Pulling at his collar, Abe straightened. Every time he looked at the silver-haired beauty sitting across from him, he struggled to keep his thoughts straight.

“So,” he stammered, eyes darting away as her seductive, long-lashed, and half-lidded gaze caught them. 

“Are you always this shy?” she said, and he flinched as her paper-white, manicured hand landed atop his—the sharp tips of her red nails tracing his hand as he pulled away. 

“No, I,” he swallowed.

He wasn’t. 

Between his sharp jaw and piercing blue eyes, women flocked to him. But she was different. Her gaze made his hair stand on end, and his pulse quickened.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” she said, parting her bright red lips to expose particularly long canines.

“Of cour-” Abe stuttered—wanting to kick himself as his words choked in his throat.

Their eyes met again and he was forced to fight down a tremor.

“I love it when they play hard to get,” she swirled a finger around the brim of her wine glass.

“It’s good, isn’t it,” Abe said, eyeing the glass in search of escape from her penetrating stare. “Imported, it’s a Barossa shiraz, they’re my favorite.”

Leaning forward, she gently brushed her fingers against the side of his face and through his sandy hair—digging her nails in just a little as they reached the back of his neck—the pinch of pain just enough to excite.

She pulled closer.

“What I would give you take you out back and ravish you,” she whispered, her lips close enough to feel a strangely cool breath against his cheek.

“I-I…”

“Come on,” she whispered, sliding back into her chair. “Won’t you give it to me?” she lowered her head, looking up with big eyes and pouted.

Abe swallowed, his trembling hands chattering across the tabletop.

“Ready to order?” A brimming waitress appeared at their side in a checkered dress.

Abe breathed as if a spell had been broken.

I survived.

 

Abe let out a deep sigh as they exited the cute, little Italian restaurant—tucked away behind an unsuspecting alley.

Rearranging his tie, he felt for the little device attached beneath it.  

Thanks for the warning, sergeant. Couldn’t have found a single man for the job, could you? 

“You’re naughty,” she said with a twitch of her nose, closing in on him, and taking him by the collar as she pressed him against the cold brick wall.

“I want to feel you,” she whispered, her notes light and curly.

“Here, in the alley?” he gritted his teeth.

“Where better?” she replied.

Abe’s legs grew weak, and his heart pounded against his chest as she flicked her long lashes.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

Not even the back of his head hitting the brick wall of the alley was enough to distract him from the full, red lips descending upon him.

Soft flesh pressed against his neck—sending tingles trembling throughout his body, and setting hairs on end.

Dotting his neck with soft kisses, she worked her way up to his ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt too much.” 

Abe’s pupils dilated.

Hurt?

 

Chomp!

 

Pain seared throughout as an intoxicating dizziness filled his veins and weakened him. 

A cloudy, swirling darkness carried him off into the abyss, blurring the silver-haired beauty above him as a cheek-perking smile creased her lips.

*Clunk*

 

“Argh, damn it, how's this thing supposed to work again? What were her words, pull the dials back one at a time… No, that doesn't sound right!”

 

Roused by the nearby muttering, Abe stirred, blinking several times as he tried to force the disorientating feeling that made the world swirl around him from his head. Instead, he got an ache that traveled down from his temple, and into his spine, sending a nauseating twitching sensation throughout his body.

“My god, that sucked,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around his body and curling up.

Why am I naked? And why is my be- 

Placing his hand against the ground at his side, he felt the cold, hard, and unfamiliar surface.

Stone tiles.

His hands clambered across his cold skin, touching bruised flesh. 

Squinting against the pain of unfamiliar light, he forced his eyes open and was met by blinding, blurry shapes gradually forming into less blurry shapes as white faded and the room around him began to make sense.

Deviating beams of steel shook, and with another strained blink, the fuzzy lines came together.

“Prison bars?”

Grunting, he turned, pushing with both hands to sit up and scanning the foreign room.

What is this place?

Candlelight flickered atop a timber bench opposite the cell he found himself in—a shadowy corridor beside it.

What, how? How is that possible?

Abe shook his head and blinked again, rubbing at his eyes before he attempted to refocus.

“How are you doing that?” he grunted in a dream-like state.

“Huh?” the skull turned, its eyes a light with blue flames as it hovered above the ornate, timber chair. “You’re awake!” it said, skeletal jaw snapping as it spoke, and its animated, bone brow furrowing as if it were flesh. 

“It spoke,” Abe murmured, pointing a trembling finger at the floating skull. “What kind of trick is this? Someone, get me out of here,” his voice rose with alarm.

“Shh, be quiet. The Mistress will want to be here for this. I’ll fetch her, just give me one moment,” the skull said, floating into the darkness of the corridor and disappearing, leaving Abe sat jaw agape, his trembling, outstretched finger following the skull as it left.

“What the… what the hell was that supposed to be…” he mouthed.

“Errr”

Huh?

He turned—cells to both sides, damp and cold—disappearing into the dark.

Narrowing his gaze, he eyed the shadow-shrouded cell to his right.

Something moved in the dark.

“It groaned,” Abe shook his head at the guttural noise and pushed himself back against the stone floor.

A moan sounded to his left. He swung around.

“What the hell?”

More movement.

The echoing clicking of heels against the stone snapped his attention back to the dark corridor.

“So, you’re awake, darling?” Came a seductive, feminine drawl from beyond the shadow.

“Y-you, it’s you, isn’t it?” Abe swallowed, trying to force himself up onto his feet, but his weakened muscles gave in, sending him sprawling across the cold stone.

“Take your time. That body of yours will take a little getting used to.”

“This body of mine?” He strained to see through the shadows.

“Yes, precious,” she lisped, silver hair catching the first reflective rays of light as she emerged from impenetrable blackness. “The body I was so kind to gift you with.”

Stockings laced her pale legs in black net, creeping up until they disappeared behind a black skirt woven into a corset that hugged her frame tightly, pushing her chest up like a pedestal for onlookers. 

Catching his gaze, she walked into the light—a subtle grin creasing her lips exposing white fangs.

She walked up to him, pressed herself against the bars, and reached through, her slender arm just long enough to extend a finger and bop his nose. 

“That scent,” she sniffed. “I knew it immediately. You’re not just another ghoul for my collection or a failed experiment like those tortured corpses. You’re a true specimen, that much is obvious.”

“Ghoul?” Abe muttered, hardly believing the word tumbling from his own lips.

The woman’s eyes drifted to his right—the cell, barely lit by the hazily light that struggled to reach across the room.

“That…” he stammered, taking a step closer to it.

People. No, corpses. Hands hanging between bars, groaning. Festering flesh wounds, open and maggot-ridden. A stench of death so awful Abe stumbled backward, almost falling as a knot formed in his stomach and he wretched, mouth-filling with saliva, spattering over his cell as he toppled forward.

“Don’t worry, precious. You’re too beautiful to mistreat like those worthless sacks of meat. I have much better plans for you.”

“What are you?” Abe said, whimpering, but as he let the tears flow, his glands remained dry. “What have you done to me?

Lowering to Abe’s cowered form, Miss Nia extended an arm through the bars and ran her fingers gently through his hair. “It will make sense soon enough. For now, just call me Miss Nia,” she smiled, her thick, red lips curving seductively. “Or master, if you prefer.”

“Master?” Abe gagged, lurching forward.

Miss Nia stood up and tapped the metal cell. “Yes, for that is what I am. Your vampire master. But you will learn all of this soon enough. No need to rush.”

“Vampires, ghouls…” Abe shook his head. “What is all of this? Are you playing with me? Some sick fun before you cut out my organs?” Abe’s trembling voice rose. Reaching out, he grasped the bars and locked eyes with the pale woman, “I can pay you-”

Could he? The words faded as his mind searched for answers. None were found. The only memory that came to him was a fuzzy vision of that night. With her.

“What a waste that would be,” she chuckled playfully, dragging Abe from his paralyzing thoughts as her heels clicked along the stone. “You excite me, little ghoul. I cannot wait to see you beg for me.”

Slumping back down, he watched her fade back into the darkness. 

 

***

 

Groaning, Abe reached for his ribs as pain probed his side. The bruising was gone, and only cold flesh met his touch.

“Was that a dream?” He mouthed, and pain swelled in his neck—almost as if on command. 

Pushing up from his resting place, Abe squinted. If the cold brick beneath him wasn’t enough, the surrounding prison cell cleared any lingering doubt.

A flicker of blue flame floated up from an ivory orb and his memory of the flying skull returned.

“You,” he muttered in disbelief. 

The skull turned, and the flaming blue eyes that had been etched in his mind elicited a thump from his chest.

“You’re awake again, good,” the chattering skull said.

“The fu-the fuck!” Abe shook his head, shuffling back against the tiles, and kicking with his heels—only halted when he thudded against the wall at his back.

Arching a bony brow, the skull floated over, “she was right, she always is,” the skull said, the flames of its eyes scanning Abe. “You are indeed a specimen of the finest kind.”

“What the fuck are you?” Abe said, eyes wide and lips trembling. “Whatever this is, it isn’t funny,” he shook his head, looking away from the skull as if there were others in the room and shouting, “This isn’t fucking funny, let me the fuck out of here!” 

Clearing its non-existent throat, the skull waited for Abe to exhaust his cries for help before continuing. “Finished?” the skull said, eyeing Abe as his lip trembled with incomprehension. “Okay, let’s get this over with. The name’s Ricky, kennel master and chauffeur to the Mistress. You’re my ward, at least for now.”

“You’re a fucking head,” Abe said. “This is either a bad joke or…”

His hands rose to cover his face.

Or what?

“Starting to make sense?” the skull probed.

“No,” Abe shook his head. “How could any of this make any fucking sense? Are you insane?”

“Quite, but that’s neither here nor there. It is your education I am concerned with. Listen, you may be a valuable plaything, but it won’t soften me towards repeating myself, understand?”

Abe sat in silence.

“Good. We are in the manor of the vampire, Miss Nia, and you are the newest of her slaves. A ghoul.”

“You fucking crazy people keep saying that.”

The skull’s bony mouth curved into a grin, “Do you know how to check a pulse?”

Abe’s eyes darted between the skull and his wrist. He was no expert, but he was lean and muscular, and a pulse had never been hard to find.

He pressed two fingers against his wrist and waited. 

Nothing came and he closed his eyes.

Still nothing.

“Hear anything?”

“What about my heart, I felt it thump before?” He looked down at his gray, necrotic hands.

“Indeed you did,” Ricky nodded. “But the heart of a ghoul does not behave like that of a man’s.”

This can’t be real… There’s no fucking way. Does he really expect me to believe I’m some kind of fucking zombie? It can be, can it? It can’t be real…

“If I’m a ghoul, then what the hell are you meant to be?” 

“Oh, me? A Marionette. A magical puppet given a spirit and set to service.”

“So, I’m dead and you’re a fucking puppet?”

“More or less,” Ricky let out a bone-rattling cackle. “Starting to make sense, now?”

“What do you think?” Abe sneered.

Silence filled the room for a long moment.

“Got that all out of your system, now?” Ricky said.

Blue and blackened veins lined his gray skin, and his nails had grown sharper, almost claw-like.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Good, because I’m getting tired of explaining this shit.”

“My memories, why don’t I have any?”

“Antiques of the past, you’re better off without them,” Ricky replied. 

“So, that’s it? I’m dead and everything I was is gone?”

“Undead,” Ricky corrected. “And that weak, mortal shell has been replaced by an immortal vessel—so long as you have the Mistress’s blood to feed upon.”

“An immortal slave; and you think I should be grateful?”

“Abe, that’s your name, right? 

Looking up from his hands, Abe nodded.

“We’re all slaves. Every last one of us. You can either sit there and sulk, or move on. Up to you.”

“Yeah, grieving usually takes more than a day.”

“Fine then,” Ricky said and floated back to his desk.

Turning to his side, Abe tried to ignore the floating skull, but the wafts of rotting meat and groaning ghoul corpses were too much.

“Fine, fine,” he said, jumping to his feet and pulling at the bars. “Please, anything. Just let me out of here.”

“Nope, can’t do,” Ricky said, glancing over. 

“What can you do, skull-man?”

“So, you’re a smartass now?”

Sighing, Abe slid down the bars to his knees, “I just want to get out of here.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”  

“Can’t you just be helpful for a fucking second?”

“Yeah, that’s not my job, kid.”

Footsteps sounded down the hall, perking Abe’s ears and raising his gaze to the shadowy entrance.

“Torturing the newbie?” A soft, feminine voice said.

“Oh, is that you, Elissa?

Stepping out of the shadow was a young woman, with a loose jaw, gray, decaying skin, and her brown hair tied back into a ponytail. 

“Isn’t he just perfect,” she sneered, and Abe realized she was missing her upper lip. “Almost as pretty as a vamp.”

Abe tilted his head and scooted back as she approached the cell.

“Scared, little one?” she said, lurching forward.

Flinching, Abe recoiled.

“You’re funny,” she chuckled and slid a metal key into the lock. “Mistress wants to speak to you.”

“He’s going already?” Ricky chimed in. “He really must be special.”

“Maybe,” Elissa said, opening the door. “But special still needs to be proven. Meat rots all the same when it's cut up,” she twitched, inching closer to Abe and taking a sniff.

Turning his face, Abe gritted his teeth.

“Come on, then,” she hissed, turning back toward the door. “Best not keep the Mistress waiting.”

Abe glanced over to Ricky, the dinging of whatever device he was using continuing in the background, and then back to Elissa and her crooked gait.

“Are you coming or what?” she said.

Swallowing, Abe stood up and followed, maintaining a healthy distance.

Passing into the darkness, his eyes refocused, painting a grainy outline of the corridor. 

What is this? My vision… I can see.

Extending his hand, he examined it. Knuckles, nails—his sight outlined it all in colorless gray. 

A moment later, they stepped out into an atrium of marbled tiles, a crystal chandelier overhead. Along the rounded walls, giant mirrors hung in golden frames, deviated by classical oil paintings—both portraits and landscapes.

A spiral staircase lined the other side of the room, carpeted in red. Above it, a man stood straight, chin-high, and dressed in a tuxedo.

“Come on,” Elissa sneered as she led him up the stairs.

The handsome visage of the man twisted as they grew closer. Puffy, red eyes, open wounds, and gangrene marked him on closer inspection. But he looked closer to human than Elissa did.

The tuxedoed man nodded as they reached the top, turned, and led them down the adjoining hall.

“Prettier than you, he is,” Elissa chuckled as she skipped a step to catch up and walk beside the man.

“Shut up, Elissa,” he said.

“Not going to be her favorite anymore.”

The paintings along the walls seemed to watch as they walked, and he could’ve sworn some turned to follow as they passed.

“Careful not to stare, they’re not fond of that,” Elissa said, turning to Abe—his eyes locked on the ominous paintings.

“They?” Abe echoed, pulling his gaze away from a shadowy figure with bright white eyes staring from beneath a dark, shadowy brow.

“Best to keep some things secret,” Elissa chuckled.

Like everything else, Abe pulled himself away.

Reaching a huge, arching doorway at the end of the hall, Elissa and the tuxedoed man stepped ahead, each taking one of the brass, lever handles and pushing the heavy doors open.

Red and gold lined the walls within, paintings hung, brass instruments sat on display, and at its rear was Miss Nia, facing a towering mirror, lined by lights. 

Powdering her face, she sat perched atop a small timber chair with red, velvety cushions.

Nothing? Where is she?

Abe eyed the mirror as it caught his reflection. Just him and his surroundings.

“Finally,” Miss Nia said, lips curving into a playful grin. “The promising young ghoul arrives.”

Turning and standing, Abe noted the silky black gown she had changed into, a split tracing its middle, exposing leg, thigh, and threatening more as it climbed.

It was hard to believe the young head-turner could be some undead lord, and despite the terror gripping him, Abe still found himself struggling to tear his focus away from her partially exposed chest.

“As you instructed, Mistress,” Elissa bowed, her guttural trang awkwardly twisting with formality.

Ignoring her servant, Miss Nia’s gaze settled on Abe, “Bow.” 

Glancing around the room, he felt a growing urge to submit. 

With a flick of her delicate, ivory hand—marked only by thin, blue veins, Miss Nia repeated herself.

Before his mind could make a decision, Abe found himself dropping to a knee.

A smile curled the vampire’s red lips, “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

The two servants nodded and hummed in agreement.

“My sisters will be so jealous. More so when I take the court of Umbrial. But your role in that task is yet to be seen, young Abraham,” she clicked her fingers and the two servants straightened. “Is it ready?”

“Yes, Mistress, everything is prepared,” Elissa bowed.

“Don’t let me down, pretty ghoul. I have such high hopes for you,” Miss Nia said, stepping closer and pressing her index into Abe’s chest, then running it up and across his jaw. “The sewers will test you, but they can also make you stronger, so much stronger. And who knows, maybe even prettier than you already are.”