Lying within the lap of a skeleton resting atop a throne, lined by veins, arteries, and a pumping heart, Abe had found the scales.

The veins and arteries seemed to pump blood through the heart and down into the ground beneath its feet, weaving into the bony cartilage that had fused to create the skeletal room.

Abe had mused over whether the fish was actually alive, or if it was a fish at all—but didn’t come to any concrete conclusion.

The scales themselves reminded him of armor, with a flexible, metallic feel and sheen.

You better be what Ricky is looking for, he thought, raising the scales up to the faint sun piercing into the gardens. The scales made up an intricate, zigzagging pattern and its composition was unnaturally rigid.

“Blub.”

Lowering the scales, Abe glanced back over at the stone fish. “Glad to have me out. Hopefully, we never meet again, Mr. Immortal Fish.”

“Blub.”

“Oh, whatever,” Abe groaned and turned back to the manor.

“Why have you got to be so stubborn,” Ricky flared with blue flames as Abe entered.

“That thing still giving you grief?”

Ricky turned, eyes more alight than usual, “What useless junk have you got for me to try now?”

Abe held up the scales.

“Oh?” Ricky’s brow furrowed and his blue flames danced around the scales, lifting them out of Abe’s hand. “Where’d you get these?”

“A fish in the garden.”

Surprisingly nonchalant, Ricky nodded, “He actually let you inside?”

“You know about him?”

Ricky glared at him dully, the flames plummeting to swirling dots, “Of course I do, he’s as old as this building. Uncooperative asshole.”

“And you didn’t think sharing that information might be helpful?”

“No, and you should be grateful I didn't. I can almost guarantee that he would’ve been a whole lot less helpful if he thought I sent you. He has a habit of not cooperating with the Mistress’s creations.”

“Hold up a minute,” Abe shook his head. “What is he and why is he a… a whatever he’s supposed to be.”

“He’s an old blabbering sage, that’s what he is, or was. Look, firstly, a little history so you understand everything a little better. This domain sits in a little thing called the Deathscape. In other words, you’re not in Kansas anymore. Okay, you got all that?”

“Not really, but go on,” Abe grimaced, doubting he was going to truly wrap his head around the place regardless of how much Ricky explained it.

“Good. Now, I won’t bore you with all the details, but suffice to say, that fish, or man, wanted to use this domain for his own immortality. And he got it,” Ricky released a chattering chuckle.

“Wait, so the Deathscape is some kind of alternative dimension and the fish bound himself to it. And that made him immortal? Am I understanding you correctly?”

“More or less. Look, I’m no scholar, pal, I’m a skull. If you want a better explanation, look elsewhere.”

“Fine, whatever. What about the scales and that thing of yours?”

“Give me a moment,” Ricky turned back to his workbench.

A hum pulsed through the house, shaking the walls for a brief moment.

“Oh, he liked that,” Ricky nodded and turned back to Abe. “Okay, so we got one. Based on his reaction,” Ricky tilted thoughtfully. “There’s probably at least five more.”

“Five? Seriously, Ricky?”

“You did good. Keep it up, pal. Spirits, magic, whatever. All of that good stuff is what this bastard wants. It’s what makes this place special. And it’s what’s going to make this little bastard pur. And you know what that means?”

“No Ricky, I don’t.”

“The Mistress, she’ll be happy,” Ricky nodded with a broadening grin. “And you want to make the Mistress happy, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Abe grunted. But his facade was a lie. His heart had skipped at the mention of Miss Nia.

“Good. Now be a good boy and get out there and find the rest of my aspects.”

“Hey, don’t push your luck, bones.”

“Heh, smartass. I can always staple together a few more newborns and send them out to do my errands if you prefer. But no ducats and no rosy words for the Mistress that way.”

“That reminds me, you owe me.”

Ricky grunted, “Fine, but you better find the rest of them. The drawer to your right.”

Stepping forward, Abe clasped the gold-trimmed handle and pulled it open.

Two golden coins sat atop a playing card in an otherwise empty drawer.

“As promised, two ducats. All yours, rich guy.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, I ain’t made of money. I’m a slave, remember?”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” he said, scooping the coins up. “And the card?”

“Bazaarbus, it’s his calling card. Been a while, hopefully it still works.”

Abe gently picked up the card and examined it, twirling it between his fingers. Marked by a cursive B, it had a chest with golden coins piling out of it.

“Good luck, and say hi to him from me.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Yeah, yeah, will do.”

“And the aspects, don’t forget the aspects,” Ricky yelled as Abe left the Kennels.

Returning to his room, Abe decided to change. He had been given several suits all in the same fashion, but they weren’t particularly easy to move in.

But there were several other items of clothing. There was a shirt, trousers, and a vest with pockets where he could place useful items like the two grenades he had looted. There was even a pair of leather boots that climbed up to just below his knee, which seemed more appropriate for the snowy surroundings.

Piling the new outfit at the edge of the bed, Abe made his way down the hall and to the shower.

Fresh and clean, Abe pulled the boots on. He stood in front of his tabletop mirror, admiring the garb that made him look like a nineteenth-century adventurer. He then headed for the armory downstairs.

Within minutes he had managed to find a sheath for his sword and a holster that could fit his new pistol—which was attached to a strap that he pulled across his shoulder.

That about does it.

He pulled the straps tight. Catching the glimmer of his old trusty stiletto, he took that too, finding a sheath for his calf and sheathing it beneath his trousers as a backup.

“Okay, I guess it’s time to find a certain magical, interdimensional trader,” he mouthed.

Crunching through the snow, Abe made his way down the hill. A stream ran between the foot of the hill and the town, and that seemed like the best place to start.

A few farmhouses were scattered about the outskirts of town, and he noticed wary figures silhouetted behind the blinds of several houses—watching.

He could smell them too, humans, but Abe ignored them and focused on the scent of clean water running.

The partially frozen river had ice and snow built up along its banks but through the center of the several-meter-wide river, water continued to ripple through.

He shoved his hands in his pocket and waited for a while.

“What now,” he muttered as he turned to stroll along the river edge.

Through the corner of his eye, Abe noticed several figures moving beyond the treelines that were scattered above the riverbanks.

What do they want?

There was no need to look at them, Abe’s senses had no trouble discerning the figures from one another. They were cautious, keeping their distance and likely following a path or road as their steps were quieter than they would be if crunching through deep snow.

There were three, all human. He sensed fear and something else.

They’re not dumb enough to attack, are they? No, that’s not what that is. Sightseers? No, they’ve lived here for long enough. There’s no way they care about one ghoul.

Abe sniffed the air again but it gave no useful clues.

That time of the month, is it? You’ve got to be determined to be marching around out here. I guess cozying up with some chocolate isn’t something Strigov girls do.

He continued walking for a moment longer, and the trio gradually moved closer. And then stopped.

He could hear the whispers. Not quite well enough to make out the conversation, but he knew the gist of it.

“You’re right, I know you’re there,” Abe said.

The whispers continued for a moment before they gingerly crept forward.

“Sir, ah, I mean-”

“Shut up and let me speak. You’re a ghoul, right?”

“I am,” he confirmed, turning toward the concealed figures.

“See?”

“I said shut up,” a woman walked free from the treeline, head held low. “May I?”

“Sure, go for it,” Abe raised a brow—the unfamiliar sense of authority stirring a strange feeling.

“Please, forgive the others,” she said, raising her trembling eyes toward Abe. “That man lies, he deceives. He has convinced them that he can gift them the unnatural if they help him.”

What the hell is she talking about… It’s not related to that Man in White, is it? What’s his deal, anyway? Miss Nia didn’t seem particularly worried, I mean, she left us to hold the fort by ourselves, but there’s definitely going on.

“Okay,” Abe hesitated. “But please, more details. I have no fucking idea what you’re trying to say.”

“See, told you I should have spoken!”

“Shut up,” the woman turned to the treeline before returning to gaze toward Abe. “He’s turning people, that Man in White. He’s turning them into monsters. Giving them false promises. We’re not stupid like the others, we know that salvation is found in the Mistress.”

“I’m so fucking confused. What false promises? What are you trying to say?” Abe shook his head.

“Immortality. To leave our mortal bonds and join the domain. Like you have.”

“You want to be a ghoul?” And tilted his head.

The girl trembled as she nodded.

“He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t care about us. I told the lot of you,” A man yelled from beyond the treeline.

“Shut up!”

“It’s fine,” Abe raised his hands. “I’m just a little confused is all. This is all very new to me.”

“You don’t know do you?” The man said, creeping out from the trees, his brushy monbrow bent. “We’re stuck here. Cursed to remain in this town.”

“Like you,” the girl said. “But without the gifts the Mistress gives.”

“Ah, well it isn’t all rainbows and butterflies,” Abe grunted.

“We have nothing,” the man spat.

“Shut up!” the girl turned to hiss.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. How exactly can I help?”

“Save our brothers and sisters from that man, please. His curse destroys their bodies. Soon there will be nothing salvageable.”

“Yeah, sure,” Abe shook his head. He didn’t really care. There was some empathy, or rather pity. But giving his word to these pathetic people didn’t seem important, not like the first. It was as if something fundamental within his psyche had changed.

“Thank you, thank you,” she bowed, hands held together.

“It’s fine, really,” Abe grimaced, her praise inducing a tinge of discomfort, like it disgusted him.

“It’s not,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “They’re just dumb and don’t know what they’re doing. Please, if you do this, I promise, we will give you whatever you want.”

“No, it’s fi-” Abe cut himself short. “Actually-”

“What is it?” She looked up, teary eyes widening and lips curling up.

“The man in white,” Abe said. “What is he, and what’s he doing here?”

“He’s a liar like I said!”

“No, I get that. But surely he came here for a reason.”

“I don’t know… we don’t. We’re just cattle…”

“Ask your Mistress,” the man said. “Like she says, motives are beyond us.”

“So, you know nothing at all?”

“Not nothing. Worms. He controls them. Uses them to infect and control people. It’s like they are part of him.”

“Worms?” Abe’s brow curled.

“Those dark things, Blackcloaks we call them,” the man said. “That’s how he makes them, with his worms.”

“Those dark, purplish things with claws?”

They both nodded.

“Okay, so that’s where they came from,” Abe nodded, finger to his chin. “And what are they doing for him?”

“Anything, everything,” she said. “He controls the entire town now. He’s not scared, not ever she left. Why, why did the Mistress leave now?”

“Family drama,” Abe groaned.

“What about the other one, the woman that works for her? What’s she doing? Why isn’t she doing something about the Man in White?”

“It’s a long story,” Abe gritted his teeth. “But it’s probably not wise to hold your breath.”

“Why did you come here” The man raised his voice. “Not for that strange fellow who rides the boat by any chance?”

Abe’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“Oh, we can help,” the girl nodded eagerly. “Get out here the rest of you,” she waved at the trees.

Two middle-aged men with downcast gazes shuffled out.

“Tell him, about the stash!”

“W-we, a-a-”

“Spit it out!” she sneered.

“Do as she says,” the man said.

“C-coins, d-dozens of them,” one of the men stuttered, gaze quickly darting toward the ground as Abe met it. “They’re yours, if y-you can help.”

“We can’t wait for the Mistress,” the woman added, turning back to Abe with a pleading expression. “Deal with the white man and we’ll give you everything.”

“Coins?” Abe’s brow perked.

“Y-yes, ducats. The kind the man on the boat likes.”

“Really,” Abe smiled. “Now that sounds better.”