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Ghoul

Chapter 1

Summer. Dawn. Time to go to work. I could feel the sun on the edge of my consciousness, somewhat like my master felt it, I guess - only I felt a compulsion to protect him while he was sleeping during the day, and he felt deadly threatened by the glowing orb hovering just below the horizon. I'd had four hours of sleep, standard procedure during the lighter parts of the year. Had it been dark at all? Lucky for me the master was an early riser and late in going to bed. Or coffin. I looked at my bedside watch. 04.30. Shit. Here's another nineteen or twenty hours of work ahead of me - great. I felt like someone had dragged me home after the car last night. I did drive home, didn't I? I got out of bed and stepped right into my sheepskin slippers. I always wear them at home, no matter what time of year it is. For a moment I looked longingly, no, sickly at my bedside table, pondering whether to take out the gun in the top drawer or not. Nope. I wouldn't give in to the paranoia today either. I hadn't yesterday, and I wouldn't tomorrow.

I shuffled out into the bathroom and turned on the lights. I'd fooled the SOB who figured out having vicious over-head flourescent lighting was a good idea by putting in soft bulbs instead. Their light was much kinder to both body and eyes. Not that I had that much to be ashamed of, really. I'm five six, and every inch is muscle-toned. Not bodybuilding muscles, heaven forbid, just the slim variety that running, swimming riding and martial arts give you. I'm sorry, Lord. My hair is waist length, dark brown, and the eyes that go with the face are hazel-nut coloured. The face, yes. Looking more closely in the mirror than I had for weeks, I realised for the first time that year just how tanned I'd become. It surprises me somewhat each year, even though I'm well aware I tan easily. I work outdoors most of the time, as daytime chief of security on the master's estate. A less fancy title is guard. I do the same work as my subordinates, I get no benefits apart from the fact that I'm paid better. The only thing I get to do that's different from what the others do is that I get to take all the shit from the master if anything goes wrong. So far so good. If working for a two hundred and fifty-year old vampire can be considered good.

I have the kind of skin that never burn, although admittedly I've never tried the Sahara desert. It must be my Italian heritage at work. Some of my co-workers look like lepers or as if they were barbecued alive and lived to tell.

I did my hair in two braids which I wound about my head so that they wouldn't get in the way while I work. I did not double for Carrie Fisher in "Star Wars". I brought a visor and my Ray-Ban's with me into the bedroom and flung them on the bed. I made the bed after making sure it had gotten cold. You never know what kind of disgusting little crawlies play hopscotch in your bed when you're gone. I took out my favourite sports bra and a tank top from the wardrobe and put them on. Pale yellow goes good with the tan. Beige riding pants and socks, almost ready to go. I grabbed the headset and the radio from their place on the wall. The headset on my head, the visor over. Sunglasses fastened in the top. The belt with the radio went on after the shoulder rig with the gun. A deluxe holster, did I mention that? Holds extra clips, which means that you don't have to carry them loose in your pockets. Now I didn't have to think about wearing clothes with pockets all the time. The holster becomes more bulky, but who cares? I'm an authorised carrier. The belt clicked shut.

Out in the hall I put on my riding sneakers (try running not to mention fighting in riding boots) and grabbed my car keys and the wristwatch. I hate wearing a watch, so I take it off as soon as I step inside my flat. That is, as soon as I've checked the flat. You never know. I checked the belt. Radio, lip saver and riding gloves. A quick glance at the watch told me 04.55. It would have to be a fast drive out to the estate. My record was seven minutes, but that was an emergency - mortals out to save the world from the supernatural monsters. If I hadn't been doing what I do for a living, I might have joined them in getting killed.

While driving I thought about the day ahead of me. Blazing sunlight for sure, another day of absolutely nothing happening probable, even likely. Sitting on a horse for several hours, patrolling mile after mile back and forth on the estate doesn't do much for your dexterity, even if you're accustomed to it. Well, I'd go by foot for a couple of hours, that way I could get the running I needed. Don't think I enjoy running, it's just that you have to be able to catch up with the bad guys or would that be the good guys?

It wasn't long until the estate came into view - it's difficult to miss it - it is after all a castle, complete with ten-feet wall, towers and a moat. Well, a few modern improvements have been made - the latest fancy alarm system, surveillance cameras, barbed wire and a few other little things that make life a little easier for overworked guards and a little harder for individuals out to kill the master. I passed the sign saying "Chateau de Bologne 1 km". I simply don't know why the sign is still there - since the master bought the castle ten years ago, I don't think there have been many visitors. The ones who do come know where to go anyway.

The wall spreads out for a mile and a half on each side of the huge wrought iron gates before turning ninety degrees and disappearing. In that direction there are two more miles or so of solid as rock stone wall, no pun intended, and then the wall turns about ninety degrees again and eventually connects on the far side of the estate. Inside the estate there are woods, grazing pastures for the horses, a huge garden and an artificial lake. The master has got this thing for nature.

As I neared the gates, I slowed down and took out my security card from the glove compartment. I slid it into the slot and dialled my personal access code. As the gates swung open, I found myself thinking the same thought I'd been thinking almost every damn morning for the last two and a half years; " Time to enter into the gap of the dragon. Hold your breath and say a prayer, hoping to get out alive."

Chapter 2

I parked the car outside the security centre and went inside after once again using my card. On the master's estate you don't get in anywhere without dialling your personal code at least once.

"Hi, Tony. Morning. The night been calm?"

I asked."Sure. A few animals copulating is all." Tony wasn't much for speaking. He and I felt some kind of kinship, he's a non-willing ghoul as well.

"The master been bugging you?"

"No. But he has a visitor with him."

"What? Why the heck didn't you call me? Man or monster?"

"Male monster. Quite old. He told me not

to.""Fuck." There really wasn't any other word for it. This was going to be an even longer day than I had expected. "Who's up there with him?"

"Besides Anthony? Mike, John and Gilbert."

Two mercenaries and a ghoul. The master keeps mercenaries who are documentedly greedy. To them, money and fear speak. Nowadays, I can smell betrayal to the master in most of the cases. I've taken out two mercenaries who were on the verge of betrayal - someone had paid them better. Anthony is the ghoul, and willing at that. Of course Tony is christened Anthony as well, but to keep them apart we had to do something, and somehow it makes more sense to call a six feet two inches man with bulky muscles Tony than it does a small, slim former ballet dancer. Agree?

"Who are scheduled for duty tonight?" I made the schedule weeks ago, but now all of it was gone from my mind. "Whoever was, replace them with me, you, Gilbert, Patrick and Victor. Call them and tell them they've got plans for tonight. Then call the ones taken off duty and tell them to not leave home. They're on standby." I wondered why the master hadn't called or come by to tell me about the visitor. He always had before.

"The others are waiting in the stable."

"Thanks, Tony. On your way home, drive through the village and check for strangers or rumours. Call me no matter what the result. I'll be waiting."

The man in charge of the day shift at the centre entered. His name is Richard - never, ever Dick. If you call him that he'll stuff your own in your throat, if you have one.

"Male monster with the boss", Tony told

him."Fuck." There really wasn't any other word for it.

"You mind working around the clock?" He really didn't have a choice, but it's always nicer to ask.

"No. Now get out there. You're late."

I stepped outside into the melting heat after grabbing the cellular from its wall stand. The feeling I had had when getting out of bed this morning had proven to be right. This was going to be a hard-as-rock 24 hours, or 36, or 48. One never knows with the master. As I walked across the dusty, bubbling courtyard I wondered why I hadn't felt the presence of the intruder. I usually do, but of course there are several reasons why I didn't. Maybe the master hadn't felt threatened by his 'guest', maybe he didn't want me to react (it's easy for him to shield all kinds of things from me by manipulating my mind), maybe the guest didn't want me to react - now that was a scary thought. If the monster guest up in the house had enough mental powers to shield himself from my knowledge, then there was a very good reason for the master to feel threatened indeed. Or maybe, just maybe, I was one poor, overworked unwilling ghoul with a two hundred and fifty year-old powerful vampire for a master, and maybe, just maybe my mind just couldn't take a tiny couple of hours' sleep for month after month. Naw.

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