"Tell me about ghouls, Anita." He had his trusty little notebook out, pen poised and ready.
"This cemetery is still holy ground. Cemeteries that have ghoul infestations are usually very old or have satanic or certain voodoo rites performed in them. The evil sort of uses up the blessing, until the ground becomes unholy. Once that happens, ghouls either move in or rise from the graves. No one's sure exactly which."
"Wait, what do you mean, that no one knows?"
"Basically."
He shook his head, staring at the notes he'd made, frowning. "Explain."
"Vampires are made by other vampires. Zombies are raised from the grave by an animator or voodoo priest. Ghouls, as far as we know, just crawl out of their graves on their own. There are theories that very evil people become ghouls. I don't buy that. There was a theory for a while that people bitten by a supernatural being, wereanimal, vampire, whatever, would become a ghoul. But I've seen whole cemeteries emptied, every corpse a ghoul. No way they were all attacked by supernatural forces while alive."
"All right, we don't know where ghouls come from. What do we know?"
"Ghouls don't rot like zombies. They retain their form more like vampires. They are more than animal intelligent, but not by much. They are cowards and won't attack a person unless she is hurt or unconscious."
"They sure as hell attacked the groundskeeper."
"He could have been knocked unconscious somehow."
"How?"
"Someone would have had to knock him out."
"Is that likely?"
"No, ghouls don't work with humans, or any other undead. A zombie will obey orders, vampires have their own thoughts. Ghouls are like pack animals, wolves maybe, but a lot more dangerous. They wouldn't be able to understand working with someone. If you're not a ghoul, you're either meat or something to hide from."
"Then what happened here?"
"Dolph, these ghouls traveled quite a distance to reach this cemetery. There isn't another one for miles. Ghouls don't travel like that. So maybe, just maybe, they attacked the caretaker when he came to scare them off. They should have run from him; maybe they didn't."
"Could it be something, or someone, pretending to be ghouls?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. Whoever it was, they ate that man. A human might do that, but a human couldn't tear the body apart like that. They just don't have the strength."
"Vampire?"
"Vampires don't eat meat."
"Zombies?"
"Maybe. There are rare cases where zombies go a little crazy and start attacking people. They seem to crave flesh. If they don't get it, they'll start to decay."
"I thought zombies always decayed."
"Flesh-eating zombies last a lot longer than normal. There's one case of a woman who is still human-looking after three years."
"They let her go around eating people?"
I smiled. "They feed her raw meat. I believe the article said lamb was preferred."
"Article?"
"Every career has its professional journal, Dolph."
"What's it called?"
I shrugged. "The Animator; what else?"
He actually smiled. "Okay. How likely is it that it's zombies?"
"Not very. Zombies don't run in packs unless they're ordered to."
"Even" - he checked his notes - "flesh-eating zombies?"
"There have only been three documented cases. All of them were solitary hunters."
"So, flesh-eating zombies, or a new kind of ghoul. That sum it up?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay, thanks. Sorry to interrupt your night off." He closed his notebook and looked at me. He was almost grinning. ""The secretary said you were at a bachelorette party." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Hoochie coochie."
"Don't give me a hard time, Dolph."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Riiight," I said. "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be getting back."
"We're finished, for now. Call me if you think of anything else."
"Will do." I walked back to my car. The bloody plastic gloves were shoved into a garbage sack in the trunk. I debated on the coveralls and finally folded them on top of the garbage sack. I might be able to wear them one more time.
Dolph called out, "You be careful tonight, Anita. Wouldn't want you picking up anything."
I glared back at him. The rest of the men waved at me and called in unison, "We loove you."
"Gimme a break."
One called, "If I'd known you liked to see na**d men, we could have worked something out."
"The stuff you got, Zerbrowski, I don't want to see."
Laughter, and someone grabbed him around the neck. "She got you, man . . . Give it up, she gets you every time."
I got into my car to the sound of masculine laughter, and one offer to be my "luv" slave. It was probably Zerbrowski.
Chapter 6
I arrived back at Guilty Pleasures a little after midnight. Jean Claude was standing at the bottom of the steps. He was leaning against the wall, utterly still. If he was breathing, I couldn't see it. The wind blew the lace on his shirt. A lock of black hair trailed across the smooth paleness of his cheek.
"You smell of other people's blood, ma petite."
I smiled at him, sweetly. "It was no one you knew."
His voice when it came was low and dark, full of a quiet rage. It slithered across my skin, like a cold wind. "Have you been killing vampires, my little animator?"
"No." I whispered it, my voice suddenly hoarse. I had never heard his voice like that.
"They call you The Executioner, did you know that?"
"Yes." He had done nothing to threaten me, yet nothing at that moment would have forced me to pass him. They might as well have barred the door.
"How many kills do you have to your credit?"
I didn't like this conversation. It wasn't going to end anywhere I wanted to be. I knew one master vampire who could smell lies. I didn't understand Jean-Claude's mood, but I wasn't about to lie to him. "Fourteen."
"And you call us murderers."
I just stared at him, not sure what he wanted me to say.
Buzz the vampire came down the steps. He stared from Jean Claude to me, then took up his post by the door, huge arms crossed over his chest.
Jean-Claude asked, "Did you have a nice break?"
"Yes, thank you, master."
The master vampire smiled. "I've told you before, Buzz, don't call me master."
"Yes, M-M...Jean-Claude."
The vampire gave his wondrous, nearly touchable laugh. "Come, Anita, let us go inside where it is warmer."
It was over eighty degrees on the sidewalk. I didn't know what in the world he was talking about. I didn't know what we'd been talking about for the last few minutes.
Jean-Claude walked up the steps. I watched him disappear inside. I stood staring at the door, not wanting to go inside. Something was wrong, and I didn't know what.
"You going inside?" Buzz asked.
"I don't suppose you'd go inside, and ask Monica and the redhaired woman she's with to come outside?"
He smiled, flashing fang. It's the mark of the new dead that they flash their fangs around. They like the shock effect. "Can't leave my post. I just had a break."
"Thought you'd say something like that."
He grinned at me.
I went into the twilit dark of the club. The holy item check girl was waiting for me at the door. I gave her my cross. She gave me a check stub. It wasn't a fair trade. Jean-Claude was nowhere in sight.
Catherine was on the stage. She was standing motionless, eyes wide. Her face had that open, fragile look that faces get when they sleep, like a child's face. Her long, copper-colored hair glistened in the lights. I knew a deep trance when I saw it.
"Catherine." I breathed her name and ran towards her. Monica was sitting at our table, watching me come. There was an awful, knowing smile on her face.
I was almost to the stage when a vampire appeared behind Catherine. He didn't walk out from behind the curtain, he just bloody appeared behind her. For the first time I understood what humans must see. Magic.
The vampire stared at me. His hair was golden silk, his skin ivory, eyes like drowning pools. I closed my eyes and shook my head. This couldn't be happening. No one was that beautiful.