Yet another look into the world of Rot Under Paris. What goes on outside of the spotlight? What might soon come to light? Well, you may soon find out…
The Light of Caine
The figure is tall and athletic, long pitch black hair perfectly framing his sharp face. He adjusts the cuffs of his cream white suit before checking his golden watch, 10pm. Perfection. He steps towards the pulpit and grips it as his eyes begin to glow with passion.
“Brothers! Sisters! Children of God! I stand before you here today to remind you of the sin that plagues our lands. Yes my children sin! Even now the enemies of our Lord stalk the streets, proclaiming their false ideologies and persecuting the Children of Caine! But all is not lost, for our faith shall guide us through this time of heretics and demons. For as it was that Caine was gifted by god, so too are we gifted by Caine and his children. So take up arms against the heretics! Take up arms against the false childer! Defend yourself against their seductive beguilement! Children of Caine, it is now that I ask for you to join me in prayer.” With that a chorus of voices joins him as he begins his hallowed words…
“Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Bestow upon us your bountiful gifts. Just as Caine created the second city so we shall create the fourth in your name. Grant us the strength to fell your enemies, the voice to sway the apostate masses and the passion to carry out our sacred duty. Let us rise again as Jesus rose from Caine and Caine rose from the death of his brother Abel. In the name of the Sire, the Childe and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
There is a unified chorus of “Amen” from the crowd as the prayer comes to a close. From his right steps a young woman, clothed in white, carrying a golden dagger upon a velvet cushion. He takes the knife from her before raising it above his head where it catches the dim lighting of the church. Slowly he raises his other hand before thrusting the tip of the blade into his palm. He twists and drops of blood mark his forehead as they drip from the open wound. The crowd watches on enraptured as he steps from the podium before them and begins to walk down the first row of pews, resting his hand upon each of their chests before moving on to the next believer. Slowly he makes his way through the crowd, now in an almost unthinking state. Eventually each member of the congregation is marked. His suit has become flecked with blood spatters and without warning his forehead and palms have begun weeping the thick red liquid. Now returned to the podium he stretches his arms wide as the light of several candles shines from behind him, creating a sickening halo.
“Now go my children. Go with the grace of God and the blessing of Caine!”
Voice of the People
The dim light of the neon sign illuminates the nicotine vapor as it mingles with mist through the back alley. The owner of the e-cigarette, a young looking woman dressed in leather and spikes, sighs for a moment. What a fucking mess. She flicks her long blue hair idly as she stares at the opposite wall. “Justice for the people” is scrawled in hasty red spray paint. She lowers the device from her mouth before strolling back into the haze of the club. It is a mess of sweat, lights and pounding music, sporadically interspersed with the clinking of glasses and the fleeting scent of fresh air as new arrivals make their way in. Slowly she makes her way through the crowd, pushing the heaving mass aside as she forces her way onto the stage. The rest of the band is already there, and as she takes the guitar from its stand there is a cheer from the crowd, or those amongst it that still hold onto their senses.
She leaps into the first song of the night, full of energy, passion and message. She knows it will be ultimately meaningless but it gets the crowd going, gives them a reason to care about anything more than their own survival. She was a hero really, an icon, a living saint. She gave them more than they could ever get by themselves, purpose. As the night wears on, the energy fades and the haze of slow moving bodies and lights returns to its resting state. It is 2am by the time she leaves the stage, she would be a mess of sweat and cramps if she were still alive, lucky then that she had been found all those years ago by her sire, who saw what she could become. What a shame for him that he had ended up as a pile of dust a few months later, his dreams of his subservient little childe becoming queen of a financial empire shattered. She had enjoyed that night, enjoyed skewering that fat pig and draining what little he had left from his motionless body. Speaking of which, she could do with a meal. Ah, perfect….
“Oh my god! Miss Leclerc that was so cool! I love your music!”
The girl was young, must be 19, probably still in university. She had a face like a gullible lamb but there was a spark of passion there.
“Please my dear, call me Faye. I’m glad you liked it, you seem like just the sort of person that needs to hear the message.” she replied, her voice perfectly adjusted to sound warm and friendly whilst still having that ice coolness that attracted the fans.
“Tell you what, why don’t you come with me. I’ll show you what it really means to be a rockstar…”
She sat on the edge of the bed, the young one had been delicious, full of life and spirit. Well she wouldn’t remember most of the details by the morning, and Faye would be long gone by then, after a suitable bribe had been placed at the front desk of the hotel of course. Time to head back to her haven, check social media and then do it all again the next night….
Cover art by Robert Frank