So, Greachin is somewhat bat-like, right? He's reached...

So, Greachin is somewhat bat-like, right?  He's reached into the deep, dark recesses of Christine's mind and pulled out assorted imagery that she personally fears the most.  Part bat, part bird (because, let's face it—birds are creepy), part gorilla-man, he grows a personalized monster form from a stolen human host, and stalks her from a nearby tree top physically, while his ruah (another beast, entirely) circles her on the spiritual plane.

Miles away in rural Trappist, Kentucky, the UnNamed awakens in the night from bad dreams, only to find the local bat population merrily whizzing round the bug feast provided by the security light outside his window.  A bat crashes into his window, and he cuts his hand, investigating.  Is this symbolic?  Probably.  Am I going to tell you why?  No.

My point is, bats-as-baddie is a bit of a subtheme in the book, and while I really don't have it out for bats, in general (loving you, Bruce Wayne), the truth is, I once had a bad experience with a bat.  Maybe I'll tell you about that another time.

I will tell you that while reading a passage from This Brilliant Darkness aloud, author Marian Allen listened attentively and then expressed her support by sharing that she was sure a "birdbath man" would, indeed, be most frightening.

And, so, an icon was born:

Read Marian's cocktail recipe in celebration of the Flying Birdbath's maiden flight, here.  Then, have a drink on me.  (Or in honor of my silliness, would you?)

Someday I will have a wrought-iron sign in the shape of that logo to hang outside my pub.