Ghoul by Brian Keene

Seen the earthworms and millipedes crawling over and through it? Smelled the aroma of grave mold, or warmed yourself in its luminous glow? Wallowed in the rich, fatty stew of decomposition?”
    Clark retched. “No.”
    The ghoul patted its stomach. "It is a treat. My kind was not supposed to enjoy it.
    It was our curse, to eat the dead. But in time-- in time, we grew to relish it. Savor it."
    “Y-you eat dead people?”
    “Yes, and you are going to feed me.”
    Clark Smeltzer's bladder let go again, further soaking his pants. “B-but you said you weren't gonna k-kill me!”
    "I am not. I will allow you to live, so that you can continue to do your job. You will bury the dead, so that I can feed. You will also keep my existence a secret.
    For this, you will be richly rewarded. And there is something else you will do for me, as well. I require something else, in addition to sustenance. I am lonely."
    Swallowing hard, Clark stared in horror, listening as the creature spoke.
    It talked for a long time, and when Clark returned home, it was almost morning. The ghoul returned to the grave, hiding beneath the soil, sheltering itself from the sun. Waiting. No longer imprisoned, but free to come and go under the shelter of darkness.
    When it was night again, it began to dig. And to plan. First, it satisfied its hunger.
    That was an immediate need. It devoured the nearby dead, eating whatever flesh remained on the bones, and then the bones themselves, leaving nothing behind but whatever they'd been buried in-- jewelry and scraps of moldering clothing. Sated, the ghoul focused on fulfilling its longing for others of its kind --a family.
    The caretaker was supposed to find it a mate, for its kind could mate with human females and had done so in the past. But the caretaker had not yet procured one.
    So when the boy and girl mated in the darkness, lying together on a blanket spread out between the tombstones, the ghoul had watched them from the shadows, and saw its chance. It had killed the boy, obeying the commandment and not partaking in the pumping blood or still-warm flesh, and had taken the girl below. She was ripe and fertile. The creature could smell it on her. The ghoul wasted no time.
    Over the last two weeks it had created quite a den. The warren was centered in its original grave, but it had tunneled out in all directions, a spiraling labyrinth that grew larger and more complex. The girl was kept in the main chamber, in a nest the ghoul had built for her. It didn't have to worry about her fleeing-- her mind was too far gone for that, and even if she had been able to reason, she wouldn't have been able to navigate the pitch-black maze of tunnels.
    It ate every night. At first, it had feasted in the nearby older graves, devouring the few human remains still left after one hundred years of interment, and snacking at night on nearby road kill, left to rot in the sun along the roads that bordered that portion of the cemetery. Then it had branched forward, burrowing up the hill to where the new graves lay. There, night after night, it had eaten its fill, rooting through the graves of James Sawyer and George Stevens, Cathy Luckenbaugh and Damon Bouchard and Britney Rodgers, Raymond and Sally Burke, Stephen Clarke, and many others.
    The dead could not scream.
    This night was no different. Dane Graco's corpse was devoured within ten hours of its interment. The ghoul was displeased at the chemicals in the body, embalming fluid and the like. It longed for the old days. But food was food, and it was hungry.
    The next day, after the Gracos had buried their dearly departed and tried to move on with their lives, Clark Smeltzer checked a preappointed spot and found a new collection of graft, including Dane Graco's Freemason ring. He started thinking again about all his newfound wealth. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he reasoned. He wasn't digging up corpses and robbing them. And it wasn 't like the dead needed that stuff anymore. Why