Thursday, July 23: Nuclear Blast Allstars, "My Name is Fate"
Mark Osegueda might be the only thrash singer who got better with age: the Death Angel frontman has sounded far more agile and purposeful in the past 20ish years than during his teenage run with the band. Peter Wichers caught Osegueda at exactly the right time when he was putting together the second Nuclear Blast Allstars record, as “My Name is Fate” came alive thanks to the singer’s controlled volatility- to be sure, Wichers did a great job coming up with a track and arrangement that fit the frontman without copying Death Angel or even being all that thrashy. Even as Wichers’ production was almost Roger Glover in its balance of heaviness, clarity and smoothness the track was still a fun metal ripper and Osegueda sounded right at home.
There was one thing that we had learned about the vampires since meeting them that stuck out to me for what felt like months at a time and that was the utter level of lust that accompanied them whenever things seemed to go awry for all of us. It seemed to hit them so hard and when they least expected it on top of that, and it always came about whenever they came anywhere near the Winchester house as well. The memory was still fresh to me, the first time that Eric and I had gone to the Winchester house to get Abby away from the demons that haunted the place, and he brushed against a plant below the front bay window.
The leaves had some sort of sticky sap on them, sap that I had never seen outside of a poison garden. The sole thing I recalled from the plant was that it had pale pink and yellow flowers in the shape of bells.
“Angel's trumpets,” were all that Eric had told me afterwards. “I have no clue as to what they do but all I know is that they're called angel's trumpets. I'm glad that you didn't touch them, Lily.”
His milky skin seemed to shimmer in the sunshine while the sap of the flowers rested upon the side of his neck as if he had stood under a broken pipe in the Iverson basement. All the while, his hair still carried its shimmer and shake. He, too, had died and cheated death along with Alex, and as a result, those plants left no effect on him. He hadn't shaken off the sap when we finally found our way into the Winchester house to save Abby.
Remove the blood and the body will die, as Mr. Friedman had so eloquently told me. I was going to save my sister even if Eric had brushed up against some random plant to save me, regardless of whether he was dead or undead. I was going to let the vampires live, even if it still meant to have cold blooded killers on the loose. On top of this, it was actually Eric himself who saved Abby.
I had befriended five killers, five bloodthirsty killers that rode on the back of death. Abby had befriended them as well.
I walked a fine line even before we had met them, but it was more so the case now that we had spared Eric's permanent demise by saving Abby from the Winchester house. It was more so the case now that Mr. Friedman had a lean on the two of us, even if we were still alive. “Aiding and abetting murderers,” as he described it. Such a label to walk around with, but if that was what it meant for me in particular, then I would let it happen.
Nevertheless, it was disconcerting to learn that the sap had left a strange indentation on the side of his neck and down onto his shoulder when we visited them again the next day. It made me think of a scar from the edge of a sickle, given how far it extended down the side of his body, from his juggular vein onto his shoulder blade, down his upper arm and towards his elbow. It was strange to see, especially when I knew he had avoided touching it with that part of his body when we snuck around the front and side of the house.
The next time that Abby and I had met up with the vampires at their hiding spot on the other side of town, Eric took off his shirt for us to see just how much the sap had spread across his left side: the scar had made its way all up and down from his neck and shoulder down to his hip.
“Does it hurt?” Abby asked him, concerned, and he shook his head.
“Not at all. Poisons don't really affect us, especially if it's the sap.” I raised my eyebrows at that. That would explain why he took the dose of the sap rather than me.
He was sitting right across from her right then while I was in the next room with Alex: we watched them, and all the while, I wondered as to what she was thinking with the sight of Eric before her, shirtless and with that soft milky skin like porcelain. He set his shirt down upon his lap and sat upright. Just like how Alex had a slight tummy on his waist whenever he sat down, Eric had one as well, albeit he was of much stouter build than Alex. Abby shifted her weight at the sight of him, and all I could do was watch her eyes and the way that they swept down his body, from his head down to his feet. I was unsure but it seemed to me that he had extra long legs in comparison to both me and Alex: extra long legs for a stout little body.
Alex himself meanwhile leaned his head in closer to mine as he watched her from my point of view.
“I wonder what's going through her mind right now,” he confessed to me in a delicate whisper.
“I wish I knew, too,” I told him, also in a whisper.
There was a part of me that wanted to retract from there, to let them go about their own way especially when neither I nor Alex had anything to do with it all: Eric was the one who touched the plant and he was the real hero of the hour in my opinion. Abby had her own life as well.
But then again, Abby was my sister and as far as I knew, she had her crush on Mark as well as Rob. There was no way around it: my sister had a little inkling for those two boys whether anyone wanted to admit to it or not. She had the two of them, and thus, to have Eric before her felt like a brand new pathway for her, especially when she wouldn't stop looking at him from across the room.
Even though he said the scar on his body left him with no pain, Eric still reached over to the side of his neck for a light massage. Even I knew his skin still remained rather soft with the kiss of undeath. Abby shifted her weight again, and Alex and I glanced at each other. He gestured for me to move in closer to him.
“You can cut the tension with a knife,” he whispered to me, to which I nodded. He then cleared his throat and bowed into the room.
“Care for some wine, Eric?” he offered right then.
“Oh, yeah,” Eric sputtered with a shake of his head. “Yes, please. I'd love me some wine. Some Winchester stuff. I mean, some wine.”
Abby snickered at that, and I bowed back behind the door frame so they wouldn't see me. The butterflies danced about in my stomach as I thought about Abby having even so much as a fling with Eric. She had her crush on Mark and Rob, but neither of them were there at the moment. It felt so wrong to even consider it in the first place.
The cork came off the wine bottle while Alex poured himself and Eric a pair of glasses: I peeked around the corner to find the glasses of that lush red wine in either of their hands. Red wine to bring their infernal lust even closer to the surface.
As Alex sipped on his wine, he held a hand over Eric's scar, but I had no idea if he caressed it with his fingertips, however.
My suggestion was that the sap of the angel's trumpet carried far and wide, like the stickiest and sweetest of honey from the biggest flower to be seen. He needn't touch it when he already had enough in his little body to begin with: he tipped the glass into his lips again, and that time, the bottom hem of his shirt lifted off his waist and the belt of his jeans: something hinted at me that it was on purpose.
All the while, Eric and Abby seemed to pay less attention to each other, especially once I decided to walk into the room right then for a glass myself. Even with my attention fixed on Alex before me, I still kept my eye on the two of them.
I was going to have to follow them around to figure out as to where they were going with it, and especially with that scar on Eric's body and the way it seemed to grow with every time I glanced over at him. Even as I knew in my heart of hearts that I wanted Abby to go her own way, I still craved to watch them, especially when I glanced over at Alex and the mischievous smirk on his handsome face: Mr. Friedman's listing of “aiding and abetting” felt rather quaint when I locked eyes with him behind Eric's back.
A poison plant that did something to the vampires and the ravishing feelings they carried along with them. It was something that I could not stop obsessing over even after Abby and I returned home together: she told me it was to get away from the strange feeling that Eric gave her.
“I can't really explain it,” she finally confessed. “It was like... he brushed up against the plant at the Winchester house and now, all of a sudden, I'm feeling these weird sensations that I've never experienced before.”
“Angel's trumpet, it's called,” Rob reiterated it as the three of us congregated at his house later that afternoon.
“Yeah, it's this really thick bush with bright pink and yellow flowers,” I told him. “The flowers hang down and have this weird sap on their pedals. Eric told me he was glad that he brushed against it instead of me because I guess it's poisonous.”
“Poison plant and yet the aroma of it is driving your sister crazy,” Rob followed along as he sipped on his lemonade. “I feel like I've heard about it somewhere.” He gestured for us to follow him in through the back door of the house. Lola Cavestany had a few books in her bedroom, one of which was about all manner of herbs and spices, including a whole section dedicated to plants from the Philippines: he picked it off her desk and flipped it open to the very back cover. Abby and I stood on either side of him as he delved through the index for any sign of the plant.
“Angel's trumpet... angel's trumpets... it sounds so familiar...” He reached the beginning of the index and ran the tip of his finger along the column for any sign of the plant name. “Ah. Here we are.”
He flipped through the pages in search of the plant: there were a whole two dedicated to it, right smack in the middle of the book.
“'Brugmansia', also known as the angel's trumpet... member of the nightshade family... their fragrant flowers give them their nickname, in comparison to the nickname of moon flowers, referred to as 'devil's trumpets'. Most toxic of ornamental plants... they only exist through cultivation and are therefore considered extinct in the wild. Ah, here we go: 'brugmansia seeds and leaves contain toxins known to cause paralysis, hallucinations, tachycardia, headaches, and eventual death, while the flowers induce hallucinations described as both terrifying as well as pleasurable, making the experience both euphoric akin to an aphrodisiac, as well as something akin to night terrors.'”
“But I wonder how it works with vampires, though,” I suggested.
“Yeah, I wonder about that, too,” he said as he continued reading. “'Brugmansia is not recommended for live humans on the pleasurable level, but in the presence of ghosts, phantoms, vampires, zombies, and any trace of undeath, it is said to act as a stimulant and a means of gaining sex appeal.'” He stopped for a second, and then he glanced over at Abby. “'The sap of brugmansia will leave a mark on the undead which resembles to that of a scar before it vanishes into the flesh. It is then that the living will be drawn to the entity affected by the plant even from five miles away. The most indicative sign that a member of the dead has taken the sap is a faraway, almost trancelike expression in their eyes, a fusion of a trance as well as the intensity of desire. The angel's trumpet as well as the devil's trumpet are said to make the undead irresistably sexy to the living, barring the living doesn't touch traces of whatever extraneous brugmansia sap is left behind...'” He raised his head again. “Are you kidding me.”
“Wow,” Abby decreed, and a soft blush crossed her face. I frowned at that.
“You're not thinking...” I started, and then I stopped right in my tracks. Rob gave his hair a toss back with the flick of his head, and then he folded his arms across his chest.
“What're you thinking about, Abs?” he demanded.
“I... I don't know.” She shook her head about, and then she bowed out of there. Rob and I glanced at each other, mortified. We chased after her into the back hallway of the house, to which she darted into the backyard and along the side of the house.
“Abby!” I called after her. “Abigail!”
Rob ran alongside me as we followed her to the street. I knew she ran fast given her experience with baseball, but I never saw her run so fast to the end of the street. Panting, Rob and I skidded to a stop and we watched her go around the corner: her legs pumped so hard that I swore she was marching down the street.
“Where the hell is she going?” he demanded as he stooped over and rested his hands on his knees.
“I have absolutely no clue,” I said with a shake of my head. I clasped my hands to my head. It was bad enough thinking about her being with someone else, but now there was a poison plant involved, barring that the sap already receded back into Eric's skin.
“Hey, there's Mark.” I peered behind me to see Mark riding up to us in his little black car.
“Hey, you two!” he declared once he rolled within earshot. “Where's Abby going to in such a hurry?”
“We don't know—is it okay if we hitch a ride with you?” I asked him.
“Of course! Get in, get in—”
“Shotgun,” Rob said before I could get a word in, but I took to the backseat no questions asked. Before I could even so much as strap myself in, Mark stepped on it and we chased after Abby as she ran further ahead. The San Francisco fog already began to collect into a bank near the Golden Gate Bridge off in the distance, and thus, we had to hurry even more.
“There she is,” Mark said as we rounded the next corner up ahead. Indeed, she ran down the middle of the street, and she looked to be going towards the harbor. Through the incoming fog, I noticed the lights from the ships dotted along the cold dark waters as well as that from Treasure Island and Alcatraz off in the distance: near the edge of the water closest to us, I spotted the low shack by the dock. Even from a distance, I knew that long jet-black hair paired with milky white skin.
“Mark, slow down,” I advised him, and he pulled over to the right side of the street. We watched Abby run ahead to the harbor, faster than I had ever seen her run before in my life. Given the road was flat, we had to try all that we could so as to not be seen by them, even from all the way up the street. He brought us to a stop, and he tugged on the parking lever and switched off the engine.
“I can't see,” Rob grumbled as he leaned forward in the chair for a better view before us.
“Let's hoof it,” I suggested.
“We have to be careful not to get caught, though,” Mark told us in a low voice. The three of us climbed out and scurried along the sidewalk to catch up with Abby, who had already reached the dock: Eric had ducked around the abandoned shack there, and thus, we really had to be careful not to be spotted by either one of them, let alone by anyone in the harbor given it was out in the open.
A cold wind was blowing by the time we reached the pier, and I could hear Abby's laughter behind that shack. The aged wood creaked under our sneakers, but at least the wind was noisy enough to drown us out.
I reached the right side of the shack first: I pressed my back to the wall behind us, and I skirted along the wood on my toes lest they hear us. I reached the corner first, and I peeked around to see them there with a full, panoramic view of the harbor waters. Mark and Rob joined me, also with their backs to the wall: I glanced up to see the window right over our heads. As far as I knew, there was another window right over Abby and Eric there.
“Get down, get down—” I coaxed them, and the three of us crouched down behind the corner, and we peeked around to see what they were doing. Rob hunkered down behind me with his legs pulled into his body, while Mark kept his arm around my back. It was already cold, and I had a hunch that we were in for an even colder night, but we had to watch them for ourselves.
I could only see Abby's back but I had a full view of Eric and that long black hair that streaked down from the crown of his head. He said something to her which made her giggle, and then she said something in return to make him laugh as well. Eric then licked the extraneous blood from the edges of his claws, and he raised an eyebrow at Abby. I stood perfectly still there with Rob and Mark both at my back. The sap from the angel's trumpet had gone back into his skin and now he was oozing sex for Abby in particular.
I watched him lean forward for a gentle kiss on her lips, much like how Alex began kissing me after he had indulged in some flesh and blood as well.
“Oh, god... you saved my life,” I heard her say to him.
“Correction—you saved mine,” he retorted back to her with a kiss on the side of her neck. I needn't have to see the look on her face to know that she was enjoying it. His hands, complete with those stubby fingers, caressed up the side of her body to her shoulder and then back down again. I watched him slip his fingers under her shirt to unhook her bra with one swipe.
He nudged her down onto the aged wood that made up the dock. He lifted up her shirt and revealed her breasts to him. He brought his head down to her bare chest for a series of kisses: I knew what he was doing even if her top blocked my view.
“Don't stop!” Abby begged him. Eric kissed her all the way down her belly to the waist of her jeans, and then he took them off for her. He was going to give her a blowjob right there out in the open, all because she couldn't resist him and the sap of the angel's trumpet that found its way into his flesh.
I glanced back to Mark and Rob, who looked on at me with their mouths agape and their eyes gleaming.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Yeah.”
“Watching my own sister get blown by a vampire is...” I could scarcely think. “Wow.”
“It kind of makes me hot,” Mark confessed as he ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair. I stopped and frowned at that.
“Wait. You guys aren't horrified?”
“Horrified?” Rob asked me with a chuckle, and he and Mark glanced at one another. “Why would we be horrified? We're basically witnessing free porn over here.”
The three of us returned our attention to the two of them still there on the dock: at that point, Eric had taken off his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. Indeed, the scar was gone, but now, he had stripped down his pants as well. Even from a few feet away and through the fading daylight, I could see the look of a trance upon his face. A trance with desire and passion, just like the book had said.
He held onto Abby's knees to steady himself.
He thrusted down upon her at a slow, deliberate pace. Indeed, I could feel myself breathing harder at the sight of them there.
“Whoa...”
Abby arched her back as Eric moved in slower, deeper, and from what I could tell by the parting of his lips and the hooding to his eyes, harder into her. I pictured myself there before him. I pictured myself on my back giving myself to him.
Mark gripped onto my shoulder and tugged me back. I leaned against the wall with my lips parted and out of breath myself.
“What're you thinking?” Rob asked me right then.
“I don't know... but I guess Alex needs a dose of that poison sap next.” And those two boys glanced at each other, excited. Abby let out a low moan from around the corner but I knew Eric was still going from all the grunts and groans that emerged from him.
He coaxed another moan from her, and that one was the most euphoric.
“I gotta stop... I gotta stop...” I heard him say. The three of us peeked around the corner to see him laying down on top of her to hold her close.
“Don't let me go,” Abby begged him with a slight break to her voice. “Please don't let me go, Eric. I'm chained to you.”
“Sensual delights no human woman could ever dream of before,” I breathed out as we receded back again.
“I think we should go,” Mark suggested.
“Yeah, I worry about one of the fishermen out here catching us,” I said, and the three of us scurried back along the side of the shack to the rest of the dock.
Years ago I was at a Death Angel concert and I had a (couple of) beer(s) with the band. The radio started playing Battiato and the singer (the Great Mark Osegueda) and I started to talking about Battiato's music, with the others looking at us like we were mad XD
But he was a great song writer and the music is absolutely cool too.
abbocchi sempre all'amo
le barricate in piazza le fai per conto della borghesia
che crea falsi miti di progresso
Chi vi credete che noi siam, per i capelli che portiam,
noi siamo delle lucciole che stanno nelle tenebre.
Up patriots to arms, Engagez-Vous
la musica contemporanea, mi butta giù.
