A piss-stinking cobbled-stone back alley on a bleak September day in the bleak North East of Scotland. Alex Severin lays on her back in the turd-laden gutter, her fingers playing with effluent flow; daydreaming a while. Filoux layers of living leather unfurl from around her goose-pimpled body; a white seduction of eye candy.
Liberated from Saint Remy asylum, Jack Philbin has the interview blade to the throat of Hertzan Chimera, interview charlatan.

ALEX SEVERIN: (sneers with excitement) Cut him.

JACK PHILBIN: Let's go back to your place and we'll gut him like a squealing pig.

ALEX SEVERIN: (sewer hands all over her flesh crawling with sickness) No. Cut him here. Let the fucker's blood spill. Ashes to ashes. Fuckblood to fuckblood.

JACK PHILBIN: (eyes roll back) This will be the last interview little Hertzie does.

The razor skips across Hertzan Chimera's jugular, opening the throat, sending a gush of hot red life all over the exposed breasts of Severin. Rude spots dance into her open mouth tasting of rust and rot and decay spiced with questions. Always questions...

HERTZAN CHIMERA's BLOOD: (fist stage of rot: the stink of garlic wine and burning sheds) I will seep into your pores, Severin, to reveal the corpse of rotting flesh beneath. Me and the maggots will uncork your champagne bottle of sin. First question....

ALEX SEVERIN: You think you have ways of making me talk, do you, Chimblood? Seep into me then - seep deep, deep into my darkest places and attempt to wash the secrets from my veins, the sin from my psyche. Rush inside me like a warm injection and coax my darkest desires to fall from my lips and into you.

The blood of Hertzan Chimera begins to effervesce, throws off little bubbles of hot inquisitive lust that land on the pale skin of the erotic horror bitch that they call Severin.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (second stage of rot: viscidity and a dull ache in the loins) I am a seeker and a finder. I shall sniff out all that you want to keep inside, keep secret - those dark little creatures that reside in your rancid gray matter, sniff it out like a dog after a bitch in heat and bite down on it, hold it in place with my jaws at your throat so there is no escape. Open yourself, Severin. Open wide. Let me inside.

ALEX SEVERIN: (smearing the gory filth into her pores) You want to know me, know what it is that makes me tick, what makes me write the degenerate filth and the blasphemy I soil pristine sheets of virgin-white paper with. You want to know what lies beneath the dark garments and the pale skin, want to look into the face of the monster that resides under my bed, in my closet, in my head. Believe me, Chimblood, you don't wanna know.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (third stage of rot: the brooding cynicism cuts in) You have gone on record as saying, and I quote -
"She wanted to share in The Passion of Christ. She wanted to be up there on the cross with him, face to face, palm to nailed palm, bleeding into one another, him inside her the way a man should be. She wanted to wrap her milky thighs around the back of their shared cross and feel the sacred splinters piercing her flesh and see trickles of hot blood staining her perfect skin. She wanted to hear him gasp his desire for her, hear him say her name over and over again. She wanted him to hear her say 'Fuck me, Jesus, fuck me.'" Unquote. How can you go on living, knowing that those thoughts are flowing through others' minds?

ALEX SEVERIN: (becoming angelic brilliance itself) I cannot be responsible for the thoughts of others. In my opinion, we as writers are above reproach in the act of creation, the art of artistry and that which comes from them. The pen is indeed mightier than the sword, Chimblood. A word that strikes a blow leaves a deeper scar than the kiss of a blade, the crack of a fist, the burn of boot leather.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (fourth stage of rot: echoes of somnambulism skitter in the clots) Remember not to say anything about BROKEN. That fuckin' thing makes me vomit. Tell me instead about why I shouldn't infest you with my death.

Severin pushes her bloodstained fingers into her mouth, refusing to talk, freezing out the eager blood of Hertzan Chimera for a moment, tormenting it, denying it the succour of her words, the words it longs to hear, denying him a glimpse of the seething corpseflesh that rots under her skin. But he knows it is there.
The Chimblood cries out that this is a blasphemous whore of Babylonian proportions. Severin laughs and instructs the blood of Chimera that even Jesus Christ was a man with a cock that was prone to hardening. Jesus Christ was born of woman ergo he was born from Original Sin and was a Sinner with a capital S. She points out that Dogmatic law frequently chases its own tail and sniffs its own arse.
Her demeanour changes from a wicked sparkle to the maniacal.

ALEX SEVERIN: Boyfistgirlsuck.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (fifth stage of rot: denial) That is not for you to say.

ALEX SEVERIN: BOYFISTGIRLSUCK!

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (sixth stage of rot: peristalsis in the victim) Boy Fist Girl Suck, Severin Beast. You don't even understand what this means. Let me take you back to a..... Ah, there, a twitch in the sludge. Up pops a foetus' face, writhing in black worms. I thought you might never show your true self, AJ. Chimblood smears the AJ foetus in a lacrimose undoing of familiarity.

ALEX SEVERIN: (her hands covered in rectal mucus) I have sisters three. I have brothers none. Or do I? Maybe I am my sisters' brother and you've not looked up my kilt yet. I am undone and lying even as I pass away. Even as I am choked by your stinking-blood interrogation. My nostrils filling as they were filled when in the womb. When loving veins were my never my own. Let me put it this way:
If I die now, if, BIG 'if', then I know I have created demons and angels, each as beautiful and as ugly as each other, angels that sin and redemptive demons, unChrist-like Messiahs and life and death and eternity. I will know that I have written from my heart and I feared nothing when I created, that I wrote true and I wrote fierce and I never even considered kissing a single, solitary arse.
Severin spits on the grimy pavement, her saliva mingling with the rapidly clotting Chimblood.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (seventh stage of rot: the scent of victory) Tell me more about your three sisters.

ALEX SEVERIN: I can't talk about them; they've all got such Bad Habits.

HERTZAN CHIMERA'S BLOOD: (eighth stage of rot: the broken pact) I love talk of wicked women. It is time to renounce your writerly religion. I have called in the Exorcist.

ALEX SEVERIN: (spits again a blood-marbled gob) I don't give a shit for your threats Chimblood. You can't hurt me now. Only the book burner and the mind wiper can undo me. The Severin will live on....

Alex Severin continues to cough and retch and spit, keen to expunge this damned haemic infection out of her veins and arteries. Kicking away at the face of Death as it lingers lustily over her open lips. But this is the end of her blood reign. She may die right now as Chimblood clots inside her, ossifying in his ninth and final stage of rot. She may twist and turn and go blue in the face as her lungs turn to raped jelly. But still, in the spunk-stained ruffle of a nun's clothing, is that the slight twinge of redemption for our heroine?

ALEX SEVERIN: Awa an' tak a fuck te yersel, Chimblood!

Severin stands erect and proud, her vampiric body feeding on the the haem from Hertzan Chimera's potent spill, the warmth and the pabulum shooting into her system like a bloody ejaculation, impregnating her with new foetuses to mature into bastard children to bite the ankles of those who fear change, those who loathe the sub-genre dwellers, those subterranean succubi and incubi who go on and go forth, and never ever die.

ALEX SEVERIN: BOYFISTGIRLSUCK! You know I understand, Chimblood, you know I do. I always have. I always will.