teach them.  They believed him.  As one of the living dead he gave them hope.  They believed every poisoned word he spoke to them.

    Brandywine focused on Klaus.  From Rosemary she sucked in his essence, gaining knowledge of how he looked and spoke.  Klaus was tall and very thin.  His fine, pale brown hair was balding on top.  In back it grew long in a tangle of failed Rasta ropes.  His eyes were round like Raggedy Anne doll shoebuttons but of a washed out grey_blue colour.  His nose was short and button like as well.  His mouth was a pallid gash that was pulled into a drawn up purse of disapproval.  Klaus disapproved of almost everything except the Suix and himself.

    His will drew them in like bugs to a bug blitzer.  He had come back for them in his compassion.  His presence was better than a drug fix.  He was better than dope, better than sex.  He defined them.  He was their father and god.  

    Brandy slipped seamlessly out of the dream of her hostess.  With difficulty she entered the minds of the male Suix.  Transition was difficult because of the gender difference.  The two of them were called, in Biblical fashion, James and John.  She chose James and, calling up Klaus, she saw an almost identical picture.  She was reminded of dogs in the presence of a pack leader.  Her personal universe was threatened by what she sensed as a pure evil.  The occult writer, Arthur Machen had said, if there were saints then there were sinners as great in evil as the saints were in good.  Something shifted in her own mind set.  Her confidence in herself wavered and with it her control.  She felt herself wrenched out of mind contact with shattering effect on her own mental integrity.  She doubted and with the doubt came loss of control over her own magical powers.  Shaking with the impact of the unsought revelation she went and bathed herself ritually again.  Her temporary altar was already set up as was her habit even when travelling.  With great effort she concentrated and, using her ritual dagger, cast a circle of protection.  Focusing, she pulled a sense of worth  back into herself.  She could not resist the truth or she would lose power.  For support she mentally projected the Tree of Life of the Quabbalah and the Sepiroth Hod into the air before her.  

    Klaus was negative Hod. Each positive had a qualifying negative.  He was not evil but
a reverse mirror image of good.  "He is evil," her mind said.  She opened up to the images this thought evoked and saw the apocalyptic image of death as a pale horseman.  She made that horseman Klaus.  He looked right riding on the skeletonal horse.   As death, the pale rider he had purpose.  He swept the path so that life might proceed.  His way was, in the end, merciful.   Brandy knew that she could not fight evil until she was able to give evil due respect. She had to step out of her own righteous shell, if only briefly, to deal with the perceived menance on its own ground.  Psychically, she looked Klaus in the eye and gave his negative vision a moment of respect before pulling back into her own fortress of good intentions.

    Music had persuasive powers.  Auriel wanted her to stop the suicide lest the cult rise up again carried by the music.  The will of the three suicides, however twisted, should not be denied.  She made a decision and closed her present working as a stamp upon her intent.

    In the Studio the coloured lights roved here and there.  The lead singer for Guelph was prancing into his patented musical frenzy.  A pale blue spotlight outlined the Suix who were swathed in gauzy, white fabric.  Here and there, through gaps in this wrapping, their usual black attire could be seen.   Intent and purpose made their faces almost beautiful.

    Watching, Brandywine turned inward in her mind.  She knew the timing of the show and her musical cue.  At the moment of truth she blasted a true image of Klaus to his belated disciples.  As to what they would do, the choice, after all, was theirs.  

    The time is now.  

    For Rosemary, for all three of the Suix a threatening figure begins to form, made up of etheric substance which rapidly shapes itself in a gaunt, fevered _looking individual about 6'3" tall with scanty pale brown hair tangled into uncombed, unwashed and unsuccessful dreadlocks.  The eyes of this still forming apparition glow with unnatural darkness like dark, smoky spotlights. He sees!  They feel the power of his beckoning eyes. Their will begins to weaken.