It was dark by the time Allister arrived at the St. Louis Cemetery. As with the rest of New Orleans, there wasn't a soul to be seen, and he hoped it remained that way as he stepped through the wrought iron gate.

Because of the location of New Orleans, the bodies needed to be buried above ground in mausoleums, out of fear of the ground flooding, the bodies rising to the surface, and the dead floating away. This cemetery was no different. Even in the light of the moon, he could make out the rows of tombs like a silent city within the city.

In the dark, he knew the way to his family's tomb. Despite knowing no one was going to be following him through the graveyard, he still kept a hand on the knife at his side as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

They say when a sense is disabled the others make up for the deficiency—could the same be said for the loss of human contact? Would an individual become hyper-sensitive to the presence of another living being should one arise after so long without a companion? Allister didn't want to consider the possibility of being alone forever, and walking among the dead did nothing to assuage his fear.

The debilitating fear hadn't been with him forever. He couldn't say for certain it began once his sister became ill but had it always been there, ignored? Growing up, he never left his mother's side. He would spend hours with his father in his study, even if it was just lying on his chaise while his father read the evening news. And his sister—she was his constant companion, the only person in the world he'd ever have considered his friend.

When she grew ill, he panicked. Not because of her impending demise, but selfishly because Allister didn't know what he was going to do without her. And no sooner did he consider how he'd latch on to his father, and then his mother, did they too meet their untimely end. Allister never allowed himself time to process. When the reception at the mansion after the burial concluded, Allister was desperate to keep someone with him. Even if that someone was a homely neighbor with a taste for orphaned young men.

And thus began his life of parties and orgies and debauchery.

Until he met the woman in red.

And all of it ended.

He gripped the knife tighter.

He needed to find her because he needed answers. And he was going to start at the last place he'd seen her.

In the distance, his family's mausoleum looked as if it was glowing in the moonlight. The white marble, though years old, was practically pristine among the tended rosebushes planted for each deceased family member. Allister assumed one of the groundsmen from his mansion visited to take care of them, for he'd never set foot since that damned day—he couldn't even decipher which rose bush was for whom.

His shoes crunched on the gravel as he approached the awaiting tomb. In the silence of the night, the sound was almost deafening. There was a breeze blowing his hair across his brow, and its whistling through the trees sent a shiver down his spine having nothing to do with the evening chill. Just as there were no human souls living or dead, so too were the animals missing. No birds, no dogs, not even the annoying mosquitoes in the balmy humidity. He never thought he'd miss the pests more, but their absence almost made it more real and terrifying.

In addition to the lack of mosquitoes, or birds, or humans, something remained off about the white marble structure before him. Even approaching from the side, there was a sense of something wrong about the scene before him. It wasn't until Allister walked around the perimeter of the family mausoleum that he figured out why.

As far as he was aware, that door should have remained sealed shut until it was his time to join the family, and if not sealed, then at least locked. Granted, he knew not who possessed the key, if there even was one, and he wondered if the mausoleum had been burgled or defiled well before that evening.

But then he heard a laugh from within. It reminded him of the sound of bells and the purr of a kitten, and he knew he had heard it before. That time, however, it had occurred while he was between her legs, and in a very different mental state than he was at that moment.

The woman in red was within his family's tomb, and with her, the answers he needed to escape from this nightmarish hell.

He stepped through the door, careful not to make a sound as he entered the small marble building. Within, torches had been lit along the walls—he wasn't certain if they had been there before or were present for the occasion. Either way, the interior was lit by firelight which added to the already eerie situation. It was tall enough for a man his size to stand upright and long enough to house the four similar marble tombs resting in line within the center of the structure.

One for each member of his family.

He walked past them in order—his sister, his father, his mother—each sealed when they were laid to rest. But it was at the tomb reserved for him that he paused.

She sat on top of the marble tomb with her legs crossed beneath the same red dress she had worn the night before. The stone slab of a cover had been moved as if someone—or something—had pushed it aside and climbed out. Where she was and what she was doing didn't seem to bother her as she gave him a warm, welcoming, and perhaps even suggestive smile.

"Hello, Allister."