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I lurched backward, my flashlight dropping to the stone floor with a clatter that echoed in the confined space.

The beam rolled wildly across the walls before settling on the half-eaten corpse.

Lawrence Emmett's chest cavity gaped open, ribs cracked outward like the petals of some grotesque flower. What remained of his burial suit hung in tatters around the ravaged flesh.

My back hit the cold stone wall.

I could not tear my gaze from the thing that slowly stood from its crouch.

Tall, taller. It was so much worse than I had realized at first glance. Each limb seemed to have an extra joint. Even its gore-covered fingers were spider-like and wrong.

I was alone with it, no light aside from my fallen flashlight casting long shadows up the wall.

The creature moved toward me, oddly graceful despite its twisted appearance.

One elongated arm reached past me to push the mausoleum door closed with a decisive thud.

The creature inhaled deeply through the cavities where a nose should have been.

"Fear adds to the flavor," it said, voice raspy.

"But your fear is... excessive."

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

It spoke.

I gasped for breath, as panic began to darken the edges of my vision. The thing could talk.

"Speak," it commanded, moving closer without seeming to take a step.

"What brings you to my feeding grounds?"

"I " My voice cracked.

I pressed my back harder against the wall, desperate for even an inch of extra space.

You? the creature asked, crowding closer. Looming.

I swallowed hard and tried again.

"I'm the new security guard," I whispered.

"Ah." The thing's head tilted at an impossible angle, its neck bending like softened wax.

"The cemetery employs smaller guardians each decade.

The previous man was twice your size."

My eyes darted to the corpse on the floor, then back to the creature.

Had the previous guard met the same fate as Lawrence Emmett?

"Hmm?" it said, following my gaze with those reflective eyes.

"Yes.

He was quite delicious." Its jaw stretched into that horrific smile. "Your predecessor, as well."

My knees weakened.

I pressed my palms harder against the wall to stay upright.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

The creature eased closer.

The smell hit me then.

Wet earth and copper pennies mixed with the faint scent of rotting meat. I turned my face away, fighting the urge to vomit.

"That depends entirely on what you intend to do," it replied.

"Run? Scream? Attack? All have been tried.

None succeeded."

It moved and I watched it from the corner of my eye.

It casually leaned on the wall beside me, close enough that I could see the texture of its mottled skin.

Vaguely leathery and stretched over a frame of sharp bones. As I stared at its still chest, I realized the thing was not breathing.

"My name is Morrow," it said.

The incongruity of the monster introducing itself nearly pushed me over the edge into hysterical laughter.

Itself? Himself? I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste blood.

Morrow's nostrils flared.

His mouth opened slightly, needle teeth gleaming in the dim light.

He leaned closer, inhaling again.

"You smell so alive," he murmured.

"It has been...

some time since I've tasted the living."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

This was it.

I was going to die in this forgotten corner of the cemetery, torn apart by something that should not exist. I was not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.

"Open your eyes."

I obeyed, finding his face inches from mine.

His eyes were pits of absolute darkness.

"Why are you here?" Morrow asked.

"I had no other choice," I blurted.

"I've been living in my car.

This position came with housing. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Necessity," Morrow mused, drawing back slightly.

"Yes, necessity drives us all to strange places."

He straightened abruptly, moving to crouch beside Lawrence Emmett's remains.

One long-fingered hand brushed almost tenderly over the ravaged chest.

"I feed because I must," he said.

"As all creatures do.

The dead do not suffer from my hunger. They have already abandoned what I take."

I watched as he traced a blackened nail along the edge of the wound, scooping up some of the congealed blood.

He brought it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to collect it.

"The newly dead are sweetest," Morrow continued conversationally as if we were discussing wine preferences.

"Before decay claims them.

Before the essence fully departs."

My stomach churned.

I inched sideways along the wall toward the door, one small step at a time.

Morrow's head snapped toward me, faster than my eye could track.

"If you run, I will follow," he said simply.

"And I am very, very fast."

I froze.

"The sun rises soon," he observed, glancing toward the door.

Morrow rose to his full height, unfolding those too-long limbs until he towered over me again.

"We have a decision to make, you and I."

"We?" My voice came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Yes.

Whether you leave this place alive."

My heart lurched.

"Please," I said.

"I won't tell anyone. I'll quit. You'll never see me again."

"And go where?" Morrow asked, his head tilting again.

"Back to your car? You said yourself you have nowhere else."

He was right.

My bank account held less than thirty dollars.

My phone was filled with unanswered messages from collection agencies. I had burned my last bridges getting to this job.

"I could offer an alternative," Morrow said.

"An arrangement that has served others before you."

"What kind of arrangement?" I asked warily.

Morrow gestured to the partially consumed corpse.

"I have dwelt in this cemetery for centuries.

I will dwell here for centuries more. I require sustenance. The newly buried provide what I need."

He approached me slowly, his bare feet silent on the stone floor.

"You guard the cemetery by night.

You maintain its appearance. You ensure the humans respect their dead." He stopped directly in front of me. "And you allow me to feed in peace."

"You want me to...

help you eat corpses?" I choked.

"Not help.

Merely allow." Morrow picked up a piece of stone that had crumbled from the mausoleum wall.

With a casual gesture, he crushed it to powder, letting the dust sift through his long fingers. "In return, I allow you to live."

The implication was unmistakable.

I glanced toward the half-eaten remains of Lawrence Emmett.

That could be me.

"This bargain has worked before?" I asked.

"With those sensible enough to accept it," Morrow replied.

"I have no interest in causing undue suffering.

The dead suffice for my needs, provided I am left in peace."

"And if I say no?"

Morrow's mouth stretched in that terrible approximation of a smile.

"Then I will feed twice tonight."

Dawn light crept under the door, and Morrow edged back into the deeper shadows of the mausoleum.

"Choose," he said.

What choice did I have? Die here, or accept his offer and live.

At least for now.

Maybe later I could find another job, save some money, and escape this nightmare.

"I accept," I said, the words sticking in my dry throat.

"Wise," Morrow replied.

"Return to your cottage, Carmen Ruiz.

Rest. I will find you again when darkness falls."

I did not ask how he knew my name.

Maybe he'd overheard Winters say it, or maybe he'd been watching me since I arrived.

Neither possibility was comforting.

"Go," he said when I hesitated.

I did not need to be told twice.

I backed toward the door, unwilling to turn my back on him.

When my hand found the cold metal handle, I yanked it open and stumbled out into the cemetery.

The pale dawn light transformed the landscape.

The night s fog was burning away, leaving lush green lawns.

Birds had begun their morning songs, the sound jarringly normal after the horror I had witnessed.

I ran without looking back.

I staggered through the cemetery, constantly glancing over my shoulder.

Every shadow seemed to move. Every rustling leaf made me flinch.

By the time I reached the cottage, morning had broken fully over Oakwood Cemetery.

The cheerful sunlight felt like a mockery of what I had experienced in the darkness.

My hands shook so badly that I dropped the keys twice before managing to unlock the door.

Once inside, I slammed it shut and engaged the deadbolt, then wedged a chair under the knob for good measure.

As if that would stop something like Morrow.

I sagged against the wall, finally allowing my legs to give way as I slid to the floor.

My clothes smelled like blood and decay.

Like him. The smell clung to my hair, my skin.

I staggered to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

Steam filled the small space as I peeled off my clothes and stepped under the scalding spray.

I scrubbed until my skin was raw, but the memory of those needle teeth and hollow eyes would not wash away. I had not even managed to unholster my taser, I realized hysterically.

Wrapped in a towel, I collapsed onto the bed.

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft glow that felt surreal.

I scanned the room. I should run. Pack my meager belongings and flee this place before nightfall.

But to where? With what money? And would distance even matter to a creature like Morrow? If he had existed for centuries, what was to stop him from following me if he chose?

My gaze drifted to the small bookshelf beside the bed.

A leather-bound book was tucked between two dozen tattered western novels.

I reached for it, eyeing the cracked spine and faded gilt lettering: "Folklore of the Macabre."

The book fell open naturally to a well-worn page as if it had been consulted many times before.

The heading read "Grave-Eaters" in ornate script.

Below it was a black and white sketch of a hunched figure crouched over an open grave.

My eyes skimmed the text: "...these demons, sometimes called ghouls, consume the flesh of the recently deceased...

intelligent and possessed of cunning beyond mere beasts...

known to strike bargains with the living when such arrangements suit their purposes..."

I gently closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

Part of me had hoped I was just losing it.

But what I had seen was real. And I had just agreed to look the other way.

Exhaustion crashed over me like a physical weight.

I curled onto my side, not bothering to dress or pull back the covers.

As my eyes drifted closed, I could still see his eyes in the darkness, still hear that grinding voice making its terrible offer.

And as I started to drift off, I realized that beneath my horror and revulsion lurked something else.

A dark curiosity about the creature called Morrow.