Hi All! Here's a new Castlevania fic that I've been working with in my head for a very long time. This fic is going to be rated M for mostly gore and some sexy bits later on. Leave me a review if you enjoy!

"You belong to me now."

Shattered memories - or dreams, she wasn't sure - rushed through her mind.

Pain seared through her as something tore through her chest - a stabbing, wrenching feeling. Like a knife. Or a sword. A voice that sounded both empty and forlorn joined the pain.

"This is how it must be."

Isabel woke with a start, and grumbled as she buried her head into her pillow. More nightmares. More half-memories. Her phone was chirping its little heart out with its' default alarm noise, blissfully unaware of how badly Isabel wished she could just keep sleeping.

Never mind the fact it was 2pm.

Well, she did have a gig that night that started at half past midnight. So, there was that excuse.

Screw it.

Snooze it was.

Her boots crunched against the loose gravel of the cemetery path. The moon was almost full, so she left her flashlight in her coat pocket for now. She'd need it well enough later, she imagined.

Cemeteries at night always fascinated her. Public opinion was that they were the thing of nightmares and children's ghost stories. But really, they just seemed quiet to her. Rarely anybody - or anything - up and about. Tonight was no exception. It was almost silent except for the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees and creak of branches. Not even any animals could be heard. It was quiet.

Well, except for her and her 'coworkers.'

Unafraid of the local police, as Tex would have paid them off by now, a standard windowless white van was parked in the center of the cemetery path, the back doors thrown open and the overhead light on. The van was filled with equipment of all kinds - electronics, contraptions for excavation and cave-exploration - some scuba gear, depth finders - and an assortment of weapons.

Hunched over the back of the van, using the aisle of the cluttered van as a worktable, was a familiar figure. Sparks flashed in the night from in front of him, resembling a MIG welder, if smaller.

"Hey Eric," she said as she walked up.

He turned - and smiled, pushing his heavily tinted 'welding goggles' on top of his head.

"Hey Izzy," he greeted back, then paused. "More nightmares?"

Isabel looked quizzically at her long-time friend. His scruffy, now-somewhat-greying hair belying his age, even if his demeanor didn't. A precision screwdriver was forever tucked behind his ear.

Isabel scoffed. "Jesus, do I honestly look that bad?"

"Huh? Oh! No! Not what I meant! You just. You get a look. When you -"

"When I look like shit." She finished for him playfully.

"No! Oh, never mind," Eric gave up with a sigh, sensing the impending loss.

"And yes, you're right, I did have more nightmares."

"Any idea who's they were?" he asked in response without even looking up from his work. Isabel wasn't an idiot - she understood electronics more than the average person ('by osmosis' she credited it, having been around Eric for far too many years) but she paled in comparison to him. Whatever he was working on looked like a lot of nonsense, and she knew better than to ask. She'd get a two hour response that wouldn't get her any closer to figuring it out.

"No clue," Isabel responded, leaning up against the back of the van. "Probably a corpse," she winced. "Those are the worst."

"Eghk. I can imagine," he said as he turned back to his gadget that he was repairing. "The others are already at the gate. We got through the first bit without you - since Tex and Adam don't wait. And, y'know, they had bolt cutters."

Isabel snickered and shook her head. Yeah, that sounded like them. "So… I got your text. $250k for a vault break-in? That doesn't seem that big of a deal to call a last-minute gig."

Eric looked up from his job and looked at her with a grin. "No, Izzy - $250k. Each."

Izzy blinked. "Oh. That's… A different story." A million dollars for a vault break?! "Who the hell's our client? And why in such a rush?"

"Adam's been talking to the client. They're like… four people down the chain from some high-end jewelry and antique weapons dealer… Apparently that thing in there is a holy grail for him." Eric turned back to his work, dropped his goggles over his eyes, and went back to 'flash soldering' as he called it. It was his own invention. Really it just seemed to send sparks and bits of solder everywhere, but he was proud of it.

Isabel looked away as to not ruin her night vision. "As long as it isn't actually the holy grail, fine." She sighed. "Well, that explains the lack of notice… Alright. I'll go catch up."

Turning from the van, she looked up at the mausoleum Eric had parked in front of. It was grandiose, to say the least. Built into the side of a cliff that dominated the sprawling property, it clearly had been intent on making a statement. Columns soared up to what had likely once been a stained glass window - now only the marble filigree details remained. The curling, carefully etched work would have split the stained glass window into a rose with a cross dominating the center.

The cemetery dated far back into the 18th century, but this mausoleum was clearly dreamed up by some Victorian high-class family. Nobody spent money like the Victorians. Walking up to the gate, she could see what Eric had meant. This kind of mausoleum had been designed to be visited frequently by the mourning survivors. The main room had two benches, several stands for vases to be filled with flowers. But those survivors were now long dead and forgotten as well, and no one came to remember those who only had money to show for their names. A rusty iron gate, once frequently used, had been padlocked by the groundskeepers to keep hooligans at bay. But now, the chain was tossed aside, clearly freshly clipped by a large pair of bolt cutters.

Nudging the lock with her boot, she smirked. "What's a little B&E between friends?" she echoed Tex's favorite phrase. She could almost hear Adam's frequent retort: 'We're treasure hunters, not looters.'

Isabel let out a small half-sigh, looking up at the grid of marble rectangles along each wall - each carefully inscribed with a name, a date, and a phrase to remember them by. Each vault was decorated with a smaller wrought-iron vase - the flowers placed there long since rotted away.

It was moments like these, in the quiet bits between jobs, that she always reflected on what the hell she was doing here. Tex, Adam, Eric, and Isabel. 'The Muscle,' 'The Scholar,' 'The Nerd,' and 'The Freak,' in that order. She sarcastically smirked to herself. Eric had given her the monicker, as he had given the others. He was always want to joke that they were the 'worst D&D party ever. No healer or a mage.'

Treasure hunters. Looters for hire. That's what they were. And, to be frank - they were the best. They were never without a job, and they were often booked up far in advance. Which is why this particular job struck her as odd - but now knowing the price tag, it wasn't so shocking. It's not like the dead guy was going anywhere in a rush. But rich people don't think far in advance. They don't have to.

Isabel turned her attention to a large opening in the floor - another 'in ground' crypt that the boys had pried open. The marble lid was set aside, and instead of a coffin, a set of stairs. Clever, but not unique. They had seen this before. Light was streaming up from the hole in the ground.

Making her way down the marble steps, she ducked under a row of stones as she made her way down into a large antichamber. The way forward was blocked by a large, fierce looking door with no handles, and no lock.

"Hey Izzie! Just in time," she heard the drawl from her friend where he stood, leaning up against the wall - clearly bored. "Egghead is stuck."

"Tex," she greeted back, and reached out to shake his hand. He reached forward, flinched as he double-checked to make sure she was wearing gloves, and then went in for the stiff shake. He was known for his ridiculously over-strong handshake, and it was a running gag between them that he was always afraid to shake her hand.

Despite calling him Tex - like everyone did - that wasn't his name. It was far more boring - Ken. But he was, as could probably be assumed, from Texas. In every possible sense of the phrase.

"I'm not stuck," 'Egghead' interjected. Adam. He was sitting down on a stool that he brought with him so he could sit and work on his laptop, his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. His glasses caught the light from the screen, glinting in the darkness cast by the battery-powered yet surprisingly bright portable LED work lights they used. "This isn't my area of expertise."

"Hm? Oh, you need me? Why, I do declare," she said with playful sarcasm and fanning her face, donning a southern belle accent for the opportunity. Tex snickered.

"We don't know any details about who's buried here. Just that they didn't want to be found. No name, no nothing. Just a door with some kind of… I don't even know what to make of this."

Isabel took a look at the door for the first time, and pulled the hoodie back from her face as she tilted her head up to look at it.

The door was…taller than it looked at first - easily eighteen feet tall. They had gone past the back of the mausoleum above, and were now well into the cliff. Someone had spent a lot of time and a lot of money digging this out. But that wasn't even the strangest part…

"Well I know one thing-" Isabel said with an astonished half-laugh. "They're kind of a sicko."

The door was 'decorated' - if one could call it that - with an elaborate carving of… a torture scene. Monsters and creatures of every ilk, twisting and weaving around the forms of men, women and children of every type being torn to shreds. Stabbed, eaten, raped, placed upon massive sharpened stakes - it reminded her of the art of Hieronymus Bosch. It was too much detail to catch at first, all carved in relief on the massive metal structure. The door looked like steel, with the carved panels in bronze, bolted to the surface of the thick steel door.

In the center, was a series of metal concentric circles - each split into slices, and each slice with a symbol. A puzzle door. It was an impossible number of solutions to try if you didn't know the solution. Weird, yes. Totally unique? No. They had run into some fascinating traps and puzzles in their line of work.

"And they set traps. Be careful. Tex and I almost set some off coming down here - spikes in the wall. Who knows what other kind of bullshit they have set up."

Isabel sighed. "Great…"

"On your mark," Tex said from to her right. "This is far as we go withoutcha."

"Yeah, yeah… Just getting a lay of the land. Hold your horses." Isabel walked up to the door, and reaching out, placed her gloved hand along the bronze carving. She traced the detail of one demon who was tearing the throat out of a victim, and let her focus shift - let herself listen to the worlds - seen and unseen alike - around her.

"Can you sense anything yet?"

"No… It's quiet here. No ghosts wandering around," Isabel replied quietly, half-distracted. "There's a hum, but… everywhere like this has that." Pulling her hand back, she pulled the sheer glove off, and let her hand hover above the surface again. It radiated heat underneath her hand. It would be cold to the touch to anyone else - but not her.

"Here we go," she muttered half to herself as she let her palm land against the door, and pulled in a small gasp as the feeling of a hot wave rushed over her. She shut her eyes as her mind took her somewhere else. Opening her eyes, she saw - no not somewhere else. This was somewhen else.

The vision in front of her was as real as the waking world. Two gentlemen stood before her. Both victorian - one young, one old. The younger man stood behind the elder, a lantern held aloft. The smell of the gas lamp stung her nose, and made her sniff and rub her nose reflexively. The men in front of her didn't react - didn't respond to her noise, or her presence. They never did.

This was a memory after all - a memory carried inside the iron of the door.

This was her 'gift' - her contribution to the team. This is why Eric labeled her 'the freak.' Isabel was an empath. Most empaths could only tap into the emotions of the people around them. But her? She could see the memories of whatever she touched - people, things, buildings - it didn't matter.

That's why she wore the gloves and the hoodie no matter how hot it was - she couldn't touch people. Or things. Not unless she was ready for it, and even still it could be disastrous. One accidental touch from a waiter in a restaurant and they would both be in for a nasty surprise.

Now, with nothing between her hand and the door, the memories were laid bare before her. The older man reached forward to spin the disks in the door. It was clear, by their dire expressions, that they were locking the door and never to return.

Stepping forward, she reached out her other hand and 'freeze framed' the memory. It was like being stuck in a bad VHS video. She could fast forward, rewind, pause… mostly. Sometimes things got choppy.

She studied the men. The younger one was almost overwrought with guilt, fear, pain, anger, loss… it was so strong, even in the memory, that she felt it like the emotions were her own, and felt the knot in her throat begin to form. He had lost someone he loved - a fiance perhaps - and in the worst possible way. The older man carried himself better, but shared in the younger man's grief. Although he had lost not nearly as much, it seemed. He also seemed… resigned. Stalwart. This was all his idea.

She turned her attention to the job at hand - and at the symbols on the door. Isabel pulled herself half out of the memory to speak. "Adam?" She couldn't hear him - but she knew he could hear her. "Sun disk, ankh looking thing… R with a… with a squiggly tail. One that looks like two people back-to-back and the last one is… a Q with a teddy bear or a cat or a… Oh, screw it, I'll just show you."

She pulled her hand from the door and the memory dissolved, returning her to present day. Taking another breath as the residual emotions cleared from her, she put her glove back on and pointed to one of the symbols. "That thing."

Adam had moved since she had gone inside the memory, and laughed from next to her. "I'm glad you saved that one for last. I don't think I wouldn't understood what the hell you were talking about."

He spun the last disk into place, then brushed his dusty hands off on his vest. Adam always dressed the part of the British scholar - and it made sense. He was. "Then what?" he asked her.

Isabel looked back at the door and let out a breath. "I don't know. I saw them locking it, I didn't see them unlocking it. The two people I saw in the vision weren't… weren't okay emotionally. Something horrible had happened. Like, 'I watched my loved one get eaten by a bear and I couldn't stop it,' kind of horrible."

"Huh," Adam said thoughtfully as he studied the door. He was the puzzle king of the bunch. He had seen every kind of puzzle and riddle at this point. It was impressive how similar these things were to historical research. 'Everything has its parts, and all parts fit together. You sometimes just have to see it differently,' he would coach her. He'd try and coach her often, trying to make her a 'better puzzle solver.' It never stuck. Especially when she could just cheat and touch it to get the answer.

He had only been half-listening to her, and she knew it. He was busy running his fingers along the center symbol, trying to discern where it moved or budged.

They had been through plenty of 'foreboding' tombs, temples or strange places. Everywhere they had been had donned some sort of fearsome mantle to keep looters at bay. They never listened.

"Ah-hah!" Adam exclaimed as he pushed forward on a part of the glyph in the center.

Some sort of counter-weight was released as the door rumbled and groaned, swinging open slowly in front of them. Tex, impatient and unimpressed with the dramatic reveal, stepped forward. "Come on, geeks," he said as he pushed the doors open the rest of the way.

He slung his pistol out of the holster, and walked in front of them, flashlight in one hand, the pistol in the other, carrying them in a military fashion. He was after all, an ex-military mercenary.

"Seriously Tex? Guns? In a crypt?" Isabel teased.

"Could be rats. Big rats. You never know."

Isabel leaned down to pick up the other LED lamp as Adam carried his laptop and his stool. More stairs leading even further down into the crypt. "Sheesh, they did not want this guy found."

"What makes you say that?" Adam asked curiously.

"Well, this is really far into cliff to dig," she replied. "Obviously."

"No, you said 'they didn't want this guy found.'" Adam said as they made their way down. "That's a lot of assumptions, or…"

He was right. She never saw anything in the vision to think that it was a man buried here. Or a man buried at all - it could just be family wealth. Or that those two men in the vision were locking someone away. Not just something. But the fear… the loathing - both self-loathing and deep hatred directed elsewhere. Then there was the door to consider. It just… felt right, that those men were burying something in hopes it was never uncovered.

"No, it felt that way. That whatever is in here, they hated. And they were locking it away."

"It wasn't designed to keep people out, it was designed to keep them in! Muahaha!" Tex said from the front, ending it with a bad Vincent-Price-Esque laugh.

"We've run into weirder things," Adam reminded the merc. "Much weirder things."

Isabel wasn't the only 'freak of nature' they had run into. One job they had was to find an enchanted pistol that shot silver bullets to down a werewolf. Tex still had a scar from that little adventure. But boy, the 'supernatural' jobs paid well.

They finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Tex let out a long whistle as the lights trained on to what sat in the center of the room.

A large, elaborate obsidian coffin - it was almost more like a sarcophagus, it was so large - sat in front of them. Shaped like the classic 'toe pincher' with an angular lid, and decorated with a large, gothic-style cross on the lid. The black obsidian surface - or whatever strange stone it was - flashed in the light of the lantern. Elaborately detailed gold medallions ran along the edgework and the handles on the sides. Silver, long since tarnished, hung about it in thick chains… that held the lid shut.

"Oh, fuck me," Tex said with a sigh.

Adam plopped his stool down and sat on it, returning quickly to his laptop. He was searching through his databases, trying to find any of the symbolism on the coffin and finding a match for it. (Usually the computer wouldn't get signal this far down into the ground, but, Eric had come up with a solution for that with an explanation that was far too long to remember, let alone pay attention to.)

Speaking of, Adam lifted a radio from his belt, and beeped the counterpart that was still topside. "Hey," he waited. A pause, and a beep in response.

"Yeah?" came Eric's voice.

"Call the client contact. We have a… coffin that's chained shut with silver chains down here."

"You what?!" came the response. "That's some serious freaky Elvira shit. Seriously? Silver chains?"

"Just call them, please?" Adam said with a beleaguered sigh. "Tell them the price is going up. They never mentioned the possible evil corpse buried with the jeweled sword they're after."

"Yeah yeah, I'll call them. Then I'm coming down there. I wanna see this shit."

"Glad I have the pistol now, wise-ass?" Tex smirked.

"Won't do any good if it is a vampire or a demon or what-have-you in there," Adam responded matter-of-factly as he typed away.

"Oh. … Right." Tex said and seemed to be far less confident in his position. " Should I go back to the van then, and… get.. The blessed silver ammo?"

"Can't hurt," Adam responded, still not really paying attention as he typed. "There probably isn't anything in there. Probably just another superstitious scare-tactic. But I don't want to take chances."

"And if it gets more money out of the client, hey, who cares?" Tex said as he turned to walk back up the stairs to the van, leaving Adam and Isabel below.

Left in the silence, Isabel walked around the edges of the room with her LED lamp. The walls were sparse - hewn quickly out of the stone, and left without any of the finish that the upper chambers had. Clearly he - this coffin, she corrected herself, as there was no proof the coffin contained anybody - was put down here in a rush.

Isabel turned back to the coffin in question and brushed a strand of wavy dark brown hair behind her ear with a gloved finger. He. She kept coming back to that. He. Not it, not 'her' not 'them.' He. The younger man in the vision had been mourning a woman - maybe he lost her to a monster…? Then it would make sense that she would be buried here. But no. This wasn't the tomb of a lost love. It felt…

Isabel walked towards the coffin, careful where she stepped. This section was carved out so quickly she doubt any traps had been set - not like the upper chamber which had been finished after. But it never hurt to be careful. Stepping up to the coffin, she looked at the intricate scrollwork that decorated it. This is older than the rest of the tomb, she observed silently. Older than the rest of the cemetery even.

As a 'treasure hunter' (and a deep fan of architecture and antiques,) she had a good eye for the dates and origins of things. This was old. Very old. "Adam?" she asked, and got a 'hrn' in response. "15th century? European?"

"Eastern european," he half-murmured. "Cross-referencing the area for… anything…"

"Let's see what I can find," she said as she pulled off both her gloves.

"Be careful," Adam urged, looking up at her over the rim of his glasses. "I don't like the feel of this."

"Pssh," she playfully scolded. "Leave 'the feels' to me, bub." She grinned at him, and he half-smiled back. "And yes, I'll be careful."

She placed both hands down on the lid. The rush fell over here again.

This time, when she opened her eyes, she was standing against the wall. The same two men again, stood over the open coffin, peering down at it. The older man placed his hand on the arm of the young man. "I would damn you to hell," the younger man spat at whatever it was in the coffin. "If that were not whence you came."

"Be still, my friend.. We still have work to do. Come."

The two men turned to fetch the large, decorative lid from where it lay on the ground. It was clearly heavy, as they leaned down to lift it, they began a count of three to lift in unison.

"One… two…"

Isabel raised her hand and paused the memory. Swallowing back the dread she felt crawling through her from the sensations coursing through the two men, she walked forward - slowly - to peer inside the coffin.

A gas lamp was hung on a spike on the wall, casting stark shadows against the obsidian sides. She could see the inside was a deep red velvet - or velour. Of course it is, she scolded herself. Look at the outside, of course the inside is the same. She groaned audibly as the thought dawned on her. Black coffin. Red interior. Gold details. Silver chains. Cliche has to be based in fact somewhere. This IS a goddamn vampire isn't it?!

She stepped forward again - scolding herself in her head again that it was only a memory. She was in control. But even still, she was terrified to see what lay within. Finally, she stepped up onto the lip of the pedestal on which the coffin lay. Leaning forward, she peered over the edge to catch sight of what dread creature the coffin contained.

A hand clamped around her wrist like a vice.

Isabel screamed.

The vision snapped and broke around her like so much glass - and she found herself sitting on the floor. Adam was standing over her, holding onto her upper arms, and was half-shaking her. "Izzy? Izzy?" she heard, vaguely, as she began to come to. She thrashed as she woke up like from a nightmare, and fought the urge to grab Adam. She wasn't wearing her gloves, after all.

"Yeah - yeah -" she stammered, and waved him off as she took in a wavering breath. "Shit," she pushed backwards, away from the coffin, and leaned her back against the stone wall of the crypt.

"What happened?" Adam asked eagerly, still crouching down by her, righting the lantern she had dropped as she had fallen backwards.

"I don't know. I was in the memory - I saw the coffin, lid off - Same two guys locking it up. I walked up to see what was in it, and something… grabbed me." She reached into the pockets of her coat to quickly replace her black sheer gloves.

"Grabbed… you?" Adam asked, incredulously. "In a memory? How's that-"

"It's not! It's not possible!" Isabel was trembling, and she pulled the coat that she wore over her ever-present thin hoodie around her tighter, trying to stop her shaking. She tried to steady her breathing. "It's not possible."

"Are you sure?"

Isabel nodded. She wasn't sure what he was asking - whether she was sure that something had grabbed her wrist, or if what had happened was truly impossible. But she was sure of both - at least she was a second ago.

The sound of two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs caught Adam's attention. Eric and Tex. Eric scanned the room quickly with his own lamp and saw them both close to the wall - Adam crouched, Isabel sitting with her back against the wall.

"Izzy, you okay?" Tex asked.

"Yeah, just… had an intense moment with the coffin. I'll be alright."

"That almost sounds dirty," Eric snickered.

"You wish," Isabel retorted, and shut her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. "You kids carry on. Give me a minute."

"You sure…?" Adam urged, and touched her arm again.

Opening her eyes, she met his - her amber to his green, and she smiled. She feigned that she was alright. She was good at hiding her emotions - even sometimes pushing them back on others as part of her 'gift.' "We've got a job," she reminded him.

Adam nodded, and stood up, turning back to the other two 'boys.'

They had a rule, in their little pack. Business first. Friendship a close second. But always business first. They had lost people before - their job was dangerous. Traps, pitfalls or even just loose flooring could take anyone out. Even worse, threats of the living variety in disputes of ownership. Worse than that, threats of the supernatural variety. You never knew when something was going to go wrong.

So business first.

"The client says… 1.5 mill if we bring them the whole coffin, as-is, and sealed. 2.5 if we do the dirty work of opening it, and just bring them the sword." Eric said the last bit in a long breath. "They said the corpse in there's been dead for 200 years and isn't a threat. That whatever it was is now well-and-truly-actually-dead."

"An extra mill to open a box? I'm game," Tex snorted.

She tuned out from their conversation as she looked down at her wrist. Whatever had grabbed her - if it had - felt so real. She pushed up the sleeve of her coat, and looked down at her thin hoodie as if she'd find a burn mark in it.

"Izzy?"

She snapped to attention and looked up, realizing all three were looking at her. "Huh?" she blinked. "Sorry. Lost in thought." It happened to her frequently.

"We're taking a vote. Open or not open. You're the only one left."

"Not open," she voted quickly and instinctively without a thought. "We're still getting a bonus, I don't need more for the risk. There's something screwy going on, and they didn't tell us the whole story."

All three men sighed at once. "A tie. Great," Eric grumbled. "Alright, we know how to settle this."

"Oh for fuck's sake-" Tex grumbled.

"Alright Adam," Eric stepped up. "We settle this like professionals. One representative from each side. Me on the 'open it' camp, you on the 'don't open it' camp."

Isabel groaned.

Eric did his best grin. "Rock papers scissors!"

Isabel hadn't moved from her spot on the floor as Tex dutifully snipped away at the silver chains. The bolt cutters were designed to go through steel, so they went through the tarnished soft metal like butter. Adam had brought down more work lights, and his 'rolling desk.' It was a ridiculous hospital cart the man insisted on bringing with him - but it made him happy, so everyone else put up with it. Teased him mercilessly, but put up with it.

"There," Tex said as he snipped the last one. It fell to the ground with a small thunk. He tossed the cutters aside with a bigger thunk.

Isabel stood, and pulled her gun from the holster that sat against her hip. She rarely used it - rarely had to - but it was useful. She popped the clip and put it into her pocket as Tex tossed her one filled with blessed bullets, made partially from melted down communion silver (from eBay. But hey, it was still silver.)

None of them had ever seen a vampire - or demon, or whatever it was in the coffin - before, although they had no reason to doubt they existed from their experiences. They had met both creatures and people who could summon fire or control your mind - it would be stupid to think otherwise.

But she felt everyone's fear. Even Tex was nervous - although he handled it better than anyone else there.

She stepped forward as Adam and Eric took their positions holding the lid. Tex and her were on 'cover fire' if needed.

Reality echoed the memory as the two men counted down to lift the lid. "One… two…" this time they made it. "Three!" Adam exclaimed and the two heaved.

The lid lifted - if reluctantly - and Eric groaned in dismay. "Hoooh fuck-" he grumbled as they staggered to the side with the lid. "This is fuckin' heavy!"

"Okay Princess, shut up and put it down-" Tex barked, all business now. He stepped forward, and peered down into the lid.

Isabel could count the atoms pass as time crawled. She waited for his response. Waited for anything.

Tex fired off three shots into the coffin, and the noise almost deafened her as she winced. Isabel stepped forward, ready to do the same and - he held up a hand to stop her. "No need. Just wanted to cap him a few times to make sure."

Looking down into the coffin, she saw a corpse, dressed in early victorian finery, holding a long broadsword… with three holes in its forehead.

"Jesus Christ Tex," Adam exclaimed as he and Eric recovered from the weight of the lid and Tex's gunfire. "Do you know how loud that was?!"

"Nope," Tex answered, put the safety on his gun and put it back into the holster. "And I don't care. Coffin. Chained shut. Dude in coffin holding some sick sword. Going to shoot him anyway. Don't care," he repeated and shrugged. "So let's take the sword and get the fuck out of here."

Adam, Eric and Isabel approached the coffin - Isabel half a step after the others - fear still tight in her throat, in case something grabbed her again.

This time, she successfully looked down into the coffin and the body that lay there. It was dried - old - skin tight against the ligaments and bone like parchment paper. It looked like one touch would crumble it to nothing. Usually corpses are destroyed by insects, but this one looked untouched. The eyes were sunken - long since decayed away, although the closed lids held the shape of what was there before. Lips pulled away from the teeth, all of which remained. The canines were… pointed but… not fangs.

"Laaame," Eric threw his hands up and sighed. "No vampire. Just some fancy freak with a big ass sword."

"I'm happier that way," Adam said as he reached down into the coffin. The sword was - as Tex had described it - 'sick' and as Eric had implied, very large.

Isabel had never seen anything it. The corpse held the hilt in both decrepit hands, like so many images of knights in repose - holding the hilt as the blade extended down the length of his body. The hilt and pommel were sculpted into the shape of a dragon, the wings forming the cross-guard that curled around itself in a shape almost to resemble a flame. The center of the hilt where it met the cross-guard was embedded a large, deep crimson ruby. The blade itself was serrated near the hilt, and looked… vicious. This was a weapon of a man who used it - not just for decoration.

Isabel swallowed the knot in her throat again, her eyes moving between the blade and the corpse of the man who wielded it. She had long since pulled her gloves back on - but she felt the power radiating off of the blade even still. It had many memories, and she wasn't looking forward to seeing any one of them.

Adam grasped the blade gently - having put on latex gloves to keep from tarnishing or touching the blade itself. Collectors were fussy about that kind of thing. He lifted, and pulled, and Isabel and Adam both cringed as one of the fingers snapped away as he did. But the blade was free.

"Sorry, friend," Adam muttered as he focused on the weight of the blade. Turning around, he placed it carefully into a crate against the wall.

"Alright - so - I suppose we re-seal the coffin, then?" Adam asked as he straightened up.

"Guys…?" Eric asked slowly, tentatively.

"Yeah?" Adam replied. Isabel had been watching Adam the entire time as he carefully moved the sword.

"Where's… where's the body…?" Eric pointed at the coffin, that Isabel was still standing next to.

She looked down, the deep desire to not know catching up with her too slowly - she had already moved.

The coffin was empty.

The body was gone.

Adam - who usually never swore, and was the 'refined' one of the bunch, saw fit to break his pattern for the occasion.

"Oh, fuck."

Isabel staggered back from the empty coffin in shock.

"Shit, shit!" Tex exclaimed. "Take the sword - fuck the crate - and get upstairs now," Tex snarled, holding his gun aloft.

"Calm down-" Adam insisted, holding out his hands as if that would help. "It might not be aggressive. It might be grateful we set it free-"

"Fuck that," Tex barked at him, and reissued his command. "Upstairs. Now!"

"You aren't the head of this team, Kenneth-" Adam started.

"Hey um…" Isabel started. "I'd love to go upstairs, but…" Barely able to speak through the fear that was now roiling her stomach. But it wasn't the fear that kept her from moving. It was something else entirely. "I… can't."

"Why?" Tex wasn't even looking at Isabel, his eyes - and his gun - trained on the empty coffin.

Her breath was coming in short bursts, as she strained her head away from what was now so close to her cheek. "I found the corpse…"

Three guns, three lights, trained on her.

Isabel had her head tilted away from what was now so close to her own - although the corpse had once been a man of considerable height that now had to stoop to use her as the shield she suspected she now was.

It had moved silently - and even still, it made no noise. Not even a dry scrape of flesh on old clothing. It was somehow more terrifying that way.

One thin, barely-there arm was wrapped around her waist, pinning her left arm to her side. It felt like being pinned under steel rebar. The arm might be thin, but it was immovable. She had struggled once, but the thing had only squeezed her tighter, causing pain enough to make her vision white out before it relaxed its grip just barely. The message was clear. 'Stay still, or I crush your ribs.'

So she did as she was 'told.'

The thing had its other hand against her right shoulder, pulling her against him and off balance, arching her back. Its sharpened nails were digging into her skin, and she knew she would have marks, if not cuts, from them. If she lived that long.

The corpse had opened its eyes - although no eyes remained in its empty sockets. Flaking skin from a scalp that had shed most of its hair, although strings of jet black hair still dangled from the surface, grazing against her face.

It didn't move. It was a statue. A corpse like steel, keeping her pinned.

A red dot appeared on its forehead, just to the right of the hole left by three blessed bullets a moment before. "Izzy, do you trust me?" Tex asked her.

"Yeah I'm - I'm screwed either way-" she half-squeaked through the fear.

"Izzy you'll be fine. Just don't panic," Adam tried to calmly urged. "Let her go. Whatever you want, let her go."

"I got this," Tex angrily interjected. "Don't you fucking play diplomat right now!"

"You shot it already!" Adam snapped back. "Three times! It didn't do anything!"

"It wasn't moving then. Maybe it just needs three more."

The grip against her shoulder tightened and pulled her back further. She would have fallen if it hadn't pinned her against him. She was now twisted in its grip. "Guys? Please shut up," Isabel half-begged. "And figure something out… Or shoot me."

The corpse opened its jaw - the skin sliding away from the bone as it moved, as the two were no longer attached. Flakes of dead skin fell from its face and onto her. Isabel let out a terrified whimper as its canine teeth began to extend. It made no noise except the sound of bone-on-bone as they slid out.

"Oh god, don't… don't let it do this, please-" Isabel begged. "Just shoot me - please just shoot me Tex please-"

A gunshot rang out, and Isabel waited for the pain or hopefully the darkness. All she felt was the pain of stone hitting her head hard. She fell to the ground in a heap as the corpse holding her released her. She let out a groan from the floor.

She felt hands - living hands - on her arms as someone tried to help her up. Looking blearily up at Eric confused, she could only stammer uselessly.

"S'okay - it disappeared with Tex shot it-" Eric turned, and his face went nearly white.

It's amazing how quickly chaos happens.

You never see it coming. You can never predict exactly how, or why chaos hits. But when you do - you can only ever piece it together after the fact. Only after the fact can you parse it out and figure out exactly what happened when and in what order and try to lay out a timeline to better understand it.

First, the corpse disappeared.

Adam and Tex argued about what to do - Adam wanted to play nice, Tex wanted to shoot.

The corpse tried to bite her. She remembered the teeth - white against the parchment skin of the dried flesh.

A gunshot rang out - then she fell and smacked her head on the stone. Eric grabbed her by the arms and started to pick her up front the ground. He looked up and, then - the next step in the timeline.

Isabel looked up, turned - and saw Tex. He still had the flashlight in one hand, the gun in the other. But now, instead of trained forward in military fashion, they were limp at his sides. The gun and the flashlight clattered to the ground, forgotten and useless to their previous owner.

That wasn't the only thing that fell to the ground, forgotten and useless to its previous owner.

Tex's head followed shortly after. It thumped as it hit the ground at his feet, and rolled away. It was almost cartoonish, the way it happened - almost like it was from a bad movie. Eric sprung to his feet, knocking Isabel back to the ground in the process. She hit the ground again and lost track of precious moments. She might have blacked out, it was impossible to know.

Screaming. Yelling. More gunshots. Silence.

Isabel pushed up from the ground, and struggled up to standing. She had hit her head hard against the ground when she fell, and as she pressed her hand against the stone to right herself, the ground threatened to follow her.

Silence except for the ringing in her head as she used the wall for balance. Silence except for… what was that noise? It sounded like… Her mind struggled to find something to compare it to. Like a dog eating dinner.

Blearily, confused, her head still reeling, she turned to try and find the source of the noise.

Blood had begun to pool on the ground around the body of her former friend. Tex. Oh god, Tex… At first it looked like the body was… twitching. But it wasn't. Not really. Another form was perched next to the body of her friend, her co worker, her drinking buddy. It was the corpse. It had dragged Tex half into its lap, the bony pointed nails of its hand digging into the softer flesh of Tex's torso. It was… eating… the body. Slurping and lapping at the blood that poured from the torn and ravaged stump that was Tex's neck.

It was like a video of a hyena tearing apart a corpse. A starving, desperate hyena.

Isabel felt her stomach flip and threaten to empty its contents on the floor. The daze from what she was sure was a concussion kept the world in a fuzzy, dreamlike state. That was all that saved her from losing it.

The corpse - corpses, rather - were blocking her path to the stairs up to safety. She would have to cross over them to get there. The gun - right - she had a gun. It fell when the thing grabbed her. Looking down at it on the floor near her foot, it felt like a million miles away.

She crouched down, one hand still pressed against the wall for balance, and grasped the gun. The world threatened to tip out from under her again - but slowly, she managed to stand back up.

Pointing the gun at the monster still hungrily slurping away on the body of her friend, she swallowed down the bile in her throat. She could see now, in her slowly clearing vision, the white stump of a spine in the wound that looked like it had been torn open. It wasn't a clean cut - and the monster was now making it worse, peeling away the flesh from Tex's chest to dig deeper, in an attempt to get more of the blood from the body.

Step by agonizing step, she made her way closer to the stairs. One foot after the other. The gun still pointed, if unsteadily, at the creature. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she was close enough to them that she had to step around the puddle of blood.

Having given up on ravaging the body, the monster was now crouched over the pool of crimson and was lapping at it like an animal.

The creature's tongue was half missing - only a stump, now covered in bright red blood. It was then that she heard it - the creature was almost… purring. There was a low, contented… growl coming from the monster as it slathered over the granite floor before the pool of blood was too far gone to drink.

That was almost too much. Letting out a half-choked sob, Isabel forced herself to focus. Forced herself to try and deal with this later. She stepped one foot over Tex's legs - and grabbed onto the jamb of the stairway. Finally she managed to step over it, and she felt the first twinge of hope as she now had an open path to outside.

Her hope didn't last long.

As she turned to face back to the creature, intending to go up the stairs backwards with the gun trained on the beast. She never got the chance. She fell backwards - barely catching herself on the stairs before her head smashed into the stone again.

The creature had knocked her backwards onto the stairs, and she was now half-laying on them, one arm bent and pressed against the stone. It was looming over her, one clawed hand near her head, and supporting its weight as it leaned down over her. Empty eye sockets still felt like they were staring into her soul as the corpse slowly lowered itself closer to her.

It was covered in blood from its mouth down its chest, the aged victorian clothing now stained dark red. Isabel groaned low in dread as she watched the blood… seep into its skin. Like the skin itself were dying of thirst. As she watched, the monster's body began to… heal. Slowly, tendons seemed to start to grow and reattach itself to the bone. She was watching it begin to regenerate itself before her eyes.

Somewhere in her, Isabel felt the strength to lift the gun and press the muzzle against the neck of the monster. "Let me go," she muttered to it - hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt.

It hissed in breath, rasping through dead and frozen lungs. She hadn't seen it breathe before - but now it filled shattered lungs and let it out in a dry and nearly silent… laugh. Its free hand closed around the barrel of the gun, and Isabel almost sobbed when it lowered the point of the muzzle from its throat until it was pressed against its chest, over where its heart would be.

Daring her.

It was daring her to shoot it. 'See what good it did? See where it got your friend?' was the clear message.

"I'm not just going to… to let you…" she stammered. Its hand moved from the gun to move towards her face. "No!" she cried, and it hesitated. "Don't," she begged. "It won't go well for either of us, please…"

She wasn't convincing enough, it seemed. It reached out to wrap one hand around behind her head - no doubt to wrench her head to the side and tear open her throat.

Its dead, flaking skin touched hers.

Her world went dark.