Water buffalos—those lumbering hulks of unthinking flesh with herd mentalities so like the dumb sheep of the western world. That was what the overwhelming mass of humanity had become.

Eat, sleep, copulate, chew the cud, sleep some more, and slave for the machinery until the machinery butchers them as food for the swarms of hungry maggots that demanded to be fed, their cold, bloody, mentally inert carcasses.

Anh Hai swallowed a piece of roast lamb and grimaced as the image of maggot-infested sheep flesh flashed in his mind.

He put down his fork and tried to concentrate on the wine. His meal sat, barely touched, although he had eaten all the steamed and buttered Brussels sprouts and had drained half the crystal decanter of Santa Cruz Mountain Dolcetto.

He surveyed his lonely dinner, wondering why he even bothered to eat.

The table had been set for two, complete with candles, white linen napkins, polished silver, and a Lalique vase holding a single stem rose of a deep crimson shade. It was so romantic..

But she wasn't here.

A couple of petals had dropped off onto the white tablecloth, staining it like two bright drops of blood. It was already starting to bloom, being so near the warmth of the candles.

This flower had seen better days. It was time to find a new flower.

New ghoul too.

He swallowed a large gulp of Dolcetto, took a deep drag of his cigarette and stared out of the vast expanse of bulletproof glass at the small group of bodyguards marching across his pristine manicured lawn like a cadre of plastic pink flamingos trying desperately to look dignified.

Idiots.

He narrowed his gaze and blew out the blue fumes held too long within his lungs.

With a careless tap, he flicked the glowing tip of the half-way spent cigarette onto the ashtray and took one long last puff from it before grinding it into the blackened burned patch inside the crystal tray.

His latest butt slowly uncurled in its final death struggle and then was still, becoming one more mangled white body among its spent counterparts.

Sighing, he downed the last swallow of wine in his stemmed crystal and pushed a way his dinner. It was impossible to eat this gentleman fare that the chefs keep trying to test on him.

Although he spoke perfect fluent French, he truly detested French cuisine. He could barely even tolerate Italian food. It simply looked good for him to order foods with names that sounded high-class and without anything that looked suspiciously like a jungle rat or a swamp snake, although that was more in keeping with what he preferred to eat.

No. He had to keep up appearances. Anh Hai knew all too well what appearances meant.

It meant everything.

It meant life and death.

He reached over and poured the last of the Dolcetto wine from its crystal decanter and took another tentative sip. Then he sighed and stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off his slacks and slipping his hands into he pockets of his dinner jacket.

He had better check on that foul-mouth ghoul again just to make sure that all was going according to plans. The ghoul had been more than a handful for Anh Hai to tame, but there was not much of a choice of ghouls to be had here in the good ole US of A.

Most of those dearly-departed souls were going somewhere fast, and the ones who didn't go anywhere were eventually claimed by another realm. There were only a handful of those who still clung onto this world by their ragged and bloodied fingernails, those who had unfinished business here and refused to leave, by hook or by crook.

And then there are those too demented to realize that they were no longer a part of the living, breathing world of the physical reality.

Marvin was one of those far out crazies.

He left the dining room and made his way through the house and out the door until he reached the temple with the curled green roof next door.

Upon entry into the main chamber, Anh Hai took stock of the spacious rom and surveyed its contents.

The altar had been cleaned and restocked with various foods and flowers by the resident shrine maiden. A brand new wooden sign was rehung in the place of the old broken one and a new tiger stood on the dais where the old tiger had died.

This one would never die. It was made of brass, with deep red garnets for eyes.

He went to the altar and out of habit reached into his breast pocket for his silver lighter.

It was gone.

He reached out and snapped a finger.

The shrine maiden peeked out from behind a curtained back room.

"Yes, Anh Hai?"

"Nina. Did you see my silver lighter?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I did not see it anywhere on the altar or the floor."

Anh Hai inhaled. There was a thief here. He shot a probing glance at Nina but only saw a frightened girl. It was most definitely not her.

"I need a lighter."

"Yes, Anh Hai." She disappeared behind the curtain and reappeared with a small pink plastic lighter that she normally used to light the altar candles.

Anh Hai took the lighter and lit two incense sticks, placing them into the heavy brass claw-footed bowl.

"Disembodied spirits, I command you to show your presence to me." He raised both his hands up into the air, tracing the power sign before bringing his arms back down in a slow arching sweep.

Once again, the brass tiger was inhabited by spirit beings. He blinked his red garnet eyes and lowered his body, sniffing at the incense coming from the claw-footed bowl.

"Did you do what I required?"

The brass tiger held still as smoke belched from his nostrils two affirmative puffs.

"Good. Now listen carefully. I have something else for you to do. This involves a policeman, so keep your thoughts clean. I don't want them tracing you to my home, do you understand?"

Anh Hai reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a small plastic bag. "This belongs to the policeman. His name is Adam Stuart."

He took a pair of tweezers and pulled out the lock of hair in the bag. Carefully, he placed the hair on a crucible and slid it under the tiger's nose.

With a flick of his thumb, he lit the lighter. Mumbling a few power words, Anh Hai set the hair on fire.

Immediately, the smoke from the burning strands of hair was sucked into the tiger's nostrils.

As the tiger inhaled the smoke, an eerie glow began to emit from the tiger's eyes.

With a loud and harsh roar, Anh Hai flung his hands out, sending the spirits tumbling away to the place where the spirit of Adam Stuart resided.

His yell echoed through the living consciousness of the targeted soul long after Marvin and Maysie had begun to look out through the eyes of the man known only to them as 'the policeman'.