With the release of Carmilla’s Gambit only a few days away, this post is going to contain a complete scene, an early scene, that should have no spoilers for anyone who has either read the book’s blurb or followed the series. That being said, this scene will demonstrate some of the stakes that are being raised both in the novel and in the series that will set up a major world-changing event for the characters. The scene will also demonstrate some of my beliefs regarding art, evil, and how to suggest villainy without fully stating the nature of the villains and their motivations.
Without further buildup, let me present a conversation between General Florian Amanar of the Order of the Dragon (the faction seeking Dracula’s resurrection to launch a crusade against the “enemies of Christendom”) and Donal Hain (Arch Magus the Hermetic Order of the Astrum Argentum and the father of my protagonist, Samantha Hain):
While Destiny and Carmilla traveled to Castle Karnstein in Austria, Donal Hain and Florian Amanar met within the walls of Castle Wewelsburg in the German state of Westphalia. Dark gray clouds loomed in the sky, threatening a coming storm. The triangular castle loomed against the cloud-darkened sky, its shape forming a jagged silhouette of menace. Like watchful cyclopean eyes, faint lights flickered from the highest windows of its three towers. Ancient stone, stripped bare by Himmler’s command, enhanced the ancient foreboding nature of the structure.
A moat, black as ink, encircled the ancient fortress. Its still waters reflected a distorted, writhing image of the castle like a scene from a Bosch painting. A dread aura emanated from the edifice, a palpable weight of unseen horrors and all-too-human cruelty clinging to the cold stone. Its shadows whispered secrets, mourning the dark past and fearing even darker deeds yet to come.
Donal Hain arrived two hours before the scheduled meeting. He flashed an enchanted badge at the guard, charmed to present him as possessing academic and political credentials, granting him unrestricted access to the castle. And his brown tweed suit and the rapid loss of most of his remaining gray hair, he resembled an old professor as he limped through the stone halls. The injury sustained from his daughter’s bullet almost one year ago had worsened.
He descended a spiral staircase and pressed a small, smooth stone that opened a passage to hidden SS research laboratory. Donal discovered this secret facility in April, and he explored it during the same time as his daughter was studying magic under his former student, Ute Weishaupt, in the Hermetic Order of the Resplendent Dawn—until Sam killed her mentor, a fact Donal still struggled to believe.
This facility had yet to be discovered by any government or scholar, and it was a dream find for either. More than that, it was a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream, for in this secret facility, SS occultists captured, tortured, and experimented on European vampires in a failed attempt to create magically empowered super soldiers. Donal nodded, feeling a familiar presence. As he walked through the research chamber where vampires lay staked to tables in a perpetual state of torpor, Donal remarked how much of the research he found within these rooms was drivel beneath even the worst formulaic fiction. However, he did find a single grain of esoteric truth. And in one grimoire, he found his true purpose for suggesting this as the meeting site.
Donal’s phone buzzed. He frowned and nodded. Florian Amanar had arrived. Donal placed the grimoire atop the altar in the center of the research facility and left, taking care to hide the entrance from cameras, employees, or visitors to the castle’s museum.
Florian Amanar, dressed in a simple charcoal suit, was already seated in the meeting room when Donal Hain arrived. The two men shook hands and then sat across from each other.
Amanar raised an eyebrow as he began the discussion. “Well, Donal, I know we are planning for a war across two planes of existence, but could we not have met at a less disturbing location?”
“You insisted on an in-person meeting, Florian. We could have simplified the matter and met via Zoom or some other virtual platform.”
Amanar nodded, pursing his lips. “Given the nature of our discussions, I thought it safer to avoid platforms one could easily hack into. I trust you have already swept the room for microphones?”
“There is no need.” Donal’s brogue grew stronger with this simple sentence.
The Arch Magus of the Astrum Argentum placed a small golden disc with a sigil etched into it. Donal placed the middle and ring fingers of his left hand onto the disc and chanted a brief incantation in Irish. The disc glowed with a golden light, and after Donal finished the seventh repetition, a burst of energy erupted from the disc, causing General Amanar to brace himself in his seat.
Donal smiled. “There. The room is now safely ensconced within a pocket dimension. None outside this bubble can hear what we say.”
That was not entirely accurate, and Donal knew that. Normal means of eavesdropping would be unable to hear their conversation. Magical means of espionage could penetrate the sphere. However, Donal recognized only a handful of living magicians aside from himself were in possession of the knowledge, skill, and power to slip through his magical defenses, and as such, he was unconcerned about the possibility.
“Useful.” Amanar nodded. “I would expect nothing less from one of the most powerful magi in the world. Before I ask what you’ve been doing in this… dismal reminder of a darker period of our history, it is my pleasure and my duty to report to you the successful operation that resulted in your daughter’s capture.”
Donal’s posture stiffened. His nostrils flared for a brief instant, but he kept his face neutral. “I see your Dracula is focusing upon his personal vendetta against Countess Karnstein instead of preparing for the Hunt.”
Amanar narrowed his eyes. “While it benefits us that your daughter will no longer interfere, that blood-bathing bitch has earned his praise, as she masterminded the operation. I would have staked the damned vampire and been done with it, but he wants her to suffer. And your daughter will suffer as well before he kills her.”
Donal frowned and then sighed. “I have warned her on multiple occasions to stay out of our business, but she is as stubborn as her mother was. Undesirable, but this is the outcome I feared would come to pass. A shame. I had hoped our Great Work would create a world safe for her and those in her lifestyle.”
Amanar nodded. “Your protectiveness has been a credit to your love as a father—even if we have not agreed completely on its necessity and deservedness. That matter addressed, Donal, what are you working on in this dreadful place?”
Donal leaned back in his chair, nodding in silent contemplation. After a moment of silence, he produced a small vial of a red liquid and placed it on the table. “This.”
Amanar picked up the vial and held it to the light, examining it. He lifted a curious eyebrow as he returned the vial to the table. “Blood?”
“More than that, Florian,” Donal said, a smirk on his face. “This sanguine liquid is a tincture of vampire blood, drawn from the bodies of those whom your soldiers have staked and brought to me here. This is no mere ichor. It is the potent catalyst for creating a volatile elixir imbued with the very principle of nosferatic unnatural vigor. Through a rigorous distillation process and the precise application of Hermetic principles, I’ve been able to isolate its quickening agent, which I have named the anima vitalis nocturna.”
He paused for dramatic effect and then continued. “When the elixir created from this quickening agent is introduced into a mortal host, the essence initiates a sympathetic resonance—a transformative cascade. Think of it this way, instead of transforming the host into a vampire, injecting this serum is akin to grafting a vigorous vine onto a common stock. The initial stages are often precarious, accompanied by a violent fever as the very humors of the body wage war against this foreign agent. The patient may writhe, scream as a beast from the torment within, their skin may even shift and sallow. Thus, we employ a blessed poppy and the precise application of leeches in order to balance the humors and the ratio of mortal to undead blood within the body. In this way, we seek to ensure the patient remains alive.”
Florian’s eyes widened, and his olive skin paled as nausea washed over his body. “You are continuing their experiments? You have succeeded; I take it. But to what end?”
Donal responded with a wry smile. “Now, should the graft take, should the anima vitalis nocturna find harmony within the host… Well, then we witness the dawning of a new breed. Strength surpassing mortal limits, the keen senses of an apex predator, and a vitality with an inherent toxin resistance that borders on immortality, though a constant supply of the essence is needed to maintain proper functions of this new species.” He shrugged and then added, “It is, after all, a delicate dance between the light of man and the shadow of the beast, a dance I, through alchemy and insight, have learned to choreograph.”
“You mean… super soldiers?” Florian’s voice was a whisper of fearful surprise.
“We fight wars with and live among supernatural beings whose power, cunning, and ferocity often out-pace that of our species. As the world continues to shift and the Veil continues to thin, the necessity of defense forces empowered by such a serum will increase. Shall I demonstrate the process for you?”
Florian Amanar rose from his seat. “That won’t be necessary, Donal. Update me on your progress, and when you are confident the probability of death during the transformation process is as low as you can make it, I will send a battalion to be transformed.”
The men shook hands, and Florian departed. Donal remained in the meeting room for a few moments, and then he left and returned to the secret research facility. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he stood at the altar and opened the grimoire.
“Men whose focus is on the physical and not the mental are easy to deceive.”
“Yes,” came a familiar, raspy voice from the shadows. “As are all men whose lust for power renders them… ravenous.”
The shadows in the room shifted, joining into a writhing mass on the opposite side of the altar from Donal Hain as the room chilled. Donal lowered his head as the writhing mass shifted into a vaguely humanoid shape with undefined facial features, a crown resembling bull horns, a scepter with three lion heads atop it, and armor whose shape and hue shifted like the scales of a chameleon.
Donal Hain bowed and said, “Welcome, Unum-irigal, Lord of the Great City. I thank you for gracing me with your presence and your wisdom.”
The being known as Unum-irigal laughed, a growling, hollow laugh. “I find your drive for power and willingness to walk through the darkness of the ancient magicks… intriguing, magus. Under my guidance, you will achieve your desired power and control over all who oppose your conquests. And as payment, you will work to undo the world enshrined by that thundering usurper.”
The Tetragrammaton, the Lord of the Universe. Donal Hain nodded as his stomach sank. He had betrayed the universal essence the Astrum Argentum trained him to seek out for ascension and enlightenment when he initiated a pact with Unum-irigal, a being older than the Tetragrammaton. The pact was not ideal, but when Samantha defeated and bound Zozo, Donal recognized the need for a more powerful ally, and with the slaying of an infant, an unnecessary aspect of the resurrection ritual that returned Dracula to the world of the living, Donal Hain sealed the bargain between himself and this ancient being.
“Now, my real work begins,” Donal said.
Unum-irigal waved a single hand, curling his long, slender fingers as it moved. The grimoire’s pages flipped in a breeze only felt by the book. The ancient one gestured toward the open pages and said, “Your ritual, magus. The true reason you wished for your meeting to transpire here.”
Donal nodded. Unum-irigal spoke the truth. He reached into the pocket on the interior of his left lapel and produced a labradorite pendant on a golden chain, which he then placed upon the altar between the two black taper candles. No going back now.
The Arch Magus of the Astrum Argentum raised the energy he needed and then began chanting the incantation written on the pages. He spoke in a low, vibrational voice that resonated with the elements surrounding him.
On the third repetition, the staked bodies began to glow. On the fifth repetition, the glow surrounding the bodies shifted into the souls of those staked to the tables, souls bound by astral chains. The souls wept and moaned, begging for mercy and release. On the seventh repetition, the chains binding the souls whipped forward, connecting to the pendant. On the ninth repetition, the arcane energies he raised pulled the souls into the labradorite, screaming as the enchanted amulet devoured their consciousnesses.
With the ritual complete, Donal dispersed the remaining energy. Unum-irigal laughed, and a bleeding, feral smile spread across the featureless face. The ancient entity nodded. “Good. Now all the power upon the earth and within the Great City is yours so long as you serve our ends.”
Unum-irigal then dispersed into the shadows, leaving Donal Hain alone.
He swallowed hard. This was the reason he continued his research and working at Wewelsburg. Not the super serum. That was a diversion to prevent Amanar from knowing Donal’s true purpose and need for the staked vampires. No, these pages in the grimoire contained a ritual for enchanting an amulet that would drain the power of supernatural beings, and he would then use that power to fuel his magic.
I’m not going to go into too much detail explaining everything; I want to leave some things for my readers to ponder over and some Easter eggs to be hunted. But I do want to mention one motivation of my villains: Donal’s belief that his actions will create a safer world for his daughter. A noble ambition, but to achieve that he has aligned himself with a paramilitary organization seeking to conquer others after resurrecting a vampire who is both a petty medieval leader AND a vengeful, short and violent tempered abuser (per Stoker’s novel); made a compact with a power-seeking fae noble (Fosiri Bha’esi); summoned a malicious Sumerian entity (Zozo); performed a ritual to resurrect Dracula that involved human sacrifice; continued the occult research of Nazis (fictionalized to add drama); and now made a pact with an ancient Levantine deity in exchange for power… the power to drain the magical essences of supernatural creatures, beings Samantha has built a career on protecting… and loving.
None of this is to say he is a good person. He isn’t. That is painfully clear throughout the series. But his villainy did not arise from being a “bad person.” It arose from a person who wanted to do something good for someone he cared for, but to accomplish that, he has demonstrated a willingness to do whatever it took, regardless of the cost he or others had to pay for his success in that manner.
Evil, for me, is not innate to any individual. It enters them as a result of either a desire to do something noble or as a desire to obtain something the person believed they were lacking. And Donal, as the most powerful and influential ceremonial magician in the world of the fiction, seeks to do something noble by the means he has learned to act within the world—using magic to control others. As has been shown and suggested in previous books within the series, Donal believes since he has the magical power to control the elements of creation, he has the right to assert control over the world—the belief that others should act according to his wishes. He seeks control, and to obtain that end, he is willing to do everything to control those around him.
And Samantha is someone he has never been able to control…
Anyway, Carmilla’s Gambit will be available everywhere on 3 June. You can purchase paperbacks from my website at a $2 discount off the cover price right now!
-Robin
cursingravenbooks.com 