Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Suspense

Suspense is defined as a play on anxiety, and when reading a book or watching a show or movie, “suspense” leaves one “on tenterhooks” as if one is holding one’s breath waiting for some event to happen. Mystery novels and horror novels and crime novels are loaded with suspense, and likely all novels have some suspense attached to them.

There is plenty of suspense in The Prodigal Band Trilogy, but in only a few instances is the suspense of truly “being on tenterhooks” level exists in this three-books-in-one trilogy. Below I will “snippet” perhaps the most suspenseful part of the book, which takes place in Chapter Twelve of The Prodigal Band.

The six members of the band Sound Unltd had just been rescued from their burning private 747 jet at a London Airport, and have been picked up at the airport by their manager, Joe Phillips. Phillips is the son of an evil man, Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau, head of a satanic secret society called the Hellyons, head of another evil secret group called the Novordos, as well as head of the Directorate, an amalgam of entertainment industry head honchos; the band members are also on the Directorate as a ploy to keep them ‘in line’ with the Directorate’s nihilistic pop culture agenda. Phillips owns a small hotel, near the royal palace, which is where he is now living, and the band members are staying on the second floor of this hotel. The band is in London to attend a ‘mandatory’ Directorate meeting–or so they think. They meet with Phillips in his living room to discuss this supposed event. The band are already suspicious that Joe’s evil father ordered the burn of their jet. The snippet is narrated by pop culture journalist Lloyd Denholm, who narrates The Prodigal Band. The character Marty Effingchester, a Duke, is another member of these evil groups. The time frame is July 8, 2001, evening.


Later in the evening, in a hotel room near a palace

 

At some point Joe got tired of living in a three-room flat, wanting more space. Then the townhouse, which he also got tired of.  So, he bought a small, family-owned, but up-scale hotel a few blocks from the palace, with three floors, with staff taking the first floor and him occupying the third floor with enough room left over to accommodate his personal guests. When the six went to Directorate meetings, the second floor of this hotel is where they stayed. But Joe usually wasn’t there.

This time, however, he was scared for their lives, and ultimately, his own. He had told me years ago that he would reveal to the six what they needed to know to defend themselves against his father’s evil exactly when they had to have this information. When they got to his suite of rooms on the top floor, they all met in his main room so that he could impart to them exactly how he believed they would be dealt with by his father and the Novordos.

As usual, they arranged the available chairs in a circle, and, as usual, Joe faced Jack, the leader. “Did you bring the Directorate meeting letter, Jack?”

“Yeh.” Then Jack read the letter word for word.

“Did you all get the same letter?”

Agreement.

“I asked that because that is not the same letter that Marty Effingchester got.”

From opened mouths to wide open eyes, six hearts raced.

But Jack’s raced faster, as he nearly bounded out of the chair. “So what the bloody hell was in his letter? And how the hell did you find out?”

Joe then stood up to get attention. “Now pay attention, guys, because I am only going to say this once. I had the place debugged about three hours before your jet exploded, because minions of my father have been doing surveillance on me for months. Yes,” he shouted to the stunned six, “freaking spy agencies are spying on me for my father and the Novordos.”

Calmed. “So I will only say what I have to say once. First of all, Marty’s letter was not for a Directorate meeting, but for a Hellyon Inner Sanctum meeting at Torquay Hall, in that dungeon I told you all about. The same dungeon I used to have to sneak through when I sneaked into my own house the night I found you boys. That same dungeon is where the Hellyons do their blood sacrifices.”

Mick couldn’t help interrupting. “Blood sacrifices?” Then louder so all London could hear. “You mean they actually sacrificed—!”

“Yes, Mick. And your good friends Allyson and Melanie are part of that group.”

Still infuriated. “They’re not my friends, not now, not since Ally lied to get us banned!”

And while Mick couldn’t help himself, the other five just looked on in horror, as if five collective consciousness’s suddenly understood the gravity of their situation.

“So, Joe,” Tom tried to say normally but his voice shook, “is that what they gonna do to us?”

Joe, now squatting down to get into Tom’s face for attention, hissed as a viper, “Yes!” Then he got back up and stood in their midst. “One by one. They will either sacrifice one of you while the others are locked up in cages, then do another and another. Sacrificing one to Corion and another to Satan and another to some other bogus god. Baphomet. Or Horus. Or Osiris. Until all six of you are dead, and my father and the rest will drink your blood.”

More suspense follows this snippet, but I’ll leave it at that.

Only one or two more snippets by genre category remain to be posted. Then I will post snippets by character, and other snippets.

In the meantime, one can buy the e-book or softcover print version from various sellers using this link.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Spiritual

Gee, Hallowe’en is almost here! Time for spiritual snippets! After all, I’ve already done horror, paranormal, fantasy, and two occult snippets, part 1 and part 2…or should I have left the occult snippets for Hallowe’en? But anyway….

These snippets involve actual (fictional) duals between the good and evil spiritual forces as well as communication between the Evil and its human minions. I could mention many instances here, but three snippets should be enough, and they are shorter than usual; some of my snippets have been quite long!

The first one comes from Chapter Eight of Battle the Band where, during a host of 1995 Sound Unltd concerts, the good forces, The Tooters, battle the bad ones, The Demons. The previous year, the Demons “gave” songwriters Erik, the singer/lyricist, and Jack, the guitarist/composer, a song relating to the history of their hometown called ‘Song of the Demons.’ Later in 1994, at a party at Erik’s estate, The Tooters ‘gave’ both a counteracting song, ‘Where Do We Come From?’ that also relates to their hometown history. At the concerts, they perform ‘Song of the Demons’ and then, to close the concerts, perform ‘Where Do We Come From?’ The following snippet features the spiritual battle in the dimensional beyond ‘above’ the concert stage and audience, both band and fans completely unaware of the ‘battle.’


1995, on the road again

 

Onto the Bellyful/Bad Boys Are Back world tour, where a taste of the battle to come between The Tooters and The Demons took Sound Unltd completely unaware while performing ‘Song of the Demons’ back-to-back with ‘Where Do We Come From?’ night after night, in city after world city. Nor could their fans sense the clash of light-against-dark-swords in the spirit dimension high above their waving fans and bodies.

‘Song of the Demons.’ Gold Demon swung its sword and came within a hair’s breadth of decapitating Tooter Two. “Give up now, you puny being!”

“No! I invoke the Creator!”

“Not during our song. It won’t work!” Swoosh!

The bright-red soul catching egg encased the stadium.

Most within chanted, louder and louder, over and over. “Corion, Corion, Novordopax, Tricameron!”

‘Where Do We Come From?’ began. The egg faded, the chanting stopped.

“Pray to our Creator, Tooters three, and on to attack!”

The Tooters took the initiative. One of them yelled as it swung and missed Silver Demon, “We could really use a rendition of ‘Let the Night Down’ about now!”

“Forget it! They haven’t played that in years and it’s not in the Plan. The time will come.”

And always, at the end of the segue, the two sides remained at a standoff.

By the way, ‘Novordopax’ is a saying that means ‘new world order peace’ and ‘Tricameron’ equates with the three configurations of evil mentioned in the Book of Revelation within the Bible: the dragon, the beast and the false prophet.

The next snippet comes from Chapter Five of The Prophesied Band, where the satanic fallen angel, named Corion, speaks to a group of evil men regarding their inability to force the band Sound Unltd to sign a ‘pact’ to ‘sell their souls’ to the evil. The men are expecting some form of judgement against them as happened to cult leader Swami Negran, who failed in his mission from Corion to capture the souls of singer Erik and bassist Keith while in hospital from alcohol-drug overdose and mild heart attacks, which ended the first trilogy book, Battle of the Band. Corion is speaking to banker oligarch and leader of the bad guys, Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau, as well as Duke Effingchester, Mr. X and Mr. Y, all media moguls. The “he” in the first line refers to the evil spirit Corion.


“He is here.”

Within a secret room housing a granite flat-stone altar to Corion in the dungeon of Torquay Hall, the Duke of Effingchester and Messers. X and Y heard Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau’s pronouncement.

“And he is exercising judgment.” Effingchester was nervous for his own life. For he had allowed the Hovels debt to be repaid.

“It was swift, I’m sure.” X shivered though the small room was warm. The media mogul had been unable to acquire Foray Records as his lord had wished.

“Pray we will have more time.” Y was really sure they wouldn’t. He felt goosebumps on his goosebumps. He, too, had failed to gain Foray.

The rotund Baron knelt at his altar and said in a quivering voice, “Corion, our lord, tell us your will that we may serve you.”

The others also bowed to their god.

Still undefined and unseen, Corion spoke through the Baron. “I have destroyed your fellow, Negran. The world’s media will know he perished in a car crash south of London on the 9th of February, 1996. See they know it, X. And know, too, a similar fate awaits those who will not carry out my will.”

Corion, through Torquay, didn’t wait for his servants to gulp with fright. “It is apparent you need my direct assistance to win over this planet. Swami could not deliver to me the band of the spoken-pact. You must still use your influence to get them to turn over their record company. I myself will work with them directly. I’ll do whatever it takes to bend them to my will. Each’ll gladly pay with their souls and the souls of all youth by the time I finish with them. Further, I’ll give you the power to win their company. They won’t refuse. They’ll have no choice.”

The others thought with smiling faces.

(Mr.) X. Economic chaos. Currencies will be ruined. The masses will beg us to save their worthless money. We will bend them to our will. And our will be done!

(Mr.) Y. Companies not already under our control will collapse unless the owners bow to us. We’ll control it all!

Effingchester. I will again own the Hovels folks—and all the masses of the world. And that drummer who defiled my family will be served on my most prized gold platter. I will gladly consume him while his Tina, my beloved wife, watches in horror! His heart laughed.

Corion went on. “I will now take my place in this realm among you mortals. As you fulfill your duty, you will know who I am in this world. I will be a healer the world’s populace will follow, for it is written. In time you’ll know for sure, and you’ll complete my will. And then you’ll sit at my right hand.”

The elect smiled with drooling mouths and blazing eyes.

“Or I will gnaw your bones forever.”

In the final snippet from the final chapter of The Prophesied Band, Corion, the evil satanic spirit that is inhabiting Cole Blessing–who took over the Circle of Unity cult after Corion captured Swami Negran–engages The Tooters. The angelic statue is right across the road from where Blessing and his disciple ‘Xulya,’–synthist Bry’s wife Mo–and their three boys exit a cab en route to see Bry at the hometown park, Victoria Park, in mid-July, 2000, where the band will perform that night at the music festival. But while Mo and the boys exit the cab and head over to the park where the women of the band are waiting for them, Blessing feels sick. Blessing is never sick, but the evil spirit that resides within him makes him sick as the spirit, Corion, gets ready to encounter The Tooters, angels of The Almighty.


Meanwhile, Cole Blessing remained at the cab as the driver was perfectly willing to let his meter run.

Corion was also there. “So you think you can keep me from my destiny, puny Tooters!”

Wise Tooter Three answered. “It is not we, Corion, son of darkness, who had made your human host sick. It is not us you must defeat! And you will not pass this north gate, nor the park, nor the stage.”

“I could crush you with my pinkie!”

“Then why don’t you?” Plucky Tooter Two answered. “Because you can’t. The Creator created you, and He does not wish it.”

“He created me, yes. But He won’t rule for long! This planet will be mine!”

With uncharacteristic chic, Tooter One slowly responded. “In your dreams.”

Want something to read on Hallowe’en? Choose the link to your favorite online book-seller, or visit the OmegaBooks Bookstore.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Satire

The Prodigal Band Trilogy, being about the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of a fictitious and big time rock and roll band, is full of celebrities. That makes the trilogy and the books within it ripe for satire among other genres. Though the three-books-in-one trilogy leaves out much of the satire originally published in the original three books, there is still enough to regale the reader here, with two snippets posted. One involves celebrity attention-seeking behavior, and the other involves their hypocrisy, especially when it comes to their so-called ‘environmental activism,’ which, in my opinion, is just more attention-seeking behavior but often strictly for tax-write-off purposes.

Note: while it would be nice to be a best-selling author, one thing I absolutely do not want is to be a celebrity! I value my privacy as much as I could have what with having to market my books, but if I became a celebrity I would have no privacy!

Being a celebrity is a double-edged sword. Yes, they have fortunes and fabulous homes and cars and whatever, but while it takes attention-seeking to maintain celebrity, at some point the celebrity wants privacy and to go about with their lives devoid of constant media-tabloid-hounds chasing after them. And at some point, someone will come up with some nonsense about them that is not true and turns their lives inside out and backwards. Yet, whose fault is that? Theirs! They’re the ones who sought the attention, right?

Fortunately, for me and my characters, I realized these books were not going to be essays on satire. Yet I believe if your characters are celebrities some satire is necessary.

In one of the snippets, I highlight celebrity hypocrisy as to nature reserves and saving wildlife that so many celebs take part in because they have the financial means to do so and mostly do it for tax exemption purposes. Considering at galas and whatnot they wear furs, kid leather, and custom woolen suits, etc., can they actually be considered “friends” of the wildlife that they spent thousands of dollars on to wear? One of the reasons certain fur animals are endangered is because celebrities can’t stand to not be ‘seen’ wearing them! Meanwhile, they berate us “little people” for wearing clothing made from wildlife of the cheaper variety, and for wanting to go camping and hunting and fishing every now and then! Is it any wonder celebrities that fly to environmental conferences about ‘saving the environment’ in their private jets are considered hypocrites?

And then there is that attention-seeking behavior…and celebrities wonder why they have no privacy!

In Chapter Seven of Battle of the Band, New Age cult leader Swami Negran fights his way into a Bay Area night club where Sound Unltd is performing–drunk and on various cocaine-laced drugs–in front of hundreds of fans right after their stadium gig. The night before the gig, during a party given for the band, bassist Keith and his lover, pop star Lisa, arranged to meet again in Phoenix in the midst of the following week. But later at that party, she saw Keith with another groupie, Lolita, which angered her enough to try to ‘get revenge’ on him. Lisa, ever the attention seeker, then plotted a publicity stunt using another rocker, Pete Slade, at that night club. Slade, whom she used on a number of stunt occasions, went along with it.


Swami Negran, two hours late for the start of the circus at Forkyz, had to fight through hundreds of stargazers milling outside the club. Then he had to push and shove his way through a host of silky-tanned bodies raising their fists or jutting their hips to the tom-tom honky-tonk beat of Uh-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Until he made it to the northwest corner. He was almost accosted by a bikini-briefed Lisa Brent and a Peter Slade in nothing but spandex shorts and Denny Spradlin’s mojo-sandals as they tried to move Keith’s skuz-wasted, pulsating body which grasped his bass in his left hand and Lolita’s bra in his right.

While the lame bassist howled and laughed through Slade’s and Negran’s attempts to prop him against the wall, Swami shouted, “This is even worse than fighting my way in here. There’s a couple o’ thousand people outside clawing to get in!”

Keith slurred loudly. “Well why the hell don’t we bloody let ‘em in? There’s room for—” Down onto the floor he fell in a heap. “Ah, shit! Get me the hell up, eh Mystic Man?”

Lisa, still acting disgusted from Keith’s perfidy the night before, snickered. “Just leave him there!” She then turned to her back-up lover, Slade. “Sweet Pete, listen to this, babe. I got a plan that’ll get us mucho headlines. Help bolster your career, eh?”

“And yours, Lisa love.”

“My career’s doing nicely, thank you!”

“So’s mine, thank you very much!”

“Oh, shut up, Pete, and listen. Both of us’ll go out there in front of the people out there—” Lisa turned to Swami. “Did you see any paparazzi out there?”

“Dozens of photographers, and some with camcorders.”

“Super! Okay, Pete, we’ll go out there and I’ll do my little act. You know, yell and scream about how Keith has betrayed me? And you escort me in your limo to the airport. I need to go on to Phoenix anyway to see my agent there about next year’s tour. I’ll meet you again when the Party Machine lands in Phoenix. Then, I’ll finish the little bastard off! How’s that sound, Pete?”

Slade answered noncommittally, “Sure, babe.”

Lisa then looked down on Keith. “Is that okay with you, you little shit?”

The bombed bassist mumbled his assent, knowing full well that the night before, he and his prime lover planned to greet each other with lavish affection aboard the jet—in full view of perplexed reporters.

Just as most of the horde of stargazers thought they’d leave the sidewalk in front of Forkyz and go home, just as reporters decided to call it a night, an enraged Lisa Brent blew out the front doors of the night club, escorted by a confused-looking Peter Slade. Seeing the mass of reporters hovering in front of Slade’s limo, she saw her chance. “Now listen to this, press boys!” she yelled for their benefit. “You can forget that goddamned Keith Mullock! We’re finished! You understand that? And you can quote me!” She stomped into the car.

Some scribes held Slade back.

“She’s just upset, eh?” he told them. “I’m just here to help her get over it.”

“What happened, Mr. Slade?”

“Listen, I can’t get into that here.”

The second snippet from Chapter Eight of The Prophesied Band highlights celebrity hypocrisy regarding ‘saving the environment’–only for the sake of tax write-offs. Said celebrities in the novel did not consider that wearing expensive furs and clothing of animal skins would in no way ‘save’ endangered species or help the wildlife they claimed to want to protect. The following scene involving singer Erik, pop culture-narrator Jay, and a group of pop star celebrities at a gala to support funding for new Church of the Circle of Unity cult leader Cole Blessing’s ‘Ashram’ south of the fictitious Bay area city of Richmont. Jay, the narrator, also references band manager Joe Phillips’ ‘watchword’ of hypocrisy of wealthy ‘guardians of the environment’ such as his own bank-oligarch father, not just rich celebrities. If anything deserves being the focus of satire, it is celebrity hypocrisy!


DomGerry, April’s poster boy for the Nature Club, discussed a juicy tax-break idea with his friends Jonny Kirk and Jillian Lowe—stars of the live-action movie version of Tree Huggers—and Jeff ‘Ax’ Axman, a major stockholder of a new cable TV network called The Whole Earth Channel. As I approached them I thought to myself how ironic it was these ‘nature activists’ wore either kid leather, ostrich leather, or leopard skins; DomGerry wore alligator-skin boots; Kirk and Lowe both wore chinchilla furs to the bash.

Joe Phillips had once told me the watchword of his father’s new order was hypocrisy. Protection of nature really meant protection of the right of the rich to plunder nature while denying access to the masses like those hapless people being loaded on that windowless bus.

“This forty-thousand acre ranch I bought in Desert Valley last year?” The singer smiled just thinking about how he’d top Ax’s tale of how he saved hundreds of thousands on his taxes by selling his own ecology foundation wetlands to set up a wildlife preserve. “From some old rancher who needed big money. Said he couldn’t afford to raise his cattle ‘cos the government kept lowering beef price supports.”

“The one in the Paramount Mountains?” Ax asked.

“Yeah. But I did you one better, Ax. Take a lesson, eh?” Laugh. “I sold it to my Desert Valley Wildlife Foundation for one tax break, then my foundation sold it to Sustainability, Inc., my ecological R & D corporation, for a double tax break.”

Though I stood behind Ax’s left shoulder, neither the singer-guitarist, nor the others, noticed me until Erik, who I’d been looking for, showed up next to me.

The newcomer suddenly asked, “So what’s up with the tree-huggers?”

Light laughter, until Dom and the others told Erik about Dom’s nature preserve activity.

“Can’t do that sorta thing back home,” Manning responded. “Can only lease it, eh?” He’d brought a long-stemmed champagne glass with him, and he sipped it.

“I thought you were on the wagon?” Ax asked.

“What, champagne, man? I gave up booze, not bubbly, eh? And besides, Ax, I have a nip o’ whiskey from time to time. But, you see, man, I got it under control.”

Lowe blurted, “Well that is sooo super, Erik. Bet you’re much more in tune with Mother Nature now.”

“Yeh, really,” the singer waxed sarcastic. “You know I’d like to get into something like that here. A nature preserve or a refuge or something. Leave it completely untouched for all the animals—all the animals but you, Ax.” Loud laugh.

“Hey up your British ass!”

They laughed, as the two always did after their jibes.

So, of course, the foursome had to tell Erik how he could do that and claim his preserve on his British taxes. The gist of their advice was provided by the singer. “Tell Cole what you need, and he’ll set it up for you.”

And there are more instances of satire besides satire involving celebrities. Buy the book to find out! And if one has read the trilogy or any of the separate books within the trilogy, any review or rating at any of the online sites such as Amazon or any of the others linked here would be appreciated. Or at Goodreads.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Romance

I have read few Romance novels, and I have seen few Romance movies that I have any affection for (but Romance Adventure movies like High Road to China, Jewel of the Nile, and Romancing the Stone are outstanding, IMHO). But one thing I know about the Romance genre–all Romance-themed novels or movies have this in common: sexual tension. It is not tension during the act of sex, but tension between the sexes involved with the romance relationship.

For instance: in High Road to China–one of my fave movies ever–the Bess Armstrong character and the Tom Selleck character (named O’Malley), in between hugging and kissing and bedding with each other, are constantly arguing, yelling at each other, her screaming, “O’Malley!” every few seconds or so, and O’Malley all pissed off because she demanded to fly her own plane and later crashed his plane named Dorothy in Nepal, as they headed to China to find her father, who was being screwed out of millions by his crooked business partner. In the end, of course, they decide to build a good relationship upon leaving western China where her dad is leading a rebellion against some overlord in the 1920s. All novels, Romance genre or not, that build some sexual tension, always have that tension relieved at the end, when love abounds.

And there is plenty of sexual tension in The Prodigal Band Trilogy. I have already discussed this marriage tension between the bassist Keith and his wife Jarris, in the Drama snippet.. In fact there is sexual tension between each band member and his woman throughout the three-books-in-one trilogy that get resolved at some point.

But the key “romance-sexual tension” partnership within the band and their women is between keyboard-synthist Bryan and his wife, Mo, who marry early and then things begin to go awry as they bring forth children. Prior to having kids, the relationship is as good as it could be; having children become the linchpin for what develops into a rocky relationship, as I will describe below in three snippets.

The first “sexual tension” episode comes from Chapter Four of Battle of the Band. Bry and his band Sound Unld have been temporarily banned from their UK home and are stuck living in the New York metro area. Bry and Mo and their children live in a fancy apartment in lower Manhattan. For various reasons Mo feels she must return to London every few weeks to see her psychiatrist (spoiler alert–lover) named Rimsgate because she feels Bry is not properly supporting her “needs,” spending much more time with his biker buddies (who also make up the band’s road crew) or with his synth-project business partner, Reg. Upon returning to the apartment after spending a day in a recording studio, Bry enters the place as Mo is getting ready to leave for London and her “lover.” The time frame is late 1990.


Contrasted with the austere nanny wearing dark woolen coat, matching hat hiding pinned-up gray hair, and low-heeled support shoes standing with a young child and holding an infant wrapped in somber colors, the young woman of the house herself soaked in bright red—hair, lips, earrings, bracelet and necklace of ruby, and metallic jump suit under a silver gray sable coat—moved excitedly about her Village Square townhouse making sure she had everything for her latest biweekly trip back to London.

“Five suitcases should be enough,” Mo McClellan said with the air of a street tough elevated in station. She inspected her hair in the front hallway mirror, fussing with it. “Take the kids out to the limo, Nanny. I’ll be there in a jiff.”

Just as Nanny opened the door, the limo driver appeared to take the suitcases out to the car. Nanny took Craig by the hand and held baby Sean while going out the doorway down the five steps out to the car.

Then a taxi pulled up in front of the limo. Out stepped the wild, red-haired man of the house. Bry greeted Nanny and his sons. “Going out for a bit of air, eh?”

“Hi, dad,” Craig said. “You come, too?”

“No. Too bloody tired, eh?”

Nanny said nothing.

Mo, dismayed by her husband’s entrance, swiftly turned around as she finished reapplying her winter lip gloss. Damned, Bry, you would show up just as I was about to leave.

As Bryan walked over to the bar in the adjoining living room, he greeted his wife. “Eh, luv, you a bit dressed up for a walk, eh?” He poured himself a drink.

Mo followed him, wanting a showdown. “No, Bry. I’m going back to London for a few days.”

“Is it Rimsgate time again?” He took a belt, then plopped the glass on the bar. “How two weeks fly, eh?”

“Really! Especially when I never get to see you anymore. I mean, somebody has to be there to help me with my problems.” She stood legs spread in confrontation.

Your hormones acting up again? Shit, luv, I’ve been arguing all day with Jack and Mick, and now I have to put up with your crap? “You have a problem, Mo?”

“Yes, I have a problem! Does that surprised you?” She stormed up to him at the bar. “I ran away from home so I could be with you. So what happens? I never get to be with you! Even when you’re around.”

Bry had heard all that before. “Well, I told you not to run away from home. I told you I’d be too busy to spend much time with you. You said you wanted us to be married. Well, you got pregnant, so then we had to get married.”

Mo had heard all that before, too. “Are you saying I got pregnant to hook you into marriage?”

“No! I’m glad we got married. I love you, Mo.”

“You have a funny way of showing it. I never see you.”

He shook his head. “Oh, come on, Mo. You know what the life of a professional entertainer is like.”

“I’m not complaining about that. Why do you have to spend all your free time with Reg or those damned bikers? Sure you’re here now, but you’ve spent the last two weeks with The Bikers out in California. Thank God we didn’t move to L.A. the way you wanted to. I really would never see you then!”

Time for some reefer. Bry took a joint out of his shirt pocket, lit it, and toked. “You know bloody well why I need to spend time with Reg. He can’t build the synthesizer alone. The bikers? They’re just mates I can unwind with. They help me to relax.”

“And I don’t?”

Not when you’re like this, you don’t! He drew her to himself and kissed her. “You relax me—differently. But there’s times I need to, you know, ride. It’s fun, eh? Why don’t you, you know, come riding with us sometime?”

She withdrew from him. “I’m not a biker—a moll! I don’t know how to ride, and your mates go for those one-night-stand types.”

“They like you enough, or do you consider yourself superior to them?”

“No, Bry, it’s just that I resent them taking up so much of your free time. Plus you spend all your time with them on tour as your roadies, too. You probably don’t even spend much time with the rest of the band. They probably consider you a snob.”

“I just don’t go for all that ‘image’ bullshit, or that ‘star’ trip like the others do. It’s the glamor scene I avoid, not them.” Again, he kissed and caressed her. “Look, you say you want to spend time with me, yet you’re gonna take three days to travel and see this five-hundred-pounds-an-hour celebrity shrink you don’t need to see. Doesn’t make sense.”

Pushing him away, Mo snickered. “Don’t lay a guilt trip on me, Bry. I need someone to talk to, to provide answers that you can’t, or won’t. Maybe Rimsgate can.” She turned from him coldly and went out the door into the limo.

Bry said bitterly to himself, “Well, I guess he’ll have to.”

The second snippet, in Chapter Eight, occurs in the summer of 1994 after another North American tour ended. At their southeast estate near a small lake, while entertaining Bry’s biker buddies before he and the bikers head north for a retreat, the married couple get into another argument. Mo had recently had their third son, and that was her excuse for not partaking in the biker ride. But Bry saw the excuse as Mo not wanting anything to do with his “course and unrefined” biker mates.


“How long are you biking, Bry?”

He opened the can. “Oh, three weeks or so.” He laughed and said, “By then, the others’ll be recovered enough to work on the next record.”

His cavalier attitude annoyed her. “Sure, Bry, sure. When are you going to recover?”

“Me?” He laughed again. “I never have to recover.”

“And what if your back goes out?”

“Mo, I can handle meself, eh?” He swilled his brew. “And if you’re so concerned, come with us. I need you on these rides.”

“I can’t leave Logan!”

Another silly excuse! Another one of her persecution guilt trips! “Oh, shit, Mo. We have a nanny and a nurse maid. For god’s sake! For my sake! For your sake!”

“For my sake? And how would it look for a mother of an infant to be in jail?”

“Jail? I’m not getting thrown in jail this time.”

She would bring that up! “Shit, only because Chet and Stu got carried away. We’re headed north this time, and we’re gonna spend a day or so at our lakeside retreat, eh? All the more reason for you to come. You can leave that baby for a week or two.”

That baby? His own son is ‘that baby?’ “No. I can’t leave ‘that baby’.”

Bry stood up and consumed his beer. He frowned and retorted, “Or, you won’t, eh?

The argument continues back and forth over why she refuses to go on the ride. While Mo again complains that Bry spends too much time with the bikers and refuses to see to her “needs,” he complains that the time she spends with the other band member’s women, such as shopping, could have been spent with him. The spat eventually ends with her leaving him working at his motorcycle. And then leaving him for good, so she believed.


“I may not be here when you get back.”

Bry sighed in disgust. Must be her hormones. Must be Rimsgate time.

Sure enough.

Two days later she was home again, having hatched a plot with her analyst-lover.

When Bryan returned, the two of them met with Rimsgate at his office.

Dr. Neville Rimsgate, on behalf of his client-lover, Mo McClellan, asked Bry squarely, “But why can’t you attend to at least some of her needs? At least when you are with her?”

Two against one. No matter what I say, I’ll lose. He blew off some steam. “Her needs? Is that all you’re concerned about, though you told me on the phone before I came here that both our needs must be— Harmonized, that’s how you put it, eh? So, you want me to satisfy her needs when I’m not on the road? What the hell about my needs? Our needs?” He turned to Mo across from him, holding out his hands. “You know, our needs?”

“Our? What our? We don’t see each other often enough for there to be an our! That’s why I’m saying ‘my needs’ or ‘your needs.’ There aren’t any mutual needs when you’re gone most of the year.”

He threw out his arms. “I can’t help that. It’s what I do! It’s what that band o’ mine does! Are you saying I should just bug out of a year’s worth of commitments?”

“That’s not it, Bry. It’s our relationship that’s hurting, and you being with the band is no excuse. None of the other married members of your band have this problem. They’ve resolved their problems because they wanted to. You don’t want to, Bry.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?” What the hell more does she want?

“We’re getting nowhere, though. You’re just too damned busy with Reg or those damned bikers.”

It’s no use! What I do is me, and she knew it when she got pregnant and used that to get me to marry her. Never mind that I told her that wouldn’t be necessary and that I’d support the baby. “Okay, Mo, what do you want us to do?”

“Until we can work this out, Bry, I want a separation. I mean, you’re never really with me, anyway.”

Never?

“Because the children and I are just another frustration you have no time for.”

No time?

“That way, you won’t have to feel guilty about being with Reg and the bikers all the time.”

Guilty? I mean, who’s really guilty here? “Guilty, Mo? You think I’m the guilty one here? You think I’m the one who doesn’t want to resolve this? But that ain’t what’s coming down, eh? I think the two of you— Shit, Mo. That’s all it could be. I’ve exhausted the possibilities why you won’t see reason. It’s because you two’ve been lovers. For a wee bit, eh? Ain’t that right, Mo?”

Upon hearing that Bry had figured out her motivation, she looked ugly at him and stood up angrily, leaving the office with a door slam.

He followed her.

She got into her car and left him standing outside Rimsgate’s office building seeing the look on her face—a conniving sneer mixed with merciless loathing.

Mo finally got what she wanted—Rimsgate, a man of slavish love for her whom she could control completely.

Several years pass before they manage to see each other again, during which time he desperately wants her back while she considers the reunion as a possibility if not a done deal. In the meantime, she dumped Rimsgate for fake healer and cult leader Cole Blessing and became a chief ‘disciple’ of his. But, when she and her estranged husband meet again the afternoon before a concert at a music and trade festival back home at Victoria Park, they begin to resolve their differences. This snippet is from Chapter Ten of The Prophesied Band. Mo had just met with her band-member’s-women friends who had told her about a “mission of God” their men vowed to partake in.


“Look, Mo,” Bry said to her as he moved to touch her hand, “everything the girls told you is true—though even I find it hard to believe. But we are on a mission.” He leaned against the tour bus, facing her.

Smirk. “From God.”

“Yeh, or at least from The Tooters. Crazy, eh?”

Her left shoulder nudged against the bus and she faced him as a friend. “It is.” But I’ve seen much crazier things with Cole. Should I tell you a few?

At the same time he thought. You’re not making this easy, are you? “Yeh, it is.” What else can I say? “Speaking of crazy, where’s Cole? Didn’t you say he was gonna accompany you?”

“He got sick in front of The Tooters. The others think the statue made him sick because he acts like a god. And he does act like a god sometimes. The way he cured Ger.”

“Humph.” Cocked his head. “Hmmm. A security guard came into the bus before and told us a guy who looked like Cole Blessing was standing outside the south gate. The guard told him he could come backstage, seeing as how he was Cole Blessing and he was supposed to be with you. But Cole wouldn’t come inside. Really nasty about it, too. Like he was pissed he couldn’t come in.” Stared into space as two others came out of the bus. “Sounds like he’s more than just a bit sick. Maybe The Tooters—” No, that’s too ridiculous. “But why would a statue—angels or not—be able to force Cole Blessing to stay outside unless—” Too ridiculous! Blessing’s not bloody Corion, eh?

“Unless?”

“Forget it. But if Cole is playing god like you and the others think, maybe you shouldn’t be hanging out with him, eh? Megalomaniacs have a way of being dangerous.” He moved to be with her. “Besides, babe,” he said with a playful whine, “I’ve been wanting you back for a long time now.”

“I know.” A tear fell from her eye. Then a humble smile. “I know, Bry. Maybe—”

Her heart wanted to say it, but her emotions garbled the message.

“Maybe, you will?” Beam of excitement. “Please say yes.” His heart pounded out, “I really don’t want anything else but you. Honest. I’ve never stopped—”

Her love-heart was suddenly a pitter-patter. “Loving me? You’ve never stopped loving me?”

“Never, babe. Not even when I felt you’d never come back. Not even when I found out about Rimsgate. About Blessing. Not even when that receptionist of yours said you changed your name. Now that hurt, eh? But it didn’t mean I didn’t love you.”

Now in his hairy arms, she shivered with cold chills of guilt.

From that point on, aided by the fact that Blessing is taken out of the way by his own evil spirit guide the following morning, Bry and Mo become a truly married couple again.

Want to read more sexual tension between Bry and Mo and the rest of the band members and their women? Buy the book using these links!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Paranormal

The two previous set of snippets dealt with the occult; this one deals with the paranormal. Some might consider occult and paranormal the same thing, but there are differences. Occult implies humans practicing witchcraft or satanic rituals or playing at them–that is, occult is where, to one degree or another, humans are in control or at least are doing the bidding of the spirit that is taking part in or leading the ritual. Paranormal, according to the definition I found, implies lack of control on the part of humans to some extent: denoting events or phenomena such as telekinesis or clairvoyance that are beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding. That is, normal human understanding!

The two snippets in this post, both from the final book of the trilogy, The Prodigal Band, are clearly beyond human understanding, as both events are completely under divine control, for divine purposes. One of the snippets is similar to an actual event that happened to someone I know. Similar events also occurred to some very key figures in the Bible.

The fist snippet occurs in the midst of Chapter Seven as prodigal band singer Erik is finishing the final song note during a local music festival early on a Sunday morning in July, 2000. As God’s angels, The Tooters, are giving the band members divine messages “from God” that will seal their fates, the fate of one inhabited by evil, the cult leader and fake healer named Cole Blessing, is also being “sealed”–vacuum cleaner style! During the final note, the Demons, led by the evil spirit known as Corion, are being “sucked” out of the air by The Tooters–a tripartite granite statue at the north gate of Victoria Park, a statue with three angel-blowing horns. They are using the singer’s exhale to “vacuum” out the Demons to send them back into the Abyss realm God had sent them “in the beginning”. Corion is also “sucked’ out of Cole Blessing, but under Corion’s own power as the evil spirit intends to find a new host, for Blessing had failed in his so-called “mission” from the evil. Corion then impales Blessing on a pointed bed post.


In the spiritual realm

 

As the note reached its end, Cole Blessing, awakened in a hotel room at 5:28 a.m., got out of the bed, not by his own will, and walked over to the pointed bed post at the right foot of the bed, and proceeded to impale himself on it. Not of his own will.

Corion escaped the now dead body. But before his spirit could inhabit another, he had to regain the dark realm he found his way out of with the red crystal and, finally, punish the Demons for failing in their job. He had to do it. Before The Tooters ravaged them first.

 

But Corion was too late.

At the finale of the note, continuous exhale. Demon spirits caught up in the exhale wind. The Tooters’ trumpets catching the wind, consuming the Demon spirits. Like a vacuum cleaner.

Angels are not human, though they can take human form God willing. But also God willing, His angels can devour evil Demons.

Which is what Corion would have done had the fallen angel gotten to them first.

And, while demonic spirits still plagued the Earth, The Tooters had finally cleansed Walltown of them.

The second snippet is from Chapter Thirteen. In the previous snippets here,  the leader of the band Sound Unltd, Jack, was “praying” for success as he and the others were headed on their first national tour of the UK. Only The Demons answered his prayer and made a “Pact” with the band, that they would reach huge success for a “price.” By the year 2001, the so-called pact with price had not been fulfilled and the evil Corion was not going to wait any longer. He had his human minions call a meeting in London that the prodigal band had to attend, only it wasn’t a meeting but a call to force the band to seal the “pact.” If they did not do this, Corion would have his revenge so to speak. Singer Erik, the band’s front man, would be the first to make his decision. Corion, now inhabiting a new host, would force the singer’s decision. Or so he thought. The Creator, God, had other ideas. This snippet takes place in a dungeon, at a sacrificial altar, in the manor of the evil Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau.


“Get ready,” the Creator said to His angels. “They will not forsake their mission! Be with them!”

“Just say the word, Our Father!” The Tooters readied from the white realm.

 

Corion began. “On the morning of the 6th of June, 1986, your band leader pledged your soul to me, Corion, god of darkness born in light, as payment for your success, as well as the souls of your fellows. I have allowed you to achieve that success and all the trappings of it. You and your mates have reveled in those trappings, your debaucheries, your idol status, your desire to do what you wished with no consequences, and you thinking it was you that caused it all, your ego abounding into a godhood you thought you had.”

As Corion spoke, a Spirit within Erik called to him. What this minion of evil says was true, but do not listen to this evil, because you have made a change of heart, and have repented in heart and repented in word. Because you have called on Christ in His Name, His Spirit resides in you. Now, let this Spirit speak out of your mouth to rebuke this evil.

As Corion spoke, the singer, guided by the Holy Spirit within him, mocked the Evil one. “Liar! You didn’t give me this singing voice, and I didn’t either! God did! Christ did! You didn’t give us the means and the talent to achieve success so that we would repent and then do the bidding of the One Who gave us these gifts! God did. Christ did!”

Against the wall and now leaning forward sat the others, anticipating Erik telling Corion and the Evil to stick it where the sun don’t shine, we don’t need your stinkin’ godhood!

“And finally, you minion of Evil that murdered Adam Bloodlove, Swami Negran, Cole Blessing, Neville Banner, thousands of Walltown peasants, millions of innocent people throughout history, indentured, enslaved millions more using your heinous lackeys like Marty Effingchester—”

The Duke now shuddered in fright.

“—and nearly caused me to die but save for The Tooters giving me a song to heal me.”

Corion laughed. “Those puny Tooters can kiss my ass! And that goes double for your so-called God.”

”Thus sayeth the Lord,” the Spirit spoke through Erik, “Do not mock the Lord! That created you, wayward son, and will see you in your place again, the Abyss!”

Corion laughed even harder now. “We will see, when I take the baby son of the troubadour you speak through. Payment will be mine!”

“No you won’t take my son!” Erik spoke on his own. “You will never take my son Jason from me! In your dreams, you lying sack of shit!” Left the altar.

He then turned toward Mark-Corion. “You will never have my Oath! Father God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost have my Yes! And you will never take my Jason from me! Rot in Hell where you belong!”

Mark, that is Corion, got his sword ready to impale Erik’s heart. His right arm pulled back to stick it through.

And then—

 

As three men that suddenly appeared literally out of nowhere released the others of their burlap bags and rope ties and helped them stand up, readying for their escape—

 

Corion swung his sword. But it could not penetrate the singer, still praising the Holy Trinity. “My life and the lives of mine are in your hands, my Savior Jesus Christ!”

Then, like Moses, like Elijah, like the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus when Christ spoke to him, Erik’s face shined a light of brightness that banished the Evil from the room. The other five witnessed this event, astounded, and one of them said, “Praise God for this!”

If you want to read about the results of this event and others like it within this work of fiction, you might consider buying the book from one of several online book sellers, using these links:

Amazon, softcover and Kindle

Barnes & Noble softcover and Nook

Kobo

Google Play

Lulu and iBookstore

More links from Goodreads

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

 

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Occult, Part 2

Part One of this snippet-occult series delves into mock occult practices which anyone that feels like faking occult practices could do, such as claiming to ‘channel’ some spirit entity so as to embed oneself into some New Age celebrity grouping, for instance. Heck, IMHO, anyone can claim to be a ‘witch’ or ‘wizard’ just by buying a Ouija Board or Tarot Cards or pretend to perform séances. Now I never owned a Ouija Board but I once bought Tarot Cards having no clue as to how to use them as a witch would, but just to see what Tarot Cards looked like. One girls’ slumber party I attended–I was in a high school B-list sorority–I witnessed (without taking part in it) a séance on a sorority member performed by another sorority member who may or may not have ever performed séances before. As I stated in the previous post, any activity I had with anything occultist stopped the night two friends and I created a mock Ouija Board and would up calling up spirits we should never have called up, scaring the crap out of all of us so that they had to walk me home over a mile around 11 p.m. and it was still winter.

In part 2, the snippets call forth much more sinister forces than mere fake channeling of some New Age ‘god.’ Anyone who studies the occult knows why occult rituals are used–for true witchcraft, and to capture souls for the forces of evil, the devil, aka Satan, which in The Prodigal Band Trilogy is referred to as Corion, a fictional false god of an ancient fictional Celtic cannibal sect that rivaled the Druids, called ‘the Crag-Dwellers’ of the mountains of Wales. Now who would want to ‘capture souls for the forces of evil’? The spiritual forces of evil, of course, and their minions on Earth whom they have given such as power, wealth, fame, fortune, and lusts in exchange for their loyalty to the Evil. And who would be victimized by these forces? Folks who get suckered into seeking advantages over others by “selling their souls to” the devil and such, which is supposedly rampant in the annals of popular culture, according to some. Rock stars, for instance, but also their fans.

The first snippet is from the first chapter of Battle of the Band and has fictional band leader Jack “praying” for success for his band, Sound Unltd, about to tour the UK after winning a contest.  He thinks he is praying to good angels but bad angels, The Demons, answer his “prayer.”


Early morning, June 6, 1986

 

Bound for London for fame and fortune, sleepy-eyed band leader Jack Lubin lifted himself out of bed, went to his wash basin and communed with the deities.

“If anyone is listening, please answer me. Look, man, we want to make it big. Huge! The greatest rock ‘n roll band there ever was. We got the talent, we got the ambition, and I got the will to drive us. Do you think you can fix it for us?”

“We hear you,” a deep voice answered.

The seventeen-year-old guitarist stumbled backwards into a dresser drawer, aghast. “Who the hell are you?”

“One of your guardian angels, as you would call us. As for your wish, it’s done.”

“Huh? Just like that? By wishing for it?”

“Of course, you won’t make it right away. You’ll have to work your way up like anyone else. That’s so nobody suspects our pact.”

“Our pact?”

“Yes. We will see you make your big break. And once you make it, no one will be able to stop you. Sound Unltd will be invincible. All you boys have to do is prove you want it more than anything. More than anything!” The Demons laughed in uproar. “When the time is right, we’ll name our price.”

Jack shook. “A price? What you mean by that?”

“Well,” the deep voice laughed, “you can’t expect fame and fortune for nothing, can you?”

As the notion of paying a price for success swarmed in his head like attacking bees, Jack repeated out loud, “I didn’t hear that. Just me imagination, eh?”

The second snippet comes from the end of Chapter Seven after guitarist-producer Mick is poisoned, his cocaine he was addicted to having been laced with strychnine. This event happened shortly after Mick and his gay lover, singer Adam Bloodlove, argued while Bloodlove was about to sign a recording contract with Mick’s record label. Mega-media mogul, Mr. X., ordered New Age and Satanic cult leader Swami Negran to murder Bloodlove in order to “force” Mick and his band to “sign the Pact” with the devil as they both believed that Mick believed Bloodlove had laced the coke with the poison–that way, a dead man could “tell no tales” and prove his innocence.


The Indian mystic was given his instructions by Mr. X. A square piece of paper read, “The time for Sound Unltd to sign a Pact with Our Lord Lucifer is near. Have producer see the consequences of not fulfilling his group’s bargain. He assumes Bloodlove poisoned him. So that Bloodlove can’t tell that he is innocent, kill the singer.”

A short time later, Swami showed up on Adam’s doorstep. The occultist eagerly opened the door.

“Welcome, Swami. Come in and party with me, eh?”

“Yes, my friend, but first I have something to show you.” Negran held out his red crystal. “Look into my crystal, Adam. You will see something very interesting.”

Adam forgot he’d asked the mystic in. “Well—yes, I think I will.”

“Look deeply, my friend.”

Bloodlove held it in his hand and took a sharp look. “I see a man in there, eh? That’s strange.”

“Yes. Look long and hard.”

The singer began to glow. “Hmmm. I feel really light, like I’m disintegrating, becoming a light beam. Light headed.”

He now felt hypnotized. His life force was slowly but surely sucked out of his body while the luminous egg surrounding him entrapped his physical state. Several minutes later, Bloodlove collapsed dead, his soul imprisoned within the crystal.

Adam’s body was found by a derelict two months later in a sewer that connected to a London Underground station.

The final snippet comes from Chapter Six of The Prodigal Band and introduces another man soon-to-be-possessed by evil, Mark Besst, that will try to win the confidence of the band for nefarious purposes.


Enter Mark Besst—The Making of a Hellyon, the Inner Circle, 1995

 

Allyson Hallsey-Foxworth took a potion meant to cause mild hallucinations for Mark Besst during his initiation into the Hellyon Society Inner Sanctum and slipped it into the water he was about to drink.

“Here you go, Mark. Water. You must be thirsty after all that sex.”

He took the water and drank it. “Thanks, I needed that.”

He did not notice any difference in taste of the water due to the potion, which would cause him to become drowsy enough so that Hellyon minions could bind him and place a black hood over his head as part of the initiation, and cart him off to Torquay’s dungeon for the Inner Sanctum Hellyon ritual.

And when Mark was standing at the foot of the altar as Baron Torquay thrust a sword into a terrified two-year-old orphan as a sacrifice to Satan-Lucifer-Corion, he would consider the event an episode of heightened consciousness, as if he was in a state of Buddhist nirvana.

And so it was, at the altar, when Melanie Ross, at his right side, in nothing but a hooded black robe, handed him a 24-carot gold cup of the sacrificial blood, which he slurped robustly.

The chanting of a satanic prayer began, but the Hellyon on his left side, Ally, implored, “Don’t drink it all, Mark! Leave some for the rest of us!”

The Hellyon closest to Torquay at the baron’s right, the last to sip the blood, was Marty, the Duke of Effingchester. After partaking, he threw the cup against the opposite rock wall and proclaimed, at the end of the ritual, “Come, O Lord Lucifer! This world is yours! And now Mark Besst is yours!”

 

Above ground in the ballroom of Torquay Hall where millions of dollars’ worth of gold, diamonds, pearls, and human bones and teeth were strewn, the Hellyons celebrated their newest member into their Inner Sanctum.

Torquay, half-naked in a satin black half-robe that nearly exposed his manhood as well as his somewhat flabby legs—he was 65—went up to Besst and grabbed his right arm, turning him around. “Your company success is now assured, and your competition will be destroyed, Mark. You will own the online media, completely. You will help us control planet Earth. Literally. Our Lord Lucifer will make you a god. Literally! For we, all of us here, are gods and goddesses.” Wicked laughter. “We rule the Earth at the behest of Our Lord.”

“Including Ally and Melanie?”

“Allyson Hallsey-Foxworth is 36, but she looks 16, right? Our Lord Lucifer keeps her young and maybe the sexiest woman alive. She drinks aborted fetus blood often. In fact, her company and foundation owns many abortion clinics on Earth, even in places like China. And Melanie? Same thing, but she has an even darker nature. She is the one that buys and sells babies and children for Ally and the rest of us. She now owns over one thousand orphanages and controls the ones my father used to own. She and Marty. And no one who works at these places will ever dare challenge either one of them.  As with my father,” he laughed, again wickedly, “they despise the masses and want their flesh and their blood.”

“Really? Well,” Mark laughed with a smirk, “they need to save some for me.”

“Good!”

“Yeah, I have watched Marty over the years, and hung around Rodney Davis as well. I consider them my mentors.” Then he flinched. “But what I don’t get is why Marty married that Tina! Such a bore! Not the Hellyon type I guess.”

Baron got nasty at the mention of her name. “Do NOT mention that wench! That marriage was arranged by her mother and father who just happen to be here tonight,” he pointed toward the bar, “over there. They are totally ashamed at her and want nothing to do with her and in fact,” Baron whispered in Mark’s ear, “have thought about killing her, what with her not wanting to be part of us! But I have told them not to even consider that.” Baron then talked in a normal voice. “Tina is good friends with a man whom we need with us and was promised to us many years ago, he and his five cohorts. Sound Unltd.”

“Really?!” Mark nearly shouted in surprise.

“Yes. All six have been promised to us, to Our Lord Lucifer, for many years, since the late 80s. But, Mark, something or someone keeps getting in the way. Whenever we think we have them, something happens.”

Mark then came up with an idea to serve his new master. “Maybe I can help on that front, Baron. They, all of them, even the doubters among them, trust me.”

“Yes, you can and you must. As for Neville Banner, he is not committed to serving us. He wouldn’t even join our outer group, let alone our Inner Sanctum. According to Ally, who used to date Mick Pordengreau—who was an outer Hellyon for a while, even, but again would not commit to us—Mick turned Neville away from the idea of joining us. We had given Neville a mission to help capture the six.”

 

That is, getting this six into Banner’s World Community Artists Foundation, and getting Swami Negran in good with them, resulting in the ‘world unity’ gig of 1994, which led to riots and teens murdering young children—thanks to the influence of the red crystals.

 

“And he has failed miserably.”

Considering members of the band were leaving, not joining, the Foundation.

“I’ve always liked Neville,” Mark said disgustedly, “but now? He is clearly weak minded, unsure of who calls the shots in this world. And I must say, Baron, I didn’t just join the Hellyons for success and millions and billions of money. I truly love Lucifer! I want to serve him! Lucifer implores us to live the way we want. If we want to be good, fine, but if we want power and money and great sex and see godhood, Lucifer wants us to have that as well. I have wanted to follow Lucifer since I was a freshman in college.”

Then Mark explained to Torquay how Allyson Hallsey-Foxworth’s brother Drew recruited him into the Hellyons. He convinced Mark that aborting unwanted fetuses and sacrificing unwanted orphans to Satan or Corion or another false god was not only good for the Earth—getting rid of ‘useless eaters’—but good for the sacrificed fetus or child to Satan-Corion. That way, Satan-Corion would ‘take care of’ and ‘love’ that sacrificed fetus or child.

“So, you see, Baron, I really want to do the will of Our Lord Lucifer. And punish Neville for betraying our god! He will pay for his crimes!”

“That is your mission, then, Mark. Take care of the infidel! And the sextet.”

 

And the ‘infidel’ was poisoned to death by Mark Besst in 2001. By then, Besst, CEO of a tech giant, was out to control the world, online and off-line.

That’s it for the occult snippets. Paranormal is next.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Occult, Part 1

Along with snippets relating to the fiction genre known as horror within The Prodigal Band Trilogy are snippets of horror’s ‘sidekick,’ the occult. I have only witnessed the ‘milder’ side of occultism–Ouija Boards, Tarot Cards, mock séances with fake ‘mediums,’ and in all instances these tools were not being used by actual ‘witches’ or wiccans. Just ‘playing’ at it during parties or whatever. Yet one evening at a friend’s house more than a mile from my own house two friends and I did get a good look at what true witchcraft would look like without realizing it, and the event scared the crap out of me to the point where the two friends had to walk me home around 11 p.m.! After that, I eschewed any and all of these practices! But I did get to witness actual occult practices, and, while writing the trilogy, was glad I did partake in the occult, a little bit, knowing I would never do such things again. Any other knowledge of occult rituals came from horror movies or fiction novels.

All three novels that make up The Prodigal Band Trilogy have occult aspects. Part 1 of this snippet-occult series shows the mockery side of the occult as well as the witnessing of pure occultist evil that took place inside of a separate room within what is called an ‘Ashram,’ which is a Hindu religious retreat that could also be used in any eastern-type religion (which is what Swami Negran’s ‘Church of the Circle of Unity’ is derived from, using Hindu/Sikh systems for a New Age cult. Negran is a prominent fictional evil character within the trilogy. His successor, fake ‘healer’ Cole Blessing, is featured in the second snippet.)

In the first snippet, drummer Tom Cornsby of the band Sound Unltd surrounds himself with an entourage including a ‘clairvoyant,’ Prissy, who is also a pop star, her handler, Paul, a TV show-hostess, Lady Moira, and a rock singer, Peter Slade among others, lounging around a hookah during a party. His ultimate goal is to find out, using these celebrities with ties to aristocracy and government officials, who indentured his ancestors. Since Prissy and some of the others are into occult rituals, he pretends to ‘channel’ the New Age ‘god’ Corion, the ‘god’ of the Swami church. This snippet comes from Chapter Three of Battle of the Band. At this point, Tom’s agenda is just getting in with these folks so that he could use them later after they learned to trust him. In later parts, he finally meets a fictitious princess who would be more knowledgeable about whom had indentured his ancestors.


Tom, once consigned to the background as clairvoyant pop star Prissy Wyatt’s toy boy, had the street sense to develop his own jet-set following which turned enraptured on his every word. Lying against pillows depicting woven dragons, his little entourage surrounded a hookah. They discussed the future of Prissy’s singing career guided by her producer and promoter, Mushroom Paul, son of an MP. With his advice, Tom might as well have been her manager, agent and songwriter.

Prissy inhaled some hashish. “Whatever happens, I swear I won’t make any decisions without consulting Mushroom Paul and Tom. Tom’s sorta my spirit-guide right now. He knows. He knows.”

Peter Slade, a low-level aristocrat and singer with Hot Vinyl, asked, “What kind of music will you do? Raunchy metal? Orchestral? Mystical?”

“None o’ those,” Tom answered in his nasally baritone voice. “All that shit’s on the way out, eh? Prissy’s gonna do what I call honky-tonk. Really, Pris, you have that show-parlor style. You could do a flapper act, eh girl? Tell you what. I’ll even be your drummer, eh? With EpiGram’s permission and all that crap.” The five-foot-six drummer laughed, then took a hookah hose and inhaled.

Paul snickered. “Right. And her songwriter, and her manager, and her limo driver.”

“Yeh, and you could be her bootlicker.”

Paul responded with a cuss. Tom responded with, “Not in this lifetime.”

“Really, you two.” Lady Moira Sedgewick sighed. “Why do you both always have to argue?”

“Tom’s an arguer, that’s why.” Paul whined.

Prissy came to the drummer’s defense with a giddy smile. “Now that’s not true, is it, Tom?”

“That’s what Mick and Bry say. I love to argue. But I feel I have something to say, so I say it.”

Tom saw Prissy gleam at him. He quickly turned away to roll his eyes. She’s such a little nuisance.

Slade said, “You don’t like ol’ Mick, do you?”

“It goes back to when Mick and Bry joined us. Mick acted like I was going to consume his skinny little bod. Like I was a vampire. Little prevert. And get this. He really grimaced when I smiled and said hello to him.”

“Knowing Mick,” Slade said, “he probably would have loved it if you did consume his skinny bod.” Laughs.

“No. I won’t even have lunch with the bastard.”

Tom laughed to himself as he thought about the others lying with him. No sense telling these silly people why I don’t go for that perv shit. They’d never understand. They’ve never been abused, poor, homeless, indentured. Really such stupid little rich kids. So ripe for my plucking. They’ll never guess I’m only using them to find out who indentured my family.

That Prissy, whose tabloid predictions usually came out true, needed a spirit-guide bothered talk-show celebrity Moira. “What I don’t understand, Pris, is why you—a fortune teller—need Tom or anyone else to make your decisions for you.”

“Because my auras and chakras have been so clouded lately. Too much interference from bad angels. I can’t handle it now, and I’ll prove it.”

Lady Sedgewick slapped the floor. “Prissy? Are you saying you can’t be my medium anymore? Please don’t tell me that. Just who the hell am I supposed to get to replace you?”

“I’ll show you who. The spirits that communicated with me will now do so with Tom. Tom’s a channel. He didn’t even know it when I met him last year. Did you know the god Corion speaks through him?”

Slade, a debonair but insecure star who was new to New Age ideas, asked, “Who the hell is Corion?”

Prissy answered. “A god of light born in darkness. The One we call God threw Corion out of Paradise, but then Corion changed his ways and is now a god of light. There’s a tribe in Africa that claims Corion is married to the deity we call The World. He will now speak through Tom when I call him in séance. Isn’t that super?” She looked at everyone. “Now let’s hold hands.”

The crowd surrounding the hookah sat yoga style holding hands in a circle. Prissy went into a trance and called Corion. “God of light born in darkness, speak to us.”

Very quickly, ‘Corion’ answered her through a deeper voice of the conniving drummer. “I am here. Your question, please.”

“You once said there would be world unity and peace in a few years, and all the world’s tuned-in people would follow your chosen minstrels.”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell the tuned-in friends here who will be your chosen minstrels?”

With a meditative poker-face, Tom-as-Corion answered, “The band called Sound Unltd.”

An uproar of protest ensued. “Oh, come off it!” Slade yelled. “What sorta crap is that, Pris? Of course he’s gonna say that!”

“Hear me, unbeliever!” Tom-as-Corion bellowed back. “There is no doubt! They will be persecuted next year. But they will afterwards rise up and lead the youth of this planet into an era of—novordopax, nuevopax, tricameron.”

Tom then woke up from his pretended enchantment. “Well, did I? Did Corion speak through me?”

“Yeah,” Slade said with a sneer, “and he said your quintet would be the leaders of the world’s youth into an era of—what the hell is ‘novordopax’ and that other gibberish?”

No one could answer that.

Cornsby, with authority, said, “It’s Corion’s word for world peace, or didn’t you know, with your proper public school education, that ‘pax’ is Latin for ‘peace’?”

“It’s just that I find it ridiculous that Corion—through you—would say Sound Unltd will lead the world’s youth as if you’re the reincarnation of—”

“And who are you to doubt Corion? The man’s a god, eh? If he says we will, then we will. So—we will. We got that ambition, eh?”

In the second snippet Tom and this princess, Tina, who are in fact lovers though Tina is married to the one whose ancestors did in fact indenture Tom’s family, meet together at the basement of a palace next to the Ashram mentioned earlier. What they witness while outside looking through a door window is a wicked occult ritual led by the evil fake doctor Cole Blessing within a large room. Blessing uses the original occult amulet known as the Red Crystal of Corion, which brings forth demonic powers, in this ritual. This takes place at the end of Chapter Eight of The Prophesied Band and is narrated by pop culture pundit Jay Elliot, who sees the two witnessing the ritual.


“I just can’t see very much, Tom,” the Princess of Leandro whispered with anxiety as she looked through a tiny square glass window built into a metal door.

“Blessing, my wonderful husband, and one or two others are in there, I know, because I can hear them. But it’s too dark in there!” Tina then turned to Cornsby. “There is a red glow, however. Not a lightbulb glow. More like a candle that glows red, or a candle covered by a red glass.” Turned back. “A votive candle, perhaps. Or a red-glowing crystal.”

The drummer, standing behind her, let his body fall against the door. “A red crystal?” A loud whisper. “Don’t tell me Blessing’s got one o’ those!”

“I hope they didn’t hear you slam against their door, Tom.” Her annoyed voice was low normal. “Anyway,” she looked at him, “It’s too big to be the kind Swami Negran wore. But I feel this crystal and Negran’s are related somehow.”

“Maybe the crystal in there is the mother of all the other crystals Swami had, including the ones he gave the six of us.”

I heard the last thing he and she said to each other. More than just curious, I went toward Tom and Tina. Less than a minute later I heard them go breathless and saw the aura of a giant red glow.

“Tom!” Frightened. “You won’t believe this!” Turned to him. “See this for yourself.”

The curly blond said nothing at first as he feasted his eyes on a room large enough to be a gymnasium, with objects of pure gold wall-to-wall, and the hooded people—including a woman by the look of her face—in supplication to Blessing, who stood hoodless over the red crystal.

Blessing’s hands then engulfed the crystal the size of a baseball—which, having just illuminated the room, now burned a fiery ball of light.

And when Tom heard him speak, Blessing’s voice bellowed with such force several gold statues near the west wall shook.

Corion was also in the room.

“My children,” the dark voice said, “soon I and Mother Nature will come forth to show the only way for the people of this beautiful lush planet—our way, as our enemies cringe and burn before us. Mother Earth will return to her greatness, my followers.”

The crowd chanted, “Your will be done, my lord.”

“Our enemies are being rounded up now, a herd for the slaughter, as our Master cleanses her domain, as I—with you at my right hand—come to the head of your world.”

“We are with you, my lord.”

“Tina!” Tom swiftly got off his tip-toes with breathless fear. “This is it! The people who seek to enslave this world. And Blessing is not Blessing. Or, maybe he’s speaking through a distortion microphone that I can’t see. But he sounds—possessed! Did you hear him? The chanting?”

“Yes. It’s Blessing’s inner circle. Probably the same ones that make up the Novordo Club.” Then she shuddered. “I think we need to leave, my love. I’m really afraid.”

“You got that right!”

In Occult, Part II will be featured rituals that take on a much more sinister tone as the chief minions of the Evil reveal themselves and their agenda in full.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.