I was lucky enough to hang out with our Next Great Horror Writer, Jonathan Fortin, recently and chat about his new book, Lilitu: Bloody Caleb. While the interview below does have spoilers if you haven’t yet read the book, it’s great to hear what the author has to say about Hell, religion, and skele-goats!!  If you’d like to read my “non-spoiler” review of this book, please click here: 
https://horroraddicts.wordpress.com/2025/10/29/book-review-lilitu-bloody-caleb/

And if you’d like to read the book before reading the following interview,  check out his book link here: Lilitu: Bloody Caleb

For those of you who have read the book, or aren’t bothered by spoilers, read on!

***Major spoiler warning for those who haven’t read Bloody Caleb yet! This interview is designed to be read by people after they’ve read the book, not before.***

 What inspired Lilitu: Bloody Caleb?

 I’d always planned Lilitu: The Memoirs Of A Succubus to be the first book in a series rather than a self-contained work, and Caleb was always going to be one of the most important characters after Book I. Originally, Book II was going to be a direct sequel to Book I, with Caleb appearing as a mysterious new antagonist whom we would then learn the backstory of. However, the more I developed the story – and the more I developed Caleb – the more I realized that his backstory really needed its own book. I thought long and hard about where in the series to place it, and ultimately decided it needed to be before the sequel in which he and Maraina met. That gave the series a “Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis” type structure, which only felt more earned as the story developed into an inversion of the first book. While Memoirs explored the horrors of misogyny with a protagonist who finds empowerment in demonhood, Caleb is about the horrors of toxic masculinity, with a protagonist who only finds corruption. While Maraina became more comfortable with her sexuality, Caleb only becomes more uncomfortable with his.

 I originally wrote Caleb to be a novella, but after workshopping it with my critique group, everyone was in agreement that it needed more development. Naturally, it wasn’t long before it became a full-on novel, about the same length as the first book. In a way, this also ended up serving to make it a better mirror of the first book, while also allowing it to set up a lot of groundwork for Book III.

 Since Crystal Lake still wanted a free novella we could give out, I also wrote Saintkiller, but it ended up being about 45K words, so it’s basically a short novel too. (I think I might have a problem.) Saintkiller also ties in with Bloody Caleb by revealing much more about Pursha.

 This book has a much different feel than the first. Was that an intentional shift?

 In my mind, the books are deeply connected. Both Maraina and Caleb struggle with body dysmorphia, experience abuse at the hands of powerful authority figures, and question their previously held beliefs about religion and sexuality after becoming demons. Additionally, both characters get to live out a common fantasy, only for that fantasy to become twisted into something horrifying. Maraina gets the perfect beauty she always wanted, but finds she’s still insecure anyway. She gets to be with the most beautiful man she’s ever met, but he’s insane and abusive. Similarly, Caleb struggles with internalized feelings of never being good enough as a man, then gets to become an incubus: taller, stronger, and having sex that’s beyond his wildest dreams…but that dream pretty much immediately becomes a nightmare, as it transforms him into everything he hates. I have often felt like the world’s current systems warp and twist people into more evil, selfish versions of themselves – see how sociopathic CEOs encourage any would-be “successful people” to be just as heartless as them – and this is reflected in the Hell Caleb finds himself in. Getting what he wants means joining and becoming like its worst denizens…and even then, he’ll never truly be one of them. Again, all this mirrors or inverts Maraina’s experiences in Book I in some way.

 All that said, it does have a very different feel, yes. I think a big part of why is that Caleb takes place primarily in Hell, rather than the demon-controlled Victorian London. I also expect that I’ve developed a lot as a writer, since I wrote Memoirs quite a while ago at this point.

 Where did your concept of Hell come from?

 I wanted to make sure my Hell avoided confirming any particular religion’s version of the underworld. Yes, there are demons, and the Dante’s Inferno influence is certainly there, but we also see elements of underworlds from other mythologies, such as the Hades of Greek Mythology, the Helheim of Norse Mythology, as well as paintings by people like Bosch and Beksiński. There is a complete absence of God or angelic figures, even as people in the underworld continue to worship them out of desperate hope. Indeed, one of the main antagonists of the series, Riven, claims to rule Hell in the way he does because he believes God wants him to. This is how abusive regimes behave in life, so why not in the afterlife as well?

 People often associate Christianity/Heaven with “good” and demons/Hell with “evil,” and believe that they are diametrically opposed. However, this only encourages people to have faith in abusive, fascist authority figures who claim to be enacting God’s will. These authority figures will demonize things that aren’t evil at all – like being a strong woman, being LGBTQIA+, and being in touch with your sexuality – and then get away with literal genocide, with religion being used to justify it all. So I wanted to eradicate this black and white dichotomy by having the antagonists be demons who are also, paradoxically, religious fundamentalists. It’s a way of being like, “Hey, this is what’s harmful. This is what we should be demonizing.”

 There is a very interesting idea theorized in your book. Because a lot of those in hell don’t feel they did anything to get there, one of your characters wonders if everyone goes to Hell? If no one has ever seen Heaven and they’ve never had any interaction with Heaven, maybe it doesn’t exist.

 Indeed. We encounter children, former priests, and others who one would expect to go to the “good place” instead. The thing to keep in mind is that confirming the existence of a “good place” and a “bad place” would be to confirm faiths that I do not believe in, and in turn support the problematic establishments that this entire series is so against in the first place. So much of this series is about interrogating common religious ideas, as organized religion is one of the primary pillars reinforcing misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, etc. So I have no interest in turning around and being like, “But they’re actually right, only certain people get to go to Heaven after they die and everyone else just gets tortured forever!” That kind of belief system has never sit right with me, and I don’t want my own work to parrot it. Of course, you’ll find out a lot more about Lilitu’s cosmology in future installments.

Are the maps of Hell just in your head? Or do you have physical copies that are only for your eyes? Will the readers ever have access to these maps?

 I’ve never actually drawn one if that’s what you mean, because I’m rubbish at that sort of thing, but of course I’ve given thought to the general geography of it all. In my mind, Hell’s geography is labyrinthine, multi-layered, and particularly resistant to cartography. However, Salem is shown with a map at one point, and the Blood Saints clearly have at least some idea where they’re going, which suggests at least some of it has been mapped out. It would be pretty cool to include a map in a future Lilitu volume or edition.

The Church of Black Heaven is an interesting concept. Because I am interested in religions, it made me wonder what religious sect you might have patterned it after?

 The Church of Black Heaven is not meant to reflect the believers of any one religion so much as demonstrate how certain people will use religion to manipulate crowds, and justify their wicked deeds. I don’t think being religious makes you evil, nor do I think that every religious authority figure is a disingenuous grifter. But it’s still used to justify many of society’s worst evils and inequalities, and that’s what I’ve tried to reflect in the series.

 In the first book, we saw how England’s new demonic monarchy justified its actions by claiming they were chosen by God, and in Bloody Caleb we see how that extends even to literal demons in Hell, with the emperor utilizing religion to indoctrinate people into fighting for his cause. All this is definitely influenced by Catholicism, especially visually, because Catholicism is the version of Christianity that Riven himself would have been exposed to growing up. (We’ll learn more about that in future volumes, but for now, just know that Riven is old enough that when he was born, Protestantism did not yet exist.) The thing to keep in mind is that Riven has actively tried to make Hell into what he believes God wants it to be, so having a Gothic Catholic Church aesthetic on areas under his direct control was fairly important to communicate.

 I’d also say the Church of Black Heaven is fairly influenced by fundamentalists who focus more on a literal threat of Hell/Satan than on any of the bible’s more positive teachings, even though Hell doesn’t actually appear in the bible all that much. (Except the King James version, but that one’s widely considered an inaccurate translation, and hilariously refers to both Jesus and Lucifer as the “morning star.”) Needless to say, Riven’s church definitely shares Fundamentalist Christianity’s prioritization of obedience and judgment over being good to each other.

 Another interesting aspect of Hell is the “pockets” of happiness humans can find there. They never seem to last long, but is this a pattern allowed by Hell to give false hope or are they truly overlooked areas that Hell-management doesn’t know about.

 A lot of Lilitu’s version of Hell is me trying to figure out how such a place would logically function. If everyone (or almost everyone) who’s ever died goes to Hell, that would be an unfathomable amount of people. So, Hell would need to be impossibly huge to accommodate that many people. In my mind, that would be exceedingly hard for any one group to govern, so of course some places and people would fall through the cracks. But this also suggests that the Hell we see – the Hell Riven has been working so hard to create through punishment and cruelty – isn’t necessarily how this afterlife has to be.

 I was interested in the transformation of Remy and how their inner desire effected their demon transformation.

 I don’t think it’s possible to create a modern work that explores gender without having at least one significant trans character. In both Lilitu books, it’s repeatedly explained that succubus milk will give you the body you’ve always dreamed of having – so obviously, if you’re transgender, the form you take should reflect that. It was very important to me to show that, and it also tied in with my goals for Caleb’s story. Caleb spends so much of this story feeling frustrated by his inability to live up to society’s expectations of masculinity, but after becoming an incubus, he meets characters like Remy and Kaeru, who through their very existence call his beliefs into question, poking holes into the rigid gender binary that Riven and Salem benefit from. When your villains are conservative demon fundamentalists who seek to control the universe through religion, it would make sense for them to be just as transphobic as real human fundamentalists. We’re unfortunately living at a time where trans people are being literally demonized and treated as monsters, and obviously I’m not a fan of that.

 We’ll see much more of Remy – or rather Rox – in future installments.

How did writing the androgynous character Kaeru (who can change appearances just by gauging another’s desire) differ from writing the other characters and did the ambiguous sexuality cause any difficulties? 

In some interpretations of succubi and incubi, they’re the same creature – they just take a male or female form depending on the desire of the human they’re targeting, to better seduce them. This is further supported by the Latin root words (“in-cubare” being “to lie upon,” or be on top of, and the “suc” in “succubi” being “sub” or “bottom”). Obviously, that wasn’t the approach I took for most succubi and incubi in my series, both because it didn’t align with my thematic goals and because having everyone be a shapeshifter would make it a completely different story. Mind you, a book that focuses on shapeshifting non-binary succubi/incubi would be really cool, but that also feels like someone else’s story to write.

So, Kaeru was my way of acknowledging this interpretation, by having a rare lilitu bloodline capable of changing their shape and gender. However, as with everything else, I was interested in exploring what that would actually be like in a real, literal world. In my mind, people are often attracted to personality as well as bodies, so it made sense for Kaeru’s personality to change in addition to their body – which, naturally, would be quite a difficult thing to endure. Additionally, since I wanted Kaeru to be the only lilitu with this ability we encountered, that meant Riven would absolutely want to make use of them, manipulating them however he could to keep them under his control. Since I already knew I needed to seed the memory-wiping powers of the River Lethe (hello, Greek Mythology!), I decided to make it so Kaeru was a victim of having their memory wiped over and over in order, with Riven doing this to make them a perfect shape-shifting assassin.

 Kaeru’s name is Japanese for “to change,” as well “to return” or “frog,” the latter of which is quite interesting since the Japanese wrinkled frog sometimes changes sex. Frogs also naturally embody metamorphosis, since they change from tadpole to frog. There are also myths of kappas, who are decidedly frog-like, and are characterized as obscene tricksters who drag humans into uncomfortable, violating sexual acts, and sometimes transform either themselves or others.

 These associations with sex, shame, and transformation added a lot of additional significance to the name choice, even though admittedly frogs and kappas aren’t exactly the same thing. Caleb is initially uncomfortable when he discovers what Kaeru is, tying in with his increasing discomfort with his sexuality, and continuing the pattern of traumatizing sexual experiences he has throughout the book. Kaeru performs many monstrous acts due to Riven’s influence on them, but then again, so does Caleb. I think they’re ultimately a tragic figure.

 I also want to be clear that Kaeru isn’t meant to be commentary on non-binary or genderfluid people, who aren’t “confused who they are” as Kaeru might be, and aren’t monstrous either. I do think Kaeru is a non-binary character, but they are meant to deconstruct the theory of gender-changing succubi/incubi in the same way the rest of the book deconstructs depictions of Hell, rather than awkwardly stand-in for a complex, diverse, and ultimately benign group of people. I’d say that was the biggest challenge of writing the character: trying to make sure they didn’t come across as a straw-person, by really focusing on who they are as an individual. I certainly hope nobody gets the wrong idea about that, as the last thing I’d want to do is perpetuate any harmful stereotypes about a group that’s already so marginalized.

 Sexual exploration is a major theme in this book. Is this an aspect you needed Caleb to explore to show his repression as a child, or was it more a commentary on religious repression in general?

 A bit of both. One of my general philosophies of writing is that the protagonist’s journey is often meant to reflect the larger theme you’re exploring, so Caleb’s experiences – while individual to him – are reflective of a larger theme about how societal pressure to be as masculine as possible often molds men into monsters. Sexuality is a big part of that.

 Caleb’s sexual development isn’t as quite impacted by religion by as Maraina’s is, because religion doesn’t shame or punish (straight) male sexuality in the same way it does female sexuality. Obviously, for some men religion contributes much more to sexual discomfort, which is something we see in other characters, like Mr. Cillian in Memoirs. But with Caleb, I was more interested in focusing on the larger societal pressures of masculinity: the way your body is never good enough, the way men are told to be aggressive and assertive (even though this often manifests in harmful ways), and the chauvinistic toxicity of many male role models. It all just leads to men being raised with a lot of mixed messages, as we are shamed for not living up to an ideal that’s impossible to reach.

 It’s honestly very hard to find media that explores the experience of being a man with a complicated and tumultuous relationship with sexuality, even though I do think this is a very common male experience. It’s a punchline for a man to be short, or fat, or to experience erectile dysfunction. These are also usually the struggles of a side character, rather than the main male protagonist, who’s usually a sex symbol. This fact also unfortunately perpetuates the idea that it’s abnormal to feel uncomfortable with your body or with sex, so men who do struggle with dysmorphia or have sexual trauma tend to keep it to themselves.

 This is one of many reasons why I love the late Kentaro Miura’s manga masterpiece Berserk. Both its hero and its villain are men who were sexually assaulted as children, and we see how deeply this impacts them, with the protagonist Guts and antagonist Griffith responding to it in very different ways. It’s one of the few works of fantasy that openly focuses on male sexual trauma in a meaningful way, and I think that’s part of why so many people connect to it so deeply.

 The unfortunate truth is that a huge amount of men have complicated, uncomfortable relationships with their bodies and with sex, but feel totally unable to talk about it, both out of fear of showing weakness and because society doesn’t feel ready for that. Men are supposed to be confident and not show any vulnerability, so they tend to be punished for doing so.

 So, as a man who struggles with discomfort with my body, and who has quite a bit of sexual trauma, I wanted to explore all that. I wanted to communicate that these are not uncommon experiences, that men suffer under the patriarchy too, and that many of the figures men turn to for support with this suffering are the very ones behind their pain. My own experiences and decisions in life have been very different from Caleb’s – obviously, I’ve never been to Hell, and there are things he does in this book that I would never, ever do – but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t impacted by my own trauma.

 As far as Caleb’s shifting orientation is concerned, this was another thing about the first book I wanted to mirror. If you have a sex demon protagonist, it makes sense for them to be attracted to more than one gender, especially when they’re around other sex demons. So of course Caleb was going to feel attraction to other incubi, especially Salem. But, as with everything else, this had to be a source of initial confusion and discomfort, something he has to keep secret. You also see bisexual and pansexual men being both fetishized and heavily stigmatized, even within the gay community, so it was important to me to make Caleb a pansexual male protagonist who has both good and (very) bad experiences with other men.

 There were so many interesting beings in your book-the most surprising to me, the Skele-goats. You would think that would be comical. You managed to make even Skele-goats scary. What is your favorite creature in the book?

 Thank you! I’m glad you found them scary. I love bone creatures, haha. But I’d say my favorite monster is in this book is probably Pestilence’s horse, Alastrim. The way his body stretches and distorts gives me the heebie-jeebies. I like horses in real life, but in Lilitu their presence is usually a bad sign.

 You quickly cameo Wilkie Collins in your book. What was is your favorite work of his? Did you borrow any of his troupes the readers may recognize?

 Hard to argue with The Woman In White, but in all honesty (and I feel like such a poser saying this) I’ve yet to read the bulk of Collins’ bibliography. I am however a huge fan of Drood by Dan Simmons, which is written from Wilkie Collins’s perspective as he’s going nuts from too much laudanum. I don’t know how accurate Simmons’ portrayal was to the real-life Collins, but it certainly colored my perception of him. So I thought it was hilarious to imagine Wilkie joining the dark side, even if in a brief cameo.

 A lot of historical-set fiction tries to reference as many real historical figures as possible, but that wasn’t really my focus with Lilitu. I wanted the reader focused on my characters, not real people or all-too-familiar characters like Dracula or whatever. I also didn’t want to smear anyone too hard. A big aspect of Lilitu’s story is that many members of the Victorian upper class become demons and vampires, and I didn’t want to implicate too many real people there. Queen Victoria, of course, is murdered off-page early on in the first book without ever actually appearing, and I invented her youngest daughter Isabelle in order to avoid besmirching the legacies of any of her actual children. As it is, Wilkie Collins has the distinction of being one of the few real historical figures to appear in Lilitu thus far. That said, Book III has a few more real historical figures, including a particularly horrible one who gets a fairly substantial role. I won’t say who just yet—only that he is someone who truly deserves besmirching.

 At one point, I thought it might be funny to give Dickens a cameo in Hell as a vampire slayer, since he’d already passed away by the time Lilitu takes place. Just imagine: Charles Dickens, Vampire Slayer! The idea cracks me up, but I’m pretty sure that would make the book impossible to take seriously, hahah.

One of the most hellish aspects in Hell is that they break or steal any time pieces they find. After reading that and your time piece in Clockwork Wonderland, I wonder if you might have a fear of time or “non-time”? How did that concept come to you?

Hell has often be characterized as a place without time – a place of eternity. In order to avoid time loop shenanigans (or time travel paradoxes), I felt it made sense to make Hell be a place where time still technically passes – there’s still a past, present, and future – but you don’t really have any way to track it, so it doesn’t always feel that way. There’s no sun or moon to track the days with, there’s no seasons to track the years with, you spend a lot of your time there getting killed over and over and losing days, weeks, or months while you regenerate…and of course, nobody has clocks or calendars. Ultimately, I wanted Hell to be a place where the demonic rulers are trying – not always successfully – to oppress their human prisoners as much as possible. Preventing their prisoners from tracking time is part of that. It’s just another part of the oppression, as well as another way that Riven actively tries to make his Hell emulate the biblical Hell.

 Your lead character writes on his cell walls with his own blood. Was this a nod to the Marquis de Sade?

 Not necessarily, but I can see why you’d think that. I just thought it would be an interesting frame for the narrative. Why wouldn’t Bloody Caleb’s story be written in a literally Bloody fashion?

Who do you think gets Caleb’s cell after he is freed? Do you think they’ll clean off the writing or leave it to be read?

I actually can’t answer that. All I’m going to say is that we’ll learn much more about Tartarus in Book III.

 Riven sarcastically calls Caleb a dog and then at the end of the book, he “barks.” Was this a sarcastic statement or was he really a dog in the end? Maybe we have to wait for #3 to find out?

 Caleb doesn’t literally become a dog at the end, but at that point his spirit has been so broken that he accepts his role as Riven’s dog – a metaphorical dog of Hell. Caleb Schwartzenfeld quite literally means “Dog of the Black Field.” This is intended to suggest that he’s destined to serve the dark forces of Black Heaven, whether he wants to or not.

Check out this book link here: Lilitu: Bloody Caleb