If there was ever a place to be on Halloween, it was a graveyard. Thankfully, Darren had fluttered off somewhere to go trick-or-treating with Kurda and Gavna, so Larten had the night to himself. He liked the peacefulness, the darkness.
He hid stealthily behind as a group of teenagers ran past, screeching excitedly at the prospect of seeing a ghost. Larten scowled disapprovingly. Every year they emptied out of their houses, all of them apparently having become experts on the supernatural-dressing up as 'witches,' 'vampires' (Larten sniggered) and, gods of the vampires forbid...pumpkins.
As the sounds of laughter died away, Larten stood up and scanned the hundreds of head stones. There was something...wrong. A sound like someone licking their lips reached his ears. Larten tensed. He followed the sound around the side of the small chapel at the centre of the graveyard. He stared into the overgrowth, a dense clump of trees and bushes that the full moon's rays couldn't penetrate. There it was again-that sound.
Larten edged forward, so silently no humans ears could ever have heard him. He wasn't afraid; what was there to be afraid of? He was the monster there. Slowly...he reached forward, avoiding the spider webs-knife clasped tightly in his right hand. Rustling, heavy breathing and...
"Vancha!" Larten exclaimed, pulling back out of the bushes.
"What the? Larten?" Vancha clamoured out of the overgrowth, wiping a hand across his lips.
Suddenly, a piercing scream emanated from the chapel. They looked at each other and ran to the front just in time to see a woman-probably about forty-running screaming out through the door. They stood, bewildered, watching her go, until Larten came to his senses and turned towards the open door.
"What's that?" he muttered.
"What's what? Vancha whispered, poking his head around the wooden door.
A figure-or a shadow of a figure- stood at the altar of the chapel. It's pale, gaunt face was looking up at the stained glass window. Vancha loosed a shuriken, staring up the aisle intensely. Larten was having none of it.
"Who are you!" he boomed.
The figured turned slowly, and irritated look on its...face. Larten growled angrily. "This is ridiculous. Mika, what are you doing here?" Vancha laughed.
"Don't you just love coincidences?" Vancha chuckled. Mika, walking towards them, scowled. "Who was she, an ex?" Vancha teased.
"I have no idea who she was. She came in-presumably to check something, saw me and fled. She whispered something about the walking dead. I suppose she thought I was a walking corpse," he said, shaking his head.
"Or a vampire," Larten said wryly. "Anyway-what are you both doing here?" He was extremely irritated that they'd disrupted his peaceful evening.
"I was feeding. Which you-" Vancha pointed at Larten "-interrupted. That oddly dressed man I knocked out about an hour ago is still strewn in the bushes."
"What was he wearing?" Larten asked wearily.
"A white sheet-rather dirty now though. With three holes in it." Larten hissed in disgust.
"And you, sire?" he asked Mika. Mika shrugged.
"Halloween's the only night I can walk amongst the humans without looking suspicious."
"Same here," Vancha said. The three of them were silent, considering each other. That is, until Vancha broke the silence. "So! Shall we leave this morbid place, or do you really want to stay and mope around the decaying humans, Larten?"
Larten gazed at him sullenly. What did it take to have a little time to yourself? To roam the night without anyone poking their nose in? The three of the left the church, leaving the door swaying mournfully in the slight, autumn breeze. Somewhere in the bushes behind the chapel, a man in a white sheet was beginning to wake up.