Every Halloween we post a horror story set in the Peacock King universe. We also, uh, kill off everyone in the story, because that's how we celebrate the spirit of the season. Part one goes up today (October 30th), and part two goes up on Halloween (October 31st)! After the second part we will follow the other sacred tradition of posting a list of all the notable dead people and links to their websites. And if you missed the first Halloween special, maybe you should go read Hall of the Dead to see what we mean by that.

Also, this story is set one month after Book 3 ends, in case you're keeping track of timelines. It's not terribly relevant to the plotline, this is pretty standalone.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

"HORK."

As we stand at the base of the grand staircase leading to the fifth floor, a thin trickle of blood cascades down the steps. We watch, silent, as the crimson beads hesitate at the lip of the last step. One fat bead finally plops down, followed by a few more in rapid succession, until it's coming down in a steady trickle.

"That's, uh... that's a lot of blood."

Gerude gives Erynn one of the most exasperated looks I've ever seen an Armed toss a Poet's way. It's rather reminiscent of the ones I see Jhe h'Akribastes level at Jhe h'Logos when my King is being particularly helpful. Erynn raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "What? It is."

"How many are up there?" I ask, heading off any lovers spat before it has a chance to start. Gerude gets that typical pinched look on his face as he consults his Arms, then shakes his head.

Set thirteen years before the Peacock King Trilogy, the Halloween special story for 2009 is a 4-part zombietacular of epic proportions. You can jump right into this one without any prior reading in the Peacock King series.

Also, we kinda killed off some readers in this one. Perilous!

The Halloween extravaganza continues! This time Irk and Char bring you Part 2, complete with zombies, more zombies, and WAY MORE ZOMBIES! Also, you may recognize a few of the new guys in here. ^_^ We had so many people to kill off that this ran long - the third and final part will run tomorrow. Whether it'll be a trick or a treat remains to be seen... until then, enjoy today's portion!

***
Edward
***

Stevane isn't there.

I stare down at the bed. It's rumpled, like there was a struggle, and there's blood sprayed around the room. One small handprint stands out in stark crimson against the white infirmary wall, the fingerprints trailing in a smear. There's smudges of blood all over the crumpled-up pillow, and splatters trailing across the floor and out the main door.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

There's someone in my house. I think about it as I continue to play. The piano is, in a way, playing itself by this point. The notes always flow best when I've lost just about all of my cares. Still, I think. The thought sloshes back and forth in my brain, and I swish it back and forth a few times to taste it out. Katherine. Katherine's in my house. She's come home. That must be it, because everyone else has gone out. That's fine. I wanted the house to myself, but having Katherine around is fine. Someone to commiserate with. Someone to share the rest of the wine with.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I'm too furious to properly help my son drag Elete into the bed in the King's quarters. I let Gerald handle it on his own. As it is, Elete's lost more than enough weight to barely be an effort for Gerald to lug about. Most of the difficulty is in how TALL Elete is. And for some reason, that makes me even more furious. Just seeing how much he's let himself and his health go. Watching his slack face and frantically trying to figure out just what the hell to do about it. Katherine isn't here, she's off doting over her failure of a father. She always knew what to do with Elete, whenever any of us did at all. Now what?

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I approach the Poet Hall with wariness and trepidation that have been trained into me over time, exposure, and some very distressing learning experiences. Bronwyn seems to echo my concern. Then again, no one approaches the Poet Hall completely at ease - too many shenanigans have happened here.

Just as I think that, I'm almost barreled into by my second Poet today. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is there some emergency, Jhe Blackirons?"

He jumps, then makes a smarmy little bow. "Sorry sir, it's just with your son back, we have to give Gerald the bounty now! So I'm gonna go fetch that."

I lift my eyebrows in concern. "Not another sandwich?"

He chokes back a laugh. "Oh, no sir. Nothing near so special as that. By the way, how is Mikhal? I haven't seen him since he ate that thing. It's been over a week now."

* * *
Lyric
* * *

Okay, so maybe I'm avoiding thinking about that whole almost-getting-assassinated thing from earlier. Can you blame me? It's the sort of thing that could be very upsetting if you dwell on it too much. I don't want to think about who did it, or why, or whether it might happen again very soon. I just want to try on these frilly shorts and be a girl for awhile. I'm good at that. I'm not good at much else, and I think that's been proven very well by this point.

Then my sister's hand comes down on my shoulder and ruins my introspection. "Hey, you."

I look back at her while applying a matching lipstick shade. I pucker my lips and blot them. "Yes?" She looks unusually serious. Oh, that's right. Sis has a job. And she's probably still thinking about me almost getting killed and all. "Hey, is your arm okay? You didn't get a scrape when we fell, did you?"

* * *
Gerald
* * *

One of my eyelids has a cut on it that's going to be a bitch to heal. The other's getting nice and swollen. I can barely see out of that eye. I'm missing some teeth, but good luck finding them in the porcelain shards, which I am still picking out of my cheek, by the way. There's some stuck in my hair. Speaking of hair, I've got a bleeding scalp, plus a bleeding shoulder, bleeding-- you know what? There's just plain a lot of blood. I can imagine why Bronwyn would get squeamish around me right now. I look like Hell ran me over in a stagecoach caravan. I have bruises on my bruises, which is saying a lot considering bruises haven't had a chance to appear yet. I can feel 'em coming on, though. That's what I really need for my homecoming, isn't it? To turn. Freaking. Purple.