Itzal woke with a start, a cold sweat slicking his skin, a scream caught in his throat as he scrambled upright. The images from his nightmare were already fading, but he didn’t need to remember them. The memories of his past sins were seared into his brain permanently. He’d lived the nightmare every day of his existence since his summoning.
Someone had left a tray inside the cell. Food, and what looked like coffee. The thought of eating turned his stomach, but the coffee called to him. He picked it up and took a long sip. It was still warm. He savoured the bitter taste of the strong, dark liquid.
Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. Alpha approached the cell door with Sunshine following close behind. She offered a small wave and a tentative smile, clutching something black in her hands.
“So, are you ready to speak to Papa and get this mess sorted out?” Alpha snarled as he opened the cell door.
Itzal nodded and stepped out into the corridor beside them.
Sunshine held out the bundle.
“I brought this back for you. It’s your shirt. I washed it. It was messy from where you bled on it.”
He looked up at her face as he took the shirt. Once again, words failed him in her presence. It was a small gesture, but thoughtful. So very thoughtful. So very her.
He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, catching the faint scent of laundry soap mingled with something else. Something that smelled like sunlight and warmth. Something that smelled like her.
“Thank you,” he said, unsure what else to say.
How could he possibly express everything in his head without revealing just how completely unhinged he was?
They walked out of the cell block and through the Abbey. As they reached the main building, he couldn’t help but be awed. It was huge. Marble floors gleamed beneath their feet, and ancient wooden features shone with polish. The air was laced with lemon-scented wood polish and incense, a combination that brought a surprising sense of calm to his frayed nerves.
Soon, they stood outside a grand-looking office. Alpha knocked once, then strode inside. Itzal paused, glancing back at Sunshine, who lingered at the threshold.
“I can’t come in. This isn’t my business. But I’ll find you later, okay?” she said with a sad smile.
He nodded and stepped inside. The door shut behind him with a heavy, ominous thud.
It was more of a conference room than an office. A long wooden table stretched through the centre, flanked by ornate, leather-bound chairs. Alpha guided him to stand in the middle, facing the chairs.
Another door opened, and a procession of figures entered in silence. The soft rustle of robes was the only sound. He counted five ghouls and four men. The four Papa Emeritus figures, he assumed, each distinguished by different styles of skull paint.
He recognised Terzo, seated to the right, and Papa Emeritus IV on the left. Secondo sat near the centre, and the one on the far left had to be Primo. Each Papa was flanked by their ghouls. He spotted Omega behind Terzo, and he thought the ghoul with Papa IV was Aether, the guitarist from the Ghost project. The others were strangers. A strong looking Earth ghoul behind Primo, and a tall, blonde, haunted-looking quintessence ghoul behind Secondo.
At the centre sat the oldest of the ghouls, clad in robes adorned with Ghoulish symbols. Itzal shifted nervously. The old ghoul’s silver eyes studied him shrewdly. Itzal dropped his gaze to the floor, suddenly unsure he could face this particular firing squad. He had expected a conversation with the current Papa, not the full weight of the Clergy bearing down on him.
Papa IV spoke first, his mismatched eyes serious.
“I’m sure you mostly know who we are, so I’ll skip formal introductions. We need to know where you came from, and who summoned you. Since you walked into our Abbey willingly, I trust you’re ready to cooperate. Si?” He leaned back and steepled his fingers, tapping his bottom lip with gloved fingertips. “You may feel more comfortable speaking with one of your own kind, so I’ll let Councillor Shay handle the questioning.”
The old ghoul nodded in thanks.
“What is your name, ghoul?” he asked in English with a thick Ghoulish accent.
“Itzal.”
Shay pursed his lips.
“No, child. I mean your real name. Which line do you belong to?”
Itzal blinked, caught off guard. No one had asked for his real name in...lifetimes. For a moment, he struggled to remember it. That name felt like it belonged to someone else.
“Buer of the Charon line,” he answered quietly.
“I am Shay,” the ghoul said, “the Ghoul Council representative on Earth. I deal with summonings and ghoul matters on this side of the divide.”
He turned to Secondo, who regarded Itzal with sharp attention.
“Well then,” Shay murmured, “it seems we have some investigating to do. We’ll question your sire and see what comes to light.”
Itzal’s ears rang. He hadn’t thought this far ahead when he fled from Santos. The mention of his family rattled him. He hadn’t even dared hope to see his sire or siblings again. A tiny flame of hope flickered, but he smothered it. Surely, he didn’t deserve that honour?
Still, the question slipped out before he could stop it.
“My sire still lives?”
The moment the words left his mouth, he cursed himself. The waver in his voice made him flinch. Of course his sire lived. What had felt like a century to him was only twenty years, give or take. Maybe they still searched for him. Or maybe they had long since given up hope.
Shay’s reply, though, made him weave on his feet.
“There have been no reports of a missing ghoul from that line, my child. And I won’t sugar-coat the truth. You are here illegally. Your summoning was a bastardised version of the original ancient spell. That collar around your neck says everything. I don’t think you fully understand how this works, but you weren’t summoned at random. Someone from your dimension offered you to your master. Someone arranged for your enslavement.” He paused. "And that someone could only have been kin.”
The room tilted. His brain struggled to process the words. Itzal looked to Omega, who met his gaze with quiet sorrow. Itzal had always assumed his summoning had been some cruel twist of fate. A fluke. Wrong place, wrong time.
But this?
This burned.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms until blood welled. His heart pounded. Rage seared through him.
This whole fucking time, it had been one of his own. A member of his family had betrayed him. Sold him. Condemned him to this miserable fucking Earth. To this miserable fucking existence.
His body shook with fury as he fought not to lose his fucking mind.
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...
