The choir echoed throughout the abbey, calling out their faith to… to nothing. Nothing as far as Renfro cared.

He tried to ignore the stench of incense that permeated the dark antechamber. Her body would come soon, as soon as that infernal singing stopped. The Master wanted her. He loved her.

Renfro dared to wonder what would happen if he left her to rot. Milady never had another nice word for him after that day. Never acknowledged he existed. She was beautiful, surely. He'd watched her grow from a bold, eager child to a haughty noble woman. He was nothing—;the bookish son of the Exchequer. He was restricted to only the lowest levels of the castle while she roamed free.

The acolytes brought the coffin and set it at the far end of the room before leaving for vespers. The gravediggers would come for her in the morning.

The casket was open and he looked down at her face. It was innocent looking, like it was that morning.

"Renfro," she hissed down the long corridor. "Are you there?"

He stepped from the shadows. "Here, milady."

"Oh, you startled me. How do you hide yourself so well?"

He shrugged. "It seems to be one of my gifts, milady."

She gave him 'that' look. "Stop calling me milady. We've known each other since we were seven years old."

He bowed. "Since the day you saved me from the footman's fists. He loved to box me."

She glared at him.

"Juliana."

She smiled. "It is my birthday and as your present to me, you will take me on an adventure."

"As I'm sure you have already found, I left a present for you."

"A book?" She made a face. "What use is that? In three months time, I am to be wed to some Earl my father wants lands from. I want a real present, something I can remember."

He sighed. "I am dressed in my best clothes. Today I must meet with a clerk from the Chancery. I may become his apprentice."

"Nonsense, you will be able to keep clean."

"Your ladies in waiting will be looking for you."

"My ladies are boring. I want something to remember."

Renfro surrendered. "Where must we go?"

The pond was far from the castle, deep in the woods.

"This is it?" she asked.

"Yes, milady."

"Juliana. Is it safe?"

He shrugged. "I have never been in it before."

"Go and check it."

"My—;my finest clothes. I mustn't."

She stamped her foot. "You would rather I fall prey to some snake or catch my foot in some root and be pulled to my death?"

"No, of course not, but…"

She moved behind the bushes. "Oh, take them off, then. I won't look."

He just finished folding his clothes by the bank when he realized she was next to him.

Naked.

"Juliana!" He could not take his eyes from her.

She glanced down. "Are you well? Your body changes, below."

He blushed. "Your body has also changed much since we were seven, milady."

She kissed his cheek and took his head in her hands. Looking him in the eye, she said, "You are a silly thing. Now, go and check the water."

"I—;"

"Here she is! I found her!"

She turned red and looked around, frantic.

"H-Help!" she shouted. "Save me! He's trying to ravish me!"

"Juliana!" Renfro protested.

The footman tackled him, striking again and again. "Get away from her, you filth!"

She ran for her clothes, but said nothing.

The thrashing he took from the footman was nothing to what he received when her father, the Duke, was told how they were found. The castle guard beat him until his body broke and then left him for dead.

Safe in the Master's catacombs, he undressed her body. Despite bearing two children for the Earl, she looked the same as she had that day by the water.

A sudden blow on Renfro's hunched back sent him to the floor.

The Master demanded, "What are you doing?"

Renfro got only to his knees. "You wanted her in the red dress, Master."

The next blow was to the side of his head. "That dress is for after, when she joins with me of her own free will. For our wedding night."

He dared look up. "Master! The Abbot gave her full rites. He anointed her himself."

"Not Brother Fergus?" The Master paused. "How unexpected. She will be useless to me. I cannot bring her back."

"Master, can I have her then?"

An eyebrow rose. "What for?"

Renfro looked at the floor. "She is still very pretty."

The Master stroked his tight beard. "Very well, but keep her deep in the catacombs that I might not see her ever again."

"Yes, Master."

As soon as the Master departed, Renfro returned to the body. He slowly ran his hands along her sides, lingered over the curves of her chest, caressed her cheeks and finally ran his fingers through her hair. He stared deep into her expressionless eyes.

He cackled and lifted her over his shoulder.

"I will tell you a secret, Juliana," he said in hushed tones as he carried her down the corridor. "I told the Master about you. I knew he'd want you. He always wants the pretties. I knew he'd give you the poison I made for him. I knew he'd steal you from your husband, the Earl, and confound your father, the Duke. I could not reach you, but the Master could."

He whispered directly in her ear. "But here's the biggest secret. You are not dead. The poison will wear off soon after we reach my bridal suite, and you will be mine. Mine alone."

Renfro smiled. He had waited years already, and even if she would not learn to love him in time, it didn't matter.

His seed was already inside her.

IT got done because HE ordered it, with a nod; not wanting to be trapped by words.

At first I thought HE was just a nut when he said HE wanted to rule. HE was tired of being second fiddle to his parents, useless as they were. To me HE was lonely, just another harmless wacko that told interesting if not bizarre stories. HE claimed he had money and power. I was the only one who didn't ridicule Him at the coffee shop. I just drank my drink and nodded my head.

One day I received an invitation to a foreign government affair. I've never been to a government gala or anything. I rented a tux. As I entered I was escorted to a table in front and sitting there was HE Himself dressed up as I had never witnessed. HE was son of the late rulers of his country. HE in his street garb and manner made mention; I didn't believe Him. I just humored Him. This was a funeral and coronation all in one. His parents, the Extreme Rulers died in a plane crash. Was HE sad?. Not sure. I espied a glint in His eye. HE nodded for me to follow Him announcing to great fanfare, that even in this time of ‘mourning' I was the guest of honor because I truly befriended Him.

Lacking a job I could say I enjoyed, I accepted His invitation and moved to His country. He gave me many duties and tutored me in the ways of government. I carried out all manner of His dictates some strange and others border line. A test?

HE had ultimate control over the lives of everyone. I was to realize, so did I. I found solace in becoming the second most powerful person in His country. I was wanted, even loved for the first time in my life.

One day I hit my stride and found my calling, my bliss, through Him. HE felt that a number of His military were about to conduct a coup. Responding immediately to His suggestions I ordered their torture and execution, "On his behest". He watched as I conducted the activities. He Nodded smiling as I went along.

I learned much from Mao, Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin and The Americans at GITMO. History is replete with artists in this line of work. I chose to work in a modern setting ignoring the past greats like tomas de Torquemada. HE was happy, ergo was I. I never knew I had it in me. What a wonderful discovery. I always denied it. No not I, but yes! HE gave me the freedom. With His nod and smile, I just let it rip.

I then purged all the intellectuals, writers, artist and the like since they don't ever color in the lines. In our country the loss didn't matter. A cultural wasteland? Who really cared anyway. We had enough human capital. I loved it. I loved Him for letting the real me come alive!

I staged lavish entertainment extravaganzas for Him where by the Piece de Resistance would be the public execution of the current enemies of the state while rewarding those who turned in the most people. He once mentioned something about traitors and spies. I soothed his worries. I made it happen. What joy on His face when HE beheld it.

HE allowed me my most creative ideas. I could work in the arts, music, military anywhere. HE just had to hint, any situation, Nod. It was taken care of, on earth as in my most dreamed of heaven. Real, Power a drug once injected never leaves the blood stream, propagating itself, a virus, growing in intensity and need. I did anything HE needed and wanted.

This was His country. I was His Loyal Servant. His only true friend. HE cared for me treated me with respect. I would never do a thing to hurt my best only real friend, ever. I was acting under His command and I WAS IMPORTANT, I was RECOGNIZED. Yes I was. HE was the LAW and I … It's arm

I was once questioned about guilt? Not at all. And I sleep very well. The interorrogator, he died.

Once, I though of inquiring as to why he disliked, distrusted and despised so many. I knew to question Him in any manner was to begin the spiral down in His estimation. So to keep my head, others lost theirs. Oh well so be it.

I was not a hermit by any means. I had my share of lovers. I discovered power is an aphrodisiac. My affairs were short lived, figuratively as well as reality. Most were abhorrent to Him. He liked to play ‘The Game': When introduced they were asked to leave immediately. Any word of pain, disenchantment usually meant I would have to have them "put to sleep" as HE liked to say. He got a kick out of the American euphemism for destroying animals as "being put to sleep". "Wake up NOW!" he would yell. We just had to laugh. I would echo his command. He was just so crazy.

As we aged HE was less and less open with His staff. I became the conduit for communication. HE Himself was depressed and slightly paranoid. I did my best for Him. I was loyal to my benefactor, my ruler.

As I end my days a content old man, retired to this lovely island HE purchased for me, I can reminisce. He made me artist, a creator, and a weaver of real stories. The main characters usually died, and not too nicely I will add. Oh how we loved those endings. The surprise on the faces. Each one I made a bit different with a twist here or there.

And in my bliss I do yet for Him. HE still smiles with a nod.

Lightning flashed across the darkening sky over the castle of the mysterious Lord Baron Duke of Earl Von Hitchercock, the evil, corrupt, villainous, rat bastard and generally unpleasant mad scientist of Dungmeister Retreat, the swanky get away for vain seeking, jet setting, evil thrill seekers. The rapid thunder rippled in and out of the silence, reverberating through the ancient stonewalls of his diabolical laboratory, nestled in the castle's dungeon, which was similar in design to other laboratories of that day. The realtors of Century 17 wouldn't consider selling a castle without one.

In an obscure corner of the castle, was the lone figure of a half man, half gremlin like troll, who spent much of his waking hours with his imaginary thoughts that were more real to him than reality is to the rest of us. He rarely bathed for filth was one of the few things he could call his own.

Morley merely existed. He had no ambition, no purpose and no passion for anything except for the momentary exhilaration with each new curiosity he discovered. He separated himself from reality, exploring his musings as if the rules of society did not apply to him. But he had affection for the castle. It was his soul. He couldn't see himself living without the comfort of these ancient stonewalls, a place where he intended to rot the rest of his life away in servitude to the evil Baron. His service was the price of his security and his castle home.

Like a trained animal, he bolted whenever his master summoned him.

"Morley" the evil one called, "Bring me the plans for the village orphanage."

Von Hitchercock was currently entertaining the charming Ingrid DeWeatherborn, Lady of Downspinster Township with stories of his generosity toward orphans and the financially deprived. There were no such plans, but it sounded good in the telling and he wanted to impress her right down to her tightly fitted corset.

Morley came into the room without the plans, for there never were any plans and to the surprise of the Baron, with his penis hanging out. Obviously, the Baron had interrupted him at an awkward moment and Morley did not have the presence of mind to give much attention to details of that nature.

"What were your plans looking for?" Morley mumbled. "Not enuff nuff nuff" he said incoherently.

The Baron became anxious that Miss DeWeatherborn might turn around and become incensed by the total absurdity of the predicament, so he continued to position himself between Morley and Lady Ingrid in order to prevent the disaster that was seemingly begging to happen. Then suddenly, Morley walked over to the wall with his back to the both of them appearing to be off in his own world. The Baron thought Morley was merely talking to himself as usual, however in actuality he was relieving himself against the wall.

As the Baron began to whisk Lady Ingrid toward the door before she found out about Morley's indiscretion, she slipped in a puddle of Morley's urine and fell backwards hitting her head on the hard stone floor. When she awoke some hours later, she stormed out of the castle with a bandage tied around her head and her dress reeking from the foul stench of Morley's untimely imprudence.

The Baron screamed, "Morley, get your ass in here now!" Then, with the visual image of Morley walking in backwards sporting a naked ass, he changed his summons to, "Morley, may I see you for a moment?"

Without hearing a sound, the Baron began a room-by-room search throughout the castle until he found Morley focusing intently on drops of water as they cascaded downward in the castle's cellar. Instead of scolding him, the Baron sent Morley to search for a recently deceased person to use in one of his experiments, thinking this would keep him busy and out of the way while he hand mopped the ballroom floor.

Within the hour, Morley was back at the castle with a corpse draped over his shoulder. As the Baron inspected the body, he noticed that it had no eyes, just sockets where the eyes should have been. He asked Morley, "What happened to the eyes?" Morley said to the Baron, "They're in my pocket," proud of himself that he knew the answer to the question. And with that, Morley removed the two eyes and held them up so the Baron could see they were in good condition.

"Why did you cut out his eyes and put them in your pocket?" his master asked angrily. "So they wouldn't get dirty," Morley answered with indignation.

Upon further inspection of the corpse, he noticed that the eye sockets were filled with graham cracker crumbs. The Baron pointed this out to Morley, who answered in exasperation, "Where else was I to put the crumbs that was in my pocket." And with that, he walked out of the room feeling unappreciated.

The Baron decided to use Morley as the next specimen for his experiment seeing that it was always his intent to do something about Morley's mental inconsistencies. He strapped Morley to the laboratory table and placed the brain wave alignment apparatus on his head and the second one on himself. The outcome was supposed to be that Morley's lack of mental prowess would be replaced by a copy of the Baron's brainwave patterns, giving Morley stronger focus and reinforcing his mental capabilities. He thought that maybe if Morley had an efficient brain, he could serve in a more intelligent way without the usual mishaps.

The Baron pulled the switch to his mind transference machine only to have Morley's mentality transferred to him and Morley's mind remained unchanged.

Now, with both of them having the same simple-minded, slow-witted, mentality, they decided to do the only thing that was left for them to do…they went into politics.

"…just a common bludger doing an honest day's work Gov'nor."

Edwin Bodgewick's sooty spider-like fingers curled around the money and snatched it from the Doctor's hand. Doctor Trago stared down at Edwin and the slouched bundle at his feet with visible disgust. Edwin stared back, but couldn't bring himself to meet the Doctor's glare. Instead his eyes followed the buttons of the Doctor's frock coat down and finally settled on the gold chain of his pocket watch… what a beautiful pocket watch, Edwin wondered at its weight.

The Doctor was a nervous man, of melancholic humor, perhaps genius. Prone to vacillation, the Doctor had only recently determined to vet his theories, and to accomplish that goal he needed a man of Edwin's temperament. It was obvious to Edwin that the Doctor felt it beneath a man of science to associate with a common flue-faker. But the common man capable of the occasional uncommon task was exactly what the good Doctor needed. Necessity does make strange bedfellows after all. Edwin cared little for the Doctor's ultimate ends, but his means were very… provocative. "Bring her to my operating theatre then." The Doctor's voice curdled with derision, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled. This always made Edwin self-conscious of the ever-present smell of soot that lingered about him.

The Doctor strutted to the table as he removed his coat, donned an apron, and pulled on his surgical gloves with taut precision. His hair, grey at the temples, was slicked back except for a few stray strands that dangled madly in front of his face and gave him a disheveled look in spite of his impeccable and proper demeanor. It gave the impression that something was not quite balanced in the Victorian gentleman's mind. Edwin followed, dropping their commerce on the table with a thud that rattled the Doctor's delicate instruments. The Doctor immediately opened the pouch revealing a beautiful young body, cold with death.

"She looks young for a prostitute. She's not dead more than four hours?" the Doctor finally asked shakily, after a moment's lapse of composure. Edwin nodded. The Doctor ran his hands along her pale cheek. Then turning her head to the side he examined the sooty smudges and bruising all around her neck. Edwin nervously suppressed a giggle, a kinetic spasm, that started in the pit of his paunch and threatened to race up into the back of his throat. He looked down at his soot covered hands and picked at an open gory slice in his thumb, bright crimson through the black. A smile pulled back the corners of his mouth. The Doctor was too preoccupied to notice. Edwin's tongue worked its way around his snaggletooth until, biting down, he managed to regain control of himself. The gaslight incandesced gloomily.

The Doctor opened the makeshift body bag further and began to nervously unbutton her blouse; his eyes pulsed with scientific fervor. Three times he looked at her maniacally from crown to heel, his hands groping delicately here and there. Edwin watched on lasciviously.

"Where did you find this one?" the Doctor asked as if talking to a stool. His hand fumbled for a scalpel on the metal tray at his side. The grate of metal made Edwin's eye twitch… or was it the Doctor's question?

"Dorset Street near Doss House… it's crawlin' with dollymops Gov'nor," he mumbled.

"Is that not where you did the last?" The Doctor's head was turned to the side as if he was listening. He was bent forward over the girl cutting and connecting wires and tubing from the arcane machinery at his side. A drizzle of blood ran off the edge of the table and began to puddle on the floor.

"Aye," Edwin began to feel sheepish. The Doctor couldn't know. Edwin watched as the drizzle of blood increased to a steady stream, the puddle… a pool. The Doctor had only unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, so that he could better expose her neck. Edwin could barely control his lust as he watched the Doctor's bloodied hands feeling for the glands inside her neck, then vigorously driving thick metal needles in.

"Did we not discuss finding specimens in different location?"

"Aye," Edwin felt a moment of relief. That was all this questioning was about. Never on the same street the Doctor had said; best to be discreet. For a moment Edwin thought the Doctor had suspected; the Doctor would not have approved. His mind began to replay the events of the afternoon. He could see the chimney brush in his hands, in front of the fireplace the drop cloth covered with soot. The girl… this girl… was in the next room, sitting at the piano. She had eyed him when he walked in, following her father. He had recognized the wanton look for what it was… or had he? It was all he could think of while he worked.

The Doctor stood up, wiping blood from his hands with a cloth. "I think this time it shall work." His eyes popped with anticipation. Reaching to the machine he turned a large dial and a clicking static whir began. A pump began to work slowly at first, then faster. Edwin watched. Tubes and wires protruded from her neck. The tubes jumped and jiggled as fluids flowed from her to the machine and back. The devilish vacuum machine made an odd sucking sound on and off. Edwin watched glass jars begin to fill with bile and blood. Then somehow the sound of a death rattle began to swell in the girl's throat. Edwin recognized it; he had heard it earlier the same day. He couldn't help but come closer, until he was standing right above her.

And then her eyes opened, and she stared deep into Edwin's soul, her eyes like shallow pools on a moonlit night. A tear ran down the side of her cheek… and Edwin fought to suppress the urge to strangle his love again.