Insult to injury, that’s what this is.

They made her do dishes.

Muse stood downstairs in the kitchen, her arms up to their elbows in soap as she stood at the sink. She whistled along idly with whatever old tune was on the radio she had flipped on. It had been mandated by the others that despite the fact she didn’t eat, she still had to take turns doing the household chores. Truth be told, although she certainly complained, she didn’t mind that much. It gave her something to do that didn’t involve rearranging the attic or sifting through boxes, which was all she had been up to in the last week or so.

The whole situation seemed surreal. Muse smirked. How much more surreal can this get? I’m dead. Here she was, doing the dishes for a bunch of people who ‘abducted’ her. She should probably be pissed. She should probably be stomping around tossing things over and punching holes in the walls. All it would probably serve her was a great deal of pain on behalf of the weirdo in the vest and tie. At least everyone else seemed like some source of conversation, and while they looked at her weird because she was dead - they didn’t run away.

Muse lifted another mismatched and cracked plate and put it next to all the other mismatched plates. She had yet to find more than two pairs of any kind of kitchen implement - be it knives, forks, bowls, or plates. She wasn’t exactly surprised, to be honest. Yes, they were a bunch of freaks - but they were still a bunch of men living by themselves in a house.

Isaac walked into the kitchen, wearing what seemed to be his usual pattern of a button-down shirt tucked neatly into black pants, double-breasted vest, and tie. He walked to a cupboard and pulled out a glass, then to the fridge to fetch himself something to drink. He looked at Muse where she had her hands up to her elbows in the water. Isaac raised his eyebrow at her, watching her for half a moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

Muse turned her head to look at him and looked back at the water. She held up a soapy dish. She wasn’t going to try and lob an object at his head, but she could at least still be ticked off. “This is called a plate. Sometimes they have to be washed.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes, but let the attitude slide. He poured himself a glass of water and walked to the kitchen table and sat down in silence. The minutes ticked by, the only sound the clinking of metal and glass from the sink. It was like a battle of wills, to see who could go the longest without talking. She sucked at this kind of game. Finally snapping, she turned her head quickly at him and flicked the soap off of her hands into the water.

“Okay, what?”

“What?” Isaac asked calmly in return, sipping the water.

“Why’re you staring at me?”

“I am simply trying to - what’s the phrase - ‘figure you out,’ child.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a kid.”

“You are younger than I am.”

“Really? You look like you’re in your - what - mid-thirties? Late thirties tops. I was twenty-five when I died, and that was twenty-some-odd years ago, making me fifty-something. Making me older than you.” She folded her arms across her chest, forgetting about the soap on her hands.

“That is assuming that I look my age,” he said with a twinge of a smile.

“Figures,” Muse groaned. “Fine, how old are you?”

“Older than you,” he replied and sipped his water again. “How did you die?”

“No dice.”

“Excuse me?” The harder edge to his voice began to show again.

“No dice - off limits.” She shook her head, not caring if he got angry this time.

“You belong to me, child. Nothing is ‘off limits.’” Isaac tapped his fingers on the tabletop slowly. That was probably the only sign that Muse would get that she was at least succeeding in annoying the man if nothing else. Good. Let him be annoyed.

“Stop treating me like I’m a possession. I’m not your pet.” Muse turned and looked down at the dishes. If she looked at him, she’d get the urge to slap him. She knew that would end poorly.

“Yes, actually, for all intents and purposes, you are. Whether or not you come to accept that is another point entirely. It would be easier on all of us if you just came to terms with your current situation. And when I ask you questions, I would very much appreciate them answered.” His voice kept its calm and stoic quality as he just sat there and watched her, expressionless.

Muse felt her patience ticking away. Two. One. Gone. “How do you get through your day with your head so far up your ass?!” She turned to shoot an icy glare at him. “Go ahead, zap me again! Zap me every time I talk, why don’t you? Maybe I’d be happier to answer your questions if you didn’t freaking abduct me and then act like I was some goddamn houseplant! So screw you and the horse you rode in on!”

Isaac briefly shut his eyes before turning his grey gaze back to her. “Are you done?”

“Yes! Yes, I am.” That was it. She had had it, and she needed to get away from this man. Disappearing, the soap previously on her hands drifted to the ground. Pushing herself through the wall, she moved into the darkness of the night beyond. It was just past sundown, and the sky still held a light blue glow. Settling down onto the ground, she prepared herself for a good long sulk session. She did those well. She was a pro-sulker. Sometimes they lasted months. Helps when you don’t have to eat.

The ground was surprisingly dry, the snow having melted after a warm spell, leaving only small pockets of ice in shadowy areas under trees. Typical late March in New England. One week you had snow, the next you had eighty-degree weather. Didn’t really matter to her, though - the weather was rather meaningless at this point.

Waist-deep in her sulk, she didn’t even notice when a man sat down next to her sometime later.

“Ghost sad... Mr. Blinky saw it," came a rather squeaky voice next to her.

Muse turned her attention upwards suddenly at the odd man sitting beside her. Recognizing him from the graveyard, she took a moment to look him over. He was bent over a glass jar that he clutched in his lap, protecting it with his body. His unkempt, greasy curly red hair hid his face as he rocked back and forth. She slowly took form.

“How'd you know I was here? Can you see me?"

"Noooooo, silly..." he giggled quietly. "Mr. Blinky can!"

She paused. "Right."

“Sad ghost, sad ghost," he crooned out in a sing-song voice. "Sad. Boss made you sad," he squealed.

“He didn’t make me sad, he made me pissed,” she muttered, kicking at a rock near her foot.

“No, you’re not reaaaaally angry. You’re sad. Why?” He leaned in closer to her, still pawing at the jar in his lap.

Muse propped her back against a tree and turned to look at him. “Let me guess. You’re the company psychic.”

“Nope!” The man giggled like it was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. “I’m normal. Completely normal. Human. Mortal. Normal! Nope. I’m not psychic. Mr. Blinky -" he croaked and shoved the jar up towards her face. She made a grimace as she saw its contents consisted of a human eyeball bobbing about in some sort of viscous liquid. It looked like it had been there for some time, the eye kind of hazy and white but well preserved. “- Is the psychic!”

“Oh... Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blinky." She did her best to smile at the floating eyeball. The best thing to do with crazy was to play along. Too many years in the club scene taught her that.

“Heee. We like you. You don’t laugh at us. I’m Ezekiel.” The man extended his hand to her. Muse shook it with another smile. At least most of the people around here were nice. Might be flipping insane, but at least nice.

“Nice to meet you too, Ezekiel.”

The man giggled and muttered to himself, and then sighed loudly. “Ghostie still sad.”

“My name’s Muse.”

“Ooooh, I know. Mr. Blinky told me. I just like calling you Ghostie. Because there's nobody else I can call Ghostie,” Ezekiel said with a missing-toothed grin in her direction. “Well, I could. But that wouldn’t make any sense. And we can’t have that.”

Ironic statement alarm...

“Ah. He’s a smart eyeball.” Muse leaned her head back against the tree. “Sad?" She thought about it for a moment. Was she? She knew she was still angry at the whatever-he-was named Isaac. But sad? "Probably? I guess so. Guess you learn to ignore it when you’re dead. Sadness, I mean. It's sort of a fact of life... existence. Whatever."

“Oh." Ezekiel paused for a long time, and then whispered, "does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?”

“Dying," he whispered again, getting very quiet as he said the words as if he were afraid that saying the word itself could bring it down on him. Muse ran her hand through her hair, scratching her head lightly. More of an old habit than out of need, as her hair always pretty much looked the same.

“No,” she started, thoughtfully. “Dying itself doesn’t hurt. The brief moments leading up to it suck pretty hard… depending on how you go, I guess. But dying itself… is pretty quiet. It’s like the exact moment you fall asleep… it’s hard to put your finger on. I couldn’t really tell you the exact point that it happened.”

“Ooh.” Ezekiel turned his head upwards. He let out a small puff of breath. “Sleeping. I like sleeping. I don’t dream. Do you?”

“No,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure why she was admitting all this to a crazy little man with an eyeball in a jar. He was deranged, probably harmless, but somehow she instantly liked him. Not only that, somehow she instantly trusted him.

“Yeeeaaah… Mr. Blinky says he dreams though. Dreams of things. Things he tells me.”

“That’s cool. Has he told you anything about me?”

“Uh-huh. Things. Like blood.” He petted the jar and settled it down his lap.

“Blood?” Muse asked nervously. She had been glad to change the subject, but it quickly went in an uncomfortable direction. “What do you mean?”

“Blood. Bloody ghost. You died. Bloody,” he stated simply. He raised his hand to say something more but paused in mid-motion to think about it, and then nodded. “Bloody.”

“I…”

“Mr. Blinky is always right,” Ezekiel interrupted. “So don’t bother lying. But it’s okay.” Ezekiel leaned forward towards her and whispered, “It’s our secret! Even if Boss yells at me. I won’t tell! I won’t tell anyone. Because you don’t laugh at Mr. Blinky. You don’t laugh at us. We like you.” Ezekiel suddenly reached out and hugged her tightly.

After her initial shock, Muse hugged him back. “You’re not half bad yourself.” She really had no idea what was going on. She felt like she was just along for the ride in this conversation. If you could call it a conversation.

Ezekiel shot a smile up at her, then opened his mouth to say something. He stopped as a bright look crossed his features. “Oo! Dinner’s ready!!” Ezekiel shot up to his feet and grabbed Mr. Blinky and looked down at her. He scratched his head. “Are you coming?”

“Nah… I’m going to stay out here and watch the stars for a while.” Explaining her greater problem with food to him might be more trouble than it was worth. And besides, it was ten-thirty and dinner was already over. She didn’t feel like explaining that to him.

“M’okay!” Ezekiel took off across the grass, running back towards the house in the distance.

Man, that guy can book it for a chubby dude. Muse thought to herself and sighed. She relaxed, phasing her body out to a barely-visible white mist and staring up at the sky and the stars overhead.

Being dead held definite pros and cons in Muse’s opinion. The cons were obvious: the world around her was numb. She couldn’t taste, smell, or feel anything around her, not even herself. Scratching her head was out of habit, it’s not like she felt it. She hated to admit it to anyone, mostly because she had trouble thinking about it herself. Eating dinner would do her no good, and only make a mess when her body left and the food stayed.

It was like living behind a pane of glass. Until recently when she was reintroduced to ‘pain,’ the most she would ever feel is a mild tingle if she wandered through a TV set or something else like it.

She couldn’t move amongst the living and pretend to be alive… there was always that sense - even when they were just normal humans - that something was wrong. No matter how hard she tried, they always seemed to know. Not to mention the dogs. The dogs would always bark at her, and cats would always freak out in her presence. There was no point in it anyway, to be honest. She had no connections to anyone and had no real desire to move amongst the living anyway.

But she had to admit that one of the pros in particular almost made it worth it.

Color.

Everything seemed to be far more vibrant than she remembered when she was alive. She could ‘see’ energy. Living people had fuzzy transparent clouds around them that often changed shades, electric lights and TV sets gave off strange glows that would swirl, depending on how much electricity they were sucking up.

Trees and flowers seemed hyper-exposed, the colors were so vibrant they looked, well, unnatural. But the real blockbuster in Muse’s opinion - the real reason she sometimes didn’t mind the numbness - was the sky. Sunsets and sunrises seemed to dance and flare like northern lights. Every current of air that was a different temperature would light up and glow as it arced across the sky. The colors swirled and tossed as the blues turned to oranges, oranges to reds, reds to purple, purples to a black that always seemed more full of life than it could have had before.

Stars glittered in the sky, dancing and flickering. Muse liked to imagine them talking to each other - laughing and having conversations. And no matter how bright the sky was from the nearby cities, in her world, every single star shone with its own brilliance.

Muse lost track of how much time had passed as she stared at the sky. She didn’t hear Isaac walk up to her, leaning against one of the trees near where she lay in the yard as a mist. “Muse."

Snapping out of wherever her mind had gone for the second time that night, she sighed audibly and took form with her fingers interlaced, her palms laying on her stomach. “How’d you know where I was?” she asked with no small hint of annoyance.

“Side effect from the necklace, I surmise. I am able to simply ‘know’ where you are. It’s purely unintentional.” He picked at one of his cufflinks, his head turned down to focus his grey eyes on her from over the rim of his glasses.

“Oh.” She looked back up at the sky. Muse was determined not to give him anything more than she had to.

He turned his attention up for a moment to see what she was staring at then turned his attention back down to her. “Come inside," he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him idly.

“Why? It’s not like I’m going to catch a cold.”

“We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t," she said with a half-laugh, half-snort.

Isaac took off his glasses and ran his hand over his face, then back over his long black hair where it sat in its tight ponytail. He calmly placed the glasses back on his nose, pushing them up with his ring finger. Taking a moment to debate his next course of action, he sat down next to her, and then laid down on the grass, staring up at the sky.

She turned her head, a puzzled expression on her face. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“Watching the stars," Isaac said simply, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Why?” Her puzzlement was now full-blown confusion.

“Because we need to discuss our 'working relationship.' And if we aren’t going to talk, then we are going to learn to tolerate each other in silence.” He laced his fingers together, resting his hands on his stomach, mimicking her pose. She rolled her eyes and looked back up at the sky. Minutes passed between them. She figured that was probably his attempt at being clever.

“Hey, Isaac?” Muse said quietly.

“Yes?”

“You’re gonna get grass stains.”

Isaac laughed. Muse turned to look at him and sat up on her elbow a bit. He stopped and arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“You laughed.”

“Yes... and...?"

“It was a real laugh. Not a maniacal I’m-going-to-take-over-the-world laugh like you were sporting earlier. Like, a human laugh," she said as she flopped back onto the grass and tucked her hands behind her head.

“Are you ridiculing me?” Isaac asked, his eyes narrowed.

“No, actually. Who knew you have a sense of humor.”

“Yes, who knew.” The statement almost seemed sincere. Another few minutes passed before he broke the silence. “You were murdered, weren’t you?”

Muse shut her eyes and groaned. “Please. I don’t like to talk about it. In fact, I've never talked about it, and you're hardly the one I'm going to 'open up' to. So don't try."

“That would be a yes," he said, turning his head towards her. “Why do you guard it? Muse... I will find out one way or another. It would serve you best if you simply told me. Besides, they say talking about tragedy helps the pain.”

She shot him a glare. “That your sense of humor again?”

“Most likely.”

“Why the hell do you care?"

"Mm, I don't," Isaac said after a pause. He clicked his tongue as she made an unhappy noise in the back of her throat. "Now, before you become more upset with me - let me rephrase. I do not 'care' so much as I am curious. I simply wish to understand more about how you've come to be as you are."

"Don't ever become a doctor."

"I am. Well, not technically. Literally," he trailed off thoughtfully as he began to turn over the specific requirements in his brain. "Am I? I suppose I am."

"What're you talking about?"

"Never mind," Isaac waved a hand dismissively. "It's neither here nor there. But don't change the subject. It will do you a lot of good to tell me your story, Muse."

"Like what?"

"Understanding breeds familiarity. You will be here for quite some time, and we cannot persist in this animosity forever. I will not be letting go of this topic. I do not give up easily, Muse. I am a very patient and stubborn man. Simply answering me is the path of least resistance here. Besides," Isaac said quietly, staring up at the stars. His voice suddenly took on a softer tone. "I would rather very much prefer we come to an understanding. I do not like having those I live with hating me. It tends to be... awkward at best."

"Fine..." It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was. Either she told him now, or he'd painfully drag it out of her later.

“We’ll start with the simple things. What is your full name?"

"I'll tell you if you promise never to call me by it."

"I will see what I can do."

Knowing that was the best she was going to get out of him, she paused for a long time before answering. “Sasha Larue."

"There, now. That wasn't so hard," he replied with another expression that might have been an attempt at a smile. "When did you die?”

“1989.”

"Date?"

"... 1989."

Isaac shut his eyes. "Yes, I gathered that part. The day. What was the exact date?"

Muse let out a small whine and muttered it under her breath, putting her hands over her face.

"Don't mumble, child,” he scolded. “What day?"

"October 31st. 1989," she finally groaned out.

“What?” he turned to look at her incredulously.

“Please don't laugh." The last thing she needed was someone laughing at her. Especially him.

“I wasn’t going to,” Isaac said quietly. It was his turn to prop up on his elbow and look at her intently, his grey eyes narrowed. Muse didn't know how she felt about the fact he was staring at her like that. “You were murdered... on Halloween night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?’

“You’re going to laugh...” Muse groaned, and shut her eyes, running both her hands through her hair. Isaac lay back down on the grass.

“I will promise you I will not laugh," he voice still had that almost - just almost - gentle quality to it.

Muse let out a long drawn out sigh and watched the stars. “Whatever...”

Hopping fences was not a new activity for her, but this one was particularly high and worrisome. The wrought iron fence in front of her stood easily a foot-and-a-half above her head. Making it worse, it was a new moon, so there was no light overhead save the dull sparking of the stars. Any extra light that could have helped her was cut off by the large trees surrounding them. "C'mon Sasha, quit stalling," came a male voice from the other side of the fence.

"Don't call me that. And cut it out Will, I'm working on it. I'm going as fast as I can." Muse lobbed her bag over the fence. "Catch!" she exclaimed.

"Ssh! What're you doing, trying to get us caught?" Will said in a hushed voice, catching the bag as it hurtled towards him.

"Paranoid much, Will? No one's going to catch us. It's two AM and we're in the middle of nowhere. What're you worried about?" Muse looked up at the top of the fence, took a deep breath and leaped, grabbing on to the pointed spikes on the top. She felt the slightly-rusty metal bite into her hand. The iron was surprisingly cold, even on the unseasonably balmy fall night. Grunting, she lifted her feet and put the bottom of her black army boots on the metal pole of the fence, and started to pull herself up onto the top of it. "And... by the way... thanks for helping me up... you shoulda let the lady go first."

"Yeah, well, when I see a lady, I'll let you know." Will flashed his mischievous grin up at her in the darkness.

"Oh, bite me." She grunted again as she finally managed to pull herself up onto the fence, crouching on the top of the fence like a gargoyle. She judged the distance down to the ground - a little too far to jump from here without probably hurting herself.

"Later," Will retorted. "You never know, there might be vampires around! Maybe I'm a vampire. Ooo," Will snickered.

“You’re too lame to be a vampire, Will.” Muse glared down at him in the dark, although she doubted he could see her. “Besides… Catch!” Muse yelled and jumped off of the fence - careening straight towards Will. The man caught her in his arms with a startled shriek, but the sudden shift of weight sent him crashing to the ground with her on top of him. "Well... Hello, sailor," Muse purred out and ruffled his spiky black-and-orange hair.

Will smirked up at her and wrapped his arms around her and growled playfully. Suddenly he leaned up and caught her in a kiss. His lip ring always caught her by surprise, no matter how many times she felt it. She kissed him back, biting his lip playfully, eliciting a deep growl from the back of his throat. "You really are trying to get us caught," his voice was a breathless deep grumble as he broke the kiss.

"What can I say? I think cops are hot." She climbed off of him with a grin. She walked over and picked up their bags, putting hers on her back and tossing his at him as he stood up.

"Ah-ha. Very funny. Let's go." Will straightened his studded black leather coat before shouldering his bag and heading off into the darkness. Muse followed behind, trying her best to avoid the twigs, rocks, and other trip hazards as she walked behind him.

The stones were barely visible in the dim starlight, making it hard to walk. Muse looked up at the scene before her and smiled - it was beautiful to her. The trees around them were black silhouettes against the sky. The air was just barely chill, with a thin breeze; the only other sound besides their footfalls were the chirps of crickets around them. They had mowed the lawn that afternoon, and it still smelled like cut grass.

Will led the way, Muse following behind her taller companion. Muse amended her previous thought - the only sounds were their footfalls, the chirps of crickets - and the jangling of Will's many metal accessories. The spikes on his coat were tapping against the spikes on his wrist-cuffs, and his many wallet chains were jangling as he moved. And he yelled at me to be quiet, she thought with a silent laugh.

Fifteen minutes easily passed as they wound their way deeper and deeper into the huge cemetery. The two figures worked their way down a hill, her hand in Will's as he helped her down.

"You've got to see this..." he said as lead her through the darkness. She looked up at the row of thin, tall pine trees in front of her. They seemed to form a wall, or a guard line, like sentries. They walked closer, and she realized the trees formed a circle, far too well manicured to be chance. Stepping through the line of trees, she let out a whistle.

Will stepped aside to let her take in the full beauty of what was in front of them. The family plot in front of them was like a small sanctuary. A low lying, rusted metal fence, barely a foot tall, cut out a large square inside the circle made by the trees. In the center of the family plot were three table-top tombs, waist-high with legs like Roman columns.

Muse stepped over the low-lying fence and walked towards the center of the circle. She ran her hand along the slate of one of the table-tops, feeling the stone still warm from a day in the sun. Try as she might, she couldn't make out the names and dates carved on the stone. She looked around, seeing that the tombs were arranged to form a loose triangle within the square of the fence. In the center of the triangle, a small upraised tablet lay on the ground, jutting just a few inches above the grass. Something was carved on its surface, but it was hard for her to make it out. Maybe a family crest, she guessed.

"It's beautiful,” Muse said, stepping towards the center tablet on the ground. "This is awesome... What a weird layout, though..."

"Yeah," Will replied from behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "There're actually all sorts of rumors about it." He started kissing her cheek.

Muse smiled and leaned back into his warm arms. She tilted her head towards his kiss, feeling the metal of his lip ring press against her cheek. "Oh?" Truth be told, she was only half listening. She was paying attention to other more important things.

Will continued with a smirk. “They say this family was… all up into black magic, the occult, and crap… Constantly trying to raise demons or some shit. The rumor is, is that this whole plot is in such a weird layout because… like, they used to do rituals here. It’s all laid out like some old ceremonial circle.”

“Seriously?” she blinked. She looked around with renewed interest, looking down at the upraised tablet in the center of the plot - it was another tomb marker, but there were no names or dates on the lid - just the large family crest. She couldn’t easily see what was on it - she just made out the shield, a knight’s helm over it and what she thought might be a large rose. “That’s nuts.”

“Yeah… I mean, some rumors even say that they had… like… black mass orgies here.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Had sex with their victims - before and after.” Will nuzzled in closer to her, kissing the side of her neck again. His kisses became heavier, more insistent. She felt his teeth graze her neck.

Muse laughed quietly, having trouble concentrating on what he was saying, feeling his hot lips on the side of her neck, the metal of his lip ring again causing sharp contrast to the softness of his lips. “That’s… kinda gross. And yet, kinda hot at the same time.” She pulled in a sharp breath as he bit down on the side of her neck. Letting out a small moan in the back of her throat, she didn’t even try to stop him. It wouldn’t have been the first time they had done this in a graveyard.

“Innit?” Will chuckled darkly. “You are so beautiful…” He kissed her jawline lightly, licking along her chin. Resting his forehead against her temple, he let out a small groan and pressed his body against hers. She could feel exactly how excited he was to be there. He shifted to her side, keeping one arm around her.

“Aw, shucks…” Muse chuckled quietly, shutting her eyes. “You’re making me blush.”

“You really are…” Will said quietly, smiling.

"It's indescribable, really… I mean…. the… the feeling of cold steel sliding between your ribs... It... it grinds... I don't know how to explain it..."

Lost, stunned - staring at the row of graves without ever focusing on anything she was seeing. She felt the knife slip into her back, boring its way through her flesh, sliding between her ribs. It felt so… slow. At first, she couldn’t tell what had just happened. She would have fallen, but she was cradled between his leather-clad arms. He held her firmly, but not violently, as he pulled the knife back out. Holding her up against his body, he pushed the knife into her back again, just to the left of where he struck the first time.

"Sometimes, sometimes you have to suffer for freedom, for power... Sometimes, you have to do things you don't want to do - things that you... shouldn't admit that you really, really enjoy." Will leaned in, kissing her neck, nuzzling his head into her shoulder. He groaned huskily against her as he twisted the knife slowly.

She gagged as he pulled the knife out and drove it into her body again. He grunted as he did, letting out another moan of - God help her - pleasure. She felt him shudder in ecstasy as he pulled the knife out and pressed it back into her yet again. Muse didn't move, and she didn't make a sound, her mind in shock. She couldn't do anything. What was happening was impossible, it wasn't happening - not to her, anyone but her.

A warm, sick liquid, bitter and coppery, bubbled up to the back of her throat. She wasn't sure what it was. Her knees gave out from under her, but she felt Will's arms tighten around her, holding her up. His body felt impossibly hot against her like her world was going cold. She felt the knife slide out of her back, dragging along the bone and tearing flesh. She finally managed to make a noise - wanting to scream, wanting to cry - but only managing to let a soft, whimpering mewl exit her throat, before she coughed - whatever it was in the back of her throat was making it impossible now to make noise.

The next thing she knew, Muse was staring up at the cold autumn sky, at the cold, dead stars. She watched them flicker uselessly in the black sky. She felt the cold grave beneath her. Somewhere in her mind, she registered that he had laid her on her back atop the family crest. She felt something warm seeping into her clothes. Her blood was the only thing that felt warm at all. She shivered and gasped for breath. It hurt so bad to breathe, it was just easier not to.

Muse saw a figure, the black silhouette of Will cut out against the sky. He straddled her body, leaned down and kissed her, languidly pushing his tongue into her bloody mouth. After savoring the kiss for a long moment, he slowly sat up. She lay there staring up at him, feeling almost void of emotion. She felt numb, everything felt numb. The last thing she remembered was the knife poised over her chest. The dim light of the stars glinted off the knife, stained dark with a liquid barely visibly red in the darkness.

"God, Sasha, you're so beautiful..."

Muse had sat up, pulling her knees to her chin and tucking her head down, telling the story with her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to look up at the sky at the moment, no matter how pretty it was, it wouldn't help. She kept her head down as she finished talking. Her eyes were shut tightly, tears running down her cheeks as she spoke. She wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand, not wanting him to see her cry.

Isaac rolled onto his side and reached out - running his hand down her cheek to her chin, turning her face to him. He touched her damp cheek with his finger and looked at it as it came away moist. Pushing himself up to his feet, he let out a small 'huhn' noise. "Ghosts can cry," he said. "I wonder why that is."

"Probably because it's the only thing we really have left..." She put her head down on her arms.

"Perhaps." Isaac slowly stood up from the grass and brushed some dirt off of his pants. "Perhaps now you have something else."

Muse only grunted from where she sat, vanishing. It would certainly keep him from seeing her cry.

“You should look at this as an opportunity, Muse. You no longer float uselessly about the place you died. You are here, with people who do not fear you. Make friendships. Enjoy this. It may be the closest thing to a life you will ever have again."

"You're a know-it-all, aren't you?"

"That I will accept," Isaac paused, his face thoughtful. He started to speak, stopped, thought about it and then began to talk again. "Muse, take shape. I do not like talking to air..."

Muse was silent.

"Please."

Letting out another audible sigh, she appeared, standing in front of him, staring at the laces of his shoes. Isaac looked down at put the crook of his finger under her chin and lifted her head to make eye contact. "I will not offer up some useless and piteous apologies for what you suffered. But I will offer you a deal. If you will make an attempt to at least try to work with me, I promise I will do two things."

"What are they?"

"The first - I will keep your story secret. It will be yours to tell, should you choose to. I will keep your name to myself, as well, if you like. The second will be that... I will do my best to treat you perhaps with more... dignity... then I have this past week and a half." Isaac turned and started walking away towards the house.

"You're not going to treat me like a houseplant?"

He stopped and turned his head to speak over his shoulder, a faint smile on his face. "No, perhaps a coat rack. They serve more than a decorative purpose."

“I hate you." Muse didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or throw a rock at his head. Probably both.

“Do try not to dwell on it.”

Sleep for those who have died and yet are not exactly completely dead is different from normal sleep. It really isn't so much dreaming and resting than it is simply like a switch has been turned off. Consciousness simply steps out, and time whizzes by unchecked. Sometimes a day, sometimes a month, sometimes entire years go by in a blink. Waking up is become aware of your surroundings, paying attention to things you had forgotten about. Sometimes, it's a slow process, like lazily waking up from a mid-afternoon nap.

Sometimes it's a bit more abrupt.

Muse crashed from the air and landed with a hard thud on the wooden floor of the attic. Pain tingled up through her limbs as she found herself looking quite closely at the grain in the wood.

"Ow," was all that she could think to say.

"Ah, there you are."

Muse blearily managed to lift her head to see Isaac standing by the stairs. With his hands neatly clasped behind him, he was watching her as though he was some school teacher. Not approving, not disapproving, but somewhere in the middle. She really never liked teachers. "What the hell, man?! I was sleeping."

"I thought you were." Isaac looked down at a record player sitting next to him on the table. The needle had long since run to the center, letting out only a soft repeating pattering of clicks and white noise. Flipping the switch off, he turned his attention back to the ghost currently climbing up off the floor. "I had no other means of waking you." Isaac turned his attention to there rest of the room. Muse had taken the liberty to 'decorate,' moving boxes to the walls and pulling out furniture, turning the previously dusty and cluttered space into what could have passed as a room. "You've reorganized."

"I'm a regular Susie Homemaker."

"Charming. Well, regardless - an opportunity has come that will allow me to take stock of your abilities. We have a job to do."

"A job," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Wait, what?"

"I believe that Victor explained to you exactly what it is we do for a living, did he not?"

"Yeah, aren't you some... quite-possibly-ambiguously-living-in-the-same-house hitmen?" she said with a small sarcastic smirk.

Isaac seemed to miss the joke. "I keep them here for safety's sake. If we were targeted, it is easier to injure us separately than all at once."

"Sure, man, whatever you gotta say to yourself..." Muse lifted her hands up defensively, a smirk still on her face. For someone who seemed so stoic, it was fairly easy and fun to needle the man.

Isaac shut his eyes, seemingly taking a moment. "Notwithstanding, we have been contracted to remove someone."

"Oh, goodie. And I get to do what, exactly?"

"You are coming along, you will do as I say, and you will help if the situation goes awry." Isaac pushed a strand of his long black hair behind his ear, as it had escaped the ponytail that kept the rest of it cinched neatly at the back of his neck. "I do truly hope that you will not make this difficult."

"No, I get it. Either I come along and play puppy-dog to some freak in a vest or I get zapped sidewards with that stupid necklace of yours." Muse vanished in a swirl, preferring to stay invisible and shapeless in the air. At least then he couldn't look at her like she was under some kind of magnifying glass. "So lead on, Champ."

Isaac paused. "Did you just call me 'champ'?"

"Your observation is correct. I surmise that I may have done just that," she replied, mimicking his tone of voice.

"It seems I am ever to be surrounded by audacity..." Isaac muttered as he turned and headed down the stairs. "Come, then."

The trek out of the house went in silence, her floating behind him as he wound down the stairs and through the foyer. Stepping across the lawn towards the driveway, she noticed a rather stately looking, if somewhat oversized, hearse parked there. She couldn't help but start laughing from where she floated behind him. "A hearse? Seriously?!"

"I masquerade my business as a funeral parlor. Would I not own a hearse? I do have a sense of irony, dear girl." Isaac plucked at his cuffs as he walked around the side of the hearse, climbing into the front passenger side seat. "Inside, if you would," he finished, then shut the door.

Muse floated through the side of the hearse and found she wasn't alone. Sitting on the leather bench seats that ran along either side, were Eric, Victor, and a gigantic mammoth of a man she recognized from earlier. He had his feet kicked up, occupying the entire seat on that side. "-So, like, you wouldn't believe the shit that girl could do with her- Oh, hey Boss. Did you get the genie?"

"She is not a djinn, Mal," the other man replied from the front.

"A what?"

"Never mind."

"Uh..." Eric looked around the hearse curiously. "Muse...?"

"Boo!" she yelled loudly next to him and began to laugh hysterically as the spiky-haired blond screamed and collapsed to the floor of the hearse, his eyes wide.

"Woman! Seriously! Don't friggin' do that!"

Muse appeared sitting on the bench next to Mal, as there was no other room. "Sorry, can't resist."

"Oh hey!" Mal grinned broadly as Muse suddenly found herself with a gigantic hand on top of her head, being jerked side to side as the gigantic man did what she could only hope was some sort of sign of affection. "If it isn't 'lil Blue! Never thought I'd get to actually meet you, what with you playing recluse up in the attic!"

Muse looked up at the man as he let her go. "Uh... yeah, hi. Name's Muse."

"Mal," he reached down and shook her hand. His wrapped all the way around hers. She was very happy she couldn't feel his grip, as it probably would have been crushing her fingers. "-A pleasure. Welcome to our 'lil happy club."

"Thanks." Muse wasn't quite sure what to make of the gigantic man. His arms were bigger around than her waist, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he could probably snap the hearse in two if he had the desire. And yet somehow he seemed like a teddy-bear, a gigantic heavily tattooed laughing goof.

Mal promptly picked up where he had left off in the conversation between him and Victor - some sort of regaling of a sexual exploit, she quickly discovered. He seemed to have no qualms telling the story with a lady present - although Eric had just turned nine shades of red. Doing them both a favor, she tuned out the conversation, as she really had no desire to know who could bend their legs behind where. Muse came to the sudden realization that she had no idea who was driving the hearse. Isaac was in the passenger seat. Shifting so that she could lean between the two front bucket seats, she looked to her right at Isaac, and then to her left.

Sitting there was the skinniest man she had ever seen. He looked like he had spent months in the Sahara, gaunt skin barely clinging to the bone, his clothing hanging limply from a slight frame. Muse had seen someone go through chemotherapy and had wound up looking something like that. “Hi,” she said as cheerily as she could. The man didn’t respond, simply sitting there and staring out the windshield as he drove. “Um, hello?” No luck.

“I wouldn’t bother, Muse.” Isaac was sorting through sheets of paper inside a manila folder. Pictures, what looked like blueprints, and other pages of text that she couldn’t read fast enough to gather what they were. “He is unable to respond.”

“Why?”

“He is a revenant. A reanimated cadaver, if you must be technical.”

“Paul’s a zombie,” Victor chimed in from behind her. She sat back down in the seat to look at him in disgust. “That’s about how we all react at first. He’s fine. Doesn’t do much. Just sits, drives, things like that.” The vampire smiled as helpfully as he could. “He’s harmless.”

“A zombie. Where’d you get a zombie?”

“Where’d’ja think?” Mal jerked a thumb in the direction of the front passenger seat.

“Ew… gross…” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, he had a zombie. Of course, he raised the dead. She decided then and there that she didn’t really want to know what else Isaac did with his free time.

For the rest of the ride, she sat and listened to the three men crack jokes and tell stories to each other. Looking out the windows, she realized they were driving into Albany, the city lights peeking up in the distance.

It was the view of the city that made it all snap together in her brain. They were all going out into Albany to kill someone. She was with these guys and they were all going into the city with the intent to end someone’s life. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reminded herself that she didn’t exactly have a choice. Dragged along by Isaac, she either went with it or she suffered for it. In the long run, that probably meant little.

While she was not sure how she felt about not having a choice in the matter, she was sure of one thing: she was not okay with the idea of murdering someone.

Call it too close to home.