Excerpt: Sanctuary

Fingers of icy breeze tickled their way across my neck as I squatted down beside the equally icy tombstone. Note to self, beat Zeke senseless. For a werewolf, the man is a grade A pussy. Which is why I’m crouched down in a cemetery waiting for ghouls. Contrary to popular myth, they are not mindless, grotesque and zombie-like. They look as human as anyone else and they are remarkably resourceful little shits. One thing the myth did get right though, they feed on human flesh, and like to hang out in cemeteries. Which is why I’m here. Well, that and the fact that my boss is a putz and coward to boot.
I work for a werewolf who runs an agency that takes care of supernatural problems. Our current case involved a group of newly turned ghouls. How do I know they’re new, you ask? Because they aren’t quite smart enough to hide their activities. Older ghouls usually made deals with hospital morgues, taking the bodies of those unfortunates who have no one to claim them. Newer ghouls tend to dig up freshly dug graves of the newly deceased, or break into funeral homes or morgues and steal the corpses of the soon to be interred. Which is what this group was up to. If all went well, all I would have to do is a lot of talking. If all went bad….well let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.
Faint laughter echoed across the cold wind. Looks like my boys have arrived. I crept slowly away from the stone and moved forward toward the sound of the laughter and the next stone. More laughter followed. They sounded young, I thought, teens. God I really hope I can talk my way through this. I really didn’t want to kill kids. Even if they were technically already dead. It was times like this that I really despised vampires, and that was saying something considering that made up half of my DNA. Back to the popular myth thing. Vampires are not undead humans. They are a type of demon who feed on living humans. And they cannot change humans into vampires. They can however, create ghouls, which aside from zombies, who have to be raised by a necromancer or a highly trained pseudo-equivalent, rise from the dead on their own. Sunlight does not bother either species, but it does tone down the power of a vamp and the hunger of a ghoul.
Voices and more laughter. I peered around the stone toward the east cemetery entrance. This particular cemetery was about thirty acres and was surrounded by stonewalls with four wrought iron gates on each side. Through the light fog sliding across the ground, I made out three forms, two male and one female. And the coppery scent of blood. From their dress I saw they were Goths. All three had longish black hair, and their clothing was black and baggy. Great. This is probably their most orgasmic dream realized. Which is going to make talking through this that much harder. Fuck!
“Did you see that nurse’s face?” One of the boys laughed. “I thought she was gonna buy it right there!”
“Too bad she didn’t.” The second one replied. “More for us.”
The girl piped up. “You guys are such dicks. I don’t know why you think it’s so cool to scare the shit out of the living.”
The first boy stepped closer and wrapped his arm across her neck, jerking her closer. “Because we can smell it, can’t you? He made an exaggerated inhalation sound. “It makes the blood smell so much sweeter.”
The girl punched him in the side. “So? It’s not like you get to taste it.”
Even through the mist and darkness, I saw the evil glint in his eyes and accompanying smile. “Says who? Maybe next time we get the munchies, we try fresh instead of frozen.” His male buddy started laughing, but she grabbed his arm, pulled it over her head and pushed him away.
Well, I thought to myself, now is as good a time as any. Standing, I moved from behind the headstone. All conversation and movement ceased. After a few moments, I began dialogue. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with your food?” I asked, moving toward the trio.
Fresh Not Frozen moved forward a couple steps and sniffed the air. “Mmm. Fresh meat.”
I scowled. I hate that phrase. It’s unappealing in an “I want to fuck your brains out” context, and doubly so in an “I want to eat your brains out” context.
“Uh-uh.” I said, bringing my arm up. “I’m not on the menu for appetites of any kind.”
He took another step toward me. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
So much for talking.