Being Undead

Chapter 8*

Halloween wasn't a small affair with the undeads, as Laura herself realised the moment she saw buzz of the Undead Mansion's party.

I can't believe Frederick lied to me! She screamed inside. He had actually told her that the party would be just a close get-together with a few friends over, but what was in front of her was a full-on rave with more people than anyone had the right to call "close friends."

Now, Laura had actually gone to Aly for pointers beforehand on how a typical undead gathering went; the girl had been in more than anyone else in the house, which was particularly surprising for a fifty year-old; she was practically still a child in undead years. The rumour was that she had been going to such gatherings since she was still a mortal.

Pointers aside, Laura had also been weaving the best lie to go with at the feast. To her utmost comfort, Damian had helped with her mental preparation and practice by not bothering her in the days leading up to the party. His revenge for her supposed insolence, whatever it might turn out to be, hadn't been deployed yet and for that she couldn't more grateful; not that she was ever going to let him know that.

Anyway, as Laura walked down the winding stairs into the great hall which had been converted to the party floor, she noticed a lot of accented English here and there; even a little bit of Mandarin and Russian were mixed in the conversations.

Wow! Frederick must hold quite the influence for all these people to respond to his invitation, she thought, feeling even more impressed by him.

Laura had gone for a traditional undead dress-up for the party as dictated to her by Aly: black tank top, black jeans, and a black overcoat that reached the floor. She dyed her hair midnight black to give it a more eerie appearance; using a smokey eye shadow and a touch of red lipstick to complete the look.

There was no doubt at all that Laura looking the badass undead part, but the truth was that she wasn't feeling it one bit. She was so rattled inside that it could have belonged at the rear end of a rattlesnake. If anything goes wrong tonight, she kept thinking again and again, it's undead to full-dead for me.

She took a drink to calm her nerves.

Surprisingly enough, blood wasn't on the menu as Laura had expected. Pop culture had made it seem like nothing else with undead but blood, but each daily stay in the house was proving it wrong.

Just as Laura was about to go for a second drink, a clink sounded from above and she looked up to see Frederick.

Unlike every other person at the party with a party get-up, Frederick had gone for a black business suit, leaving his hair unstyled to run wild like he usually did. But contrary to what he was obviously trying to achieve, the undesirable appearance actually made him look more desirable; and Laura wasn't the only one who thought so as she could see more than twenty female undeads around the place ogling him shamelessly where he stood.

Damian at Frederick's side opted for his normal trademark look: black top, leather jacket, and matching black trousers. He beefed up the outfit for the night with a red muffler which coincidentally matched the gown of a woman standing next to him; his date, Laura deduced.

Anyway, the attention went back to Frederick as he began to speak, his set appearance making him look like Count Dracula of the twenty first century.

"Friends and family," he began, "we're all here to celebrate what our sires created and we have continued; the Feast of the Undead!" Applause from the people. "This feast is unlike any other," he continued after the applause was done. "It's connected to our beginnings, to our present, and most especially to the future we hope to achieve." He raised his glass in cheers and the others did the same. "May we all continue to celebrate as one."