The ghoul hissed and spat, lunging for the humans. Pure hatred burned in his mismatched brown and green eyes. He meant to tear into the man before him, but he slammed into the invisible wall of the summoning circle instead. Magic shimmered like heat over asphalt on a hot day, singing his skin and forcing him back into the centre of the circle.
“Struggle all you like,” the man said with amusement. “It won’t change a thing. But I’ll let you throw your tantrum before the binding is complete. This’ll be the last time you try anything like that, so it’s best to get it out of your system.”
The ghoul roared, clawing and hurling himself against the barrier again and again. It stung like a thousand biting insects, and the pain only stoked his rage. He tried to shift into his shadow form, but the collar flared and shocked him, preventing the transformation.
Time blurred as he raged, but inevitably, he crumpled to the floor, chest heaving. His upper body screamed in pain. The skin along his arms and shoulders sizzled from the repeated impacts.
“Enough.” The man’s voice sliced through the chamber like a blade. Quiet. Controlled. “Let’s not pretend you ever had a choice. We’ll skip the pleasantries. I’m Santos. These are my witches, Sylvie and Elise. And you? You’re a tool with teeth. A plaything with claws. A baby demon for me to break.” He turned to the cluttered workbench, fingers drifting over vials and bones. “Time to carve some purpose into you.”
The ghoul shuddered. His breath rasped, echoing in the stone chamber. He watched, eyes wide, as Santos lit a bundle of herbs and began to chant. The words were old Ghoulish, mostly lost to him, though a few rang familiar, and they made his blood run cold.
Bound. Control. Soul. Ownership.
Eternal.
The witches joined in, and the force of it hit like a punch to the gut.
Smoke coiled around him. He choked. Something squirmed in his chest, writhing and burrowing inside. His ribs crushed under invisible pressure. Dark spots danced across his vision, and then...
Blinding agony.
A bolt of lightning tore through his heart. Heat and pain and darkness.
His knees gave out, and he fell to the ground.
When he came aware again, he looked up, and he realised he knew Santos now.
Knew him like an extension of himself. His hatred. His cruelty. The sick pleasure he took in domination; it was inside him now, crawling through his system like poison. Contaminating his heart with filth.
Something foul slithered into place. A bond not made, but inflicted. Grotesque. Unnatural.
Final.
Santos shuddered with pleasure.
“There we are, my pet,” he murmured. “All done. Now, you need a name. Something fitting for a shadow that bites.” He tapped his chin. “Itzal. My ghoul.”
With a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation, the magical barrier dropped with a soft whoosh. Cool air rushed in, making Itzal shudder.
He found himself face to face with Santos, who crouched to meet his eyes. Rage burned white-hot behind the ghoul’s gaze. He tried—tried his best—to strike out, to tear, to move.
Nothing.
His limbs refused him. Sweat beaded on his brow from the effort. His mind screamed, just as he’d done in the circle, but his body remained still and quiet.
Compliant.
Controlled.
Santos leaned in and dragged his tongue along Itzal’s cheek, leaving a hot, wet trail. Itzal closed his eyes in disgust.
“Still full of that delicious hate,” Santos whispered, dragging a finger along Itzal’s cheek. “Good. I want that fire. You’ll burn with it, but only when I allow it. Until then, you are mine. And we’ll make something spectacular from your suffering.”
He rose and beckoned for Itzal to follow.
“Come. You need to clean up and get acquainted with your new home before your proper training begins.”
Itzal stood through no volition of his own. His legs moved, against his will, following the robed man deeper into the dark. His mind screamed. Fought. Raged.
But his body obeyed.
He was a prisoner in his own flesh.
A slave to Santos’ whims, now.
Bound to him, body and soul.
And death, Itzal would learn, was not an escape now, but his greatest wish.
YOU ARE READING
Nameless Ghoul
ParanormalA ghoul is summoned illegally and enslaved by a rogue sect of the Clergy. For the past twenty years, an evil Satanic sorcerer has held Itzal captive. He took control of his will, subjecting him to unimaginable horrors, and forced him to commit acts...
