One eye was a bulging mass of orange and green, puslike with a golden sheen. The other eye was an empty hole of black, that is, it wasn’t there. But it wasn’t an overall bad look for the guy, just the kind of thing you wouldn’t want for yourself.

He spoke clearly, as the newly turned do, and explained to me the situation.

His lover, he gestured toward a good-looking woman who would turn the head of most men if it weren’t for the pallor and bloat of death in her, had reportedly bitten him maliciously, putting him into his current form. I idly wondered if he lost the eye before or after.

The woman didn’t seem to disagree with the story, but she gestured toward a nearby table. Suspecting her lack of disagreement, or speech at all, to be a sign of her age, not complacency, I inspected the indicated table.