. Zohak shuddered with pleasure. She kissed his left shoulder, tiny fangs again piercing his skin. Zohak felt the most wondrous waves of power shoot through him. He felt like a god!

    

    Then Zohak screamed and screamed. He fell to his knees, screaming. And all the while, his head rang with the sharp, measured sound of iron striking iron. The sound rolled through him, tearing at him, tearing at his sanity like a raging river. The awful clanging mingled with his pain, producing a fear inside him unlike any he had ever experienced. He screamed until the blood dripped out of his mouth and nose. He felt the most awful sense of shame and violation that he had ever known. The pain persisted like fire, with unbearable intensity. The Goddess behind him laughed. The thick air was foul with the scent of rotting corpses and vile things. 

    

    “What have you done? What have you done?” Zohak screamed at the presence, hating it with all the intensity of his pain. He could not hear his own words for the awful clanging in his head. The measured tones fell with inexorable precision. Zohak fell to the floor, clutching his shoulders as more unbearable pain centralized there. Under the palms of his hands, he felt his shoulders swelling. He felt something smooth push against the palms of his hands. 

    

    “What…what’s happening to me? What? Ahh!”

    

    Zohak screamed again, but his voice was horrible to hear. The weak, rasping croak was a parody of his normal clear voice. He took his hands away, but he could feel the things growing. A hungry hissing filled the chamber, and the clanging died away. Zohak strained to hear it, but the hissing was now dominant. 

    

    “No! No!” Zohak sobbed, wishing this were a dream.

    

    The chamber was in blackness again. Zohak stumbled over to his room, and fumbled for the lamp. He somehow got the thing lit. Blinded by tears, he blundered into his bedroom. The light from the lamp seemed to be swallowed up by the utter darkness around him. He froze before the mirror, shaking his head in denial. Through his tears, he saw the sleek black shapes weaving in the air above his head. Their scales glinted in the yellow light as they undulated ceaselessly in a way that was sensual, but at the same time unspeakably horrible. 

    

    The one on his right shoulder dipped and flicked his damp hair with its red, forked tongue. The copper eyes of both snakes regarded Zohak with steady malevolent intelligence through the mirror.

    

    

Son Of Fire

http://www.extasybooks.com/son-of-fire-10/

In a world lit only by ancient fires, passion and danger await.


    
    

Dragons and sorcerers populate Atar’s world. A lost prince taken in by a tribe of savage Scythians, he is hated and abused because of his disabilities. He does not know that he is to be the next Firestarter. As he is forced to confront evils he never imagined possible, he also gains the strength to find his voice and his honor. Watching and hating him, his half-brother, son of the evil wizard Dahaka, waits for the opportunity to take away Atar’s destiny for himself. How will Atar and his werewolf companion and lover, Bulliwuf, thwart an evil they cannot see?

Excerpt:

Atar crept out of the camp. He could feel the night wind. It still had a chill of winter. The moon was waxing high in the clear sky and it shone on the landscape like an eerie noontime sun. Atar felt his breath quicken. Tonight was a time of celebration, especially since he had been miraculously granted his boon. 
    


He was dancing, he realized with a distant part of himself. He was moving his graceful, muscular body in the moonlight to the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It was the sound of a young girl, sighing as she discovered the passion of love for the first time, yet this voice was deep, ancient, and eternal. He laughed richly, throwing his head back, delighted with life. He was alone, he knew, and this knowledge allowed him to dance in honor of that odd, achingly beautiful voice without any inhibitions.
    
    

Out of the dark emerged a tall form, resplendently silver in the moonlight. Atar stood suddenly dazed as he recognized the werewolf. 
    
    

His silvery hair shone in the dark. His eyes, so cunning in the face of a wolf, still held a deep mystery. In one large hand he held a bouquet of exquisite flowers. These he handed to Atar, who was too stunned to speak.
    
    

“Is this how it is done, my dear Atar? I saw you give such a thing to the girl. I was hoping…”
    
    

Atar was used to speaking with Bulliwuf mentally. This was perhaps why he never spoke to the others. Only Bulliwuf understood. He struggled to speak. He opened his mouth, but only a sigh emerged as Bulliwuf pulled him closer, so that their bodies met. Atar felt the hardness of the werewolf, and his heat. The flowers fell from his hand as his arms instinctively embraced Bulliwuf’s strong back. The werewolf buried his nose in Atar’s hair, snuffing as he usually did. His hot tongue, so familiar, lapped around his ear. Hot desire emanated from the silvery form. Atar went stiff with the sensation. He held on as if his life depended on it, and the heat from the naked werewolf seemed to seep into every part of his willing body. 

He’d always found acceptance with Bulliwuf. To be loved fully, to be an object of desire, rather than of scorn made him feel confused and weak. Bulliwuf took his face in his large hands and held him as he kissed Atar deeply. He took of him hungrily, until Atar was breathless. Their hot bodies intertwined, and Atar felt his soul rise to places he’d never imagined existed.

Pride of the Beast

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

 Fleeing a charge of murdering his master, Artavan, the orphan slave boy, joins his noble friend Tork, on a mission beyond the village—where it is rumored that demons and monsters roam. They soon encounter two sinister strangers who may have a link to Artavan’s unknown past. The Sorcerer Angraminyu, a powerful mage bent on killing one of the strangers, Prince Devdata, will not allow Artavan and Tork to part ways with them, not that Artavan wants to. Although he once thought that Tork was his only comfort, now he begins to see something concealed in his shifty eyes. Does Tork know something about him, which he wishes to hide? Who really is his friend? When he finds himself in the strong arms of Prince Devdata, Artavan’s heart disobeys his mind, even though grief will surely be the result.

Fire Demon: New Book by KB Forrest

http://www.extasybooks.com/fire-demon/

Korin feared a real fight. She’d had so little training, but her inner demon took over before she could be killed. Now she is terribly scarred, inside and outside. But now she is also a feared general and the head of the rebels. Zohak has fallen prey to madness, having accepted the forbidden fruit of power. He is a slave to the same devil who entrapped Vorak, only he is also possessed by the demon snake-dragon Kaliya. He now feeds on terror—literally. Only Korin can stop Zohak’s reign of terror, but he calls upon Vorak to lead his armies. When confronted with such a challenge, Korin fights with Vorak, who spirits her away. He simply cannot resist her. The unexpected awaits them both as they manage to form a plan to vanquish the Devil Eblise and win freedom for themselves and for the kingdom. Can they join forces to defeat the arch devil Eblise, or will he devour them along with their powers?

Excerpt:

The group of seven wizards had locked hands, making them too powerful for the magi to defeat. They glowed with a greenish iridescent light as they enveloped themselves in a mist that made them invisible to human eyes. They walked forward toward the woman who could feel their approach. She began to scream.

The wizards on both ends of the hand-holding line held sacrificial daggers. This must have been part of their plan—the plan B, if the head sorcerer somehow lost his head. If they succeeded, Eblis would be restored to his power completely. Korin ordered her mount to descend, but she was quite far from them. Now Korin saw with a jolt of horror that in the confusion of the battle, Eblis himself had escaped. He shimmered briefly through his cloak of invisibility. Korin shuddered involuntarily when she saw his true form. 

He was shucking himself out of the boy body, and as he did, his head elongated into an angular mask of rage. His skin was old—as ancient as parchment, but it glistened with putrefaction that would have left a corpse that long dead. His ears were mostly cartilage, and they were very long. Pointed at the top, the devil’s ears were pendulant on the bottom. He wore earrings made of human bones. The ear holes writhed with what looked like maggots, but as she looked closer, Korin realized that they were festering, squirming naked humans covered with the slimy effusion of death.

His eyes were black hellholes from which fires spiraled. Occasionally the burning arms or legs of some damned person could be seen thrashing about in hopeless pain. Bags of flesh hanged from his eyes, making him look even more ancient and evil. His long, pointed nose was warted heavily and appeared like a pendulous, rotting gourd. The mouth of the beast was the most horrific. Thin, cracking lips surrounded sharp, but decayed teeth swarming with creatures ranging from naked humans to insectoid creatures who fed on the humans, while the humans fed on the cheesy decay between the teeth. 

Eblis walked awkwardly in a cross between the knuckle walk of an ape, and the dragging of a disemboweled monster. Indeed, his gut bobbed over the ground as his obscene genitals trailed a slimy track as he walked. His distended anus stuck out of the flat buttocks that hung loosely. Worms and maggots dropped from it as he made his way to the woman who struggled and screamed anew, although mercifully, she could not see Eblis’ real form.

Vorak thundered from his position in the army. “No! Korin, stop! Don’t approach that devil!”

The Mind of a Devil--the Oni

The Mind of a Devil

As an oni can shape-shift, why do they appear in a horrid form? The answer is that they are evil by nature. They are cannibals, and enjoy human flesh cooked or raw. Onis were once human, at least some of them. These humans may become onis because of something horrible that has happened. The oni can be a monster deserving pity, because it is quite often the cruelty of humans that has caused the transformation to this form as a devil. For example, in Fox Sorcery II, a young woman’s father makes up an elaborate ruse to make her believe that her lover had died. He does this because he doesn’t think the lover is her equal socially. This causes her intense grief. Women in particular are thought to be given to jealousy and shame. Japanese people were taught to avoid emotions such as anguish, longing, frustration, anger, or resentment, because these strong sentiments can cause one to wander in the world after death. The Buddhist idea of samsara, an Indian philosophical concept literally meaning to wander, is expressed in the concept of a ghost wandering ceaselessly in search of closure. While samsara referred to transmigration, even Indians understood the state of being a ghost as one of the possible bodies one might have to endure.

To avoid this cursed existence, one should avoid situations that might cause one to become distraught. As a devil, an oni is capable of violence, but at the same time, it is a soul aching with some sort of unimaginable pain. Only such anguish can cause a human to take such a form. This is the reason that onis are so often represented in Japanese stories as having human frailties and very human grief or anger. In Shinto this malevolent quality, aramitama, arises when a human or kami feels insulted or wronged. The oni is ensnared in the world of humans, being unable to move on to another body or to the realm of the ancestors, because of a strong emotion such as grief or rejection. The oni is a liminal creature—a part of the world, yet not of the world.

If one were haunted or possessed by an oni, there were specialists who could deal with the problem. The Onmyoji was a ying-yang magician skilled in exorcism. One might also approach a Buddhist monk for help. I will explain how they exorcised demons, devils and other spirits in my next entries.
See my book:
Oni Devils at devinedestinies.com/oni-devils/ 

New Book Release--Daughter of Fire

You can’t ignore your inner demon.

Korin is a slave—beaten and abused, but never broken. Every day she watches the soldiers of the Imperial Army practice and wishes she were one of them. One day, her slave supervisor attempts to blame her for the catastrophic loss of the army’s herd. In the resulting dispute, she accidentally kills him and flees to the army camp, where she is mistaken for a minor officer.

Thus begins Korin’s journey in the land of free men. She doesn’t ever want to return to her old life. When crazy Antiochus, a superior officer, takes her in and covers for her, she takes up her duties with a passion. All is threatened when a fellow slave recognizes and reports her. Will they call her bluff and engage in a sword duel meant to uncover her real identity? Worse yet, the last of the pureblooded demons, Vorak, has taken an intense interest in her. He suspects, like the others, that there is more to Korin than meets the eyes.

Could Korin’s uncanny strength and affinity for the night have a more sinister meaning than she realized? Could she be a demon? Korin must discover the meaning of her strange powers before she gets caught up in something she can’t control.

Available at: http://www.devinedestinies.com/daughter-of-fire-5/

http://www.extasybooks.com/daughter-of-fire-5/

My Favorite Demons and Monsters, Part 1

I draw from world mythology to create demons and monsters in my stories. Zohak is such a demon. His myth begins deep in antiquity in the tales of the early Iranians. When we look at these myths, we have to be aware that there are many variants, and that a myth develops in time.

Zohak is the villain in the Fire Chronicles (Son of Fire, Trial by Fire, Burned Dreams, and Banner of Fire), as well as the Fire Demon Chronicles (not yet published.) His story is one pieced together from the Indo-European dragon mythology. Azhi means a dragon or dragon snake in Old Iranian. The dragon was often depicted as hoarding water in mountains, causing drought.

Azhidahaka (Dahaka is a shortening of his name, and Zohak is a later spelling) is a three-headed dragon in Iranian myth. I use Dahaka as the name for Zohak’s wizard father). This dragon tries to steal away the Royal xwarnah, (in later Persian Farr).

Azhi Dahaka’s myth tells about how he ruled after the first king, Yima (Jamshid). He rules for 1,000 years, during which time he experiments with breeding half human, half demon creatures, and works sorcery of all sorts.

He is finally chained in Mount Damavand until the end of the cycle, when he will break out and terrorize the world, eating a full third of humans and animals in existence.

In the Fire Chronicles, I combine these motifs. Dahaka, the evil wizard brother of the Firestarter Anacharsis, wants glory and kingship, but he doesn’t have the power to overcome his brother. He steals Anacharsis’ love, Queen Cunaxa the Pure, and produces a son, Zohak. Anacharsis later has a son by Cunaxa, Atar, who is destined to be the next Firestarter and king of the Seven Kingdoms. Throughout the books, a giant boar with golden hooves and tusks follows Atar, whose name means fire. This boar represents the royal Farr, or power of kingship granted by the gods, in Persian myth.

Zohak covets power and longs to gain the throne, but finally, he does so only by selling his soul, unwittingly, to the demons. In one Persian myth, Zohak is an Arab who has as a mentor the Devil Iblis. Zohak starts out as a good son, but he has an evil seed in his heart. Iblis appears to him as a lovely boy who steals his heart. Zohak is irritated with his father, Merdas, who has a generous heart, and gives too much to the poor. Iblis councils him to kill his father, but Zohak can’t stand the thought of it. Iblis does it for him by digging a hole in a garden path Merdas takes in the predawn hours to pray in his garden. When the poor man falls in, evil Iblis buries him alive.

Now when Zohak goes to Iran and conquers the region, Iblis appears again in a different guise, as a comely young cook. He corrupts Zohak further. Zohak does not eat animals, for at this time, people were more civil. First Iblis introduces eggs into his diet, then meats of all sorts until Zohak is hopelessly hooked. Zohak is most pleased and offers Iblis a boon. Iblis asks only that he be allowed to kiss Zohak’s bare shoulders.

When he does so, a horrific snake-dragon breaks through each shoulder. They demand the brains of innocent humans as food. So, Zohak goes from being ambitious, to being a monster himself. Eventually, the only way to stop him is to chain him up in a cave in Mount Damavand, where he still lives today, waiting to be released.

The Fire Chronicles follow Zohak as he goes from being a jealous brother to a demi-demon who can’t be killed. He is a tragic figure, because he is tricked by the Devil, but only because he has the seed of evil in his heart.