Chapter One
Zak
"I appreciate the help," I say, setting down the final cardboard box of stuff in my new room.
Josh, a tall and lean werecat I only met an hour ago, grunts as he also sets a box down on the hardwood floor. "It's all good." He's one of the other guys living here. "I'm glad you're moving in; it's gonna make a difference to the rent each week, that's for sure. I'll see you later tonight; it's $4 day at Pizza Parlour, so that's dinner sorted."
"Sounds great," I say, doing my best to keep my tone light as he leaves.
I start unpacking, shoving clothes into drawers and setting up my laptop on the desk that's far too small for me. The bed is also too small, so I'm going to have to work out something better in the long term. For now, I'll have to sleep diagonally across the mattress and curl up on my side, I guess.
I'm trying not to feel like an absolute failure moving into this place, but I'm not having much success. The house is nice enough; an old bungalow in Grey Lynn with high ceilings — a must for a guy my size — and a tidy back garden, but it's the fact that I'm sharing the place with four university students. It's a flat. I'm thirty-one, and I'm moving into a student flat because I couldn't afford my own apartment anymore.
It's not uncommon these days. There's nothing wrong with it — that's what I keep trying to tell myself — but I can't shake this feeling that I've taken a huge step backwards when everyone else I know is moving forwards.
Mum and Dad had tried to tell me that this would happen all those years ago when I decided to study dance and drama. " Acting isn't a real job," Mum had said, but it was my dream, and it was going pretty well until the Unravelling occurred and the show I was about to start filming in the States was cancelled before it could even get off the ground. That opportunity was going to be my big break.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened, had the Unravelling been delayed for a few months. What would the studio have done, when their lead suddenly changed from the handsome human to the giant orc overnight?
Probably what all the other studios did. Pause production. Put out statements about supporting non-humans while quietly recasting roles. The stories were about humans , after all. That's always the excuse. There's never any roles written for orcs specifically. The supporting role, the background character… that's been my thing for the last five years, and I've been making just enough money to get by.
I'd be absolutely fucked if I didn't have my regular weekend role as a ‘zombie monster' at Haunted, the haunted house attraction out West. Like many actors starting out, I'd worked there years ago, doing every Friday and Saturday night for a year while I was finishing up my study. I hadn't wanted to go back, but just like moving into this place, there came a point last year when I needed to. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.
I'm folding down an empty box when movement outside the window catches my eye. I walk over to the glass pane, a cold chill settling on my neck as I stare at the house next door, searching in the fading light for whatever I thought I saw. I could have sworn there was something person-like moving there in the backyard, but that makes no sense.
The place is a run-down and abandoned version of this house, with a rusted roof, broken windows, and graffiti everywhere. The garden is overrun, too — with my height it's easy enough to see over the fence, and it looks like a jungle, all tall weeds and grass that would go up to my knees.
Some developer probably owns it.
The economy is only just starting to recover now, four years post-Unravelling. I know a whole lot of building projects went under or were put on hold when the glamour fell away. I wouldn't be surprised if someone is just holding onto that house until it becomes more economically viable to bowl it and build three more in its place.
I jump as a black cat suddenly appears on the fence directly in front of my window, my heart racing. Fuck. That's all it was — an animal.
"You're going crazy," I mutter to myself. "Too much time spent at a fake haunted house, and suddenly everything's creepy."
"So what's up with the house next door?" I ask, watching a few of the other guys clear away things after dinner. I'd help out, but there's no room in the kitchen for an additional body. Most of the house isn't set up for seven-foot-five orcs like me, so I'm just doing my best to keep out of the way.
"It's haunted," Vellar, a lanky mothman, answers, his dark wings shuddering momentarily.
Blake — a wolf shifter with the brightest yellow eyes I've ever seen — scoffs immediately. "It is not. It's just been a dump like that for decades. No one around here knows how to contact the owners, and the council can't do anything about it. I grew up across the street," he adds, with a nod towards the front door.
"It gives me the creeps," Josh declares, his voice sounding almost authoritative. I found out over dinner that he's the werecat version of an alpha, though they don't organise themselves the way wolf shifters do. "I've never seen anything, but I've sensed it."
That cold chill settles on my spine once more. "Sensed what?"
Josh shakes his head. "I don't know. Creepy shit. We just ignore it. That's my advice — stay away from there."
"Right," I say with a nod. "Trust me, I will."
I listen for the footsteps approaching in the dark, ignoring the icy chill of the midwinter air. It's always fucking freezing doing this shift in the middle of winter, but I know I'll forget all about the cold in a minute.
The outdoor maze is barely a maze at all — it's really easy to navigate, if you're walking around during the day. At night though, while being chased by ‘zombies'… I can't blame any person — especially the humans — from panicking and getting trapped in a loop.
For me, as the actor here, that's always the goal. They've paid to be terrified, so I'm going to scare the shit out of them. I always try to push them far enough that they're debating pushing the emergency buttons on their wristbands, but not so far that they actually do it and call off the game.
I hold my breath as they near. When the first human is on the cusp of walking past the alcove where I'm crouched, I jump out with a roar.
The screams are ear-piercing, and though it's hard to make out their faces, I see the way they jump. I don't give them time to recover, letting out a loud groan, my hands — covered in fake rotting wounds — outstretched as I lunge towards the group.
They run, and the chase is on.
"I saw you dancing out there in the dark, in between groups."
I turn at the sound of the feminine voice, out of place in the men's dressing room. Kayla, the only other orc currently on Haunted's roster, leans against the doorway, her muscular arms crossed over her chest, and her long dark braid hanging over her shoulder. It's hard to take her seriously though, when she's still covered in zombie makeup.
We've been friends for a decade, having gone through university together. She's always giving me shit — lovingly — about pretty much everything.
"Look, it's fuckin' cold out there, okay?" I say, turning back to my reflection. I carefully use the tip of my nail to pick at the edge of the green silicone wound where it's adhered to my face, grimacing at the sensation of it slowly peeling away from my skin. "I have to keep warm out there somehow," I add as I attack another puss-filled gash on my face, depositing it back in its compartment in my costume box. Over thirty different actors work here — non-humans and humans alike — so we each have a box filled with our shit that we're responsible for.
"I'm not teasing," Kayla says, ignoring the other guys also removing their gear as she comes to stand behind me. "You're really fucking good, and you know I know it. I was going to make a suggestion, actually."
"What, that I dance my way through the maze? That'll do the trick, really scare the visitors," I say sarcastically, removing the final wound from my neck. Our brown eyes meet in the mirror.
"No." She leans down, whispering in my ear, the jewelled rings on her small tusks glinting in the light as I watch our reflections. "Male entertainment. You know I wasn't here last weekend because I went to a hen's do. There's a men's show on K Road. Friday and Saturday only, all above board, the guys are paid well — better than here — and they're all really fucking talented."
I pull my head away from her so I can turn and look her in the eye. "You're not serious."
"I am." She is, her eyes wide and intense as she nods. "My cousin is the MC for the show — she's the one that got my group discounted tickets. She loves it, and it's really inclusive, really orc-friendly."
"No." I have nothing against strippers, but I'm not interested. If I'm going to dance, it's going to be as part of the cast of Cats , not Muscle Men, or whatever that show is called.
"I thought it was amazing," Kayla continues, crouching down beside me, her hand on my arm. "It was such an empowering experience for us in the audience. It was so fun , and I'm not even into men. You'd be great."
"No. Can you imagine if my mum found out? It'd give her a heart attack."
"How is she going to find out?! You're a grown man!"
"The gossip magazines still mention me occasionally, on a slow news week." I had, once upon a time, been considered a B-grade celebrity here in New Zealand. "Can you imagine the headlines? Zak Carlson: Actor Turns to Stripping in Desperation . I'm all for people doing whatever they want to do in life, but there's still a stigma attached to that profession, Kay. Mum reads those magazines. She cuts out the pages every time I'm in one. Besides, I don't think I'm the right fit."
"Because you're an orc? I call bullshit on that one. Women love you."
"Nah," I say, shaking my head. "Nah. I'm happy here."
"You are not ," she whispers loudly. "You fucking hate it, and I know it. This isn't going anywhere."
"And stripping is?"
"It's going somewhere warm, at least. No more four-hour shifts freezing your tits off."
"I don't have tits."
"What do you call these, then?" she teases, grabbing one of my pecs and giving it a jiggle. I bat her hand away.
"Fuck off," I laugh. We're always like this, mucking around. It means nothing; she always says she wouldn't touch a dick with a ten-foot pole.
"Look, just take the audition, okay? It's worth a shot."
I glare at her, and she grins wide, eyes full of mischief. She looks deranged with all the zombie makeup still attached to her face.
"Kayla, what have you done?"
"You're booked in for next Friday night. You've already got the night off from here; I've arranged a cover for your shift. All you have to do is show up, watch the performance, and then audition once the crowd goes home. You'll be great. You can thank me later."
" Kayla, " I growl between gritted teeth, but she's already walking away.
"It's only a five minute drive from your house! No more hour-long drives home after midnight! You'll do great!" She gives me a wave, and I return it with my middle finger in the air.
It's 2AM by the time I turn onto my street. I'm exhausted. All I want is a hot shower and a long sleep-in.
The trouble with these old roads and their equally old houses is that they weren't made for cars, let alone orc-sized utes. There's no parking spots left on the road at all, and none in my driveway, and I swear under my breath, slowing down as I try and figure out what the fuck I'm going to do. I'm too tired for this shit.
The abandoned house has an empty driveway. My car idles in the middle of the quiet street as I debate to myself about what I should do. The nearest parking is halfway up a steep hill on the adjacent road, and I don't feel like walking.
"It's not haunted," I mutter as I pull into the empty driveway, my headlights illuminating all the weeds that grow out of the cracks in the concrete. They scrape the underside of the vehicle, making me wince.
The night is still as I jump out, grabbing my duffel from the passenger seat. I'm slinging it over my shoulder when I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and jerk my head towards the empty house.
The blood chills in my veins.
Behind the planks of wood covering a boarded-up window is a face, partially obscured, the one visible eye watching me. The face is a very pale, very translucent, ever-so-slightly-glowing green.
A ghost.
I stand frozen, heart in my throat as they disappear. A second later the old front door opens wide with a loud bang.
I panic, running .