Lucius and Lilith, ruler of all vampires and new gods, plot to steal the precious blood of a certain Messiah in order to become beyond-omnipotent. But it all goes wrong or maybe right.
The success of The Hunger Games informs us that society is angrily aware that the establishment and systems of this world are fraudulent. We have been taken advantage of in all possible ways...worse: the Powers and Principalities have been feeding on our minds, bodies and very souls. The rocket-rise of Philip K. Dick and his movie adaptations tells us the same thing, plus that paranoia is not a big destroyer--as The Kinks sang--but a big rescuer. Both The Hunger Games and PKD also reveal that we yearn for the archetype or trope of the sacrificial hero, the champion scapegoat, or least those who would lay their lives for a cause or the least of our brothers. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened too much in Western Culture; but let's see if reality imitates that religious art of the Savior Godman meme. After all, we are all Savior Godmen if we find our inner Divine Spark or at least artistic Voice. It's a matter of accepting the breaking pain that goes with it. Like Ernest Hemingway said, "I may be destroyed, but not defeated."
The vampire, post-apocalyptic, sacred scapegoat, and dystopian genres have risen in popularity. Yet I must contend that my Dark Instinct Series , written a decade ago and only seeing the light of day now, contain all of these genres and even more, whether you're looking for a great message or a great adventure.
Thus I have posted the introduction to Heretic , which also reveals that the humorous 'Jesus was a vampire' idea you see around the Internet was something I sorta jumped on first. Before you read it, you should probably read Stargazer or at least the synopsis:
A DAMNED KNIGHT RIDES TO MEET THE BLOOD MESSIAH
The Stargazer capital Xanadu has been destroyed. The immortal ruler of vampires, The MoonQueen, has been vanquished. Humanity has been liberated after a brutal revolution. The source of all of this is the dark heroism of Byron Solsbury, prophesized Liberator and Stargazer Heretic.

Now comes the difficult part.
Accompanied by his ally Proxos and soul mate Medea, Byron will risk radioactive wastelands and its horrors in a quest to infiltrate New Atlantis, the last remaining Stargazer city. The reasons are twofold: to find the cure for the Killer of Giants—the only disease harmful to vampires—that has mortally infected Medea; and to oversee the destruction of the metropolis and end the Stargazer Empire once and for all.
Within this high-tech structure, Byron will encounter the dreaded Forgotten—vampires that were never human to begin with, as well as their godly allies. It will take all of his skills to counter their razor agendas. Eventually he must face the ruler of New Atlantis—the greatest Stargazer who ever walked Heaven and Earth—and realize that their grim destinies have been intertwined since before the rise of the vampires.

He is known as The Prince of Shadows or simply The Centurion. He once drank the blood of a god incarnate on Earth, and gained the powers of infinity.
As fate unravels before him like a bloody tapestry, Byron Solsbury will realize that not only Earth hangs in the balance…but reality itself.
Enjoy the introduction, although, like the Gospel of Thomas says, it might disturb you to the point you will be amazed. Amazed at the false reality that has been placed over us by the establishment.

Whether or not Lucius succeeds in absorbing the powers of the Godman doesn't matter. Lilith has already began a nefarious plot that will take over 2000 years but will bring about the destruction of civilization, the poisoning of Earth, and the enslavement of mankind. All because of The Mad God who created her and later rejected his most powerful daughter.  INTRODUCTION
I: AD 29Lucius Cornelius met her at the edge of the city. The sky was a swimming gray, eclipsing slowly with the peril of storm. The air was heavy and stale. The wind welled between the huts and rustic buildings in lapping cold. There seemed to be very few people around, for they had all probably gone to the celebration at the mound of skulls. Nothing out of the ordinary. Too out of the ordinary.Except for the fact that he had risen during the day. He existed without harm in the late afternoon below the ceiling of clouds and the silence of a place called Jerusalem.She waited for him around the corner of a house. Lucius could smell fresh slaughter inside by her hand, a whole family and a small meal to her wrath. He had not fed yet, too fascinated with the shock of being able to wander before dusk. It was amazing. More amazing than her at the moment, who stood hidden by heavy robes of darkest canvas, slouched to hide a towering height, only her shining eyes visible.“You are unaffected as well, Whore of Babylon?” A smile broke from his feral, handsome features as he tipped his helmet at her. “How can this be? Have you changed the rules? Does the daylight finally hold pleasure for you?”He could sense her sacred smile, so gorgeous it could melt the soul like idle wax.“Never, sweet Lucius,” she responded. “But we presently have no choice. We can wander because it is the changing of an age; the breath of my enemy is so strong that all the rules are bent for a small spell.”Lucius glanced upward after removing his bronze helmet. “It has been a long time. Two, three hundred years since you took away any chance of me ever seeing the day again. Ah, and it is a cloudy day, by Mars!”“Yes, it is,” she said. “Do you regret what I did to you, sweetest of sweetest?”He laughed with confidence, exposing fangs larger than most of his kind. Thoughts of his travels across the world, the civilizations, the experiences, the gods and heroes encountered tumbled through his mind like the clouds passing in the horizon. From the smoky shores of Gaul all the way to India, from the tip of Africa all the way to kingdom of druids in the icelands. Lucius had seen so much, and enjoyed it. Unlike the other brethren of Her, he savored his state and immortality, thrived with his hunger and dominant attitude. Mortal or not, he was a warrior, and adventurer, a dreamer who made dreams into imposing substance.“Of course not,” he said with a bow. “I can only give you my gratitude. But you did not summon me here for that or to wonder why I can almost see a naked sky away from the night.”She lowered her head slightly. “I think you know why I summoned you, Dearest Lucius.”“I have heard stories on the way to Galilee,” he said. “Silly stories about a certain Jewish prophet. Do you believe them?”“Yes,” she hissed, narrowing eyes that seemed to be made of mellifluous gems. “They are true. He is the one, Lucius. He is the progeny of my enemy, the one who banished me. He is the closet link to him and his dream.”“The Greek philosophers talk about all mortals being his progeny, or having a spark of him like I have an ink drop of your God-soul.”Her fangs glowed through the hood in dark jade hue. “The Greek philosophers spent too much time thinking and play acting, like all mortals, and look where it got them! This is His true avatar, ushering the shift of the wheel of the stars.”Lucius shook his head, glancing down at his sandaled feet. Dust flittered on the ground, welted by random tears of rain.“And we need to take action,” he said. Why did she bother with this deity? There were so many others, battling for creation and its spoils. He was the greatest, the true one? Never!“We must, sweetest. The progeny’s passing will begin a final and grim age, when mankind will spread and The Unimaginable will wilt, fade away with all the creatures of wonder along with the Maya, the tender, the female aspect of creation. You do not understand, for you cannot see what I see, know what I have known when I first came into this aspect of the universe.”“Then why do you not take action?” he asked, never afraid of any question, any comment, any action. Not even to her. “I am a gnat compared to you, Whore of Babylon.”She lowered her head again. “Perhaps I am afraid, Lucius. Afraid to be so close to him again. I need you.”“To do what?”Her gaze was solid yet piercing, urgent yet cunning.“To impede his passing, for when he passes he truly gains power, truly brings about a loophole in the wheel of the stars. To do this, you must go to him and grant him my God-Soul, which I have granted to all of my offspring, sever his bond to my enemy, corrupt his mortality so much he will be partly ours forever.”He pursed his lips slightly. “That is all? This could be dangerous.”“Of course, but I will protect you as long as you follow me. Will you do it?”Never afraid of anything.“I will,” he said loudly. “That is all I have to do?”“Yes,” she said. “You know how to create, how to pass the God-Soul. Go to him and do that, nothing else, do you hear? Stop this age from washing us away. You are my favorite and always will be my favorite, Dearest Lucius. You will succeed. I will succeed.” He donned his helmet and bowed to his mistress. He pivoted on his heel and marched towards the small hill they called Golgotha. Lucius wasn’t worried about the few mortals encountered. The ones called Jews never met his glowing stare or commented on his sallow skin, for he was garbed in the common military uniform of a captain, hand always close to his gladius, the stabbing sword, in warning. Although Lucius was not born a Roman, he had taken that identity from a famous general in Africa, even learning Latin in order to facilitate his movement through the burgeoning empire. The few Roman soldiers on the way saluted him while he lowered his helmet over his features.Lucius worried a bit when he neared the mound of skulls. The earth began to shudder under his feet, the wind turned to smashing pillows against his body.  Mortals rushed by him in fear, clouds cackled with lightning. He could almost feel the world trembling, the horizon blurring, for something was warning him.He does not want you near, he heard the Whore’s voice. He does not want you near his progeny.Lucius kept his pace, undaunted by the elements and terror around him. He reached the open area where three criminals were crucified. All the spectators and soldier that might have been here were now seeking shelter from the pelting rain. He focused on the middle one, knowing immediately it was him. His existence was thinning away but there was some in him yet. Why had he allowed this? After all, this was a common punishment by this empire. The Romans publicly crucified their conquered people in order to make sure no one transgressed against them or broke the law a second time. It was worse for these odd Jews, who saw their race perish naked, which was very shameful to their beliefs, and unburied, which guaranteed eternal damnation. Many crucified lived for days, some fortunate ones asphyxiated quickly, but most bled to death or succumbed to dehydration. The Romans were known to feed the ones they wanted to suffer or just slay the ones who lived for more than a day or two.He would not survive much longer, Lucius thought, seeing a beaten, cut body, filthy with mud and crowned with a thorny reef over his head. This was the progeny of the enemy of his mistress, The Mad God? This prophet did not seem like much, he mused, condemned and abandoned by all he knew at the moment. But he had heard of stories of his powers, his words, his attitude towards the downtrodden and needy. He had heard much traveling to Jerusalem, and for some reason, even with the tempest around them, felt a certain pity for this creature who was being slain for some mystical, unknown reason-- a victim of destiny.“And you will change the ages?” he asked the unmoving body in the center cross. “And you will melt away the wonders of The Unimaginable? Why would you do such a thing?”There was no answer, except for the wind and the thunder and the shouts of fear from those hiding under carts a few feet away. But Lucius stood strong and stable.“But your words are different,” he said. “You bring hope, I hear. You bring a gentleness never experienced in this savage world. Are you a pawn like my mistress was? Cast out after fulfilling your role? Or are you just another charlatan, and the Whore is misguided one more time?”No answer. The weather was calming, all of a sudden. He could feel the last touches of life leaving the progeny. Curiosity rose inside Lucius. He wondered then who was the pawn between the two of them. But he wasn’t afraid.“Perhaps I should find out.” He took a step forward as the body jolted in dying spasms. Craning his head forward, he opened his mouth as blood dripped from many places.NO! He heard her voice, shrill and full of terror. NO, SWEETEST! NOT THAT!Lucius did not listen, sticking out his tongue to catch the liquid. For some reason he had not felt hunger for this person. It did not matter. He wanted to find out the power of the progeny. YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!! Droplets of blood touched his tongue. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and suddenly his eyes were wide as he beheld infinity.
I: AD 2239
It was a place so different from the rest of the structure. There was no lighting and there were no mirrors. Mirrors were set everywhere else, in every corridor, in every chamber, in every crevasse and compartment. Mirrors and light. There was no privacy in this place. Privacy was for the weak, for those who had something to hide. Privacy was against the Forgotten. The darkness existed here for more interesting matters besides philosophical bondage. Stretching before and straddling a long alley were metal pens. In these pens resided beings that had never truly seen naked light. They scuttled around curiously, hunched and barely able to contain their feeble weight upon sinewy arms and legs. Their thin, ropy bodies were lathered in their own excrements and slivers of synthetic straw. They could not see the elevator door opening because they had no functioning pupils; they could not smell the two figures that departed the mirrored interior because they had no real odor. But their keen ears instantly detected their watery movement.  Primordial instincts granted them the hope that it was feeding time. That’s all that mattered to them in the grayness of their existence—feeding time. In turn, the two beings could clearly see them, pale lanky things bred here since birth, untouched by the genetic wizardry performed on the ones above in the Kingdom of Mirrors. In The Egg. No, these creatures were natural except for their own nature. As they could not see, they could not truly think, gather light into structure. All they knew was being fed and obeying a few minor bodily urges. They were very unlike the ones the population had heard existed in another city. They were not like the altered armies and servants above. They were pathetic and they were a delicacy. They were called GR27's by the population, but a few called them Veals.If these creatures had eyes they would have seen that the two figures were very distinct from the others. One was elegantly tall, royally thin, draped in long silken robes from a bygone era. His face was majestic, long and daintily noble, with beautiful features that pushed perfection. He had long and pale flaxen hair that almost shone like curdling fog. But it was his eyes that were his true triumph of beauty and intelligence, seasoned with eternal innocence and so much brightness. Like those of his kind, they changed color with mood, yet they were much larger with almost oval pupils. Tonight they were a crystal orange.The other, slumped and hopping right behind him, was much shorter. His clothing was a crude, burlap robe, torn in several places. A hood concealed a face he was used to hiding for thousands of years but it could not hide large round eyes that palpitated with neon green. This one grunted with each step, a sound that could have been mistaken for throttling laughter.The Veals could not have seen this and could not care. In every pen, they huddled close to the cell doors, crafting their own grunting. Perhaps it was feeding time, they hoped. Perhaps these two would throw morsels through the bars, fill their small, aching stomachs. Many couldn’t help but urinate on themselves, while others jumped up and down as if to vault past the barbed wire over the pens.“We really have other matters to address,” the slumped one said with a gritty voice, which made some of the Veals moan even louder. “The Pharisees are waiting for your counsel, Marcion. You lingered in Moratoria for three nights.”The other kept his pace until stopping at the center of the area. By now many of the creatures were slamming into the bars and metal doors, perhaps mad that they had not drank the scent of meat they enjoyed, meat that was from the same creatures they were.“For that reason I require nourishment, Prince Poppykettle,” the one called Marcion said lightly, his vision darting from side to side.“Of course,” Poppykettle mumbled from large cracked lips that were always matted in filmy, thick saliva. “But you know that the other Pharisees might be somewhat interested in your results. The occurrence at Xanadu has worsened. We are curious. You are The Good Neighbor.”Marcion smiled slightly, and the agitated denizens of the pens could have never known that their conversation meant little but symbolism. There was no privacy here. The population of The Egg was listening to every word they spoke and they could see what they saw. The population felt the hunger of Marcion and the sadness of his smile. But the population needed his gift, his visions, which they could not enter or see or use because he was the last of his kind. He was unique, beyond anything that existed centuries before and after the Holocaust. But they needed to converse like they needed rituals in this perfect city, for it was a symbolism of reality, and more than that, it was entertaining.“I understand, Poppykettle,” he said, his liquid voice soothing the Veals slightly. If desired, his voice could easily control their soft minds. “But I needed a delicacy before we all meet. Do you understand as well?”“I do understand as well, Good Neighbor.” He lowered his odd-shaped head and also began feeling hunger. It seemed like the hunger never ended. It was always there, as if it was their true ruler besides their Prince. “But are you aware that we have lost total communication with Xanadu? We’re still receiving those odd transmissions that started six nights ago but that is all.”“I am aware.” He scanned every Veal in the area. The population wondered which one he would choose. The Veals just thought it was feeding time. They were right.“Are you furthermore aware that reconnaissance photographs show less destruction, less movement. It seems the Warm Ones are being driven back to their Farms, as if they’re being herded again. It also seems the Stargazers are also coagulating, as if by leadership. Yet there is still no movement from the remnants of the Tower and Her abode?”“Yes, Poppykettle.”“Then what it is?” he asked, knowing the population was split between his explanation of the catastrophe to the city of Xanadu and which one he would choose. “What happened in that explosion nights ago that shattered the main dome? What happened in Xanadu? Where is The Queen of Darkness?”Marcion narrowed his eyes and took a few paces towards one of the doors. Poppykettle was shaking behind him, foamy liquid coming from his flat nostrils. The population wondered. The animals wondered as well. It was feeding time.“You remember her prophecy, Prince Poppykettle?” Marcion asked, placing his hands on one of the pen-doors. “Do you remember what she told us when we were brought to this city, this county of her empire?”“Yes, Good Neighbor,” Poppykettle said between nervous giggles. “We all think of it night after night...her words sing to us through Moratoria and the din of our starvation.”His fingers flexed with a cracking sound while he spoke, wrenching the Veals into a frenzy. The sound was like bones breaking. It had to be feeding time! If they only knew how excited the population was. If they could only have seen what Marcion saw when he briefly turned his head towards the end of the pens.Marcion spoke the prophecy anyway, because they needed to hear it again, from his lips. “If a knight should come, a champion of eternity, errant on a darkening quest, knocking on your gates, then you should let him in...” “Yes, yes,” Poppykettle closed his eyes, but light still seeped from underneath puffy lids. “I remember...” “And if he bests the Warden and drinks in generations with the Centurion, then he must be stripped of his sword, his shield, and armor...” “Yes, Yes!” The population also joined in.“And brought naked like a newborn into the gray dusk, into the awakening of our Prince.”             “Yes, Yes!” said Poppykettle, jumping up and down, his movement similar to the other Veals. “But what does that have to do with Xanadu? What does that have to do with The Queen of Darkness?”And none except the Good Neighbor saw an image of somebody laying at the end of the corridor, bound to a cross and thinking about being born between ages. None saw the image fade away suddenly, leaving only whispers of eternal sadness, of potential freedom.Marcion opened the door. An animal scuttled towards him with its stringy body on all fours, face hopeful, hungry. The sound of the door meant they brought a lot of food. Pale and blind, it didn’t understand time or thought, just nourishment. It was feeding time. It stopped right in front of the Pharisee. It wasn’t even fifteen yet. The perfect age for a Veal.And it was the perfect time to share his visions with the population.“It has nothing to do with her, Prince Poppykettle, good citizens of New Atlantis, because she has departed our universe.”“No!” he said this time with the population.No, no, no! Yes! “Yes, Poppykettle,” Marcion said, grinning to show fangs that marked his own hunger and what he truly was, even though he had never been a Warm One. “The Queen of Darkness is no more.”“Good Neighbor.” Poppykettle took a step in surprised retreat. “That...that cannot be--”Marcion entered the small space. “Yes, it can. I have searched the winds and the sighs of creation, and she is nowhere to be found.”“Then how can we exist? Without the Dark Instinct, we would crumble into dust.”“So it would seem,” Marcion said casually. “But nothing is ever as it seems after the Holocaust. Something to look into, unless we’re a fading dream from empty husks.”“It cannot be! What happened to her?”Yes, Yes!The Veal moved its head to touch the outstretched hand of Marcion. The fanged smile grew, as his soft fingers caressed the animal’s face. The Veal smiled back.            “I do not know that, as yet either, Prince Poppykettle. I will have to search more. But I know of one thing—we shall have many visitors coming to our gates for sanctuary. Thus, we might have a knight, a champion of eternity among them.” His fingers prodded into the Veal’s clumpy hair, suddenly tugging so hard the animal yelped. The creature could not fight the arm that brought it towards the mouth of the Good Neighbor. “And thus, we might finally realize the prophecy and have our freedom, finally have our time.”It was feeding time.The rest of the Veals knew that too, but it wasn’t their feeding time. They cowered towards the back when they heard a pitiful scream, not knowing that the other figure ran excitedly towards the elevator weeping crimson tears of bursting joy, knowing not to turn his head for it was not allowed to observe the Good Neighbor when feeding. The scream quickly turned into a ripping sound. The population groaned in pleasure, also having to shut out the tasty vision. Yes, yes, yes...freedom!