Oxford, 2003

"I'm telling you, mum, everything is fine." Riley said, switching his phone to his other hand as he approached the sidewalk. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way home now, I'm just leaving the train station. Yes, I'm finally back home."

He stepped out onto the street.

"Okay, love you too. I'll talk to you when—"

There was a terrible screech as the diver of the car slammed on the brakes a fraction too late, and everything went black...

* * *

David groaned, rolling over and toppling off the too small bed, slamming face first into the floor. His eyes flittered open, and shambled to his feet. His hands drifted absently to the bandages across his chest. Cautiously, David pulled off one of the patches. The skin looked black and infected around a small, round scar where his body had healed from the bullet. He showered, and pulled on a fresh set of clothes. He briefly paused to reflect on the damage done to his room during the last full moon. He'd have to find a more secure place before the next full moon.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking at the carnage around him. "Did I..."

"Yeah, you missed a lot." Riley muttered, glancing at his watch. He grabbed a black hoodie off the coatrack, and slipped it on. "You can clean some of it up if you like. Oh, and if you're going out today, we need some more food. Since you started eating meat again we keep running out."

"Why can't you get it?"

Riley glanced at his watch. "I uh... I have a train to catch."

David poked a shard of glass with his foot. It cut his toe, the wound almost immediately knitting itself back together. "You never leave the house, what are you-"

"That's none of your business, is it, Fido?" Riley snapped. The zombie ran his hands over his face. "Also, just... Be nice to Gen, if you see her."

Riley left, closing the door behind him, leaving David alone thoroughly confused in the apartment. Defeated, tired and sore, David picked up a broom and began to sweep up the debris from the floor.

* * *

Nick stopped of the small London shop. It was one of the many shops in London that seemed to slip under the publics radar. You wouldn't be able to see it if you weren't directly looking. Maybe that was magic. Maybe it was just London. Barely anyone even knew it existed at all. All those who did, knew about it because of necessity. The bell above the door chimed as he walked inside. Old wooden racks and shelves lined the walls, filled with strange liquids, plants and animal parts.

A dark skinned man stepped out of a back room, boxes piled high in his arms. "Uncle Mac's Voodoo Supplies and Witch-Doctoring, how can we help..." The elderly Haitian dropped the boxes at the sight of Nick. "Ah..."

"Morning, Mac." Nick said coldly.

"Nicholas, h-how can I help you today? Your zombie friend need any more-"

"Riley's fine, Mac. I want to hear what you know about this." He pulled the bag of ashes from Davids wounds from his jacket pocket, and tossed it onto the wooden counter. Mac took a set of glasses from around his neck and slipped the, on, inspecting the bag.

"Well it ain't ashes... Where'd you get it?"

"A friend of mine, a werewolf-"

"Honestly, what kind of homeless shelter you running in that house?" Mac caught Nicks glare. "Go on."

"A friend of mine was shot. With some of these." He placed one of the bullets from the stolen cartridge on the counter as well. "That's what it did to his skin before I got them out."

"Good thing you did too. Otherwise this'd be all that's left of him..." Mac muttered, inspecting the bullet.

"Is it silver?"

"Silver?" The witch doctor chuckled. "No, no. Silver don't make good bullets, and wouldn't do this." He poked the bag with a thin finger. "I'd bet my shop that what you got here is laced with wolfsbane. I tell you boy, you're dealing with experienced hunters."

"Don't call me boy, Mac. I've been kicking around since before there was a twinkle in your great-grandfathers eye. Now..." He folded his arms on the counter. "I can only think of one place that would carry such a magical plant." His eyes went black.

Mac jumped back, pulling a cross necklace from under his shirt. "Hold up now, Nicholas. I don't sell that stuff here no more. Bad for business with the canine kind."

Nick backed up, and the witch doctor relaxed. "Then we're do you suggest they got it?"

Mac exhaled. "I only know one of us who deals with those sorts... But you ain't gonna like it."

"Why not?"

"Lady by the name of Joanne Seraphin... Lives out..." He sighed, looking Nick in the eye, "Lives out Oxford way."

Nicks eyes narrowed. "I know all your colleagues, Mac, but I've never heard of her. How come?"

"We don't talk to her no more. She broke our code. Our code about reanimation."

The pieces fit together in Nicks head. "You mean she..." He turned on the spot, his coat flapping behind him as he walked towards the door.

"Hey, you much you want for this werewolf dust?" Mac called over, "Could be mighty powerful stuff if used right."

"Just keep it. I've got a train to catch."

* * *

Oxford, 2003

The darkness pressed in around him. The darkness, and the cold. Riley's body moved independent of his thoughts, and his skin burned, as if it stretching, covering him once again. He began to panic. What was happening. Where was he. The train. The car. He felt his hands move upwards, only to find themselves blocked by something. Fabric cushioning. He ripped at it, scratched at it, his fingers bleeding as he tore through the cushioning, then the wood, then the dirt.

His hand broke the surface, grasping in the open air. Riley could feel the wind and rain lashing against his skin. He dragged himself upwards, pushing through the mud. He burst into the open air, heaving and retching. He threw up, vomiting clumps of dirt, maggots and formaldehyde onto dirt.

"Well well... Let's have a look at you." A woman's voice said from above him. A thin fingered hand reached down and pulled up his chin, inspecting his face in the moonlight. Riley went to move only to find he couldn't. "Stand up now then." He stood, hunched, looming over the woman's small figure. Her dark hair was plastered to her face in the rain.

Riley went to speak, to ask questions, to ask what was going on, but he couldn't. His mouth wouldn't move.

The old woman shuffled around him, inspecting him. "Yes, yes... Should be useful. Lifting boxes, hauling crates... Yes... Good..."

Riley managed to turn around to face her, struggling against himself. She chuckled, and stepped out of the way, leaving him to stare at the gravestone. His own gravestone...

* * *

Riley stood in the cemetery, staring at the surreal image his own headstone. He leant down and placed the single white rose on his grave.

"Excuse me?" A voice asked from the end of the row of graves. "Excuse me who are you?" Riley pulled his hood up over his head, before walking away. "Please, wait!" His mothers voice called again. He kept walking, faster this time, a tear in his eye. As Riley exited onto the street, a figure stepped out to meet him.

"We need to talk." Nick said, grabbing his arm and leading him down a side street.

"What are you doing here?" Riley sniffed, glancing over his shoulder at his mother, who had given up searching for him and was instead leaning over his grave, sobbing. "What do you want?"

"We need to have a talk," Nick said, "About a woman by the name of Joanne Seraphin."

* * *

Oxford, 2004

Riley stood in the entrance to the small shop, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Just thinking. Waiting. He was relatively the same as the day he had died. A reasonably athletic, young man in his early twenties, with blonde hair, and a reasonably handsome face. The only thing that was different was his eyes.

The eyes are the window to the soul... And his soul was no longer truly his. His once pale blue eyes were now a dark, chocolate brown. The eyes of Joanne Seraphin, the witch who had brought him back to life.

A customer entered, glancing at him briefly before continuing towards the counter. Behind said counter, stood Madam Joanne Seraphin. "Is your uh... Shop hand okay?" The customer asked.

The middle aged woman chuckled slightly to herself. "Perfectly fine, dear. Perfectly fine. And how can we help you today?" The customer told her the supplies they needed, and Madam Seraphin rung them up on the cash register. "Hey, Vagnr!" Riley's head shot up. "Go get these from the back room, will you?" She handed him as list has he walked past.

Riley walked, trance like into the back room, picking up a box and piling alchemical items into it. "Hi Riley!" A little girl squeaked, stepping out from behind one of the many shelves. "How's it going?"

Riley turned to face the girl. Joanne's daughter Charlotte looked up at him cheerily. Not for the first time since he'd been brought back to life, he went to speak, only for nothing to happen. He wasn't allowed to. He wasn't aloud to do anything without instruction from the one who'd brought him back.

"Can I help with anything?" She asked, nodding at the box. Riley showed her the list, and she helped him pile them into the cardboard container. He hadn't been fond of children on life. In fact, he still wasn't. But Charlotte had been always nice to him. He nodded at her when they were done, and went to leave the room. "You know, sometimes I wish you could talk." Charlotte muttered.

"Me too." Riley croaked. He almost dropped the box of supplies. He'd thought about saying it, but... Had he actually?

"D-did you just... Did I just..." The girl ran in front of him, looking him up and down. "Say something again."

"I can..." His throat felt like sandpaper, but, he had spoken. "I can speak again..."

The door to the storeroom burst open. "What's taking so long?" Joanne asked, standing in the doorway.

Riley looked at her. "You..." He growled, dropping the box, letting the glass bottles smash on the floor.

The witches eyes widened. "No... No you can't..." She looked at her daughter, grabbing her wrist. "What did you do?" She snapped. "What did you say to him?"

Charlotte struggled against her mother. "I just said I wished he could speak, and then he did."

"Of course he did..." She growled.

"Hey leave her alone." Riley said. He went to move forwards, but couldn't.

"Let me go!" Charlotte yelled. "Riley, make her let me go!"

It was like an invisible force had slammed into his back and forced him forward, crashing into Joanne and knocking her over into the main room. The customer swore, racing, outside, their phone under their ear. "Hello? Police?"

Riley began to panic. Joanne wasn't getting up. She was breathing, slowly, but she was unconscious. "What do I-"

"Run, Riley!" Charlotte yelled. "Run! You're free now, go!"

Riley felt as if an immense weight had been lifted from his entire body. He moved his hand, cautiously, flexing his fingers. They felt stiff, but he could move. He glanced back at the little girl, who was leaning over her mother.

"Run! Just go!" She said again, and, of his own free will, Riley sprinted out onto the street.

* * *

Riley struggled against Nicks vice like grip. "No. No we don't."

"Fine then, we won't talk. We'll just walk."

Riley recognised the street they were going down. He recognised it all too well. "Nick you can't do this to me..." The zombie and the vampire continued to struggled as they moved down the street. Riley pulled so hard he felt his arm dislocate. He probably could have continued to pull until his arm had been ripped off, but he'd done that once before, and or wasn't easy to clean up. "Please... Nick..."

"We have to, Riley. Because now hunters know where we live. They know about David, they know about me, they know about Genieve, and they know about you. And if we don't do something, then they're going to come after us again."

Riley couldn't find the right words to argue with. Nick stopped in front of the small, backstreet shop. A page reading "Under New Management" was taped to the glass door, and the sign beneath was flipped to read "Closed".

"Would you look at at, they're closed." Riley sighed, popping his arm back into place as Nick released him. "Guess we're just out of luck there. Maybe you can come back-"

Nick grabbed his collar, opened the unlocked door to the shop, and pulled him inside, a bell chiming over their heads. Riley froze as he looked around the store, memories he'd tried to repress rushing back to him. A door to the back room opened, and a rather attractive young woman emerged, holding a spice rack filled with bottles, each with a bizarre ingredient inside them. "Sorry, gents, but like the sign says, we're..." She looked at Riley, and promptly dropped the spice rack. "Closed."

* * *

Oxford, 2004

Riley staggered through the rain down his old street. He stopped, finally, in front of his parents house. The lights were on inside, and he knocked on the door. He stood there, a horrible feeling seeping in. What would they say? What would they think? He'd been dead for over a year now. He was a zombie now. A monster.

There was the sound of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor,  followed by footsteps as someone approached the door.

He couldn't do this.

The door swung open, and a middle aged woman looked out from inside. "Hello?" She asked, looking around. "Hello? Is anyone out there?"

Riley watched from down the street as his mother closed the door on the darkness, and walked off towards the train station. There was nothing left for him here...

* * *

"You." The young woman said, her hands over mouth. "You're not real. You can't be real. You don't exist!" She yelled.

Nick blinked, thoroughly confused by this. "Excuse me but we're looking-"

"I saw therapists for fifteen years." The woman an accusatory pointed a finger at Riley. "You're not real."

Riley opened and closed his mouth multiple times, unsure of what to say. "Charlotte?" He asked after a moment. Her eyes widened. Riley took a step towards her, and she squealed slight, jumping back.

"No, no, don't you move!" Riley froze, unable to move. Charlotte surveyed him. "You can't be here." She said again, calmly. "They all said you're not real. The Dead-Man is not real."

"It... It is me, Charlotte. It's Riley."

"It can't be. Riley Vangr has been dead for over fifteen years. I've been to his grave. They've taken me there. I met your mother for God's sake!" She walked out from behind the counter and approached him slowly. Riley if course, couldn't move. She placed a hand on his face. "You haven't aged a day."

"I uh... I can't say the same to you." Riley muttered.

"This is all very touching," Nick cut in, stepping forwards, "But we're looking for a witch by the name of Joanne Seraphin."

Charlotte looked up at him for the first time since they entered the store. "She's... She's dead. My mother passed away a little over six months ago. And she wasn't a witch."

"I'm afraid anyone who raises men from the grave to be her personal slave is most definitely a witch." The vampire explained, perusing the shelves. "And I'm assuming that since you run this place, that you are too an extent as well."

The woman turned back to Riley. "She raised... But that's not..." She looked into his eyes. "You have her eyes." She ran into the back room.

"Are you happy, Nick?" Riley sniffed, looking at his friend. "You happy now?"

Charlotte appeared in the doorway, flicking through a large, ancient looking book. She slammed it down on the table. "And those reanimated will have the eyes of their master, for their soul forever longs to their owners bloodline, as the windows display."

Nick glanced at the page. "Voodoo zombies. Haitian in origin, if I'm correct. Highly frowned upon in the witchcraft community."

"But it's not real." She breathed.

Nick laughed. It was the cynical laugh of a man who had been through this all a million times. "Girl, you have no idea what is real." His pupils expanded, and he flashed her a fanged grin. "Now, if it wasn't your mother, I'm assuming it was you who sold a large amount of wolfsbane to a group of gentlemen?"

She blinked, looking from Nick to Riley, to the book. "I-I-I... Yes, a little over a month ago. It's used in a large variety of herbal and medicinal teas."

"And in poisons which can prove deadly to werwolves upon contact."

"Werewolves?" Charlotte choked out.

Nick nodded. "Lycanthropy, yes. Now, these people you sold it all to?"

"It was a man and a woman, if I recall." She said distractedly, leaning on the counter and trying to comprised reality all over again. "They didn't leave a name or anything. Just a card. They said they'd want more." She opened the cash register, and pulled out a business card, which she handed to Nick. "Please, what is all this about? Why are you here? Why is he here?" He shot a quick glance at Riley.

"You're the only apothecary we could find that sold the main ingredient used to almost kill out friend. And he had a connection." Nick inspected the business card. "Thank you. You've have been most helpful." He turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

Charlotte moved towards Riley once again. "Why haven't you moved?"

Riley cleared his throat. "You told me I can't."

The woman blinked for a moment. "Oh, um... You can move again, if you want?"

Riley relaxed, stepping backwards. "Thank you. He moved to follow Nick, before turning back to face Charlotte. "Actually, I... I never thanked you. For freeing me, back when..."

"When I was eight?" She laughed. She hugged him. "Anytime, Dead-Man." Riley felt her flinch against his cold skin. "So That's it's? You just run out of my life again?"

Riley swallowed. "I suppose so... Unless you wanted to keep in touch? We do have a lot to catch up on."

* * *

London, 2005

Riley walked slowly down the dark London street, alone, hungry, and tired. Coincidently enough, so was someone else.

"Hey..." Someone said from the shadows. "Hey, man can you lend me a hand?"

Riley turned around slowly, stepping towards the man in the shadows. There was a low hiss, and a flash of silver hair....

And then Riley stood there, with a man biting into his neck. "Excuse me... Can you please not?"

The man jerked backwards coughing and spluttering, spitting preservative chemicals onto the pavement. "What the hell?"

"It's... A long story." Riley sighed. "Why did you bite me?"

The silver haired man blinked. "It's... A long story."

The two stood there in the dark and dingy street as rain began to fall around them. Riley looked at the man as fangs retracted into mouth, and his black eyes retracted into pupils. "You wanna grab a pint?" He asked.

The vampire reflected on the taste in his mouth for a moment. "Yeah... Okay then..."