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I must say that part of me would much rather forget I ever wrote this. However, for the sake of completing this series, here is the last part. This was written in a time of my life which I do not remember quite with fondness, and thus it suffers from my state of mind.

This was written almost exclusively for my friends (portrayed in the story as Lydia and Katlyn and Jeremy in part one who died in part one), which means prolly no one else would understand or enjoy it at all.

It does contain a lot of violence, gore, kidnapping, rape, necrophilia, mutilation and excessive blood-play. However, I must say that I tried to write it as "artisticaly" and "tastefully" as possible. I do not describe the acts of torture or buthchery, and the only part of the story with all the gore and rape is in a brief few paragraphs near the end (so it can be easily skipped past if yall would rather not read it). I most certainly do not condone these sorts of actions or behaviours, and nor do I actually take pleasure in seeing/hearing or reading about them. Like I said, I wrote this many years ago when my mind was completely different.

Also, yall have to remember this is primarily a dark comedy with horror elements and now a half-assed attempt at murder mystery. The subject matter and dialoge, I can now fully admit, is cliched in many parts. And as much religious/metaphysical jargon is in this, it is not meant to be taken seriously or analyzed, it's just a piece of violent fiction, nothing more. Enjoy... if you can, MUAHAHAHA!

Comments are appreciated, and please let me know of any major mistakes or inconsistencies I might have missed during my revisions.

(music soundtrack suggestions: Cold, Stabbing Westward, classical music, whatever)

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THE NAILS CHAMBER: Written by Ian "Plexadonn" Tucker, aka Indrid Tully

24, 093 words, copyright Ian Tucker

DAY ONE: MORNING

That snowy day had been plagued with insanity. Memories of the violence could never be erased from Camon's mind, the fountains of red and the resonation of his friend's final words echoing through the enormous building would be there till his death.

A good thing that was, the investigators would need every clear memory for a detailed description of the situation that had transpired the day before.

On that day, the crime scene investigators took possession of the warehouse and everything in it. Camon did not care about that, for he was still attempting to gather his thoughts to make sense of the episode. Such motion across slippery, wet crimson concrete was like a nightmare still in the waking morning terror.

Those men and women took pictures of the scene, took the bodies away, several miscellaneous items, and would take him to their laboratory as well.

Dragon's blood was found on a saw blade.

Indrid Tully's, Camon admitted to seeing one of his friends use the weapon against the reptile in the attack. Another trace of blood, Adrian Turlough, a panda, found everywhere. Hair fibers and epithelial tissue, all belonging to deceased beings.

Camon could not explain why their tissue showed that they were dead. In his perturbation, he claimed they must have been zombies, for the dragon and the chubby panda had moved sluggishly and used their teeth to kill. He was told that his suggestion was no good.

The white rat further explained that there were two females there, a crow named Katlyn and a Caucasian human. The latter, so sickly and overpowering, appeared twin with the deceased Lydia Sameera.

As Camon sat there on the hard, plastic chair, staring up to the windows past the dim light fixtures, he could not form any more explanations. The impossibilities were too many, and logic alternatives were too few. His mind worked jumbled, his chemicals and synapses flickering with electricity across his cortex to no effect of solving any of their dilemmas.

Soon, his contemplation drove them to allowing his escape, the investigators finding him of no help. The evidence, as they more cared for, would be enough for them to create the exact solution. But what could they possibly learn? Camon had told them exactly what happened.

As the rat entered his vehicle, turning the machine on with a key, being the only survivor of the attack caused him to pause.

He saw Indrid enter, followed by a group and a stench. That perfume of the death, the rot of skin slipping from decaying muscle. He saw the dragon approach them, his eyes only on Nick. Camon remembered Nick's words, his offer to talk to the dragon and calm him.

Indrid attacked him, reaching with claws and teeth to kill him. The grey coyote fought against the grey dragon, pressing his hands and knee against the reptile's body. With taking teeth into the flesh and fur of his forearm, Nick had maneuvered Indrid into falling against the trash can.

As the dragon rolled along the concrete, the panda thundered his steps to attempt his own mauling. Camon stood from his drum set, seeing the attack past the golden luster of his cymbals, and moved around to aid his friend.

Ken and the bassist were first to offer assistance to Nick, seizing Adrian's shoulders and forcing him off Nick, who thrashed and kicked at the panda pinning him to the ground. Adrian was successfully pulled from Nick, but they could not prevent his immediate mouthful of a guitarist.

As Ken felt his jugular punctured by Adrian's sharpened teeth, Indrid scrambled through the spilled garbage and lunged for his replacement. He had only begun to eat the hapless mole when the keyboard player, a tall, thin husky, armed himself with a circular saw. It had been plugged in, and he turned it on to cut into Indrid's shoulder like a two-by-four.

Camon watched that, watched in horror as the dragon lashed out to cut the canine's throat open and shower himself with life from within those vessels. Adrian was then on the bassist, grabbing the little mouse and flinging his body against the husky, collapsing them both to the ground where the panda gnawed happily on the rodent.

Nick and Camon joined each other in grabbing heavy, metal items, a hammer and wrench. Each attacked the panda with the weapons and coaxed him to slump into a

lump beside their dying companions.

Before there was time after that to help the bleeding ones, Indrid was up again, gulping down a bite of mole muscle. Nick and Camon attacked him first, throwing those weapons against his head and torso, but the head shot missed and Indrid delivered a fist to traumatize Camon.

The rat heard instruction to flee, and being lost in his sympathetic division, forsook his concern for Nick's life and dashed for the exit. There, he encountered a human, growling ferociously, holding a dagger in her grip. Nothing had ever frightened him more, nothing could have ever drenched him in such a fascinating hell than looking into those eyes. White, red, almost glowing. Around that creature, the thing that could not be human, flashed her demonic aura.

Camon turned left and sped past the lavatory, through the tarp curtain that served as a partition from the main room to the storage room. Past jigsaws and pipe cutters, he entered another room. Books and records, tomes and vinyls spilled from the overstuffed shelves. The rat would never forget how he cut his hand while smashing open the window, would never forget that bizarre laughter seeping through the walls to influence him to slip through the window.

There he stood, wide-eyed, involuntarily shouting for help from the neighbors that would not hear. Camon called on his cell phone, the emergency number learned as a child long ago. By survival instinct, he hid behind his vehicle upon hearing the terrorists exiting the warehouse, crouching and cringing along the front fender, hoping they would disappear. His memory disappeared after that. The rat had no courage to stand or move from that spot until hearing the police and ambulance arrive.

Just as the investigators had the day before, Camon arrived at his warehouse and parked, stepping out with uncertainty.

Unlike the paramedics and armed officers, he would not find the corpse of four mammals, spreading their life across the concrete in a glimmering puddle. Their scent, the scent of his friends, still permeated the air, entering his senses to cause sadness.

He would get over it; Camon adapted to the death quickly, seeing no logic in mourning or crying over the departed souls, having seen his father and brother day months and years before. However, there was no logic in that attack. As the rat lowered himself to the mattress on the floor, he lay prone, on his back, staring over to the television that was unused.

The black screen paralleled his mental state well. It was plain and unsolved, a void of confusion and no explanations. The glass glimmered with reflections, indicating that Camon could find his solution with proper conduct, a search or investigation. Much like those damn CSI's. He could reach and turn the TV on, as well, he could go out and find out the answers himself.

Those people investigating the crime were doing their jobs; they were trying to figure out what had happened and where the suspects had ventured. Camon knew what happened, and he would not need to waste time eliminating himself as a suspect.

The rat remained quiet, not even willing to turn on some music. No, that would just distract him from the situation, the story that was unfolding in his mind.

It had all started with Lydia's death months ago. Indrid had gone to prison soon after, not charged with the death but with battery and sexual assault. His associate, Jeffery Laird, had been charged with a fine and was branded as a sexual offender. That wolf was killed soon after, and it was discovered that his girlfriend had committed both murders. Indrid was released a few months after.

In the period of two days, it stormed with rain, then snow. A crow was found at his door, asking of the whereabouts of Indrid Tully. Camon did not know where his friend was now, having never known his place of residence, and was unable to help her.

The dragon in question arrived shortly after and asked if a crow had been by. It was a coincidence, and it was clear to Camon that they were involved in something, probably a relationship argument or the like. Then he found Indrid unconscious outside, apparently the work of that crow, Katlyn.

Indrid left quickly, but returned the next day with Katlyn and two others. Horror commenced.

Camon turned on his side and stared at his drum set. Now, with the news reports, Adrian Turlough, Indrid Tully and Katlyn Walburga were missing and wanted for the murders of some teenagers in a local rock band.

It would be easy to forget about it and let the police and CSI take care of the entire problem. Camon would not have that, though. The rat held no respect for authority and was slowly convincing himself that they would be unable to find their solutions. Camon wondered if he would be able to do it himself.

Possibly, but without any leads or any known sources to speak with, he knew it would be frivolous. Then again, it would be more productive to take action rather than relaxing in the stifling atmosphere.

Nevertheless, the memories inundated him with sorrow and anger. Even with the desire to go hunting for the solution, he could not form sense out of his emotions. It was intoxicating his logic, and it frustrated him. Camon's anger was normally drained through violent drum practice, but as he picked up the sticks, he dropped them with apathy. No skin beating would suffice to soothe his spirit.

Next, the rat moved to the sofa, situated perpendicular with his bed and turned on the TV. News was the only thing he could think of, the news of death and the memory of insanity, so news was the only

thing he would look at through the machine's glass panel.

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Dilated eyes could penetrate the darkness. Hands, limbs from a frightened body, could feel and determine the surroundings. Such a bizarre effect was the prevention of such, restraints on his wrists.

Nick Shores came to the realization that all was well with him. No pain pulsed through him, not from those terrible bite wounds he had predicted would be there. Along his throat and face, a dragon's fangs did not pierce him to death. Yet lying there--prone, numb, scared--he imagined this sort of death would come.

The coyote groaned as he awakened, immediately hearing hushed snickers and whispers. He gasped a breath inward in surprise at the sound, the sound of another person. No, the sound of others, two others, stereo whispers resounding directly in front of him. Forgetting his own bondage, Nick attempted to move away, backwards, from the source of it.

Grey blurs, a bit smeared together, was the mess of vision before him. His canine sight through such darkness was impaired. With this, there would be no determining what or who was with him. Which malicious beast had taken him.

Two more sensations then became apparent then. Light, a dim glow spread through the chamber in which the beings resided. Four others, one was touching him. The second sensation was this black avian lightly gripping his ankle.

"Hello, Nicholas." She greeted.

Two males, positioned on either side of the crow, chuckled, hunched over themselves, seated in chairs, arms resting on thighs. Indrid was recognized immediately. The grey dragon had been a guitarist in his music group at one time. The reptilian musician held him captive now.

"What the hell is going on?" Nick demanded, twitching his eyes, throwing his gaze to each face, analyzing the group.

"You are a perfect gift to us, Nick." A humanoid explained. The coyote watched her, black-haired Lydia moving from behind the feathered one to approach from the side, slowly stepping to touch his head.

"What're you doing?" He spat, snapping his jaws to bite her hand away, "Where the fuck am I?"

She giggled as she pulled the hand away to avoid injury. The crow then leaned forward, climbing onto the table. As Katlyn placed her knee between his legs--to crawl to him--he tried to throw his fists against her, wanting to fight them and flee.

"You are the best thing we could get to play with." Katlyn stated.

"He's not a fucking toy," the fat panda said, the second male, "We need to eat him, Indrid and I; Lydia needs his blood."

Nick growled and squirmed, ferocious snarling coming from his muzzle. "Didn't you get enough from killing everyone?" He seethed.

"Yes," Indrid spoke quietly, "But me and Katlyn wanted to hang you on a hook and play with you."

The coyote looked at him, stared into Indrid's grey eyes, past a muzzle that looked dry and crusted with coagulated blood.

"I didn't want them to kill you." Katlyn continued, now rubbing the coyote's chest with her hand. "You are just too beautiful to let go to waste like that." She stretched her digits through the fur on his pectorals, gripping the flesh underneath, rubbing firmly. Nick grimaced and twitched in disgust at the affection.

"I'll return, Nick." Lydia spoke quietly, her ruby-hued lips near to his ears, "Just wait here with my lover and the drones. Have fun my friends." She left then, stepping through the door--revealing a darkened hallway--and moving to another room to sleep. In the basement she would not need a coffin, so she kept a simple mattress as her sleeping furniture.

Indrid glared at her, watching her form become absent from the room. When the door shut, the dragon huffed in disgust at her and stood to loom over his coyote friend. His visage with Lydia's presence had been of a negative one, but looking down to Nick he looked oddly pleased.

"So good-looking." He said, slurs in his voice, the dragon sounded as if under the effects of alcohol. Indrid was drooling.

"Get away from him, Indrid." Katlyn demanded, pulling at Indrid's shoulder to keep Nick's body free of the dragon's saliva.

"Come on, Katlyn!" Adrian growled, standing to grab her for his attention. "We're hungry, you see me... got tired now!" The panda sounded retarded. Inside his skull, brain cells were dying. It was inevitable, his soul was gone, only slight magnetism returned to that furry, black and white corpus by Lydia via a ritual. It was the same with Indrid.

"I don't care if you're tired." She glared at him then Indrid, scowling, her mohawk fluttering across her bill. "Neither of you get Nick. Go out and hunt someone else."

Adrian began protesting, reaching for the strapped canine like some kinesthetically challenged dufus. Indrid threw himself against the panda, a motion that looked more like the dragon stumbling and falling into him.

"Come on, we don't need Nick." He explained, "We'll go hunting like Kat-lin says us to." The males left, quitting the room through the only door.

Katlyn looked back to her prisoner. Nick had it set in his mind that a grotesque, horrific torture would ensue. She would probably whip him or pierce his flesh--most likely his testicles--then rape him with a knife.

The crow sighed contentedly, visibly relaxing. She had been forced from her perch when Adrian pulled her, now she leaned her weight on the table and stared at him.

Nick's respiration was now rapid and shallow, an effect caused by the situation. abducted, Nick was terrified of all those people holding him captive. By concentrating on the most normal animal here--the crow--he managed to put aside the fact that a dead girl was involved.

Indrid and that panda, both stinking like a corpses, drooling over him like a Christmas goose, he could not fathom what had bewitched them to act so strangely. He wanted to scream for help, but the urge was suppressed due to the knowledge of its futility. Nick wanted the situation to unfurl before him, to know what the hell was going on.

"What are you doing?" The coyote continued with his previous request of knowledge, "Tell me right now, dammit."

"All right." Replied the crow, she moved to his side, Nick scooting his body away from her as much as possible, trying to get to the edge of the table.

"You're here to be my beautiful toy. God, Nick, I've always thought you were the hottest guy on Earth. Except for Manson, of course." She leaned down and smiled, not a malicious visage to be seen, gazing longingly at his body. "This has been a dream of mine for so long."

"Let me go, all right?" He said as if giving instructions, "You don't do this to people. You don't kidnap them. You have some kind of thing for me, then you walk up to me and ask me out. Why would you do this?"

"Well, it was either let you get drunk up by Lydia, or let the two guys eat you alive like they did the others."

At the mention of the 'others' he immediately was struck with a flashbulb memory. Indrid's fangs, embedded white things in black, decaying tissue, reaching and snarling for flesh in all directions. Death puffed up from those two drones, it billowed up and had permeated the warehouse, flooding the musicians with the essence of madness.

A line was drawn in the air, an arch of deep ruby life, escaping from a dear companion. All types of life spattered him here and there, mole, canine, rodent, Nick bathing in his friends while trying to escape it.

He could be angry at her for it, yet the crow had not moved once during the attack. It was not she that bit everyone to death and gobbled their flesh. As he lay on the floor of the warehouse, a position gained from the application of a large drill to his head, eyes surrounded him, eight. Only two of such were so captivating as to allow him to sleep.

Upon awakening, he found greyscale blur. Now, minutes later, he was in the groping hands of a wicked avian. Katlyn saw his contemplation, saw the expressions of fear and wrath.

"I know all your friends died." She offered, her face now solemn. The crow had not desired for those others to die as Indrid had intended, and was glad at least two were left alive. Seeing the coyote suffer so was something she could not endure and wear a false persona of happiness. "It wasn't my decision." She explained sympathetically, the tone's authenticity impossible for Nick to calculate, "Lydia led Indrid and Adrian right to you guys."

He stared, fixing his canine eyes on her shimmering black optics. It had been a hunt, it seemed, the vampiric girl had brought Nick doom from her own, wretched hell.

"It was because of the way you guys treated her." Katlyn continued.

"So she turned Indrid into a zombie, or whatever, and decided to let him and that other guy kill us all?" Surmised the coyote, Katlyn shook her head.

"That's not how it is. It doesn't matter now, though." The crow smiled, sighing with apparent relief, and resumed her fondling.

"Stop it," he spoke with anger, "leave me alone. I'm--"

"No." His speaking was curtailed by her hand clamping his muzzle shut. He mumbled a muffled protest and shook his head violently to weaken her grip.

"Stop it! Let me go!"

The black avian became distraught, stepping back. She viewed him as if in attempts to analyze how to bring him closer to acceptance of his new life. The machinations in her mind created a world of her and the coyote in a marriage of lust. Romance from that canine in his perturbation would not come, however, and she knew it would take time.

"Geez, you're here. You might as well try to get along with me a little bit." The crow moved to the corner to manipulate an unseen device. Plastic clicking was heard, the sound was more than familiar to Nick.

"I'm sorry to say this," he began, knowing that his next phrase could ignite a violent mania, "you're insane." The strain of keeping his upper body up, neck stretched forward, was beginning to become bothersome.

"Yes." She replied, "But that's because I'm still normal." The explanation was not useful to Nick, for her meaning would go unknown in his ignorance of the situation with the drones.

Music sounded from speakers within the darkness. A couple low bars of hard rock followed by a few higher-pitched tapped notes. Nick knew the sounds well, had heard the song many times before. It was, in fact, one of his favorites, 'Just Got Wicked'. Though regarding the current malady, there would be enjoyment.

"You like this one don't you? Indrid got me into these guys."

Nick was lost for words now, though he had many things he wished to convey. Another demand of release, or a request of knowledge. The coyote continued to fidget and stare at her.

Katlyn grinned and chuckled with the though of her next intent. Nick was sure he would not be able to stand the pain.

In a few more moments, there was still none of that pain. No horrible wounds were inflicted on his skin, no blood from injury wept over his body. Yet another bodily fluid began coating him.

Katlyn slid her sharp, pink tongue across his forehead, then giggled and continued to his snout and neck. He had never been so thoroughly lapped at by someone before in his life. Receiving a tongue bath was something he never cared to do with his girlfriends.

Her beak poked his flesh as she caressed it along his head, flicking her tongue across the top of his head and ears. Nick gave no further struggle, not desiring to jerk his head away to curtail her lickery. The affection was more intriguing than revolting. It was apparent that this avian had some kind of morbid affinity to the dog, and Nick was willing to see how far she would go.

Katlyn felt her spirit stretch to him, her mentality focused only on feeling this male with all her senses. Her obsession was with that smile of his, those soft, pointed ears that she currently sucked on like candy, his black eyes. It thrilled her, the situation, to be so near him and with Nick incapable of escape. This being of such grandeur, a notion that was fast in her mind, could bring her such joy and peace in life.

If only he moved instead of sitting like a gravestone.

She slithered her hands and thighs against his back, crawling up to kneel behind him, her head pointed downward, her legs slipping under his back. Nick felt the relief of having something cushioned under him. The feel of her plush, feathered body could do nothing but soothe him. For only a few moments he allowed himself to disregard his own fear and trouble at the situation and relax against her.

As the crow molded her elbows and palms along his shoulders and chest, he could smell her. Death, blood, the smell of her birdness, her entire presence was of madness. Nick could barely fathom his current action. The paramount notion was the horror of captivity. It was impossible, no Earthly logic was present in this episode, all the people around treating him as if a trophy won from battle. The coyote knew that he should not give in to her, he should not allow her freedom of her hands moving down to his hips.

Nick became disturbed by his own compliance and lack of protest as her breasts nudged his head and her hands spread, fingers splayed, around his abdomen and groped his rump. It was wrong to sigh and let his breath out against her, it was weird to feel relaxed at her contact, those hands running along and against his fur.

It could have been the crooning singer and his gloomy rock, but Nick found himself sighing, contentedly, allowing her to drool all over his body. She softly moaned, feeling his respiration beneath his corpus, feeling the warmth of his flesh, feeling the tremors of his terror diminish.

Down she moved, Katlyn's body stretching to crawl forward till her head hovered over his belly. The anticipation of a prolific encounter stimulated his adrenaline, yet that sort of carnality would not come to existence. She would not rape him, it would be more enjoyable for her at the opposite. But the coyote could not force his sex on her with his ties.

The crow teased him instead, pecking at his body with variegated pressures along his hips and abdomen. Nick knew he was partially nude, only his black slacks and boxers remained wrapped around him. The smell of this female, coupled with her physical treatment, forced the abnormal situation further from his mind and Nick felt aroused.

With the knowledge that a demented human was in the house somewhere and two deviants were out performing ungodly acts, Nick could still focus on the crow above and around him. If his cuffs were removed, he would sooner embrace her than toss her away to flee.

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DAY TWO: MORNING

New reports circulated the channels. Four murders in a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Now, an added two. The body count was raised to six now, the reports of two cadavers arriving at the morgue with identical wounds to Ken and the others from Camon's band.

The rat had witnessed a day's worth of reporter babble, all mimicking his own memories into digestible sense. Yet this recent discovery was intriguing, and it immediately was perceived by the rat as a continuance of the attack. Indrid and Katlyn and the group was still at their maniacal workings.

Camon watched the report intently, two adult males horribly disfigured and mutilated, pieces of their body eaten away and the rest left, ignored. Identical to the slaughter in his own home. But Ken and the others had not been eaten, only nibbled on. The group must have left early in their feast with fear of being caught by authorities.

But way out there in the quiet suburbia, Indrid and Adrian could feast on flesh with no trouble. The exact location would not be conveyed, but the street title was, so Camon followed it. Leaving, having the first lead of his determined quest, Camon felt charged with the prepared weight of responsibility on him. Even with virtually no chance of solving the puzzle, he would at least feel more at ease with an attempt. Vengeance was not in his mind, not yet, for he simply wanted answers, not action.

Though it was quite an action to drive six miles from his home to the street of murder. No work for this week, the rat was off on a 'grievance leave'. Yes, he was allowed time from responsibility to take another, and grieve he would not. Instead of mourning, he would now find the answers for which he searched.

Yet no answer could be calculated through the impediments of searching. Exactly as his own home, the investigators took this one for their own for the few hours to search and examine. It would be a while before they cleared out and allowed him to intrude on the victims.

It was Camon's idea that there was at least one person who might have seen what happened or had seen some sort of clue. Anything, diminutive or colossal, would be worth everything to the rat.

Camon waited, sitting behind the wheel, parked along side a particular house to allow an unobstructed view. The conflict of interest frustrated him and he became irritated at the occupancy of his goal. He did not fear getting caught spying, he was doing nothing illegal, and would not move if asked.

Time passed, over an hour of him not moving from his car. Knowing he would be there a while, he entertained himself by filling his vehicle with noise. Music, hard and fast, metal and rapping, it was this band that had influenced his drumming technique and had spent much time training his legs to pummel the bass with equal speed and intensity. That 9-member group was quite crazy.

Camon would not lose himself in air-drumming or singing along to the lyrics. Nothing could consume him more than the rhythm of confusion and painful memory in his mind, not even a greatly-loved group.

The rat stared ahead, arms crossed, his legs warm and numb from remaining stationary for such a period of time. There would be no mental complaining on his part though, Camon would be there as long as it took.

It was soon after the album completed itself and began to repeat from track one that he noticed the departure. Quickly, he sunk down, stretching his back to the seat and bending his legs. No fear of getting caught, but no need to give the cops any suspicions to the killer. If it was true what rumors conveyed about the criminal returning to view his crime, then Camon would not risk seeming the criminal here.

After hearing the final vehicle proceed past his position, he manipulated his machine's controls and pressed the vehicle along the road, keeping his eyes cautious for idiot children to race in front and be flattened under his tires.

The house that was his destination was yellow, a small, short structure with dead grass and leaves from the withering tree. Nothing special, but Camon was hopeful that there would be a tremendous discovery within.

He parked, turned the machine off, moved to the door and pressed the button beside it to ring the bell within. Camon stood in the dry, desert air of western Colorado, glancing to the sky. It was cold that day, no sign of any precipitation. The weather would not cry for the loss of Earth's living creatures, they would return soon after anyway.

The woman who answered, a middle-aged human, was puzzled at seeing a tall white rat at her door, the rodent wearing a black muscle shirt and shorts, two lengths of black headfur tucked behind each ear.

She asked what his business was. As he answered, he noticed that she was evidently disturbed by the events that had transpired so recently.

"Hi," he began, clearing his throat, "My name's Camon Nightsaide. I was the uh... I was involved with the warehouse deaths a few days ago. I'm pretty sure you heard about it, I--"

"You killed them?" She held the door partially closed, one of those chains linking it to the wall to prevent any harsh entry.

"What?" He asked in complete surprise, "I survived! I saw my friends get killed and I got the fuck out of there." He explained quickly before she locked the door to retrieve a firearm. "Look," he continued, "I just want to ask you something about it. Like if you saw anyone, or if any of them said anything to you."

"Are you looking for them?"

"No, I'm just trying to figure out what happened." He shook his head, "One of them was my friend and I have no idea why he went insane and killed his own friends like that. It was not a normal attack, I'm pretty sure that something really messed up is going on."

To Camon's further surprise, she invited him in. If the human truly thought of him as the killer, she was either planning a trick to get him or was apathetic, wanting to be killed, relived of her pain and sorrow. "My husband was killed. It was your friend that did all this?"

"Not just him," he said, stepping inside and glancing around. It was a small space, like predicted from outside. Clutter was minimal, furniture was scarce and took up little mass in the abode, so he sat on a loveseat by the door. "There was a few others, it was..." the human walked away from him, entering the kitchen to take a glass of water and return, sitting on a couch diagonal to him and sipping. "...Really weird."

"Your friends were bitten to death too?"

Camon sighed, "Yeah, they just came in and started mauling everyone like... freakin'... wolves, wild wolves."

"I heard on the news that the dragon boy-- what was his name?"

"Indrid."

"Yeah, I heard that he was into black magick. Was he?"

The statement came as intelligence to Camon, he had not known of Indrid's theurgy. Indrid had been mostly a stranger to Camon, if the dragon had been a magician, he had never said anything about it.

"I have no idea." The thought of Indrid performing black arts was something that he had been hoping for. In his own investigation, his goal in visiting this victim was only to gain a hidden piece of knowledge, and this was knowledge.

As silence settled in the two, Camon pondered the facts now. He figured on Indrid being a magician, Indrid had been accused of violence with the dead girl, and had always been strangely quiet and reserved unless Lydia or Jeffrey were around him. Yet occasionally, during practice or concerts, Indrid was sociable and pleasant.

The last sighting of Indrid had been of ravenous, cruel behavior. Camon hypothesized a possible possession of his friend, Indrid must have conjured some form of spirit to unite with him and take his revenge. But why so evil? Perhaps Indrid had lost control of his demon, his spirit from another world somewhere in space.

"Did he ever seem he would do something like this?" She asked of him, seeing him quiet now and thinking intently.

"Well..." he sighed, "maybe. Now that I think about it, he might have been a bit crazy. He might have had some sort of social anxiety disorder."

"He had potential to be a serial killer." She surmised.

Camon had no particular response for that; it engendered further pondering. If Indrid had truly possessed homicidal tendencies, then the dragon must have determined that using demonic possession would allow him to kill whoever he wanted and get away with it.

The rat smiled, pleased with his own machinations. She did not see the satisfaction in his visage, the human staring into the kitchen. Camon glanced up to her, seeing her apathy.

"You didn't see anything, did you?" The rat asked of her.

"No, I just came home and found him dead in his room." She quickly glanced to the left, down a hallway.

"Did they leave anything behind?" He continued.

"No, just him, they took his blood though." She looked to him wide-eyed, "Oh... I don't think I was supposed to say anything about it."

"I doesn't matter who you tell," he assured her, "Do you have any children?" The question fell on irrelevance as soon as it was formed. Camon had stopped being picky with his interrogation and was now conversing with this human.

"No." She frowned, and the visage indicated to Camon that she was becoming bothered by his questions.

"All right," she concluded while standing, "thanks for your time, I'm sorry if I've caused you too much trouble." Camon headed for the door and opened it.

"Why are you asking me all this anyway? Are you going to try to give justice to them?"

"No," he looked back, holding the door open, "I just want to know why they did it and who they all were, why they got together and all that."

"The cops are taking care of that."

"I know, it doesn't matter. Goodbye." Exiting the place, he closed the door and got to his car, still fearing that the mourning human would try some slick move. No attack transpired, and Camon left, driving away to his next goal. He needed food, the drive-through that served tacos.

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DAY TWO: EVENING

Foremost fright was diluted by a ravishing avian, then Nick had been intoxicated by her seduction. Both beings equally enjoyed it, though she did not give him any true, sexual pleasure. During those minutes of her mercurial probing and massaging, the coyote had been absent of sorrow for the death of his friends or fear of being a prisoner, a toy. He found disappointment as she halted all movement. When the music stopped. She left him to nap, the crow having been up all night and into that morning to ensure his peace. How at peace could he be tied up like that? It could only have been for a few hours, and he spent all the next day bonded to that infernal table.

It had been a few more hours, and Nick was able to sleep for most of it. Upon awakening to nightmares of manifested past-death, he could feel utter frustration come to be. Alone and hungry, so very hungry and in need of water, Nick tried to break the ties. It was no use, the bonds were a mix of metal and dried bovine hide and he had not the strength to destroy such devices.

Nick was more than grateful that the crow lengthened his ties a bit. They consisted of handcuffs secured to leather straps. Now, he could sit up perfectly straight, tuck his legs underneath him, even turn around to view a horrible wall.

That wall, directly behind him, threatened to stab him with hooks and nails that stretched from the concrete. It was clean though, like a surgical environment, and seeing a bottle of bleach, Nick realized that it had been sterilized. There were rows of six nails, sharp and silver, about six inches long. Directly behind the table, sitting on the ground with four metallic feet, was a white bathtub. Empty of anything except for the aroma of bleach.

His interest was transferred to the one entering. Turning back to the door, he spied Indrid creep through the door, opening it only enough to allow his thin body to pass the gap. Nick could fight now, with enough slack on the straps to pummel the dragon if it was to attempt a nibble. Nick would not feel guilty for killing Indrid, this killing would be survival.

Indrid was not hungry. He was curious to see how his friend was feeling in the new environment. The dragon noticed his perusal of their wall, the one they had yet to use for its intent, and smiled as he approached. Indrid moved to the side, a big plush chair was set against the wall. This furniture he rested in, falling into it softly.

Nick stared at him, waiting for the reptile to speak first. Their eyes met, and Nick could not discern the mood of his friend. It was clear to the dragon, however, what the coyote was thinking about. He had just been through with his rejuvenation, his hunting, and it was now time for this grey canine to do so.

"Oh," Indrid said suddenly, pointing towards the door, "Katlyn should be here with something for you to eat. She was right behind me."

Nick noticed Indrid's scent. It had changed since the last meeting. Minus decay, the dragon now smelled normal, as he always had during their time spent as friends in school and in the band. Indrid also seemed to be holding himself much more poised than the morning. Minus decay, yet still present of death.

"Is this because of what happened to you, because of Lydia?" Nick asked. His meaning was of their apathy of Indrid's temporary incarceration.

"Ah..." sighed the dragon, "No, I'm through with that. There are much more devastating vagaries in life than a little jail time." Indrid slouched and nestled into the chair. "But that's the reason Lydia brought us all to the warehouse that day."

"Indrid, what the hell is going on? What's wrong with you, who is that bird and who is that human?"

"I'll tell you later. You could not possibly - nor willingly - comprehend the workings of our present situation."

Nick groaned and wanted to lie back down and rest. He had been sitting up for some time, and wanted to stand on his two legs, but in that prone position he would feel vulnerable to the dragon. The coyote was prepared to ask another question, of the reason for the slaughter, when a crow entered with the food.

"Aww..." she cooed, "You guys are getting along."

"We've always got along." Indrid stated.

"Here you go, Nick." Katlyn handed him a paper bag, within were fries and a cheeseburger purchased from a fast-food venue. The coyote began to gobble it quickly, chewing and swallowing every bite of it with veracity.

Katlyn giggled and moved to his side, opposite of Indrid. Nick glanced at her for a moment and continued to eat, not recoiling in the slightest as she hopped up to sit next to him, scooting her body to wrap an arm around him.

No, the coyote did not mind her attention. In his humiliating position, Nick knew that he should strive to find the least bit of comfort in the environment. That would foremost be her kindness, her actions devoid of horror. He did not want to think about his dilemma now, he only wanted to eat.

Nick noticed Indrid's glare. Slowing his chewing, he looked to his right and saw Indrid's eyes fixed on him. The expression highlighted by the chamber's shadows was of bizarre amusement. Indrid smirked and was holding both of his hands against his torso. The dragon's tongue flicked out a few times.

Swallowing a soft mess of mush in his mouth, Nick tried to ignore the dragon.

"Ugh!" Indrid groaned, "That fleshy, burnt tissue is making me sick." He leaned forward and hissed at Nick, silently cursing the sandwich in his hand. It was soon over though as the coyote finished eating. Nick sighed with relief at having his stomach filled a bit with food.

Katlyn held up a cup filled with soda and ice, shaking it to resound the frozen waters within to clutter together. He seized it and drank it quickly, all of it. The crow waited for him to finish slurping, then grabbed the cup and threw it into a corner. Immediately, she threw her body over him and straddled his waist.

Nick shouted in surprise and almost laughed. She laughed, she guffawed, and was happy to see him with no struggling. Katlyn wasted no time in focusing his attention onto her, pulling his muzzle upwards to let her tongue slide across his nose and lips. He sneezed as the tip of her sharp bill entered a nostril. It came gently, as his body twitched with the movement, Nick voluntarily reached up to touch her.

She positioned his hands on her waist and continued to nuzzle his head with her black bill. The avian became enraptured at feeling him grip her tenderly, moaning softly as she rubbed his back with both hands. It occurred to Nick that his life was still in possible danger. Yet with no means of escape or victory, the coyote decided that his mind would be less pained if he reciprocated her actions, and that would be a most pleasurable experience.

She chirped loudly when he squeezed her buttocks with both hands. Nick giggled and bared his teeth, smiling. He liked her outfit, it was barely an outfit. A brassiere, zippered up the front with chrome fixtures along its straps. Covering her hips was a grey skirt that flowed down past her knees.

Now that Katlyn's legs were parted, the edge of the skirt drifted from her leg and the flap hung down to touch Nick's belly. He reached to remove it enough to see what she wore underneath. The crow seized his digits in both hands and shook her head, fluttering that downward mohawk across his eyes.

"So eager..." she whispered into one of his ears. He grinned and flinched at feeling her breath and tongue tickling his ear, jerking his head to see Indrid a few inches from him.

He frowned at seeing the dragon so close to him. The presence of Indrid would not hinder his ability to perform sexually, and certainly did not cause him to hesitate. Yet Indrid strangely was determined to make Nick fully aware of his being present.

As he stared into the eyes of this coyote, Indrid felt an unprecedented affection. Nick's physique was the epitome of male beauty, his voice and charisma was of the essence that made him so malleable to his lovers.

The dragon's eyes were virtually unchanged, so his vision of the male gender was unchanged. Within, synapses were intact and caused no abnormal thoughts or desires. It was however, neither of these corporeal concepts that influenced Indrid to be attracted to Nick. Indrid wielded a purely carnal sense of love now. There would be no discriminating against lust. He could not, never again could Indrid consider a male an inferior object of sex.

A spirit in the universe would find nothing of that, and Indrid had been analogous with such a structure. Now, he could see the aura of both of these beings and both were equally appealing to him.

Nick was ignorant to Indrid's position in life, his position on Earth. To the coyote, Indrid was a creepy reptile that seemed to be enjoying the sight of fornication a bit too much.

Katlyn stopped moving for a few moments to watch Nick become perturbed at Indrid's motions. The reptile slowly moved behind the male and climbed up onto the table.

Nick gasped as Indrid lightly touched each of his shoulders with each hand. The canine moved forward to break the contact, but there was a female upon him and there was nowhere to go.

"Don't mind Indrid," she said, reaching out to playfully push at the dragon. "He seems to like you."

"I'm not doing it with him." Nick retorted hastily, squinting rejection.

Indrid hissed in amusement and lowered his head, moving his body forward as if a slithering snake. "I won't be doing anything," he explained, "I just wanna admire you while she joins her void with you."

Nick twisted his face to show confusion. It was apparent that Indrid would simply watch them in the act. That sort of voyeuristic notion would not bother him. Truthfully, it excited him further, thinking that his endurance during sex could impress the dragon, then he would be able to watch the other two play around.

The crow removed her skirt and cast it aside, next removing the canine's slacks. Overlarge and a bit tattered, she could not take them fully off due to the bonds that held his ankles. Katlyn would rather remove those ties on him, yet the fear of his betraying their mutual peace resided within her.

Simply unzipping them and sliding them towards his feet a few centimeters, she quickly began groping his clothed genitals. Through the fabric of white boxers, she fondled his testicles with four digits and rubbed his sheath with her thumb.

He moaned quietly and continued to caress her, not fully able to rid himself of the strong presence of a dragon directly behind him. Indrid made no sound nor move, simply staring down to watch Nick's own movements. He felt ostracized from the play, and desired to touch the male again, touch him the way Nick was touching the female so molding his growing phallus.

Doing so, Indrid heard Nick protest. It was a simple contact: one hand against his back, low, near to his pelvis. Nick instructed the dragon to not touch him.

"Ah, so you feel you're all in control don't you?" Katlyn asked, Indrid chuckled, breaking his contact. "I don't think you should worry too much about Indrid. He's just trying to have fun, you owe it to him don't you?"

"I don't owe anybody anything." Nick corrected her. "I did nothing to deserve this."

"No!" Katlyn spoke with a hiss, "But you are at his mercy, and the panda-boy, not to mention the "vampire"." With that, she made quotation marks in the air, with her fingers.

She grabbed his headfur and jerked backward and downward, forcing him to look up to her. He winced at the minor pain. "You're in no position to argue with us. Just be glad you're not dead."

Nick was unwilling to argue, now being fully erect, blood flooding his male organs. "Fine." He simply said. It would not matter, if Indrid wanted to touch him and stare so closely, the coyote would not argue further. He could ignore Indrid, block out that male behind him and focus on Katlyn.

Her scent became strongly evident upon repositioning her thong. Nick inhaled her deeply, looking down to see only shadows, nothing through that darkness of her red void. She continued to stimulate his member, gripping it and stroking its length, enjoying the warm, moist texture of his flesh.

Nick's scent was more tangible in her senses than hers in his own. It was the former of the two that caused such pure delight in the master avian. Katlyn held dominion over him with the limited force that allowed him to project his own lust on her with the measured quantity that produced mutual affection. Even though she had threatened his life and imprisoned him, she knew that this male would still share his body.

The body that would next slide into her, the friction of his slime-leaking appendage against her labia influenced her to audibly sound her joy. She quickly let slide his erection into her, taking him entirely to the lump at his base. Indrid sounded his own, breathing out a purr, wrapping his hand around the dog's body, gripping his left pectoral. All three sighed, the trio seeping pheromones and cycling the essence of their sex throughout the room.

He tried to hump her, but Nick was not in a position that allowed such a motion with ease. She was more than willing to compensate his disability with an identical motion. The thrill of controlling his erection inside her became sedated and she drove it into her warmth fully.

She flung both wings outward, fanning them almost involuntarily as her body convulsed with conditioned pleasure. It would not matter of this male's ability to work her soul and menace the lust in her mind. It was merely the act of an individual at her disposal. Nick Shores, the only being on Earth that she so loved besides her Lydia.

Watching her body piston like machinery on the dog, Indrid slid his head onto Nick's shoulder, moving his muzzle outward till it touched Nick's. The coyote struggled to ignore him, not wanting to ruin the absolute pleasure he was receiving from the crow.

This copulation was less intoxicating than his previous encounters with past lovers. He was aware of his own perturbation, wondering why he was so enjoying it in such bizarre circumstances.

Grasping her, panting through his teeth with wet flesh gripping his crotch, he glanced left and right, spying Indrid's muzzle on his shoulder, then the darkness and isolation of the room. Yes, he was prisoner, not a slave though, and was being played with. Nick understood that many guys dreamed of such an episode. Nick had never fantasized about it himself, and the experience of the supposed disaster and the events surrounding a tragedy in the days past created a morbid eroticism within him.

That was fine, but what could explain his enjoyment of Indrid's gently stroking his ribs?

No, Nick would not let himself get distracted. He was here and still no way to escape, it was beneficial to take all stimulus and suck the intent of ecstasy from it extensively. If Indrid were to kiss him, that would be a bit too far, though.

Katlyn's posture was shattered as her id took over her mind and her body began moving faster, wanting the electricity of their bondage to increase. Their auras touched, but would not join. It was strange at that, for both the crow's and coyote's thoughts on the situation were commensurate.

Perhaps he was not ignoring Indrid as much as was trying.

His body quivered with a climax and he growled lowly, stopping himself from howling and sounding like a total moron. He had done it once before and was met with unstoppable humor from that girl; he understood it, for if he had been in that position he would have laughed at him too.

She could not control her primitive call though, and with her first orgasm, she squawked. A noise that had only been caused by Lydia before. She felt her vaginal warmth increase in temperature as it was heated by the warm goo shooting from his throbbing member.

Elsewhere, the aura of another found an anomaly. Someone of her equal mentality was thriving without it. Lydia could feel that Katlyn was enjoying someone with identical results.

With joy, Katlyn tried to not gouge Nick's eye out as she lunged to embrace him, letting the male's organ slip from her vagina. Nick fell to his back, causing Indrid to remove his hands lest they be smashed under his weight.

Once again, Katlyn let loose her tongue to tease her male, slipping saliva from her tongue just as the beings' sexual fluids dripped from her cunt. Indrid, too, was close by and leaned his head down enough to touch Nick's muzzle with his tongue. Nick, lying there with no more fear of torture and death, was no longer disgusted with being so intimately treated by another male. He snickered, staring into four shadow-dressed eyes.

An undead's anger was manifested into the real via the door being thrown open. Lydia stepped through the entry/exit and began to discard her friends from Nick. After shoving away the crow, she leapt up to push Indrid to the ground.

Nick, the astounded dog he was, flinched, but was helpless to defend himself as she proceeded to break one of his life canals and let them flood out to cool in the stifling air. The aroma of sex was on the air; Lydia knew what had happened and who had been involved. It did not matter, she was hungry and would destroy Katlyn's ability to find a peripheral, sensual device.

"Lydia!" Katlyn began, "Don't!"

Lydia would not obey such an order. She drunk enough, not too much, not feeling the need to torture.

"You foolish girl." The vampire said after intake, "This one doesn't matter, he is our toy and you feel such a great deal of passion for him?"

"I was just playing around!" Katlyn argued, looking to Nick who lay bleeding through wounds on his throat. Indrid became concerned and moved to aid his friend, pressing his palm to the injury to dam the red river.

"You don't play with a doggie like that, do you?" Lydia asked, jumping from her prey and moving to Indrid to embrace him and tease him with the blood on her lips. The dragon immediately lost interest in helping Nick and tried to grab for her, giggling, but she pranced away, flinging her hair through the air. Strands of that matter clung to the damp crimson on her lips.

"You betray our love, Katlyn?" She continued, stepping near to her.

"I didn't betray you. So I like Nick, so what?"

Lydia lost her giddy behavior as she came to intimate proximity, "That is the problem. I showed you the capabilities of the world and of love, and you go right back to your own realm?"

The crow found confusion with her esoteric allusion. Only she and Indrid knew of those spiritualistic notions. If Lydia had shown her something before, it had been missed or soon erased from memory.

"Lydia, I can do whatever I want. What's your problem?"

"Do what you want, yes. But don't cast me aside."

"I'm not casting you aside. Just 'cos I fucked someone else doesn't mean I don't love you."

"Not me you cast. My wisdom though. I know you dear, a flirtatious birdie you are and you will forget what I gave you."

"I gave you more than you gave me! I gave you Adrian, I got Indrid for you, I led you all to the band..." Indrid snickered upon hearing his name mentioned, grinning like a child. "I gave you your first taste of life. You owe me, if there is anyone giving orders, it shouldn't be you."

"You want to give them?" Lydia wondered, sighing and adjusting her T-shirt, a black shirt with a music group on the front.

"That's not what I'm saying. There doesn't have to be any orders. Why can't you just act normal?"

"Why?" She smiled and reached to behold Katlyn's face in affection, taking her shoulder and neck into her loose grip. "Because seeing you in such a manner makes me think you are a child, one who carelessly entertains herself and those around her. Dancing like a clown, you should see yourself sometimes."

"Hey!" Katlyn retorted as Lydia was moving to leave, "Just 'cos you have reached some plane of mental power and superiority doesn't mean I have to act like it too."

"You'll be there soon. Don't feel so bad dear. You forget that we are not the same anymore." Lydia quit the chamber, the room with all the nails. A click sounded, the door closing slowly as if pushed by wind.

Nick had not been hurt badly, he was sitting up, glaring angrily at the panel of exit, chasing the vampire with hatred. The coyote held his wounds, stabbed, while Indrid peered closely at them, sniffing the blood's scent with delectable interest. Nick gave a concerned look, leaning away from the dragon as Indrid pressed closer, flicking his forked tongue out, tasting the life liquid seeping from the coyote.

Katlyn joined them, slapping Indrid's head to shoo him away. Nick expected sympathy, and that emotion came veraciously. The crow draped her arms around him and nuzzled her bill into his fur. Indrid groaned, sleepy, and shuffled off to his sleep area elsewhere.

As the dragon left through the door, he smiled broadly, licking his thin lips, giving them each a few moments of visual contact before he left. He did not take the situation into any serious consideration. Lydia had given many topics of argument, and they were legitimate, yet not all necessary. Insanity in her brain was creating theatrics. Indrid cared for the theatre not, did not care for the acting. Nick and Katlyn played their rolls well, Lydia mediated them perfectly. He would not play that game, however.

The crow remained for another minute or so, then left to return with a gauze and some plush sleeping equipment. She bid him a goodnight and was the last to leave, yet before passing through the door, Nick demanded her attention again.

"Wait!" He blurted. It was indicative that she intended to keep him a prisoner. The crow had been jolly in her lust, prior to a feast attack, and had actually presented herself as a professional. A rational bird. Now, she was to leave him, explaining through nonverbal motions that he was still her toy.

"What if those guys come here and try to eat me?"

"Don't worry," she replied, brushing away his concern, "they've eaten enough for today few days. Adrian knows better, and if Indrid comes back, I can bet he won't be interested in eating you."

The door closed and Nick growled silently, cursing his own dual enjoyment and abhorrence of the scheme. Everything that Lydia had said that night fell on ignorance. He did not know what the wisdom was, nor what the females had done in the past to manifest such a close relationship. Love was involved, either that, or lunacy.

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DAY THREE: MORNING

After eating burritos, which he quite enjoyed, Camon realized he was a bit tired and not up to further investigation. Returning home and sleeping, he awoke to a nightmare, a perfect resemblance of the slaughter. Here, in the unconscious hallucination, he found hopeless fear, the inability to save even one of his friends.

In some way, as he awoke with a gasp, he knew that one of his friends may have been salvaged. The investigators had found only four of the six. Camon was alive and unwell, and Nick had vanished with the killer group.

Getting undressed and showering in the lavatory that could cause claustrophobia, he wondered if Nick was still alive and unwell. The water was not warm, and he felt the cold fluid saturate his fur with imperfect cleansing. He lathered minimally, rubbing the soap through the fur on his torso and abdomen, then dried in the colder air with big, terry cloth.

Breakfast was a bowl of cereal, which he ate at the computer. Placing the bowl away from the keyboard to avoid its potential of destroying the apparatus, he used a telephone to communicate with the closest known person to Indrid.

Ken's guardians, two parents, two mourning beings that would most likely not care to speak about their dead son. No matter, for Camon asked for the address to Indrid's abode. The rat claimed he was to pay a visit to his mother. They gave him basic directions, neglecting particular geography.

Camon would find the place easily, though he had to pause on the way to refuel his vehicle. The day was dull, the system's star being hidden by thick, infinite clouds that spread across the sky. It would snow heavily very soon, it was already in a flurry, a light shower of ice. His car handled pretty well on icy roads.

He watched humans go about their business, bundled in layers of clothing. Camon smiled, amused by their fur handicap. Before he filled the machine with too much liquid, he stopped the pump and paid inside with cash.

Back to the streets as they disappeared under the snow. It was not yet cold enough for him to get a coat on, so he did not bother to reach into the backseat for it. Down the streets, past the highschool had had just graduated from, into suburbia. Indrid had lived in a quiet neighborhood, out by farmland and cattle yards. He had not been here before and was distracted by the various herds of cows or horses walking aimlessly in the fields.

In a subdivision of that area, Indrid's mother's house was found near the street, by the intersection. The rat parked and approached, noticing that the precipitation was increasing, thickening to fill the terrestrial area more and more with each second.

Nick traversed a few, short steps and knocked his fist against the door. The house was large, most suitable for a family of four or five. Indrid's family had been only him and his mother; they had lived here for all the boy's life. Camon had done so himself - residing all his life in the city - living with his father and brother in the warehouse, illegally, and enjoyed the place much more than a house or apartment. With them both gone it was just him and the occasional friend who stayed over a night or few.

Camon had never been here, and had met his mother only once. No matter, for there she was, a frail - almost white - dragon of about forty or fifty. She did not remember him right away, not even upon hearing his name.

"I was a friend of Indrid's," he explained, "he played guitar for us."

"Oh, that's right." She said as the memory returned. Yes, Camon, that white rat with the dual tufts of hair sticking out from his forehead. Like Indrid and the rest of the band, they always wore the same fashion of clothes; black and in many layers - though Camon did not layer up today. The rat was devoid of makeup as well. Unlike the others, he wore it only during concerts.

"I know you probably don't wanna talk about it right now. But I just wanted to know if you knew about him and Lydia Sameera?"

"Yeah," she looked over her shoulder, towards the basement, a long pause ensued. She sighed and slowly looked back to him, "they had been involved."

"How long did he know her?"

Another pause, she did not take her eyes of of him as she recalled the memory. "He met her when he was a sophomore. I don't know how long they were..." Camon knew what she was referring to, those weird things the couple did in their own privacy.

"Was Indrid into witchcraft or anything like that?" He continued.

"I'm sure he was, he was a Satanist."

"Oh... I didn't know that."

That bit of knowledge, something he should have had all this time as a 'friend' of Indrid's, was seemingly vital. Demonic possession was more of a likely factor in the workings of madness that transpired only days ago. If Indrid had done something like that, Camon would need to find out exactly what it was.

"Uh, I wanted to ask. Where did Lydia live, do you know?"

She gave him the address to Lydia's trailer, explaining that it most likely would be empty now.

"You're not up to anything, are you?" She wondered.

"No, I'm just trying to figure out who all those people were with him."

She knew of the attack, if only becuase her son had been involved. According to Camon's testimony on the news, Indrid had been one of those committing the atrocious brutalities. Indrid's mother was shocked at knowing that, and was not capable of believing Camon an absolute liar. She was shocked, but not surprised that Indrid could go through with it.

"I'm pretty sure that they were all in some kind of clan or cult. Did the cops check his room and find anything?"

"They didn't find anything. I called and asked and they said that they were still working on the evidence."

"Can I look in his room?" He ventured.

She frowned and shrugged, agreeing, to his satisfaction. He entered and followed her directions of the last door down the hall. His intent was to see if the dragon left any clues behind. The investigators would do a good job, but only at finding out what happened on that day and their motives. They would do that first, but Camon's goal was to discover how. Lydia was alive, that was certain now, he had convinced himself of that, and Indrid was supposedly a magician. The investigators would not take religion into their perspective.

Camon entered the chamber and first noticed how small it was. The curtain was open and sunlight shone through the window to illuminate everything clearly. There were a few guitars in the closet, lined up on individual stands. Two amplifiers stacked behind them, some clothes on the other end. A few posters, a computer, a picture of Lydia near the monitor.

Closing the door, he began searching through the shelves in the computer desk. Within were only drawings and random stuff that was useless. DVDs, well over three hundred CDs in numerous cases, video games and their respective consoles. Into the closet and under the bed his search moved, looking for hidden places that could store secrets. He found pornographic magazines under gaming and music.

He would not need those. Maybe...

Under the mattress of his bed was nothing special. On the dresser, upon the top, were a few knives. Not particularly decorative or large, they were unhelpful. His library was small, science fiction, fantasy, tablature and sketch books. No bibles as expected.

Camon sat on the bed and stared into space, becoming frustrated after ten minutes of boring excavation. With his time spent, he had gotten nothing. It then occurred to him that the dragon might have practiced his art elsewhere, most likely with his female human, possibly at her own home.

Indrid's mother then entered, she had something to say, Camon predicted that she was going to ask him to leave.

"Indrid also had a room in the basement. But there's less stuff in it." She explained.

"Oh, that's all right," he assured while standing to follow her to the aforementioned chamber, "I'm sure there's something that can tell me something somewhere."

She did not question his motives, did not question his integrity. Her son was missing and wanted for several accounts of murder, she just wanted to see him safe and put away for life so he could not longer destroy himself. Camon did not seem to be interfering with that, unless he was behind them all with some sort of devious plot. It would not matter, she could do nothing about it, and she did not want to.

Camon entered the dark basement and moved to the last door as instructed. Entering, he saw that it was the same size, perhaps a bit smaller, but it was much more interesting, even though it was almost empty.

Here was simply a large table, centered, a smaller one - to the side, in a corner - and a rectangular block. The last of those was some sort of new age style of furniture and held the stereo. On the middle table were sex toys and things that caused Camon to smile and chuckle. Even with that, It was the little desk in the corner that seemed the most useful.

Centered on top was an orb of glass. To the right was a bible and under it was a tome of rituals. Knives huddled to the left, near the edge, along with candles and a symbol. Yes, here was his goal.

Yet then, he did not know anything about it. Taking the bible, he flipped through pages, reading various passages that Indrid had highlighted in yellow. Just religious babbling, Camon did not care, though he took note of it, hoping it might provide a link to something later.

Next, he took the ritual book. The only way he knew what it consisted of was the little line of text under the main title - a word in Latin he did not know. Here was a more prolific discovery. Bookmarked by paper and dirtied with brown stains, was a page that beheld non-translated words. Even though it was equally confusing, Camon knew it was important. Indrid had underlined several phrases with a pencil, the same few words many times. Camon would have to search a library for the meanings.

He would take that book and the bible--just in case--and would spend the rest of the morning at his warehouse, searching hundreds of websites for his next revelation.

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Upon another morn, reptilian eyes fused onto a canine. Indrid had found himself to be lonely that morning as his two female comrades slept. Indrid, along with Adrian, did not sleep. It was possible, yes, and in their present mortality, it was unnecessary. Adrian slept like a log that morning.

No matter, for Indrid would much rather spend time with Nick. Oh, he was asleep too, but the dragon would wait for him to awaken. The coyote had experienced a slightly pleasant night after an aggravating daytime, and slept much better than the night before, though the injury on his neck was aggravating.

Awakening to see a dragon smiling so cheerfully at him was something he had completely expected.

"Good morning, Nick." Indrid said, moving to pet his friend. Nick shifted his body and moved his head away to avoid the contact. The dragon just sighed and turned to present Nick with additional eating stuff. The food was a frozen pizza, now cooked and growing colder after having to sit there, waiting for Nick to awaken.

"You like pizza don't you?" The dragon continued; he then presented Nick with a two-liter bottle of soda, caramel-colored.

"Yeah." Nick sighed wearily. Being held captive was now something that he was sure was not going to be agonizing, so there was no point in forcing himself to worry over his safety. He voluntarily diminished his caution, believing that Indrid would not try to harm him.

The dragon chuckled, hissing through his teeth, and jumped onto the table, positioning himself directly in front of the coyote. Nick glanced to him, not interesting in the reptile's playfulness.

"Don't do that, please." He stated firmly. Indrid's shoulders sank down as he felt the rejection against him. Though wanting badly to play with the dog, he knew better than to interfere with the mammal's

breakfast. Therefore, Indrid repositioned himself to the chair, curling his legs up under him and leaning forward onto the big arm.

Nick tried to ignore it, but the stench was not easily disregarded. He knew it came from the dragon, and was certain it was not the animal himself. Indrid did not stink, he smelled fine. The clothing he wore,

however, was covered with blood. Dead life fluid from various beings. He had not changed for three days, and was not apparently bothered by wearing the soiled wardrobe.

"You need to take that shit off." Nick continued to instruct. Indrid had always been treated by him in such a way. Even though Nick and Ken had been the founders of the band, it was Indrid that brought the

true essence of their style to fruition. In that respect, Indrid had always felt himself to be more important than the other guitarist and especially the singer.

It was that concept that gave Nick the inspiration to mock the dragon's superiority illusion by ordering him around like that. But this time, he was truly serious.

Indrid looked down to his own body, the black clothes blending with the shadows and dark fabric. He knew they reeked, knew they were ruined. It was superficial, with his altered construct of his

olfactory senses, the scent of dying blood only reminded him that his body was eternally decaying and he needed to feast frequently.

"Nick..." he grinned and acted embarrassed, "you really want me to take my clothes off?"

"Yes, because they smell really, really bad."

"Yeah, I know, Katlyn said the same thing. You should smell Adrian, he's got a lot more filth on him." Indrid then began laughing hysterically.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Ah..." the dragon breathed, "Adrian is so cute. He can't get back to his normal self, no matter how much he eats. I think it's 'cos he kills 'em first."

The indication of the panda's alarming behavior and hunger for Nick aroused the coyote's wonderment prior to lust's evening. Katlyn had been unwilling to clarify the group's proclivity to death and murder.

This was his next question.

"Indrid," Nick said, halting his breakfast intake, "Why did you kill everyone?" Indrid lost all of his happiness with the question. Although his respect for mortal life was now virtually erased, the memories of

his friends was still corporeal and he was still mortal. All his being had become irony. He felt sorrow for losing all his friends - especially for killing them himself - yet he could not logically let

himself be moved by such a ridiculous emotion.

"You don't understand."

"Then you fucking tell me!" Nick screeched, the volume of his voice causing Indrid to jerk his head up and meet the fury on Nick's visage.

"I will, but you might not understand." The dragon quietly replied.

"Just fucking tell me, Indrid."

Indrid nodded. Standing, he removed his shirt - unbuttoning it entirely - and tossed it into the corner. The article held more decay than his slacks, so as Indrid approached, Nick was less inclined to be

sick at the smell. Indrid wanted to sit close to him, to admire the animal in its ignorance and vulnerability, but Nick was too feisty for that sort of affection without a segue.

"I killed them, because I needed to eat." He began, now standing directly left of Nick. "With my new body, I have to eat living flesh to sustain my original mentality and life. If I don't, then I rot more and more and turn into a primal, savage beast."

He waited for Nick to say something, reply with another query perhaps.

"So you're not a vampire?" Nick wondered.

"No. Lydia is a vampire, made so by me. I am..." Indrid could not elucidate his reincarnate form clearly, "I am undead, like she. I just need a different kind of life to support me."

"You guys are like..." Nick trailed his phrase with his eyes, looking into the distance of his mind to find a word.

"Zombies?"

"Yeah, zombies."

"We are, that's the only way to describe it. But we regenerate and have brain power." Indrid smiled again, pleased with his explanation. Though he knew Nick wanted to know more.

"How did she become a vampire?" Nick continued, this one was easier for the dragon to answer.

"I resurrected her as such. I could have done her the way she did me. But with either curse, 'De duobus malis, minus est semper eligendum'."

Nick squinted, trying to translate Indrid's Latin. Nick wrote all of his lyrics in Latin, so he was familiar with general terms.

"The lesser of two evils?"

"Yes. I figured Lydia would rather be a vampire than a drone."

"Try... 'Nihil curo de ista tua stulta superstitione'." It was an insult, but was not entirely accurate.

"It's not religion," Indrid corrected, "and not a cult. I don't care if you're uninterested in it in, but you can't deny it. You've denied Christ, but that is logical, this is real. You'd be foolish to not believe the words of an undead, now would you?"

"It was really that easy to create a vampire, and it was that easy for her to make you guys zombies?"

"It was easy, but there was a lot involved."

"I don't get how you... work." Nick said. Indrid frowned and sighed doubly, looking into the ceiling, into the light.

"Upon my death, when Lydia killed me - the cunt - my soul joined the universe. Like it was supposed to. My body remained on Earth, but before it was reversed, Lydia took my soul back from the universe. She put it back into my body, but even as a vampire, she could not possibly get the whole thing back.

"She got most of it, the electricity, the magnetism, but not the quintessence. That stuff is too dynamic. With only a partial soul, my body acts like I'm dead. So I'm literally just an animated corpse. I eat living flesh to absorb the living essence of others to regenerate me. Simple as that."

"Jesus Christ." Nick responded; Indrid took it literally, as a joke.

"Nope, there is no Lord. I had a feeling there wasn't, and now I'm sure of it."

"Why did you do all this?" Nick continued, "Look at where it's got you."

Indrid nodded, "But anyway. I would not have chosen to kill you guys off. Lydia led me and Adrian there just to get revenge for how you guys treated her. I was too braindead to know any better. She tells me that she did it for me, because you all blew me off at my trial. But all that's over and done with. I could care less about any of that."

Indrid remained silent, not returning to his chair. Letting Nick finish his pizza, only one bite left, he leaned in and inhaled the canine's scent. The male smelled strongly, smelled alive and youthful. It invigorated Indrid, not to feast, but to feel that matter once again, to feel lust once again.

The dragon reached to pet his friend. Nick did not protest, only stared at his muzzle, his nostrils moving slowly as he sniffed at Nick's own muzzle. Indrid gently touched his head, caressing the fur between his ears and on his neck, smiling, enjoying how soft it was.

Nick could only smile. The attention felt good, even though it was given by a male, one that he had known, one that was not truly alive. Indrid purred slightly and leaned in to graze Nick's nose with his slimy

tongue.

"Indrid..." Nick said, tilting his head away from Indrid's lips before they touched his.

"Nick..." Indrid mimicked, gently grabbing his friend's head. "You still don't understand. Your only problem now is that you aren't gay, right? In reality, there is no gay nor straight. The universe is

unconditional, why should a planet's animals be?"

Nick still did not understand. He did not want to shift his belief to juxtapose Indrid's. He was atheist, but not Satanic, he suffered from satyriasis, but had never truly explored all possible abilities. If he felt anything for Indrid, it was not love or lust or pity, it was severe intrigue.

Indrid risked getting attacked by an angry dog, hopping up just as Katlyn had before. Nick did not attack, nor did he speak another protest as Indrid took his furry muzzle into his hands and slipped his

tongue inside it.

Nick's love life had never been more fascinating than in the past two days.

Once again, he would forsake his troubled mind and forget about the horror that was his vanquished companions. Either he was beginning to see Indrid's perspective or he was truly wanting this contact. The latter, mostly, for the dragon's tongue inside his mouth was a pleasure he had never thought he would know.

Taking Indrid's advice, Nick reciprocated, kissing in return, massaging his tongue against the male's. Indrid moaned, enjoying the acceptance, and continued to pet him, now using both hands to ruffle the fur

around his shoulders and back.

Nick was sitting up, cross-legged, slightly leaning against the pressure of Indrid's hands holding him against gravity. Indrid moved his hands along his back, shoulders and ribs, gripping with all ten digits, lightly poking with the talons. When Nick moved his hand to apply his own caress, Indrid broke the kiss.

As the coyote began stroking the dragon's smooth, scaled neck, Indrid moved his muzzle downward to the dog's chest. He rubbed his nose along the muscles of his pectoral area and further down to the abdomen. The dragon chuckled, the sound emanating from Indrid's throat perplexing the canine. Indrid was attracted to the musk seeping from Nick's body. It was almost foreign to him. The memory of feeling arousal at that sort of primitive sensation was like recalling a passage read in a book. Now, he could only take notice and enjoy it at the moment; he could not experience mutual love here.

Nick still focused his affection on the corporeal. Here, with a male, he would not allow himself to respond carnally to Indrid nibbling his flesh and licking at his nipples. He would not, it was wrong and sick. The coyote would allow it though, he would enjoy the novel concept and take the role of researcher, just to see what it was like.

Yet the perplexity shifted suddenly as Indrid began slipping a hand into the dog's pants. At first, Nick had thought it was a game, just playing, as Katlyn called it. Now, it was seeming more in the reality that Nick's sexuality had been accustomed too. If the coyote was truly unwilling to fornicate with Indrid, this would basically be rape. Of course, Nick would not have that, so to avoid such a violation, he would

accept Indrid and enjoy whatever he delivered.

Maybe Indrid was correct in his assumption. There was no reason Nick should feel guilt about playing with a male. It was entertainment, after all, sexual intercourse, the least substantial portion of love.

Still, it was the most energetic.

Nick found such a great entertainment as Indrid unfastened the slacks and moved them from his groin, followed by his boxers. Indrid eagerly got enough of the attire out of the way to allow freedom of his

movements. He was prepared to delve into the canine's sex, then he paused and scowled into Nick's face.

Both sat there, staring at one another, waiting for something. "What is it?" Nick asked; he was worried that Indrid was becoming primal, like the dragon had informed earlier, and was thinking about biting out

the coyote's meat from his throat.

"If I untie you, you know better than to fight me, right?" Indrid asked. He seemed serious and was not smiling.

"You really will?" Nick responded, not answering the question. It raised his spirits knowing that Indrid was willing to let him some freedom.

"Yeah," now the dragon smiled, "but you know you can't escape, right?"

"Uh..." Nick was thinking of a way to escape. Incapacitate the dragon and rush out the doors of the house to the world beyond. It seemed simple.

"You can kill me easily." Indrid explained, "But if you get past me, Adrian might see you escaping. He won't think twice before killing you on the spot. Either that, or Lydia will sense your departure and

awaken to stop you."

The obstacles in the way seemed to all against him, so he was not going to venture that. "It's all right, I promise I won't try to get away."

"Good." Indrid beamed then, but the coyote was not done.

"Wait, I just wanna know something." He was sure they would not give a decent explanation as to why they trapped him here, but he was still afraid of his fate. "You guys aren't planning on killing me or worse, are you?"

"No way, man." Indrid assured, removing the key to Nick's cuffs from his slacks pocket. All four came off and Nick was pleased to a great extent. Indrid expected to get punched in the face and thrown to the floor and stepped on.

Instead, Nick was wanting to continue their previous sport of lust. He reached with both hands to pet the dragon, Indrid doing the same. Once again, the two males met their lips and kissed, gently playing with each other's tongues in a foreign muzzle.

Indrid then resumed removing the coyote's clothing. He tracked downward the table towards Nick's feet and smoothly removed his remaining attire. The dragon hissed a chuckle, staring along the dog's corpus, admiring the shape of his body.

Nick was lean, extremely lean. Even with a minimal of body mass, his muscle structure was visible and produced an effect of simple beauty. Simple male beauty. Nick tried to observe the dragon's form as

well, but Indrid was not nude yet.

In an unceremonious motion, Indrid removed his remaining attire and let it join those others on the floor. There would be no presentation on the reptile's part; he would not display himself as Nick wanted, so the canine received only a slight visual of Indrid's nude body before he leaned forward and let the shadows block the sight of his front side.

Indrid applied a massage to the dog's sides. He ran his hand down along his hip and thigh, gripping in various places to feel the tone of his muscles. As if to hold him in place, Indrid grabbed the dog's waist

on both sides. He sighed and leaned his head down to nuzzle his mouth against Nick's abdomen, above his pubic bone.

That sensation, the dragon's breath against his fur - the area so close to his genitals - it was nice. Nick smiled warmly and simply watched Indrid as he began to fondle the aforementioned organs. Nick felt that familiar, electric excitement as the dragon gripped his testicles and molded them with his digits. He slightly parted his legs to allow the dragon more room to handle him.

Indrid left the testes alone and began rubbing the dog's sheath, now wanting only to get the appendage fully aroused. With only a few firm squeezes, he felt the internal shaft stiffen. As the coyote began to subtlety push against Indrid's hand, the dragon applied more pressure to induce Nick's erection more quickly.

Slowly, the red organ exited his body to meet the air, and meet Indrid's lapping tongue. Nick groaned and his member was quick to respond, growing fully in the dragon's stroking hand. Indrid chuckled, finding the shape of the canine phallus to be humorous, but Nick did not notice the amusement. He was too relaxed inside the dragon's mouth to be concerned about Indrid's goofiness.

Nick had never considered this event in his previous life. As Indrid inserted the dog's phallus into his maw, licking it extensively, Nick could only love the attention. Now, strangely, it did not matter that it

was a male. It did not matter that it was his friend Indrid and that he was an abomination of Earth. Sex was pleasure, and that was all that mattered.

The coyote groaned and dropped prone. Indrid felated him steadily now, gripping and rubbing his phallus while sucking on the end. With Indrid's undead proclivity to primal instincts, the strong aroma from

this male's member inevitably influenced him to be more forceful. Yet Nick did not enjoy how firmly Indrid was gripping the bulb at his shaft's base. Nor did he enjoy feeling sharp teeth poke the flesh

thereof.

"Indrid!" He stated, "Come on! Be careful."

Indrid looked up, startled, as if waking from the forth level of slumber. He smiled and laughed at his own behavior.

"Sorry, Nick." It was then, as Indrid moved forward, raising his body, that Nick got the sensation of the dragon's sex. Visually, he saw Indrid's erection, a pink phallus much smaller than his own. His scent was strong then, and the pheromones - although weak and reptilian - could be registered past the odor of blood and death that dominated the nails chamber.

Nick was willing to give Indrid the same affection. Indrid desired it, and positioned himself in front of Nick to allow it. The coyote was a virgin to male lust, and as he took Indrid's phallus into his muzzle, he did not know what to expect. He did not know how to go about fellating someone and was expecting a sickening taste to fill his mouth.

Performing was easy, and it was not quite as disgusting as he previously thought. He did the same as Indrid, licking the shaft in all areas and sucking it with his lips. Mercurially, Indrid pulled himself from the coyote and moved back to his previous position. Nick frowned, wondering why the dragon had been so quick to break the contact.

"What are you doing, exactly?" Nick asked.

"I just want to see how you're doing. I'm glad you've accepted me. I'm gonna finish it now, I'm getting hungry." A thought then occurred to the dog.

"Hey, you said you need living flesh to live, right? Because of the soul or whatever?"

"Something like that."

"Can you get it from my come?"

Indrid grinned and twitched a bit with laughter, "I dunno. I guess I'll have to try it out."

Nick expected him to resume the oral stimulation. Instead, Indrid positioned himself so that their hips were in contact, bent so that their member's touched. Nick immediately felt the warmth of the other male's

organ stouching him, it reminded him of true copulation with a female. The act was actually not much different, for both participants felt mutual pleasure and enjoyed being with each other. There was

much less penetration though, and the scent of a male in such eroticism was quite different.

Indrid closed his eyes and softly began humping his phallus against the dog's, holding both organs together with both hands. Upon getting a decent grip on the dual appendages, he increased the speed of his thrusting, moving his body with more force.

Both males instantly felt the friction, from each other's body and genitalia, and it possessed their senses. Nick started his own upward motions to rub himself against Indrid's grip. Indrid lost himself in

his own pleasure and increased his speed a bit more.

The coyote tried to decipher a pattern to Indrid's motions, but they were sporadic and he had to try to keep up. The kinesthetics began to drain his energy fast, Nick had not been getting enough energy from

food, and this had weakened his body. The act of rigorous sex was tiring him, and that fact frustrated him.

No matter, for the heat and friction was enough to induce his climax. Indrid came first and began ejaculating only moments before the dog. Together, they spattered the mammal's fur with their semen,

spraying it in a combination of life fluid.

This was a different sort of life fluid. While the red matter supported life, the white matter engendered it. With the ludicrous notion that the sperm leaking from his friend's phallus could restore his true life,

Indrid bent his torso enough to slurp a good amount of it into his mouth. He swallowed it before he had the chance to gag on the strong-smelling slime.

There was a pause. Indrid still sat upright, staring upward with his eyes closed, Nick watching him. Both felt relief from the act and were equally pleased with how it made them feel in the outcome. Nick now understood his own carnality with even more clarity, and Indrid had experienced lust that had, until now, been absent from his mind.

Indrid sighed and slithered from the table, dropping to his feet on the ground, stepping on his soiled wardrobe.

"I guess I should get some clean clothes, huh?" He asked Nick.

Nick sat up, ignoring the mess on his body, "Yeah, throw those things into the canal."

"No way, I'm not giving the city more evidence. They'll find us and I'll have to kill many more people. I don't think your spooge is helping me, I would have felt it by now."

Nick shrugged and sat up, hoping that Indrid would be willing to let him wash himself. "Oh well. Can I use the bathroom?"

Indrid said nothing and moved to leave with his clothes. Opening the door, he quit the room and allowed the door to remain open. "There's a lavatory upstairs."

Nick mentally celebrated his immediate evacuation. Following the dragon upstairs, he considered once again to escape. Leaving the darkness of the hall, he emerged into a brightly lit sitting room. Adrian was present, lounging on a sofa, staring into space, fondling himself through his clothes.

"Adrian," Indrid said, "it's your turn."

Nick knew he was joking by the goofy smile the dragon gave him. Adrian only grunted and turned to sleep.

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AFTERNOON

Past suburbia, Camon found a less clean area of the city. Mobile homes were set up in the few blocks of this neighborhood, and it was here that Lydia apparently lived. Following the numbers on the trailers, Camon managed to find the one he was looking for, they all looked the same.

It was mostly white, and the yard was the cleanest of all those seen. There was no evidence of life in the immediate area of the place. Unless there were hidden creatures within, there was no point in looking inside. He did so anyway.

He could not detect movement and did not smell any humans in the area. Knocking on the windows and doors gave useless results; he could not open any of them. After sneaking around the perimeter to no avail, he decided to leave. A local girl asked what the hell he was doing.

He was slightly startled by hearing the voice ask him such a thing. By his car stood a human girl with a confused look on her face. Another goth girl.

"Did you know Lydia Sameera or Katlyn something." He could not remember Kalyn's surname.

"Yes, why?"

The reason for his question was not important; Camon did not feel the need to explain himself.

"Did you know Indrid?"

"Yeah. What happened to all those guys? Did they really kill a bunch of kids in a warehouse?"

"Yeah, except I got away and Nick is gone somewhere. That's why I'm here; I'm trying to figure out what they were up to."

"You were the survivor? Nick.. uh... Camon Nightshade?"

"Nightsaide. Yeah, I got outta there before I got killed. Lydia, Indrid and Katlyn were all there. There was something really fucked up about it, and I'm pretty sure I know what they were doing. I just gotta

know why." His own reasoning did not create a sensible judgment. He confused her tremendously.

"Why did they do that?"

"I'm not sure, but Indrid had been doing some kind of Satanic ritual, so I'm thinking that there's some kind of demonic presence involved."

"Oh, please. There's no such thing."

"Okay, that's fine. I just need to know everything about what went on, I have to find them and I need some links. So do you know of any of their other friends? Like... where did Katlyn live?"

"You need to let the cops handle this." He was prepared to insult her severely, as was his way when dealing with difficult people, yet she complied for the most part and told him the address of the crow.

The rat left her and followed the directions, driving away from Lydia's abandoned trailer to another trailer down the street, left and down more streets. The destination was a disaster. Children's playthings

were scattered everywhere and yard-dogs yapped at him incessantly from behind their chain-link fences. The grass in the area was wild and uncut, much like the farms out by Indrid's place. Though it was soon to be completely covered by the snow that was falling at a steady pace now.

As the rat approached, he could hear talking within, possibly a television on a high volume. He recapitulated his interrogation via rote rehearsal. It would be in and out with it, quickly, to avoid any unwanted conflict. Yet conflict came in accordance with an introduction.

"Hi," he began. An adult crow answered the door, female, a few dogs were milling about behind in the kitchen. "I'm the survivor of the warehouse attacks--"

"I don't want to talk about anything." She explained.

"I know, I completely understand that. I just wanted to know about Katlyn and if she had known anyone that had been involved in a cult or was in one herself."

"Like how?" She asked impatiently.

"Well, one of the attackers was involved with black magick and another of them was pretty screwed up in the head. I'm hoping you might know of any of Katlyn or Lydia's friends that might have been involved."

She grimaced, the visage probably entailing confusion, "Are you a detective or something?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just trying to figure it out by myself."

"Leave it to the cops."

He was wondering when she planned on closing the door in his face.

"Okay, but anyway..." he continued, "Did Katlyn know anyone like that?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "I don't know. The only person she was with that I can remember was that panda guy, Adrian."

The panda she mentioned was a vital part of the rodent's investigation. Here, was his second link and the phrase made Camon feel accomplished.

"Panda, huh? Adrian what?" He pressed.

"His last name was, uh..." silence befell them both as she searched her memory. "Turlough. His last name was Turlough, isn't that the dumbest thing you've ever heard?"

Indeed it was. Turloff was a strange name, nevertheless, he was the most prolific substance in the case of Indrid and his mob's demonic eradication.

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EVENING

The person playing piano on the CD was very skilled. The stereo was not too loud, and provided dinner music to create a pleasant atmosphere. The vampire had ordered the congregation and demanded everyone show up and enjoy themselves. She was no cook, so she had Katlyn make the food.

With Nick at the end of the table, Lydia at the other, Katlyn on one side and the two zombie males on the other, the coyote and avian ate pasta. Only Indrid and Lydia seemed to be enjoying themselves, being the only two smiling. Katlyn was glad to see Nick untied and was happy to eat with him.

Even so, the atmosphere was subdued. Nick was extraordinarily uneasy around the bigger drone and the blood drinker. The former sat, looking half asleep; the vampire stared at him.

"Cheer up!" She said, spreading her hands out as if to encourage them.

"Lydia," Katlyn replied, "that doesn't help."

"Help what? You guys need to be a little more enthused about your life. We're a family now, so get along. I wanna see you, Nick, talk to Adrian or something. And I want you, Katlyn, to get this idea

out of your head that we are still what we were."

"Just 'cos you're fucked up doesn't mean I have to try to be." She said plainly. A fork touched her bill, the steel implement flying from Lydia's fingers as the vampire projected it with perfect aim. It clicked and

Katlyn flinched, reaching with both hands to grab her beak.

"Ouch!"

That was a lie. It did not hurt, but it stung a bit and made her sneeze. Both drones chuckled, the males displaying their signature hissing sounds.

"Relax, like I said."

"Dammit, Lydia. You're acting crazy."

"You imprisoned a little doggie to play with him, and you call me crazy?"

"You're just acting like a fucking fascist!" The black avian continued.

"You all need some sort of supervision. So I decided to take it up." The vampire stood and moved to Adrian, scratching him behind his stubby ears. "We aren't able to be part of the world like we were

before, Katlyn." The panda tilted his head back and leftward, grinning, blinking his moistened eyes. Nick thought he could have been cute if it was not for his grimy teeth and bloody eyes. Through mostly

strangulation, his orbital organs had been severely damaged and required frequent visits to the outside world to repair them.

Katlyn understood the notion that she was a felon. A suspect in a multiple homicide and abduction, the crow was sure her life was forever changed now. With that knowledge, Katlyn knew that Lydia's aggressive domination was unnecessary. Yes, in the past it had been sensual - even erotic - but the humanoid was now making such a jest of the situation. Essentially, Lydia was mocking the bond of their relationship and creating a dramatic show.

Katlyn finally understood this, and was not wanting to be an actress for any longer.

"You don't need to treat us like toys."

"How do you figure that? We've been like this for less than a week."

"You've always done this to me." The theater was becoming more structured now. "You can't just treat me like a regular person."

"Me? Or someone different than you've known?" Her meaning was of the drastic change in her being, the transformation from her previously human state of mortality.

"Your body changed. But your still the same Lydia."

"Yes, that's correct, and I've become saturated with myself." Then she moved to Indrid. The dragon was not hungry, this was not the food he needed, but he liked pasta quite a bit. Lydia touched his muzzle, raising it to kiss him once. Just once, just slightly, and he sighed, reaching with his claws to feel her hair.

Letting is slip from his grip slowly, he watched her move to Nick. The coyote desired to be home, to be in his house and in his own bed and with his girlfriend.

He wondered what she would think if he told her that he had experienced a consensual, homosexual act with an undead dragon guitarist.

"You know what it's like now, right?" She asked him.

"You guys are insane. And this is demonic, and I want out of here."

"I suppose you could just go home, but we can't have you telling everyone where we are, can we?"

"Who the hell would believe me?" He scowled, sliding his chair a few inches away from her. He had nowhere to run; Adrian and Indrid would stop him, if by some miracle he could manage to get past Lydia, and Katlyn would be no problem.

Neither of the girls had been upset when learning and seeing of Indrid's decision to let him roam the house with zombie supervision. It was clear to the vampire that her comrades were no longer seeing their dog as a toy, but as another comrade. If so, she would acclimate him to their preferred style of play and eating.

"We have to go."

The coyote was easy to subdue and instruct. Even upon leaving the house and entering a car, he showed no desire to escape, only to remain close to the humanoid girl, staring forward or slightly to either side.

Indrid found humor in the dog's condition, his hypnotica, and wanted to guide the mammal on his own. Under the spell, he would obey only Lydia, so she had to transfer her domination to the dragon. Indrid was acting like a little kid, smiling and laughing and making Nick do goofy things like stick his head out the window and bark.

Katlyn drove, eager to see the undead brethren at their glorious work. Though arguing ensued during the trip, and the music blaring from the speakers nearly destroyed her concentration, causing her to swerve many times on the way to their destination.

A complex sat, filled with walking beings in efforts to gain more property. The surrounding land of the structure was black ground, land designed for a machine's traversal via white and yellow boundaries.

The black avian crossed those lines numerous times as Indrid or Adrian threw themselves into her body and grabbed the wheel, trying to crash the heavy machine into something.

Nick stared through the window and only moved in order to prevent his head from crashing into it. As the car squealed along the pavement, his body shifted like a carcass inside a hearse.

After screaming at them all to settle down, Katlyn found a shadowed area to hide the car. They exited and loitered outside, near a corner so they could see the exit. Lydia expressed to her avian lover that

their time spent in the quiet wait could measure into the hours.

The drones stood together, shoulders touching, both still and staring, bereft of gaiety. Lydia was beside them; she leaned against a wall with a cigarette. Katlyn and Nick, too, smoked, the former was the only one pacing.

After thirty minutes, Indrid requested permission to enter the shopping mall and try their luck inside, but Lydia demanded they wait for someone to exit the building.

She knew it would be a while before their target would emerge, so Katlyn reclined on the hood of her car.

Adrian, with no response from the coyote, occasionally leaned forward and sniffed at him, nudging his nose under the dog's chin and growling, wanting to bite. Lydia simply slapped his face till the panda moved away. Then he went to Indrid and tried to initiate some play, trying to wrestle or get the dragon to romp with him. Indrid did not, however, want to fuss with the fat mammal.

As sound from the exit door reached their ears, the zombies vanished to the darkness. Katlyn remained, Lydia abandoned static Nick, and all hid away from a female human leaving the premises. Tall and brunette, she had a white, plastic bag in one hand and a purse slung on her forearm, wrapped in layers of clothing.

She waved a salutation to the reclining bird, and Lydia reappeared from the shadow. Embracing the human from behind, she focused her aura to fuse, intrude onto the human's magnetism, creating a spiritual analgesic. Lydia did not even need to speak words, her prey was gained quite easily and took no violence or time more than a few moments.

With that done, it was easy to put her alongside Nick. The coyote looked to the human, being allowed to move his head and eyes to a certain extent. He was conscious of the acts that followed, and understood their speech and intents.

Lydia went into temporary hiding again. In a few more minutes of silence - Indrid and Adrian softly growling and playfully gnawing each other - there came more beings. Adrian was ready to pounce them, two male raccoons, yet Indrid held him back and whispered a reminder. They were not to attack or feast on anything not human, simple as that.

Katlyn moved from her position and re-entered her vehicle, turning up the music again. Lydia asked her to turn it down, and Katlyn pretended to. The sound from the machine would not scare anyone away, but the music was beginning annoying to the vampire.

No matter, for two more males exited. First was a short, black-haired boy with glasses, a meter behind him was a tall, dark-skinned adolescent. Both humans. Adrian took the taller one, Indrid the shorter one.

The panda moved first, bounding from his position and leaping onto the tall one. Wrapping his arms around the mammal, he threw it to the ground so that its front side would face the sky. No moon glared on this night of the humans' last minutes of life.

The short one was eager to aid his companion in the assault, but Indrid easily neutralized him. As Adrian pressed his body, his knees, onto his animal, he watched Indrid work with his teeth. The dragon bit

out a few strands of the little one's throat and allowed its life water to leave its body. Lydia saw it too, and frowned at seeing the nutrition splash the dirty ground.

The humans made loud noises with their voices. Katlyn was glad she did not have to hear it. Adrian was quick to lacerate the second's throat, getting splashed with life and laughing like an idiot.

Their technique was not the best they could use. By promoting their humans' deaths at the first attack, it would not prolong their pain at being eaten.

The zombies preferred to eat immediately and not be concerned for agony. It was mercy, though, both for their prey's ridiculous humanity and the pain. Yet both still thrashed maniacally against their

assailants, even as their energy left quickly.

Both zombies took a few mouthfuls of flesh and tissue before the creatures died. Indrid felt disappointed in how fast the end came and began dragging his corpse to the car. Adrian and him asked Katlyn to open the trunk so they could store the food. Katlyn groaned, knowing where their thoughts were going, what sort of plans they were machinating.

She would have a hard time cleaning the trunk of the blood, and she would make the drones help her.

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Nick was no longer stupefied. Now, he was horrified. Horrified and very nauseated, the stench of blood and viscera had caused him to vomit earlier, and now, that

regurgitated matter stank through the room along with the other odors.

All had congregated in the nails chamber after returning from the hunting session. The room was crammed full of bodies, those both living and dead and in between there, somewhere. Katlyn sat beside Nick, trying to comfort him. Although she was revolted by the aroma just as much as he was, she could only find humor in his perturbation and disgust at the scene before him.

He had finally learned what the purpose of the nails was.

Indrid sat in the tub, nude, both arms resting on the rim. He had been there for all the time, resting comfortably while the others had worked. There was a very small amount of liquid inside his tub, it was thick and had grown cold now, but was still being filled by droplets from above.

In intervals of four or five seconds, red fluid dropped from above, landing on his chest or in the puddle next to his feet. The absorption of molecular energy and life directly through his reptilian flesh would not regenerate him, but it certainly felt good to him.

He looked upwards as a drop hit his eye, causing him blink. The dragon stared up into the opened torso of his human. He did his own carving, and had done it sloppy, wanting to bathe as soon as possible. It was only the torso, the limbs had been removed and placed on various nails along that wall. The lungs and heart were still inside, and the intestines were with him in the tub. The tissue of the guts had a pleasant texture to him, and he wrung it in his hands, twisting it like rope and stretching it.

With a distracting crunch, Adrian impaled the last of the limbs onto an empty nail. The tall one's left leg, it was mostly chewed up, and Adrian continued to bite parts of it out, not wanting it to rot before taking the best muscles of it. His masticating only served to invigorate Nick's sickness.

As Indrid heard the coyote wretch once again, he smirked and sat up onto the rim so he could look over the human body on the center table. This one was not quite deceased. Indrid's body dripped life back to its dying puddle.

Never since his abduction did the singer want to flee for the sake of his mortal sanity.

Indrid chuckled and leaned forward to run his fingers through the crimson life in the tub, then threw his hand across the air, flinging the liquid towards the dog. Nick shouted in protest and tried to cover his face, heading for the door. He immediately began to pull and twist the handle, grunting and using all his weight in hopes the vampire's mental lock would break if he tried to do so hard enough.

Lydia, darling Lydia, sat on the chair. She possessed neither the desire to bathe in the life, nor to chew on flesh. She had eaten and had left the body mostly alive for the drones to play with. Apparently, Nick wanted to leave and go to bed. She would retire for that night as well, so she unlocked the door and

watched as Nick stumbled through, dashing up the stairs.

She said farewell and followed the dog, who was feebly attempting to exit through any of the door and windows of the house. Katlyn remained with the two others, hoping she would be allowed to see Adrian violate the girl once again. She could only giggle as she watched him play with loose pieces of flesh and sinew, moving to various limbs on the wall to nibble.

The humans' heads were intact, resting on the topmost nails above the tub. She was thinking about making ashtrays out of the bone, or maybe some jewelry. Her thoughts were dissolved when Adrian growled like a crazy person and leapt onto the table. She smiled, watching the chubby, naked mammal lumber over the human's body.

He was fully erect, his phallus fat and red, poking from his abdomen, dripping. He glared at her, lust on his visage, his eyes now stark white, some kind of gunk blurring his pupils from sight. Though it was fascinating to see him up there, she was disappointed to know that it was not the crow that was his goal.

Adrian fell to his knees and carefully positioned his hips to mount the human. She made no sound as he penetrated her, no sound as he began to pump himself inside her, vigorously. He knew she was still alive, her aura, though dim, was visible. With a few strong shakes of her neck and thumps of her head to the table, the aura disappeared.

Katlyn was prepared to watch the act, knowing that she would soon be hot and would need attention herself. Indrid then dissolved her thoughts by whistling and motioning for her to join him.

There was no hesitation. The black avian danced to the dragon in the tub, wondering if he wanted her to enter with him. It was only when he began to stroke his own erect phallus did she know his intent. The blood ran slick over his entire body, and Katlyn trembled with delight as she moved to touch him. Pressing her fingers to his chest, they both sighed, and she was quickly stripped of her clothes.

Glancing with a snicker to Adrian's thrusting, quivering body, she gently stepped inside the tub with her dragon. The cool feel of the life within was unappealing, but the feel of its slippery coat on the dragon's body was enough stimulus to please her.

The dragon took her hand and moved it to his member. She took it and began to stoke it fiercely, grinning and pulling herself closer to him. He opened his mouth and groaned loudly, wrapping an arm around her. The crimson matter slid onto her feathers, it gently dripped onto her bill and head, lubricating them both.

Friction would soon heat them, creating the air of lust as the animals breathed onto each other, licking and groping. She ground her hips against his, probing his sex organ around her vaginal region, hoping it would fit and he would warm her even more.

He pushed forward too, gripping her delicate feathers and completely taking his back from the tub. With the forward momentum of that movement, their feet or knees slipped and they collapsed onto each other. Laughter ensued, Adrian ignored them.

Indrid was not in the mood for play; he was carnal now. Gently taking her throat in one hand, he moved behind her, directing her onto her limbs, positioning her chest against the end of the tub. Her own compliance puzzled her, and she wished that he could have been a bit more forceful.

To entice his frustration and violence, she said, "No, let me get ready first," and attempted to stand. As predicted, Indrid seized her violently and shoved her down to the tub's edge and forced her shoulders against it. She grinned and moaned, wondering if he would strangle her as well.

That he did, taking the length of mammal intestine from the tub's floor and roping it around her neck. He tried to pull it taught, but was too malleable and slick, and he only stretched it too the point of almost ripping. They both chuckled, knowing it was no good.

Before she could mess with his head another time, he quickly began probing his fingers around her exposed buttocks. He was looking for her sex slot, and was being very impatient about it. His nails poked the tender flesh several times, and his grip was going to bruise her. Katlyn only smiled, though she would not enjoy bleeding from her vulva the next day if he continued to jab her so viciously.

Indrid's phallus would not damage her labia, and upon impaling her void to his total ecstasy, she was glad his sharp nails were now only on her waist. With his first few humps, Katlyn found her hands to be slipping on the tub's floor. It was ruining her pleasure, especially when her beak tapped against the porcelain.

Therefore, she raised both arms to wrap her dripping fingers around the rounded rim of the tub. This way, she could push back against his thrusts and would not be so soaked in blood at the end of their act. Giving birth to a panda- or dragon- avian hybrid filled her with fascination. Nevertheless, she would not enjoy raising a child in her life quite yet, and was glad of the birth control medicine she was taking with her diet.

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DAY FOUR: MORNING

Camon was happy with his investigation. He knew Indrid was either possessed with a demon or there was a form of demonic presence. Either way, the dragon was not himself. Now, Adrian Turlough was identified, an anybody - most likely - but helpful nevertheless.

After returning to his warehouse, the smell of mole and husky blood was still present and it caused sorrow in him. He would have to ignore that, however, and looked for Turlough's number in the phone book. He was listed, and lived nearby, though still not in walking distance. Upon calling that evening, there was no response; the panda was apparently out.

After a second and equally unsuccessful line-dropping, Camon decided to try again in the morning. It would be the end, he hopefully wished, and as he laid his head down to sleep that night, he did not expect a nightmare to plague him.

The band played, their music screeched across the land of the Grand Valley, across the continent and across the oceans. It was too loud, and it caused tremors in the Earth. Authorities came to break them up, but for some reason, they confiscated their dragon. With total protests, he used his instrument to fight them off. Accidentally killing one of them, they arrested him immediately. Next, the dragon vanished. The group became dejected. Time passed, going through recruits like bad jellybeans. Tasting them, then spitting them out in disgust. Indrid returned then, being the only good piece of candy. Though now he had gone bad and they did not want him, so he summoned demons to kill them all. Camon and Nick were spared from the flames of 'hell'. Nick was taken as punishment, and Camon was quested with the journey of finding him.

Camon awoke from that dream both alarmed and humored. Sitting up, having only received six hours of slumber, he pondered if an attempt at continuing his sleep would be in vain. In the dream, he had been on a journey, like a hero of some sort. Yet he truly disliked having to watch all his friends be murdered like that. Again.

The rat ate breakfast again and decided to go unbathed. After rereading the number of the Turlough one, he called again. After six rings, it was answered by a female.

"Hello." She said as if greeting someone in person.

"Hi, I'm looking for Adrian Turlough."

"He is unable to come to the phone right now." Monotone.

"Oh, well maybe you can help me. I'm just wondering if he had any connection to a girl named Katlyn Walburga?"

"Yes, he did." She smiled, slowly learning of the unknown's identity through electricity.

"All right, I was wondering if they had been friends of a guy named Indrid Tully."

Lydia laughed, now fully knowing who the creature was that was querying of her friends.

"Yes, the two are here, but Adrian is out hunting again. We all ate last night, but he likes to tear people apart, so, I just let him."

Camon had no words. The girl sounded somber, possibly demented. Even though Adrian was not there, this speaker was better than he could have hoped for. She must have been that Lydia clone.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"Lydia, Lydia Sameera."

Yes, but not a clone. "How..."

"You could not possibly understand. Unless you read Indrid's books, but you did not, did you?"

"I..." Camon looked down to the desk, the bible and the other sitting in front of him. He had given them no more scrutiny than in the basement room in Indrid's mother's house.

"Don't worry about it, Camon." She continued, "I'm sure you want to kill Indrid and Adrian. You want revenge for what they did to your crappy band. But it's too late now, they're much too unstable now and

I'll have to return them to Earth before long. So I'll be doing your job for you."

"Lydia!" He shouted into the phone, standing up as if to intimidate her. She could not see his movements, but knew exactly what he was doing. He could have stuck his tongue out and she would have seen it. "Okay, I believe it's you. Just what the fuck is going on. Where is Nick, where are you all?"

"You get two of those answers you're looking for. Indrid has stolen energy from the universe and reversed my decomposition. My resurrection was not full though, and he had the total arrogance to bring

me back as a more supreme entity. One that he could not control. I took my revenge, and bestowed mercy in giving him a lesser form than I. He's adapted to it well, and does not harbor a grudge for me like I would have expected. He likes to take life and soul, now that he's been a spirit, he knows how flexible living beings can be."

"So you just go around killing people?" She had admitted to killing, and that she had done so to his band. This was one thing Camon had wanted all along, the why.

"Yes, we need food just as much as you do. We eat 'intelligent' animals, it's necessary, but it's not destructive. We eat only humans, and they do not matter, there are too many of them anyway."

"Where is he? Where is Nick."

"Indrid and Nick rest, those two lovely boys of mine enjoy each other's company, though Nick does not like to cuddle very much."

He had fewer words for that.

"Did you make Nick fucked up too?"

"No, Nick retains all his original mortality. His doggie-ness." She giggled.

"Why did you kidnap him?"

"It was actually Katlyn's idea, she has an affinity for him. I'm not sure, but I think she is regretting all that happened in these past days. She is beginning to respect life and spirit too much. Such fools you mortal things are to be so able to disregard the truths of the universe."

"I don't know what you're talking about, shut up for a minute. Let Nick go, all right?"

"No, I can't. I've grown attached to him, he puts up a good fight, but I and Katlyn are able to show him divinity. Even Indrid has managed to get it out of the puppy. I'm going to give him my own style of life. It's too late for the boys, but they like their forms. Katlyn and Nick are to be just as I."

"What? Have you gone insane?" He wondered, "You can't just go around fucking people up like that."

"I see. Well, just forget about them. You can't help them, there's no way you could. You're too ignorant, so just forget about your little 'quest'."

The click that sounded meant she hung up. He called again, but Lydia had unplugged the machine from the wall and left it, leaving the room for her sleep. It was morning, and too much sunlight was finding its way to her flesh. She was slowly burning, and it hurt, but it would heal soon during her rest.

Bird ears had honed in on her talking, Katlyn's hidden presence had not been hidden very well. Lydia worried over that not, for the crow could do nothing. Upon seeing the humanoid leave for her dark room, Katlyn grabbed the dismantled cords and fixed what Lydia had done.

She was so very glad that Adrian had a caller ID. Eagerly, the black avian scrolled through the numbers listed till she found the last one accessed. Whoever Lydia had talked to, he or she had been aware of Adrian's position at the house. Lydia would not have been so mischievous if it had been an authority - cop or CSI - so it was obvious that this person was worth speaking to.

She dialed and was hopeful. Camon's phone rang only moments before he was leaving his abode for the panda's home.

"Yeah?" Camon asked as he answered. He, too, had a caller identification, and knew that someone at the Turlough residence was calling him.

"Who is this? Did you just talk to Lydia?" Katlyn whispered, being cautious not to attract the attention of her vampire friend.

"Yeah, is this Katlyn?"

"Yes, who is this? You have to help us, please."

"You bitch, why are you involved in all this?"

"We don't have time to argue, okay?" She hissed, looking around, turning her head left and right. "I'm sorry for what Indrid and Adrian did, but if you don't help us, Nick is going to be turned into a vampire and

you'll probably be hunted by Lydia anyway--"

Once again, Lydia disabled the connection by removed the electric source. Katlyn gasped as Lydia threw the avian to the ground and scowled ferociously.

"What did you think Camon could do?" She asked, bending to take the bird into her grip, "He was going to show up anyway, but you had to go and say something

stupid."

"You are a maniac!" Katlyn screeched, throwing her fists against Lydia's face. With a grunt, Lydia fell away and stumbled as the crow ran to the kitchen. After the fourth step, Lydia seized and hurled a

footstool, aiming into the running girl's legs. As Katlyn collapsed onto the ground, her legs and wings arching in the air, Lydia was on the bird again, strangling her while bringing her to her feet.

"I'll see you better soon." The vampire whispered. Betraying her own words, Lydia took the bird's spirit and blood. Injuring Katlyn was something she did not enjoy doing; drinking her life enough to induce her dizziness was more enjoyable. As Katlyln became drowsy, Lydia allowed gravity to bring her crow to Earth.

Lydia watched her own life weep from puncture wounds in her radial artery, the left wrist oozing red. The liquid was dripped into the bird's beak, held open by Lydia's other hand. Their auras fused, Lydia

persuading the girl's spirit to join the universe, to feel the spirit world. Then, the vampire helped it to return, to bring their souls commensurate.

When the girl was to awake, she would not be happy.

No matter, Lydia helped the undying girl to the basement. Inside, Nick was still finding nausea from the rotting flesh of the nails chamber. Indrid had cleaned out the blood and viscera as per the coyote's

request, but Adrian wanted to keep the dismemberment as a snack.

Indrid had learned why Adrian could not regain his sanity. The panda had been eating dead flesh, and the negative energy of absent life was directly affecting his mind to something corrupt. Seeing Adrian turn into a blood-thirsty maniac was enough to keep Indrid from feasting on the bodies himself.

Nick and the dragon were alarmed to see the crow flopped down onto the table. Lydia smiled as she delivered their transformed friend to them.

"She will be needing blood upon awakening." The human vampire explained, "And taking Indrid's or Adrian's will do her no good."

Nick understood what had happened, and the indication that he would need to feed his new acquaintance caused him trepidation. He watched Lydia close the door, leaving the nails chamber and locking the door, pleased with the game she was playing.

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Knowing trouble would ensue upon his arrival, the white rat armed himself with weaponry. The pistol was concealed beneath the passenger seat, under the plush cushion. He had not ever used it, and using it to take back his friend filled him with both fear and excitement.

He knew it was the final trip he would take on this quest, the last time he would drive to his destiny and solve this horror, delete the maniacs that had so polluted the universe and its Earth.

There was so much blizzard that he was actually hesitant to drive. The sky cast no light that morning, and the space around the city was dark grey, not even the figures of animals penetrated the

obscurity.

It was bizarre. There was no explaining such veracious weather of such sort in that time of year. Snow had been present on that first day of lunancy, and now...

As he cautiously moved along the streets, he wondered if Indrid had created the storm through one of his spells or incantations. If it was true, what Lydia said - that Indrid like his new form and liked to hunt

people - than Camon was willing to kill him too.

Lydia had altered the rat's life, had altered Indrid's life. It was that dragon that had started the whole crucible with his moronic obsession and curse. He cursed the world with his mania, with his love, with

Lydia Sameera. As the thoughts of how much damage they had done - and were likely to do in the future - the thought of killing them both was satisfying. It would be completely justified.

The address was simple, and he had memorized it quickly. Yet as he moved along the street, slowly scanning each house - trying to decipher the letters and numbers through the descending ice - he felt a

unprecedented memory of a time that must have occurred yet did not.

Unprecedented, it had occurred before, as well.

"Déjà vu." He mumbled.

He then slammed his foot on the breaks, preventing the machine from contacting a ragged-dressed panda. Bloody eyes peered from in between two round ears, a shriveled muzzle hiding blood-dripping teeth. He wore a dirty, tattered suit, lumbering across the street.

Shouting a profanity, Camon's heart became rapid. The shock of almost hitting someone, and seeing someone so deranged, tried to persuade him to return home. Yet the warehouse held equal paranoia and insanity. He would continue. This Adrian had just missed getting struck down in the prime of zombie life. Camon knew he was near his goal.

As the panda disappeared, Camon parked as best he could - alongside the street - and entered the frozen atmosphere. Reaching inside the car, he removed his trench coat. The garment was more tattered than the old one Indrid had always wore, Nick's own made the others' look ancient.

Donning it, he then took the pistol and put it in the right pocket. Closing the door, he turned and stared at the line of houses. They were large, and conveniently spaced. His warehouse was bigger, but

there were only two big rooms and were not insulated. One day, he might want to move into one of these with his girlfriend.

Trying not to be distracted anymore that day, he continued. Across the street the rat strode, looking for the house number. He could not see them. Adrian had not left fast enough, and could be seen swaying about, almost trotting, his own yard. Camon held his paw on the pistol, waiting for the attack. Adrian did not seem to notice the rodent approach; the panda seemed to be searching for something along the ground and scurried away before noticing Camon a second time. Adrian ran towards the back of the house, continuing beyond and past it, into the forest surrounding the lands.

No matter. Camon found himself at his goal, for the yard in which he stood was part of Adrian's house. Knowing this, and seeing Adrian running away, made him wonder if Lydia had sent the mammal out to stop the rodent's meddling. He drew the weapon, knowing that no one, no prying eyes from elsewhere, would see him through the snow and call the cops to tell of the maniac in their neighborhood. He wanted to hide, but being the darkest object against the white of the world made that impossible.

Camon approached the house slowly, keeping his eyes squinted to avoid them from getting cold. There were traps set to kill or maim him, there had to be; he was very suspicious of it. Yet he stepped there, and there, and walked up the porch steps, then peered through the window. Because he could not see through the fabric of curtains, he would have to enter to determine the contents of the house.

There would be no noisome knocking on the door, he tried to open it, and was surprised that it complied with him. He threw it open and aimed the pistol towards the interior. It was reckless and a bit stupid, but it was Camon's first notion, so he took it. Within was darkness, more dark than outside but equally obscured.

Poking his head around the corners, he entered and began searching for the lights. Lydia illuminated the room before he had the chance to, flipping a switch to turn on the overhead lights. He aimed for her, now seeing clearly how she stood beside the entrance to a hallway.

"You're such an idiot." She analyzed. Camon needed time to think; he wanted to get Nick and go home and let the others alone.

"Stop this stupid game," he instructed, standing still and firm with his weapon, "Put Nick into my custody, right now."

"You're custody is inferior." She stepped forward, taking a single step that attained his immediate position at least three meters away. The motion confused him, and her shoving arms against his chest

angered him as he fell away from her, tossed against the closed door. The fall caused him to drop his weapon and he immediately regained it.

Before Camon had the chance to fire it properly, she was again on him, reaching to take him from the floor. In his position of being pinned against the wall, her fingers entwining his throat, he could easily shoot her. That he did. Aiming directly to her gut, he fired a single shot. She growled and slapped him; he fired again.

Below the floor, Indrid, Katlyn and Nick heard the two loud pops and knew that Camon had arrived. Nick was bleeding, having voluntarily fed his avian friend, and hurried with Indrid to force the door open. Adrian had broken it a few minutes prior to Camon's arrival and escaped. Lydia blocked it again, using more psionic power to prevent their exit. Even though magnetic and non-tangible, it was still a physical

barrier, so it was possible to break.

The three of them knew that Lydia would be involved in her altercation long enough to distract her mind, and the bond of her barrier would be weakened. Together, they broke it away and threw open the door. Up the stairs they ran, Katlyn not yet being so agile in her new corporeal form, being left behind by the other two. Indrid and Nick moved to the kitchen, this area of the house being the one closest resembling an armory.

Equipping butcher knives, they quickly moved to the sitting room where their horrendous comrade was feasting on Camon's blood.

"You cunt!" Nick screamed as he ran to stab her. Lydia let go of her digital and bicuspid grip and spun around in attempts to remove the knife suddenly lodged in one of her kidneys. The coyote jumped from her attack, diving away from her spinning hands to take injured Camon into his arms and try to open the door.

Indrid, with his eyes lightly flowing with red tears, lunged to strike. His aim had been for her chest, her blood organ, but she moved for him and sunk down to tackle. Yet his knife had been lowered enough to allow the blade to carve her throat. Feeling it press against her, he pushed forward and drug it sideways, severing her trachea and blood vessels.

Drenching him with screams and life waters, she projected him across the room, his body flying past Katlyn as she emerged from the hall, and into the dining room. She watched him tumble and hit the

table. Turning her head, she saw Lydia draining life on the floor and decided to finish the job. Moving towards her, she took Indrid's dropped blade and tackled the humanoid. Both females fell, the crow

groaning through her wooziness.

Lydia could no longer defend herself properly, and was waving both arms in the air as Katlyn managed to get the humanoid onto her back. Raising the blade to provide strength for the attack, Indrid shouted, "No!"

All eyes fell upon him, Nick, and especially Katlyn, wondering why Indrid was not wanting the black avian to do away with the vampire. It was not his hesitation, but he was not willing to risk her survival, and knew that the bird would not kill Lydia in that manner.

"Decapitate her." He said while standing. He saw Nick, still bleeding, helping Camon to clot before his own death.

Katlyn nodded, knowing that the dragon's advice was more profound than what she saw on the television. Into the lacerated neck her knife cut, the bird sawing it back and forth through the cephalic vertebrae and tissues. Lydia's blood was mostly pooled now, so further cutting was not creating further leakage.

Soon it was over. Lydia Sameera beheaded, Katlyn now cursed with vampirism, Indrid to remain a drone eternally. Nick felt pity for them all. It was clear how fickle the universe was with its souls. It could

not return them so easily and was inclined to mutate them. Death was the true peace in life, and undeath was hell. The only true hell in the universe had been on earth had been the nails chamber and its

worshipers.

The black avian stood away from Lydia's body. Her soul was quickly recycled, but her body would need to be moved to allow the corpus to recycle. Indrid felt it was his responsibility now. He had brought her here, and he wanted to take her back.

"I'll take this to the grave." He explained, moving to pick up her body, "Grab her head, will ya?" Katlyn nodded and hurried to gather it. Nick and Camon moved in order to allow them to leave the house, Nick smiled upon seeing the outside world, and it was currently frozen. He liked the snow. They all did, for it was covering the mess of mortal meddling.

"I'm not your toy anymore?" Nick asked with a smile.

"Nope, you're free to go." The crow spoke, "But you'll see us again, sometime in the future."

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"The few deaths that followed the warehouse slaughter were ascribed to the doings of Adrian Turlough and Indrid Tully, both now wanted murderers and thought to be criminally insane and both at large. They had committed their crimes alongside an unidentified female human and a crow named Katlyn Walburga. They had kidnapped several of their victims and performed bizarre acts with their bodies in some sort of grotesque, religious ritual."

"One abducted individual, Nick Shores, had witnessed their crimes and provided the police with full descriptions of the events that transpired. A local teen, Camon Nightsaide, had found a link to Adrian and

managed to help his friend, Shores, escape the captors. According to Nightsaid, Tully and Walburga killed their unidentified accomplice and fled with her corpse. An ambulance arrived on the scene where

Shores and Nightsaide were extremely anemic."

Nick and Camon watched the news on TV. They sat in the warehouse, reposing on a dirty sofa. The deaths of their bandmates no longer caused sadness. With death, it was clear that a soul was better off in space with the stars and the One. The universe was a good place for them.

Returning their souls to Earth would cause hell, so logically, manifesting their souls via memory would only cause mental hell. Therefore, the teens tried to forget about it.

The remainders of the band were in no hurry to join their friends, and would most prefer to remain mortals for a few more decades. Nick was glad he was alive and well, along with Camon, and both appreciated their living mortality. Undead immortality was their only fear in life now, and two such curses roamed the mountains of the Mesa.

Indrid and Katlyn had told them where they were going. After burying Lydia, the two would move to the flat mountain nearby, in a cabin that Indrid had known about. Whatever the two would do there was unknown to the canine and rat. It did not matter to them, for they were many guitarists short now, and needed a few more beings to fill in the places.

~THE END