It all started at the Halloween party. I was standing with Kiernan, who was dressed as a pirate, when I heard the screaming. I downed the last of my drink and took off running, my pirate wench skirts hiked up past my knee. Kiernan was right behind me, but passed me fairly quickly, being so much taller than me, and got to the crowd first. That worked out great for me; he cleared a path and I just slowed down enough not to run over the body in the middle of the clearing.
Before I had more than time to register that it /was/ a body and vaguely which way around it was facing, Stella appeared and started doing crowd control. I nodded thanks to her and kneeled on the floor to assess the situation.
It was a young man, dressed as a vampire. I could see the fake fangs, the formerly healthy-looking skin under the white makeup, the tux, the cape... he even had gloves. But the blood was all too real. Someone had staked him.
The sounds around me were drowned out by the buzzing in my ears. Stella had managed to clear more room around the young man, although this didn't seem likely to help him. It would help me, though, and there was no need for him to be on display. I glanced up at Kiernan and saw that he had his phone up to his ear; the ambulance would be on its way soon, then. All I could do was untie his cape, which had apparently billowed out as he fell, and cover his face. Then... then I got angry.
/Someone/ here had done this. Someone who had to /know/ that the young man was just dressing up and had shoved that stake into the young man's heart anyway. This was murder, and it pissed me off.
I struggled to my feet, yanking at the unfamiliar and encumbering skirts, assisted absentmindedly by Kiernan. Then I /glared/ around the room, and not one person dared to meet my eyes. Like that, is it? I thought to myself, and jerked my skirts down so hard that I heard something rip. I turned around, where a small crowd was still huddled together, whispering in fascination and awe, and raised my voice above the music that was still playing.
"/All right/," I snarled. "Who knows /anything/ about this?"
The crowd backed up as a unit and cowered. I'm not even kidding, they actually /cowered/, knees bent, heads down, wincing, the whole bit. I have to admit that when I get emotional, I can get a little intimidating, but for the gods' sakes, this young man was /dead/. I was /not/ going to let this pass quietly.